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Post by » Nephi Ryuusuke on Apr 10, 2009 0:24:53 GMT -5
Warning! May contain flashbacks of Rape, gore, massive amounts of blood, and other... things.
---------------------------------- It was the leftover scent. The noises replaying within his ears as if his brain was nothing more than a mere broken record. It was the throbbing muscles. The coagulation of blood upon the corners of his lips, reminding him of events since passed. It was the constant reminder. The feeling that he could be everything, yet nothing, at the same time. Nephi utterly ached. The bruises made his joints swell as he continued to walk forward. Not necessarily walking, parse, as his torso remained much too battered to center any kind of balance. He could say the blood from the cavern of his ears was a mere bicycle accident. He could feed everyone lies; after all, Hiroki would kill him if anyone found out about anything. Murders or his own personal torment, nothing was to be spoken. For a moment he paused, lurching forward to spit up a rather large wad of bloody spit from his aching lungs. Just what in the hell did he do to deserve this? All he asked was a question; all that was answered on the part of Hiroki's interest was Nephi's endurance and will power. He could feel his energy draining with each drop of blood. The clicking sound of his boots only reverberated against the splash and sway of his figure and it's excrement. "G'h... I..." He fell upon his knees, his head thumping against the barrel of scraps within the shopping district. There was another mark to be added to the bruises and open wounds; which also stretched along his spine, lower legs, torso, and abdomen. Clearly a sign that something was seriously fucked up. "Hate this... shit." Sprawled upon the ground, Nephi began to flex his hand to each heartbeat he could feel within his neck. He remained tired, extremely dizzy, and pale from the loss of blood; but knowing him, he would attempt to go on forever. Just meandering around until something, or someone, caught his eye... But tonight, that wouldn't be the case. Instead, he remained motionless, silent, and on the verge of consciousness.
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Post by Fusae Umezono on Apr 10, 2009 1:27:56 GMT -5
It wasn't often that Fusae took this particular route back home from the Konishi's store; generally there wasn't a need to take the back alleys, especially this time of day, even if Inaba was too quiet a town to really have trouble lurking around at dusk. Oh, sure, some kids tried, but it just couldn't compare to the level of organization in Osaka. Besides, what was the worst you could find in Inaba?
Except for perhaps a couple splatters of blood here and there. ...What looked like a trail of blood, actually. And Fusae furrowed her brow suspiciously at the splashes of rust-red on the ground, almost unnoticeable in the faint light. Hell, every bit of common sense she had was telling her this was stupid as all fuck; really, she should have learned better by now, right?
...And that trail of blood led to what looked like an actual person passed out on the dingy backalley concrete. Not just any person, either, and when she got a good look at the person themselves...
Fuck. Oh god fuck. No way. No fucking way. What the hell-- why the hell was this-- all that blood had come from him?
"Y- Kid! Oh fuck--" Yeah, forget any bit of sense she had when it came to keeping out of trouble. She couldn't get over to him fast enough, only to pause barely a few steps away. "Shit-- Kid!"
Yeahno, this didn't look good. At all. Screw keeping her distance - she closed those steps and was crouching by his side in a second, her nose wrinkled at the lingering smell of blood and who-knew-what-else that clung to his clothes, her attention jumping from one bleeding gash to the bruises to the way the skin on his cheek had been busted...
"God, what the hell did you get into?" It was more to herself than him, since it didn't look like he would be in any shape to even talk.
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Post by » Nephi Ryuusuke on Apr 10, 2009 18:19:27 GMT -5
Honestly, he didn't like the feeling of being numb; but he enjoyed the feeling of being immune to the pain. He enjoyed the subtle ringing in his ears, the shallow breaths that seemed to make the dirt upon the alley puff up with life. It was those breaths that had become most precious to him. It wasn't like he was going to die, right?
Or at least, he hoped not...
The familiar clacking of boots caught his attention, causing an eye to partially open, glancing within that direction. Between the thin view of sight and the foggy blur of distance, he could make out the individual's figure... as well as her unmistakenable banter.
Jeeze, he wasn't sure of himself, but it was a moment in time that he was glad to see her. It was that moment that made him realize that she would be the first... and probably only person... that he would want to see before everything went black.
"Damn... you're... too loud...," Nephi managed to gurgle between heaved breaths. He'd be damned if that didn't take more energy than he thought. "T'ch..."
He breathed deeply again; his voice low and rasp-y. "Niisan... wanted to play..."
