It was so dark. That was the first thing he noticed.
Disorienting blackness — he couldn't see the walls nor figure out what he was laying in. A bed, but this one was a different one from what he remembered. The sheets were thicker and pillows were bulkier. How long had it been this time? Oh fucking god he was in so much pain, the migraine kept him blind for another ten minutes before the young man sat himself upright. He was seeing clearer now, he could make out the door at the end of the room — that was all he needed.
He wiggled himself free from the sheets and planted his feet on the floor; the carpet flooring was new as well. Still unsure of where he was, he felt around for the wall to lead himself to the door, he had to glide his fingers across the wood before he felt a cold knob. When he opened it and peaked out he was still blind; he held his arms out and moved his hands in each direction until he felt the wall across from him. He needed to see himself, to see what he looked like. Who knows how long it could've been?
Still unable to make out any patterns or lights, the texture of the wall to his left changed to wood — he'd found another door. He clicked it open and shut it quietly behind him. He felt around for the switch and gently tapped it upwards. The simple florescent lights above the mirror caused his eyes agony and he shut them quickly. When he opened them, everything was fuzzy, but at least he could see. He was standing on the mat in front of the mirror; although his vision was hindered, he gave himself a close look.
For once, there wasn't a drastic change in his appearance; he was still a young man. He looked disheveled and tired, dark lines under his eyes. His eyes… They were still the same; Scarlet. Groggy, he turned the sink on full power and washed his face off. Whether he was alone or not didn't matter, humans were no concern to him. Still, he had to readjust himself with the world after the long dreamless sleep he'd been through. Time had passed but it had felt like nothing at all, just a simple blink of the eye.
Was he still the same?
It didn't matter where he was nor did he care, but he had to be sure that he was still who he thought it was — he could see the wall a bit better now, but still felt his way back into the room he'd just been in. The room he didn't recognize at all, but he could perceive something on the dresser that might help him. The young man picked up the object, it was a photograph of a woman. It gave him absolutely no feeling, but he recognized her alright.
Now he remembered — the slight jog of his memory had helped him think of what to do. First it was to leave. He saw the jacket on top of the long desk piled with useless books and he slipped it on. He put on more appropriate outdoor attire and exited the room, unsure if he'd return or not — not knowing if he'd fall into his coma again. Still, the young adult was slightly interested in his environment and peered into the kitchen as he skulked down the hall. Obviously a home meant for a family no bigger than one, or maybe two. He wouldn't know it was an apartment until he got out to the living room and saw Shinjuku glowing brilliantly outside the window.
He'd never seen this city, or at least he didn't remember seeing it. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone stirring. The oriental chap searched for the noise until he saw a pretty young woman fast asleep in her small futon, wrapped tightly as if she were freezing. Being directly under the air-vent was what was doing it — the poor idiot, he thought. She wasn't familiar in a single sense. The young man slipped around her and he knelt down, the blonde hair scattered over her face starved her of any striking resemblance to anyone he might know.
He did remember one thing: Using his unseen hands, he moved some of her golden hair behind her shoulder — why this young woman had the fresh features of a child! Poor thing! Her fragility would do her in soon he thought. But no matter, she was in a defenseless state. Poor pathetic human he thought in his head. She moved onto her other side, shifting into a different position. It had startled him slightly, as he didn't want to take the life of a conscious victim!
Let it be bloodless, he thought. Poor girl will have died in her sleep and he could slip into the night. His 'hands' emerged at his command and they reached for her neck.
"Tobi?" He stopped all activity and his arms retracted and his head jolted in the direction of the voice. He wasn't responding to the name, he didn't know it, but rather the fact that there was more than he and the girl there. An adolescent, he calculated; scrawny and not a threat. Just listen to what he has to say. The red-haired teenager had needed to use the restroom, but he didn't expect to see what he saw, "What are you doing?" He saw the jeans and jacket, "What are you dressed for…?"
This kid had nerve for speaking out like that, and he heard the fair-haired girl moaned out of her sleep and watched her rub her eyes, "Why is everybody up?" She yawned. The young man stood up straight, he'd let her go for now. Surely he could render them both out cold, but he didn't want to waste his mental and physical strength that quickly. The teenager approached his red-eyed companion, or he must've assumed they were associated somehow.
"Tobi, are you going somewhere?" He seemed discontent, but what did he care anyway? He forgot about the kill and went for the door. "Hey wait! Tobi!" He touched the knob but jerked his hand back like he was touching a burning stove — he had to get rid of their suspicion somehow, "Is something up?"
"Tobi?" He heard a soft voice chime in. But he was focused on the youngster who couldn't keep his mouth shut. The man with spiky, black hair said nothing and waited.
"I mean…" His voice was kinder now, "I don't care if you wanna go for a…" He stopped and looked at the clock, "Two in the morning stroll or anything, but… isn't that kind of weird for you?"
