Bad Vibes // [Saiga]

[Howard Wright]

Red. Gods, all he could see was red.
He awoke with a start and a hoarse cry from his dry throat, hand clutching his chest like an anchor in a storm, feet scrambling for a hold as he sat up. It felt as if everything had been loud up until now, the utter silence almost devastating save for the rasp of his breath and the gentle flow of the river beside him. Startled eyes looked down at his feet, his tarnished no longer white shoes had kicked away at the rocks of the river-bed, revealing the dirt and small bits of grass beneath. Musta been some kinda bad dream… what he wouldn’t give to have woken up in his own bed. He ran a hand over his hair, the thick locks resiliently standing up, even now, as his mind lay in shambles about him. He could barely remember the past couple of hours.

Hesitantly, he tucked a leg under his body, placed the open belly of his palm onto the cold earth and pushed himself up. It was cold, but by now his body felt numb, even as moisture began to collect in the air as if it was the preparation for rain. There was already a large wet spot on his shirt where his fingers toyed with the material, he drew them away only for them to return red. His stomach did a somersault, the life draining from his face. He remembered now, teeth biting down on his lower lip, he’d been shot. That goddamn psycho policeman shot him off the side of the cliff after being impaled through the chest! What the fuck was wrong with these people?! He should be in pain—or dead by all accounts. But as he fumbled about his body, he found no such wound. It was right here! If the blood wasn’t proof enough, what was? It was only then, peering through the dark, did the youth glance over at the river. It ran a dark, crimson read. Howard did the only thing he could do, and that was run, as hard as he could. In the only direction he could go. Fear spiked through his veins, thinking about all this was only getting him more lost.

Between sleeping in sheds and giving the beat down to these freaky monsters, he couldn’t be sure which one gave him more aches. These things looked enough like people—dead people, granted, but people none the less. But there were… varieties. His toes were beginning to hurt, crouched down low to the ground, the wet dirt and leaves squishing under the sole of his shoe as his hand braced the side of the decrepit old house. It was stupid to think just getting out of the woods would be any safer, but it was all the youth could do to keep moving. He paused for a moment, all but holding his breath and straining to listen. In his head he could still hear their high-pitched laughter, as if into the blade of a fan, distorted, wings beating like an insect’s. However, it was just in his head, the drone long since past. He was edging up to the corner of the house and carefully peered around the corner, then quickly ducked back. There was something there. For a moment his honey-brown eyes flicked back the way he came, overly paranoid with good reason. Then slowly poked his head back around the corner. It was a male, dark hair, looking around at the base of the look-out tower.

“Shit…” It was a quick, silent whisper. Just his luck, it had a rifle slung over it’s shoulder. They operated like people too, and at this point he was plenty tired of being shot at. There was something odd about it, but it didn’t occur to the boy, his hand slowly reaching around to grasp at the faded sake bottle that sat idle next to the box of pin-wheels. Slowly, Howard straightened himself out, pressing his back against the un-even boarding. He’d have be quick, and it’d have to be a fairly strong hit to knock out a fully grown man. Stepping around the structure, he crept as best he could behind the figure, he could see the detail in the brown of his suit, but he couldn’t smell that otherworldly stench of blood and dirt. He raised his arm over his head to strike, a soft breath escaping his lips—

[Seigo Saiga]

It had become something of a tiresome habit, the day in and day out of waking up to the same mess he partially felt responsible for. The scenery of Hanuda had changed so drastically within the past few days it was barely recognizable, the village torn into another dimension, or so he assumed. Red water flowed freely throughout the housing district and the villagers had become something half alive, half dead. Saiga had no problem with the act, the strangely satisfying procedure of drawing blood, and this did little to deter him still. His curiosity was overflowing and he felt the obsessive desire to examine this strange new species of human, tainted by the blood of a dead God. He could only assume that much; the sacred text locked within the Irazu valley church, and until he was able to obtain the key Saiga was locked out until more drastic measures were taken. Though the idea of hunting down said holder of the object was far more entertaining than the alternative and he preferred some form of amusement in this droll and drab environment. There was little fun to be had and Saiga, for the most part, remained un-amused by the situation.

It was tedious at best.

From the top of the lookout tower he had a nice vantage point of the village. The mountains he had looked at as a child were completely gone from view, obscured by mist as if having never existed at all and the house district was full to his knees of the water, the scarlet liquid sloshing around and spilling over the large gap that was once an open road. However, the area near the shrine remained intact and anything above a few feet as well, though damped by a continual dew. The humidity was irritating and he raised the back of his hand to wipe at his brow. Water gathered there, misting against his skin as he kept the butt of his rifle against his right shoulder, eye fixed through the sight. The creatures he had felled had remained down for the most part, but there was no telling when they would pull themselves from the water and continue their rituals as he too continued his own. There was so little separating them, yet he remained undaunted and of mild temper, a level head would keep you alive.

He considered his work finished; there were other things to attend to back at this hospital, assuming the nurses weren’t wandering around the corridors as they had before he dispatched of them. Yukie, being the most troublesome had the habit of following him where ever he managed to go, but he assumed she had the right, after all he had been the one to – Saiga exhaled deeply, lowering his firearm and casting one last glance at the muddled scenery. Everything had a lack of color, a world soaked in reds and grays, forever repeating. With this final observation he descended the lookout tower, his bare hands gripping the rusting metal bars. He clearly remembered things being different not so long ago, and his still mind tried to wrap his way around this abrupt change though quickly torn from this train of thought as his feet hit the earth. There was the crunching of branches, foliage squashed beneath his shoes as he slung the gun over his shoulder, careless behavior for someone so usually prepared. It was not this that had torn him from his musings but the sounds that came behind him, the noises of snapping twigs and unsteady movement.

