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Opening the door to the room, Rey stepped inside, shining his flashlight over the area, with his other hand still gripping his knife. He hadn't encountered any monsters yet, and while it'd been the same his first night here, it made him feel apprehensive. His good luck couldn't last forever, especially since he was blatantly ignoring
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He didn't recognize this man at all but only knew one crucial thing: he mustn't let him pass through the doors behind him. Whether or not he would even survive this interlude was another matter entirely, but Takasugi had little in the way of mercy when it came to dealing with those who worked for the Amanto.
That's what they all were, weren't they? Sitting on all fours, allowing the Amanto to tether them and control them. Every last patient here was an enemy to him, and he couldn't stand the very sight of them, that killer instinct erupting immediately as he sought to finally show them his claws and take revenge.
His lips quirked upwards as he slid his pipe into the sleeve of his yukata and began to take slow and measured steps towards his guest.
"I'm afraid things must come to an end so soon after we've met." A dry chuckle as his fingers skittered over the sheath of his katana. "I can promise it'll be quick, but it won't be painless."
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Maybe he was going to die here, alone, in a place like this. It'd be a joke to say that Rey was afraid of death, but dying like that held no appeal for him. He didn't want his life to end the same way it'd begun.
As the intercom buzzed and spoke and the other patient approached, Rey stepped back, waiting for him to strike, while keeping his eyes and flashlight trained on him. If the light was bothering the man, then all for the better.
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He wouldn't let this one escape even if he tried, anger still seething through him. That rage could never be quelled so easily, not when he still had those memories deeply embedded into his mind of what the Amanto had done to his people -to all of his men and to his home. This Amanto sympathizer would be cut down and learn the weight of his actions once the steel of Takasugi's blade severed his flesh. He longed to spill the walls in his blood and to paint the world around him in vivid reds, that desire seething through him until the urgency was almost unbearable.
Another few steps drew him closer, his sandals rasping against the floor as his grin widened and his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword. "Come now. Do you think that alone will stop me? Running won't do you much good, either."
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Still watching him carefully, Rey tightened his grip around the knife and hoped for the best. He wasn't the most optimistic of people, but as someone who'd dedicated his life to fighting for his ideals, he knew better than to quit or surrender before he even started. Although he may have given up on his life in his world, that was because he'd done all he needed to there. Here, there was no point in writing himself off as a lost cause just yet, outmatched or not.
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No, he would let it break through those bars and feast itself tonight, consume what it could while its claws were in full view. He had no reason to ignore its roar, even if there was this nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him not to kill -only to tame. Could he be that merciful with this filth staring down at him? Takasugi was a man who lived only to destroy and had forsaken any and all moral inhibitions long ago. Now, the only thing that mattered to him was watching them all die and taking revenge for those cries that had been silenced.
For those words of wisdom uttered by Shoyou-sensei that had been stifled. For that world he'd grown up in that had been turned into a modern wasteland. For the comrades who had died while fighting alongside him.
Anger continued to ebb through him, a throbbing sensation that traveled along his veins until his sword was drawn with a loud hiss. He didn't waste another second, his body hunching slightly as he moved to attack, aiming the blade towards this man's mid-section and hoping to cut him down in one slice.
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Reminding himself that his objective was not to win, but to escape, he didn't move to attack the man. That would only distance himself from the exit further, so instead he again waited for his opponent to strike first. All he needed to do was leave the area to somewhere more populated, or to survive until the night ended. Neither pride nor defeating this man was needed.
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This time, he aimed straight for his shoulder, crossing the space between them and swinging downwards with his sword, planning on disabling him a bit further.
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His sword swung in an arc across his chest, and he grit his teeth, swinging out again, not giving him any time to recover. With each swing, he took a step forward, ready to pin him against the door behind him with his sword if he had to.
"Your face shows such an intriguing lack of fear. Do you not feel pain? Or am I being too soft?"
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Damn it, he thought, his eyes widening slightly.
--He only wished he didn't feel pain.
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It was such a shame that he didn't run earlier. He could have spared himself a great deal of pain, but he knew little of the flames his hands were hovering over and how likely he was to be burnt.
Reaching out with his free hand, Takasugi closed his fingers around the man's throat and slammed him against the door, firmly holding him there as the tip of his sword rose to cut along the angle of his cheek bones. "More... I just want to see you suffer a little bit more for what your kind did to me. My home. Shoyou-sensei. Does it hurt, yet?"
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Gil...
"My kind...?" Rey repeated quietly after the man spoke, looking into his eyes, allowing his typical calmness to wash over him. Rey doubted he was talking about genetic type, so it was likely just an effect of the brainwashing.
And yes, it did hurt, as the slash wounds stung and bled--an unfamiliar sensation. He was well-acquainted with pain, but that of a different kind. Even so, the man's words, strangely enough, invoked a sense of determination in Rey, cutting through the haze of grief and confusion he'd built up for the past few days. Sadly, he didn't have much room to move, but he decided to do what he could. Swiftly, he brought his hand up, still holding the knife, hoping to stab into the man's arm.
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It figured an Amanto would stoop to such a low attack rather than fight him honorably. He expected nothing less of them anymore, and he used it to fuel his fury as he quickly swung out towards the man and pressed the tip of his sword into his shoulder, driving it deep. Again, there was that insistence that he didn't kill him. That he only wound them enough to be obedient, which seemed rather irrational for someone like him who had spent most of his life killing the Amanto without a single ounce of mercy or regret.
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Honestly though, he didn't know how long he could keep escaping death, with his wounds stinging even harder now and his strength fading away. And yet, what other choice did he have but to try? In another attempt to do something, he swung his fist up, the same one that had been holding the knife, aiming for the man's jaw, despite his injuries heavily protesting against the movement.
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Yes, more. More. Takasugi wanted him to suffer greater loss for what he'd done. Those whom he had given hiss assistance to. Such a fowl being shouldn't exist, and he wanted to rid himself of this trash. His mind was reinforced with images of what they'd done -the flames that piled high in the sky of what used to be his home. The screams of his comrades. The tears dried on his face. The steal cutting into his own eye. Everything.
He wanted to hear him cry out and wanted to see him struggle in the same way he'd watched his own men be broken. "What was that?" Takasugi murmured, his grin returning, "I didn't quite hear you."
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Maybe it was the pain and blood loss, but he actually found that a little amusing, in a bitter sort of way. He couldn't fully explain why--thinking on its own took enough energy--but it just was. It was almost worth laughing at, but he'd never been one for that. As things stood, he settled for taking in shaky breaths, trying to hold back his voice and stay coherent in his mind. It was like a storm of pain, misery, and the same bitter amusement in there, and he just wanted it to stop.
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