"It's none of your concern." He at least opened his mouth; throat had been closed for so long he forgot what he sounded like. The teenager's heart skipped a beat and the blonde was suddenly completely awake… His voice was suddenly raspy, sounding older than he was… "I'm leaving now." He escaped, but the green-eyed one shouted for the person called 'Tobi' yet again. He was far gone and out of the building before either one could process what had happened, successfully bypassing anyone who was in the front lobby.
The young man kept silent and had his head low, trying to blend in as he took in his surroundings. The streets weren't crowded and not many lights were on, but there were some cars passing through the streets. Of course they were all either too drowsy or too haughty to care about whom the stranger lurking down the streets was. This city was heavily populated; he could tell by how far the streets ran and how many shops and roads there were. There was hardly anyone to confirm his theory. The only thing geography wise he was sure of was he was in Japan — the two people he was just with spoke his language.
What good would that get him anyway? Why talk to any of the worthless beings that were lower than him? He didn't intend to do any talking; just studying and watching — observing. The young adult didn't know why, but he stopped. He felt immobile and stood in his spot for a while, the humid night air seemed to be making him dizzy — so dizzy he was seeing flashes before his eyes. He tried to take two more steps but he quickly staggered to the side and fell on his knees, unable to use the wall to hold him steady.
He couldn't do anything other than clench his head, everything was spinning and he was losing eyesight again. He was falling back into the fog of darkness… he could hear the passing of a few cars as he started to slip away, the noises didn't fade when he came to after half a second of darkness…
Why did he hear cars? Why was he in day clothes? Why was he out on the street? Tobi's head jerked left and right and he stood himself up on his wobbly knees. Was he in Tokyo still? Whatever had happened, he couldn't be far from the apartment, right…? Where were the other people? Actually, no! Don't ask that, it's better that he's alone! "Sadami…?" He found himself asking aloud, hoping they'd been on some sort of late night walk and he simply spaced out for a while. That wouldn't make any sense. He had no way of confirming he wasn't dreaming, though in dreams one was never confused about suddenly being in an unfamiliar spot.
Tobi just kept looking to and fro and grabbing his head — hopelessly bewildered and worried, he tried to figure out where he was standing so he could hurry back. He had only turned right on one street, so it was just a left turn and walk straight for about a minute. Okay, no problem… But his heart was pounding, he felt fuzzy and his thoughts were swimming in floods of confusion and theories on what the hell he was doing before he got down there. Tobi's eyes were wide and panicky as he held his head the entire way back down the street. He made the left turn.
Almost to safety, almost back to logic and reason, he hoped. For some reason, there was an aura in the air that made Tobi's hair stand on end. An aura of complete isolation — soon there were barely any lights, no more cars passing by… But still, someone was near.
There was that one dark alley way he'd have to walk by to get home, but it was always bright and vacant; of course, he'd only had to pass by it maybe once when he and Sadami first picked the place out. His mind had gone from one concern to the next — he took small, docile steps towards the break in buildings. He wanted to keep walking but something made him turn his head — he saw one man holding another against the wall by the throat and Tobi hurled his body back behind the wall.
He had glazed, appalling eyes, but he was deciding to be a terrible person and pretend he didn't see anything. He just wanted to go home for God's sake. Tobi took a few breaths, heart pounding so irregularly fast and forcefully that it'd probably burst before he made it back. He didn't know why he was waiting, but he had a feeling that by the time he gained enough courage to run back, just a little dash down the block and he'd be inside, he'd bump into the man. Tobi wasn't paralyzed anymore, he put one foot out and flying past him was an older man booking it across the road and continuing on.
For a man of his age, he could haul ass. Tobi wished he could too at that moment, for a younger, shady man was cursing him, he'd fucking lost him. Tobi tried to blend in. Don't move and maybe he'd disappear! He tried to back away around the corner, but the crook turned around and saw the college student, "Well what's this?" He couldn't be much older than him; Tobi couldn't let him intimidate him, but his heart sank rapidly when he saw the man's face lose color, "What the fuck is with your eyes?"
"Look," Tobi held his hands up, showing he meant no offense, "I'm not even sure how I got out here." Stay calm, or at least pretend to be, "I just want to get home and move on." Tobi was grabbed by the shoulders and pushed back into the walls. The suddenty gave Tobi no time to react — air was knocked out of Tobi's lungs; his knowing how to absorb a blow like that protected him from any serious injuries. The man seemed like he just wanted a closer look.
For once, Tobi was okay with that; he'd let him look as closely as he wanted if it meant going home unscathed. "Holy shit! They're not contacts?" He lifted Tobi's left eyelids much wider than he liked — now his personal space was being abused. Tobi kicked him off.
"I don't want to fight! If you don't fuck with me, I won't fuck with you!" He was angry now, but it was better to take his frustration elsewhere. Somewhere where he couldn't hurt anybody or get hurt. Tobi's deathly stare was getting to the thief, but for some reason he gave a toothy sneer. He tried to pin him to the building again, but this time Tobi was prepared and they pushed against each other with equal arm strength, neither one was moving.