Saiga continued his ascent from the hill, listening as the footsteps grew louder, and his palm sweaty against the grip of his gun. Within an instant he was on the figure, turning on his feet to face what pursued him. It was a boy, from what he could catch of the pale blur that moved to strike him. Quickly he stepped out of reach, raised the butt of his gun and struck. He felt force of the blow ripple up his arm, his torso twisting as he made to strike again, though hesitating when he saw what exactly had been following him.

His frown deepened considerably, a scowl forming his already morose expression. An outsider, and a young one at that. “いつも他人のビジネスにあなたの鼻を付着？典型的な。ない尊敬や傾きは、あなた自身の場所に滞在する。“ His voice was dead-pan, mirroring his expression. Saiga was beyond disappointed at the outcome and ending the life of the miserable child before him seemed to present itself, though he hesitated. A survivor was a survivor and if push came to shove, a distraction to save himself. “You look out of place.”

---

いつも他人のビジネスにあなたの鼻を付着？典型的な。ない尊敬や傾きは、あなた自身の場所に滞在する。= Always sticking your nose into the business of others? Typical. No respect or inclination to stay in your own place.

[/justify]

[Howard Wright]

Now that was the last thing he expected.
With a startled cry as the figure turned on him like some black shadow of rage, and a muffled ‘umph’ as the butt of the gun slammed down on his head, the youth stumbled backwards into the dirt and landed on his ass, both hands wrapped around the back of his head. Holy hell did that hurt! His earthy orbs quickly looked up at his attacker, thinking for sure he was only seconds away from the final blow, his stomach tightening into a knot… but that blow never came. The, man he now noticed, simply lifted the arm to his shoulder once again and spoke in a quick Japanese, the boy only catching bits and pieces of it. He was completely free of blood, a bit wet, but other then that this guy looked human! However, he may not be thinking the same about Howard… It was a relief and a curse.

“M-Matte,” He spoke slowly, making sure his words were well-pronounced like his teacher taught him. “Kimi wa ningyo. Ningyo!” He exhaled desperately, putting out the open palm of his hand for effect. As if it would be enough to stop the force of the bullet. Something about poking his nose in something he didn’t belong in? What kind of village was this? Was he trespassing? That cop did chase him off after that freaky ritual—a sudden realization hit him. That ritual. He was the guy who… All he could remember was a pulse of adrenaline, his body pressed against the back of a tree, drawn to the spectral firelight and the odd chanting. Even with as much Japanese as he knew, some of their words he couldn’t place. That was when they stabbed her, ran a girl through with a damn sword! Like medieval times! He felt his stomach heave, vomit coating the back of his throat in an acidy effect. His mind rushing past him like cars on a freeway—run, he had to run. Get away. Go home. Call police. But there was another cry, another girl, a curtain of thick ebon hair in her face as she struggled to get away. And that guy with the sword was coming towards her. His feet moved on there own, and he yelled out something in the chilled night air, shoving the caped figures off to the side to bee-line straight for that guy. Howard hit his body with an explosive force, knocking both of them to the ground and slamming a good one into his face. A face he now recognized as the man before him.

“…” His mouth hung open like a fish, mended by biting his lip. Did he recognize him from that night? There was no doubt in the youth’s mind that this was the man with the sword. But why wasn’t he one of those things? The teen could ask himself the same question, but despite the circumstances, the man before him seemed very much cool and in control. His thinned eyes held a dark glint, mouth pulled back into a deep frown.
“Konrinzai kaijin…” He muttered softly, scooting himself back to but some difference between himself and the well-dressed stranger. Speaking of his dress, the suit itself seemed dated, he hadn’t seen anything like it in all of his time in Japan. This couldn’t be normal, surely this man was carrying around a weapon to defend himself against these things, they attacked anything that moved and breathed.

Now would be a perfect time to sit up in his bed, feel the thick taste of sleep on his tongue and pull his laptop onto his lap, folding the legs of his fighting robot pajamas to check his blog. Someone will have messaged him, and he’d pull on a fresh shirt, stroll into the kitchen and fix himself an egg on toast, and be out the door into the warm summer sun. Wishful thinking, by this point, Howard knew this was no dream, Not even a nightmare.
There was a sudden high-pitched buzzing in the distance, the youth unable to stifle the gasp that fell free of his mouth. One of those things, it was moving towards them, now desperately did he look at the older man in front of him with a pleading look in his eyes.
“Onegai… Etto—aw, fuckit, can we continue this conversation elsewhere?” He wasn’t just going to sit there and let him die, right? No, this guy had a sense of humility, right? He’s probably a great guy! Probably a nerd, watches anime on the weekends…

Along with stabbing girls through the chest with five foot blades.

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TRANSLATION

Matte - Wait
Kimi wa ningyo! Ningyo! - I'm a human! Human!
Konrinzai kaijin - (Literally) Not at all a giant monster. (Giant monster is a word one often hears in reference to Godzilla and other such things.)
Onegai...Etto- - Please... Uh-