(no subject)
Who: Yosuke Hanamura.
Where: Terra, apartment.
When: After this.
Summary: And we lose a house member.
Rating: R for violence.
Blood had all but completely stained his pants' leg as he limped the entire way. He had regained just enough strength to cast a weak healing spell over his leg; enough so that he wouldn't die of blood-loos at the very least. His hand kept coming up to wipe his face, not that it was doing much but smearing partially dried blood on it with his tears. But, somehow he was able to get home. He all but tore the front door open with the hope of seeing Shika, Nill, even Itachi inside. Just wanting to cling onto one of them and be happy to know that they were still alive and all right. That they were real. That all the memories that he shared with them were real.
But no one was home.
His breath had caught. Uncertain what to do in the silence that the apartment had when just a few days ago it had been so lively. Sure, he had been fighting with both Shika and Itachi, but it all felt so empty. The door closed behind him and he was not sure if he had done it or not. His thoughts were just as quiet, uncertain what to do. He had gotten home. Wasn't he safe now? Everything was all right now, wasn't it? No, Ryou would come back and try to kill him, wouldn't he? Or was he really just going to have him forget? Or -- he shook his head; this wasn't helping.
It was worse that he was alone. He couldn't figure out anything with how he was feeling. Shinjiro was dead. He barely knew the guy, but he felt just wretched about it. Shijima would tell him that he should try to find some good in this -- he found his brother. But he was going to forget him soon, wasn't he? There was only so far that he could run from the NGPD, right? Should he, should he go to hide in the Abyss? That'd protect everyone, wouldn't it? His head gave a slight cant as he continued to limp into the apartment. He'd just had to make it to the couch then he could continue to sort this out. Or maybe, it'd be better to wait. Just wait until everyone came home and talked to them. But wouldn't that get them involved in this?
He was only able to make it to the coffee table, before he sat down on the floor. "Aragaki." That was such a horrible way for him to die. He must have been so scared, and Yosuke wasn't able to do anything for him. How did Shinjiro feel in his last moments? What was going to happen to his body? Was it going to be recycled? How would his loved ones and family know what happened to him? Would Ryou erase their memories, too? Would they just think he ran way when he somehow came to this world? Just what -- his hands came to rest on either side of his head, feeling more lost than he cared to admit. His memories weren't real. None of his memories were real. Just who was he?
There was a tentative meow at his side which was ignored. Uchiha-sama's cat. Yosuke thought quietly. Even the voice inside his head sounded broken. A paw lightly touched his shoulder, like the cat was trying to make up for those that were not there. The reaction was instantaneous -- swinging his arm out to smack the animal away from him. It was stunned from the strike as he got up to his feet, wobbling slightly. He really was a villain, wasn't he? He had killed his parents. He had killed Kazama. Sure, the former had been an accident and the latter had been out of some strange sense of good, but he was still murderer. He couldn't protect his friends or ask to lean on them. He didn't even know who he was. Maybe, maybe, his Shadow was the real him.
Reaching the kitchen, he dug around the drawers before he found two knives. Turning them around in his hands, he stared at the cat. It didn't really make him feel better -- killing Itachi's cat. He had no real vendetta against the beast, or the owner. Honestly, he just wanted to know who he was now. Who he should be. Some sort of monster? Or should he really try to be the hero? A hero would stop themselves from jamming the blade into the struggling cat's head repeatedly, wouldn't they? A hero wouldn't continue to stab and maim the body even though it was already dead. A hero should feel something, right? But all he felt was the same numbness that he had over his parents' death.
"That's right. I am the villain, aren't I?"
Where: Terra, apartment.
When: After this.
Summary: And we lose a house member.
Rating: R for violence.
Blood had all but completely stained his pants' leg as he limped the entire way. He had regained just enough strength to cast a weak healing spell over his leg; enough so that he wouldn't die of blood-loos at the very least. His hand kept coming up to wipe his face, not that it was doing much but smearing partially dried blood on it with his tears. But, somehow he was able to get home. He all but tore the front door open with the hope of seeing Shika, Nill, even Itachi inside. Just wanting to cling onto one of them and be happy to know that they were still alive and all right. That they were real. That all the memories that he shared with them were real.
But no one was home.
His breath had caught. Uncertain what to do in the silence that the apartment had when just a few days ago it had been so lively. Sure, he had been fighting with both Shika and Itachi, but it all felt so empty. The door closed behind him and he was not sure if he had done it or not. His thoughts were just as quiet, uncertain what to do. He had gotten home. Wasn't he safe now? Everything was all right now, wasn't it? No, Ryou would come back and try to kill him, wouldn't he? Or was he really just going to have him forget? Or -- he shook his head; this wasn't helping.
It was worse that he was alone. He couldn't figure out anything with how he was feeling. Shinjiro was dead. He barely knew the guy, but he felt just wretched about it. Shijima would tell him that he should try to find some good in this -- he found his brother. But he was going to forget him soon, wasn't he? There was only so far that he could run from the NGPD, right? Should he, should he go to hide in the Abyss? That'd protect everyone, wouldn't it? His head gave a slight cant as he continued to limp into the apartment. He'd just had to make it to the couch then he could continue to sort this out. Or maybe, it'd be better to wait. Just wait until everyone came home and talked to them. But wouldn't that get them involved in this?
He was only able to make it to the coffee table, before he sat down on the floor. "Aragaki." That was such a horrible way for him to die. He must have been so scared, and Yosuke wasn't able to do anything for him. How did Shinjiro feel in his last moments? What was going to happen to his body? Was it going to be recycled? How would his loved ones and family know what happened to him? Would Ryou erase their memories, too? Would they just think he ran way when he somehow came to this world? Just what -- his hands came to rest on either side of his head, feeling more lost than he cared to admit. His memories weren't real. None of his memories were real. Just who was he?
There was a tentative meow at his side which was ignored. Uchiha-sama's cat. Yosuke thought quietly. Even the voice inside his head sounded broken. A paw lightly touched his shoulder, like the cat was trying to make up for those that were not there. The reaction was instantaneous -- swinging his arm out to smack the animal away from him. It was stunned from the strike as he got up to his feet, wobbling slightly. He really was a villain, wasn't he? He had killed his parents. He had killed Kazama. Sure, the former had been an accident and the latter had been out of some strange sense of good, but he was still murderer. He couldn't protect his friends or ask to lean on them. He didn't even know who he was. Maybe, maybe, his Shadow was the real him.
Reaching the kitchen, he dug around the drawers before he found two knives. Turning them around in his hands, he stared at the cat. It didn't really make him feel better -- killing Itachi's cat. He had no real vendetta against the beast, or the owner. Honestly, he just wanted to know who he was now. Who he should be. Some sort of monster? Or should he really try to be the hero? A hero would stop themselves from jamming the blade into the struggling cat's head repeatedly, wouldn't they? A hero wouldn't continue to stab and maim the body even though it was already dead. A hero should feel something, right? But all he felt was the same numbness that he had over his parents' death.
"That's right. I am the villain, aren't I?"