Play? Why did he have to word it in such a way? He could've said something more along the lines of 'Niisan wanted some ass, so fuck me sideways--' or 'Niisan was frustrated, and luckily, I was there to help with that!'
But it was nothing like that. Each time he thought about the torture, the more he began to clutch at the ground--
Until his energy had been exasperated to such a point, the point of losing control.
The point of losing consciousness.
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Post by Fusae Umezono on Apr 10, 2009 19:38:27 GMT -5
Play? Play?! This wasn't playing, this was just brutal. It'd been months since she'd seen someone nearly half as beat up as Nephi was now. On the bright side, it didn't look like he had been shot, under all that blood, but that was probably the only thing that hadn't been done to him, looked like.
It didn't help her temper any.
"Gonna skin that motherfuckin'-- hey. Hey! Goddammit, Yuu-chan--" Usually the nickname, at least, was enough to get the kid riled up. Distract him from the pain, get him to focus on the stupid little things instead of the fact he was lying in the gutter, make sure he didn't notice the way her nails were digging into her palms so hard her knuckles were white. Except it didn't work that way at all, and before she could even get out another annoyed word, he'd passed out. Damn he had a habit when it came to that...
She just stayed there, crouched on the dirty and bloodied concrete, trying to fight back her anger long enough to at least figure out what to do; Kuraokami was no help, impulsive as ever and currently running laps of happy rage in the space he took up in the back of her head. He got that way in the TV, too, whenever any of the kids took a nasty hit, but not this bad. Maybe it was because you expected to get hurt in the television world and out here...
Right. Kid hated doctors (although that was a moot point by now), the hospital would only send him running as soon as he opened his damn eyes, he'd caused enough trouble in the shopping district to gain much sympathy (or medical help) from the other shopkeepers on the street, and she had no idea where in the hell his own house was -- not unless he decided to wake up on the spot. It was just like helping Otoyo back to a friend's house after a turf fight that had been broken up by the cops, was all.
Only there wasn't any other couch to patch him up on aside from her own. Dammit!
She was painfully cautious as she brought a hand to his shoulder, resisting the urge to reach for his face and run a thumb by the broken skin on his cheek. When he didn't even move, aside from a few rather shaky breaths, she swore to herself under her breath and leaned down closer to gingerly tug a cut-up and scraped arm over her shoulders, her free hand wrapping around his small waist (and oh god she could feel the blood soaking through the fabric of his shirt, shiiit) as she hefted him up as carefully and slowly as possible. God, of all the people to be passed out in a dark alleyway, it had to be him. At least no one else was taking this shortcut, so there was a small blessing in all of this.
Each step back to her garage-turned-apartment was agonizingly, painfully, slow, as she tried not to tear him up any more than he already had been. Hell, she thought she had felt more seeping through his clothes when she went rummaging for her keys in her coat pocket, the much smaller boy leaning quite heavily against her. And if all that dragging through the streets and the ear-grindingly-loud creak from the door didn't at least rustle him a little bit, she would be damn amazed.
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Post by » Nephi Ryuusuke on Apr 10, 2009 20:12:06 GMT -5
Within the darkness, he focused upon the light. It wasn't the sort of 'light at the end of a tunnel' thing that everyone and their mothers spoke about, but something... surreal within the pure onyx abyss. Within that light were images, images of the past.
Images concerning his childhood, when he was nothing but a lanky ethopian-esque boy. His stomach appeared caved in, his bones only outlined by muscles. This was the first time his brother, his _real_ brother, had taught him to ride a bike. He could see his mother furiously pacing in the background, worried that her innocent boy would turn out to be more like the troublesome brother. The leader of a motorcycle gang-- the same gang that had been defeated by Kanji Tatsumi only months afterward.
With the presence of his brother's last, furious scream, the images warped, distorted, into something not too far into the past.
Dark and brutal, he could feel the repeating thumps against his hips and lower back. He could feel the pressure of the dirt and grime underneath his knees and chest. The oblong grains continuously seemed to pinch and etch into his flesh. With every grunt, gasp, and scream he emitted into the musky atmosphere... the more the imposing force began to stab, cut, and bruise his flesh.
One last scream. It was loud. Screeching. ... Protruding from reality.
Stunned, Nephi jerked against the hands that held him; so far in fact, that he removed himself from the grasp, easily tumbling upon the floor. His eyes opened weakly, glancing in very much the same fashion as he had moments before he passed out-- discovering he was in a new environment-- but with Fusae, herself.
"G'uh..."
