Β Dull. Thatβs the one word that could describe the state of the world. It was so unbelievably dull. What a shame. He thought despair would be unpredictable. It was for a while and yet now it was the status quo. The entire world was in despair. It was the same everywhere.Β
Β The same ruined streets. The only thing that changed was the signs. It all looked the same. Dead bodies left to rot and the overwhelming of death lingering in the air. Faceless nobodies dead by the thousands. Their lives snuffed out while the begged or screamed. Like they had no idea how pointless their existences were.Β
Β The same desperate survivors limping away and licking their wounds somewhereΒ βsafeβ. Falling into despair and becoming part of the disease that chewed on the bloody remains of this dull world. The scavengers that killed more innocents because they panic and fear theyβre despair. The innocents that kill scavengers for the same reason. People were predictable. Even if the world was interesting when the despair first started, it was all so boring now.Β
Β Perhaps thatβs why she is dead. Perhaps she saw this would happen. Perhaps it already had begun to bore her. All were possible. After all, she was predictable as well. In her own abnormal way.Β
Β He sees a survivor before him. He had moved away from the main street and into the backstreets because of a group of people gathered on the main street. He could tell they were one some sort of witch hunt. He didnβt feel like killing them. It would serve no purpose and waste energy. Though he considered approaching because at least the number would have posed an issue for the Talented.Β
Β But he rationalized it would go like any other fight he got in. His way. He is loved by talent, after all. It would be dull to approach them. The same old song and dance, or so they say. The maddened look in their eyes spoke volumes about their mental state. Even if he cannot feel, he can tell when others had fallen to despair. Itβs easy. After all, it was the new status quo.Β
Β The woman may have been injured. She dropped to her knees. He assumed she wouldnβt be much of a threat if she was well, but even less so now. She would surely die soon. That angry mob wanting to shed blood would find her and she would be another faceless nobody. Another corpse lining these ruined streets.Β
Β He approached and once he got closer, he could see any noticeable injuries on her. She was inspecting an object, perhaps a tape recorder. Disappointing. The recorder likely held some sort of sentimental value. She seemed upset far more than one should be for an inanimateΒ object.Β
Β He should walk past without even responding to the soon-to-be-dead girl. And yet, he found himself curious. There is no despair in her eyes. As a matter of fact, she seems calmly upset. As strange as that sounds.Β
Β βThereβs an angry mob searching the streets. If you remain here, you will die.β He says.Β
Β He could tell there was something strange about her. She had captured his interest only because of that look in her eyes. Perhaps it reminded him of his own. Perhaps he was curious. It didnβt matter. She would be disappointingly dull too.Β
Terosore couldnβt pick up on emotions well. With this guy, it was even harder than normal. She sensed nothing in his tone. His words, however, were clear. Stay here, and you will die. Die? She collected the broken pieces of the tape recorder in her hands, turning over the device, she sees a hastily-written note on the back.
You are Terosore Etsuko. The man who gave you this is Dr. Komatsu. You made him a promise that you must not forget. You want to get better. Play the tape if you donβt remember.
She couldnβt get better if she was dead, right? Death was the end for her. Even if she couldnβt remember anymore, did that mean she wanted to die? To never get better? If she wasnβt afraid to die, what was the point in anything? She focused on those thoughts, reminded herself that when she was like this, she was so vulnerable that basically anyone could easily kill her. She would die if she stayed here. At that instant, her heart rate spiked and she was awake again.
With newfound vigor, Etsuko shot to her feet. She hurriedly crammed the broken recorder in her jacket pocket. Her hands clasped together, in some vain attempt to control the trembling. She locked eyes with the stranger. His eyes were cold and empty, just like... Just like hers when she wasnβt with the terror.Β
βIβll die? Really? But... Iβm already dead.β
The adrenaline coursing through her animated her a bit more. With a clammy hand, she gingerly touched the strangerβs face, while the other grabbed for her weapon. Itβs killing edge was soon against his throat. SHe kept waiting for the telltale look of absolute terror to appear but it didnβt.Β
βYouβre not... scared... of me?β
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