VIII

When Kirihara awoke, the water had run cold. His fingers trembled as he pulled himself out of the bath, drawn and wrinkled with water, foreign, as if it were not his own body. It was hours later, and nobody had come to get him. It was as if he were dead to the world.

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VII

"We've got a live one here!"

"All men to me!"

"Lift! Put your back into it!!"

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VI

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V

Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck fuck fuck fuck.

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IV

"...Sorry," Kirihara whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Part V.

IIILong, thin fingers snatched at the air, closing upon nothing. Yukimura blew on his hand again, watching his breath dance around his fist before disappearing into nothingness. The cold did not bother him in the slightest; he welcomed its numbness, the clarity that it brought, silence and awareness coupling the shiver kissing its way down one's ( Read more... )

IIAwareness crept at the edges of his mind, poking around the fog that was something of dreams but more like thoughts and images and ideas if only he were able to understand them. His head was no good. 'What.' A single thought, but disappeared as soon as it came to be, into a web of ideas where nothing connected. An ocean, and he was drowning ( Read more... )

I

"Shit!"

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