"What the fuck are you?" Tobi's force, however, was betraying him and he started to recess. He wanted to respond with the same question, but he just didn't have the heart or guts for it. He was far used to that question. Beyond accustomed. The crook took advantage of Tobi's retreat and kneed him in the stomach. He instead imprisoned him with one hand on his shoulder, the other grasping his chin, absolutely stunned by the sight, "No human has these eyes unless they're albino. What are you?" Tobi breathed. He heaved his deep loathing in and out, trying not to let himself break.
"Not an asshole like you." Now he'd just angered him — like the fool he was, he watched as he released his chin and held his mouth agape. Please just say he wasn't worth it and punch him in the mouth; knock a tooth out. Anything other than what he—
Tobi was punched in the stomach… But there wasn't a blunt force like before. There was nothing. He and the man locked eyes for a moment before Tobi, whose body wasn't reacting properly to what had just happened, looked down. The man's fist was clenched onto the handle of something; his flesh and the metal were covered in dark red blood that was slowly crawling onto him and dripping to the ground… Whose blood was…? Where was the blade…?
There was a sudden throbbing burn in his stomach, such piercing anguish that made Tobi's eyes tear up from both horror and pain. He didn't cry, but he was in a panic on the inside. He'd been stabbed to the hilt with a pocket knife — a large one at that. His vision was getting dull, but Tobi's thoughts were suddenly quicker and keener than before. The brute went to retreat the knife, but Tobi grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip, locking it. He wouldn't lose as much blood as long as the knife was in. They were struggling, and if Tobi weren't panicking, he'd remember the extra hands he had to save him.
The cold, electric shock of pain was over, but the pain brought on by his delirium was just beginning. Tobi wasn't strong enough to hang on, "You thought I was gonna let a thing like you go?"
A 'thing?' He stabbed him and he dared to call him a thing? Tobi's eyes were locked on the hilt.
"You're just a mons—" He never finished his sentence. The thief's head flew off into one direction, his legs in another. His torso was shoved backwards against the wall, spewing a fountain of blood before there was nothing left. Tobi's world darkened for a moment, his jacket, pants, and hands were drenched in blood. The man's remaining arm was still clenched to the knife. Tobi used one sleeve, his body shaking violently to wipe the blood off of his face.
Why? Why had he done that?
What had he done?
What would he do?
Tobi's throat closed, his face turned blue as he processed what he'd just done, ripped and spliced a man apart all while holding the dagger he'd impaled him with in his hands. He felt weak and light-headed before he came back to reality; the shocking pain of the knife had made him able to breathe again. Catching his breath rapidly, Tobi had to get the knife out. If his hands could do what he'd just involuntarily done, then they could certainly stop a wound for just a little while. Just until he made it back to safety. Of course, there was no way he'd be getting anywhere drenched in blood with a dismembered body in sight.
Tobi saw the head, he could see where the spine was once connected, from his torso the entrails were just visible and slithering their way out in a slimy, heaping bunch — it made him uncomfortable. No, it made him sick and he had to get to his knees. Instead of going down lightly like he intended, he plopped down and gagged, but there was nothing to come out. He still dry heaved from the stench of blood and the absolute grotesqueness of the sight.
What was worst of all was that this wasn't the worst he'd seen.
Dear god, the knife! Okay… just slowly slide it out… Tobi looked up at the empty streets, don't think about it. Don't even use your hands! He thought! He let go and let his almost nonexistent ones do the job. He suddenly felt light; he could feel the hole in his body. The bloody metal clanged on the ground and Tobi closed his wound tightly with his right hand and a pair of his invisible 'hands.'
Going home bleeding was bad enough, but going home with the knife still lodged in his abdomen just wasn't sane! As for the man's body… Well, he couldn't do anything worse to it. Tobi was horrid with guilt, but he was also in burning pain. He started to limp down the block — what became a minute long journey became much longer as he had to stop and grasp himself from the pain and to keep from bleeding.
Sadami threw a jacket on over his night shirt, "Sadami," Chikako had been on sniper duty looking out the window the entire time, "where are you going?"
"He's not back yet, I'm worried about him." He went for the door, "Don't answer if someone knocks, I'll be back!" He optimistically reassured albeit the absolute terror of what could've happened, especially since people have given him hell for his mutation before. Tobi was leaning against the building next door, absolutely throbbing with agony; at least he'd gotten closer. He was losing blood, but at a much slower rate. He was in too much pain to use his 'hands' and had to keep himself alive manually. Tobi sunk to his bottom when someone was hurrying past him. He tried to call out something, but all that came out was a painful grunt.
Sadami heard the cry and saw his dear friend emerge from the darkness. He was happy at first, but his face sank and twisted into pure consternation. Tobi was going to calmly say 'I've been stabbed, help.' But all that came out was "Help me!"
Tobi remembered nothing after that.