He started, unable to finish any complete words. Instead, his mouth continued to move... a fleeting breath passing between his crusted lips.
He was thankful, for once.
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Post by Fusae Umezono on Apr 10, 2009 21:05:25 GMT -5
He'd been jittery and almost twitchy as she'd fiddled with the lock and nudged her door open, as if the kid had fallen into a hell of a nightmare in the ten minutes it had taken to get him this far. Which was really the worst kind of talent, when you thought about it, but never mind that -- she was more worried about keeping him from hurting himself anymore than he already was.
Only surprise on her part and sheer desperation on his let him tumble to her cold floor like he did. She stopped herself from darting down next to him, because nothing good could come from the exhausted look of panic he had on his face, never mind any quick movements. She shot him a look once he seemed to have quieted down a bit, crouching down a little to better look him in the eyes.
"Hey, go chill on the couch. I'll grab you a first aid kit or somethin', okay?" Her tone was a far cry from the way she was still seething inside; it was calm, and amazingly steady despite the way she was ready to throw a fist at the next person who pissed her off again. But damn if he wouldn't just up and freak if she didn't try and sound as soothing as possible, and forget even so much as touching him after that struggle. Even she knew when to tone it down, when it came to something like this.
She didn't even wait for an answer, heading for the tiny bathroom to grab the white plastic case under the sink and toss a few sloppily-folded towels over her arm. The door was left wide open, just as much for him to see (it helped, when you were in a strange place and so obviously hurt, to know where everyone was. She knew it from experience, because nothing was worse than still being jumpy from a fight and someone you didn't know came walking out of the other room while you were trying to stop shaking...) as for her to keep an eye on him and make sure he made his way over.
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Post by » Nephi Ryuusuke on Apr 10, 2009 21:25:58 GMT -5
Her soothing words really effected him. Nephi felt relaxed, enough not to worry about the pain, but to wander around as much as he could before collapsing on the couch. Thankfully, he understood this environment to be Fusae's home, rather than completely freaking out for no reason. After all, more blood loss wouldn't be the best thing for Nephi at this point.
Clutching upon the fabric of the furniture, he peered inside of the cracked space of the bathroom door; watching the female's movements with as much interest as he could muster. It was at this point that he began to yawn-- getting tired of everything; his senses becoming numb once more.
He had fought consciousness before, but this was a harder battle. His chest heaved from the sudden ping of pain, shuddering and hitching as he grasped at his hip, where his largest wound lay open...
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Post by Fusae Umezono on Apr 10, 2009 22:47:38 GMT -5
She shrugged off her light jacket as she exited the bathroom, leaving it in a haphazard pile on the floor while she walked out to the couch. At least he'd listened, for once (and no, the irony of someone totally doing the opposite of what she said never escaped her, no matter what), although that might have been listening to directions out of sheer exhaustion. If it wasn't for the fact that he was bleeding all over her couch, he almost would have looked somewhat innocent.
Oh, right, blood. Fu set the case down on the floor, by the foot of the couch, and went to slip a towel in between the most blood-sodden parts of his clothes clothes and the couch. And then paused like a deer in headlights because, holy shit, not only was he about ready to pass out again, but then he spasmed and clutched at the wide-open gash on his hip.
She didn't freak, didn't stare, but instead bent down to open the first aid kit, rifling through it's contents. Disinfectant, gauze, bandages, various aspirins... Yeah, she could improvise. She didn't really need those towels, anyways, and a bowl of warm water would take care of cleaning out the worst of those wounds. ...Most of them. She had a feeling that that dinky little tube of disinfectant was going to do jack shit. Fusae swore to herself under her breath, then got back up to head to the tiny kitchenette to fill her largest chip bowl with warm water mixed with a little handsoap.
"God, Yuu-chan..." The older woman didn't even bother to finish the thought, as she came back and set the bowl down next to the first aid kit, grabbing the oldest of the menagerie of towels she had taken from her bathroom and soaking the corner of one in the water. "Alright," She muttered, wringing the towel out and brandishing the damp corner. "Just... just try not to freak on me. I won't do anything else but try and clean you up, so try and help me a little with this, 'kay?"
Just try and keep your voice level, keep eye contact, no sudden movements. She rested her free hand on the towel by his hip, slowly raising the damp towel towards his hip. When he didn't outright snap at her, she gently rested her hand on his, moving it away from the injury, the better to softly blot the blood away with the towel. ...The towel that was getting an alarming shade of rust-red with every passing moment. Oh god what had he gotten himself into, this time?
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