Subtle awareness of the dull throbbing in his thigh was giving way to his surroundings, little by little; the injury was still painful, sure, but it appeared to be sufficiently patched up (for now) by the scientists that deemed him worthy of The Hive. In the very least, he wasn’t bleeding all over himself. Though he wondered why they allowed him to be injured at all (if it was such an experimental place was a stab wound really so difficult to treat with more than a bandage?) it seemed that he had much bigger, much more maze-like problems to deal with.
The city in front of him was sprawling. Some part of him wondered how in the hell he was supposed to find his way around, but if there was time to be questioning himself, there was time to seek answers, so immediately he was on the move. Night was overtaking the sky and Saruhiko knew that he’d have to find his housing soon, or at least a haven to take rest in for the night in the case that he couldn’t find it.
Suddenly he was young again, small and ignorant of the world he was left alone in. That much he couldn’t be blamed for, but of course fate had a way of disregarding blame to strike at the underbelly of beastly weakness. Whenever and wherever it could prey, it would, and yet the face of this young man would never betray that cold fact. (Find your way, seek out exit points, keep an eye behind you, don’t let the dull roar of the city distract you from —)
Time ticked on for the limping youth until he was so tired and cold that he had no choice but to take a break. His bandage needed to be changed soon, he was hungry, he was heavy, and the footsteps that trailed a little bit less than a block behind him still resounded with almost painful prominence. They were likely just a band of thugs making their rounds when they spotted him, rich-looking and obviously out-of-place against the normal droll of locals.
Without proper weapons to defend himself, Saruhiko was stuck trying to speed up his walk and lose his followers, but that had only created more pain in each step forward. Unwilling to let his limp become worse, he had tried to work his way through the pain, and in the process felt a familiar warm liquid dripping down his thigh. Bleeding through his bandages.
“Shit.”
Wherever his fan club had gone, he did not know, but what he did know was that he couldn’t stay in one place on the street for too long. He was too open out here. Too vulnerable. From a distance it didn’t seem that anybody would be able to tell how much he was bleeding, but up close it was rather obvious; dark pools that seeped through fabric were glistening by distant neon lights from closed shops and parlors. Pain, said his expression, with a light grimace.
Goading nonsense crept up on Saruhiko rather quickly after he was done assessing the damage... but that didn’t leave him in any better of a state to run. His breathing grew labored and his muscles were tightening from the cold. He probably had a fever, too, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he was looking for exit points down the street he sat near.
“Straight shot...” the alley behind the closed down shops could provide him with an alternate route, but who knew how many of them there were? For all Fushimi knew, this was their city, and he was a mere trespasser. Perhaps that was the reason he was being targeted, but with the voices drawing nearer, he was running out of options.
The once-muffled scuffle of boots and bats became crystal clear, no longer obscured by buildings or other objects. They were right behind him, and no sooner than they could call for him to comply with their thuggish wishes, Saru attempted to run, bleeding be damned, to no avail. A bat, carefully aimed, succeeded in striking his injured leg.
Agitated, wounded grunts escaped his throat. His knee gave out from under him, and so did the strength of his other leg as soon as he realized he’d been struck there as well. Like vultures they picked at him — without his strength, or proper weapons, and only the defensive shield of his Blue Aura to go by (it’s giving out too quickly, it’s not strong enough, it can’t do anything against this), he could do nothing but wait for it to end. Even fighting back was pointless; that much he learned after a few punches of his own, knuckles sinking into teeth and the hard orbital bones of men so greedily looking down on him.
The things people did for money.
Yeah, this was a lot like being a kid again.
By the time they left, there was a thin slice against his neck where they kept him still in their grip. His breathing was so shallow that with the rest of his consciousness, he assumed at least one of his ribs to be broken. The injury he came into the city with, his stab wound, had completely opened up and blood pooled on the ground beneath his leg. Who knew how many bruises he had on his face? How many gashes on his arms from being ground into the pavement?
Nevertheless, his heartbeat was strong. It was the only muscle in his body that he could feel anymore as it hammered away, teasing and unkind. (Look at you, so pathetic on the ground. You couldn’t even get up if you tried, could you? Just do it, I want a good laugh! Dance around, little monkey!)
Saruhiko lay on the ground, stubbornly defying the intrusive thoughts that came to him, staring up at the sky as if he could find something there to give him strength. As if, between the stars and planets, a hand would reach down to grasp him.
and as his hearing muddled out the distant noise of passing cars, he swears he can hear a familiar voice but in his heart he’s scared he’s only imagining that too. @suuketa
