A conscience of a single existence, swimming in scarlet.<br/>Connecting and reconnecting the perceptions of the eyes, so hollowly gazing forth.<br/>Senses as if divided by a border that cut through the nerves and split the brain apart.<br/>Swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming in scarlet, drowning and surfacing in the ocean that divided him from the rest of the world, endless.<br/>The horizon was black.<br/><br/>The tendons in his arm were torn and the muscles were ripped, bleeding thick red as he attempted to use them despite the excruciating pain that followed it. He had to pick that blade of cold steel up and fight once more. Oh, no, no more shameless insults without a reprimanding by the razor blade's edge. He struggled and suffered, adamant in the dedication to deliver a mortal wound through the very manifestation of all his hate. Grinding his teeth, he pulled the black sword out of the bloodied carcass' - no, it was not a carcass, it were the remains of his sensei - hands. Tsukinuku. The blade that shatters all to microscopic shards upon impact with anything, bearing enough arrogance to stand in a man brave enough to bear a weapon like this. A Shinigami's scythe in the eyes that didn't have the time to repent their sins when faced with its steel.<br/>"F**k you! F**k you! I'll kill you! I WILL KILL YOU! You f**king bastard, I will kill you! Kill you! KILL! YOU!" he shouted through the crystalline curtain of tears and blood-red rage, obscuring his vision, and blindly charged forth, only to be met with a menacing laughter.<br/>"You, child? Hardy... But arrogant." he shook his head. "You bore me. Just lose your conscience already."<br/>The boy stumbled, head spinning under the burden of blood-loss and exhaustion, collapsing onto the ground.<br/><br/>A foot in a black tabi kicked into his side, painfully exploiting the gaping wound that he received beforehand, and he flinched, swallowing a scream. His blood-red eyes still struggled to target the single eye, menacingly staring at him. "You know me, Enryuu. And you know this feeling. Tatsuya Hijō ni Surudoi Hirohisa, remember them once more, and come get your revenge." It was like listening to a snake... Disgusting.<br/>Hirohisa's fingers clenched around the man's ankle, leaving moist red stripes on his tabi. "I'm... Not letting you go... You bastard... I'll kill you..." A stream of blood as if only accentuated the whispered words.<br/>"Kill Tamashii no Mori?" A mocking tone.<br/><br/>Something hit him onto the back of his head.<br/>Oh sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet sleep of oblivion.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">-FOUR YEARS LATER-</div><br/><br/>"Hey. Freak. You, you freak in black. Can you move your ass?" a rough voice, hinting either at an overly high alcohol intake, or mental insanity, sounded from behind Hirohisa's back as he studied the inside of the inn. It was a cheap one - a dark interior full of stinky men, a single bartender working his ass off while a figure slept in the corner, and the stench of sake spreading through the air even at the early evening.<br/>"Freak?" He twisted his head sideways, crimson eyes narrowing with hardly-restrained rage. His upper lip lifted, revealing his white teeth, and the fingers, clenched around the doorway, tensed up. "Who the f**k are you calling a freak, you drunken bastard! Go sober your ass up!" he shouted, twisting on his heel, and with the sheer velocity of his movement rammed his knee under the drunk's ribs. It was a strong hit, even though Hirohisa tried to limit his strength.<br/><br/>Strong enough to send the man across the street and make him bash into the opposing building's wall. He gasped for breath, in panic scrambling up to his feet to dash down the road like a cannonball, bumping into whoever was walking even remotely nearby. "It's the Blade Demon! It's the Blade Demon!" he screamed, voice skipping. He just narrowly avoided running straight into some strange young man in blue armor. "In the tavern is the Blade Demon! And you're weird as hell, too!" he spat out into his face, and head-first rushed further.<br/>Hirohisa just gave a glare over his shoulder in his direction, scoffing, and cocked his head to the side to stop his bangs from falling into his eyes. "What a piece of shit." he growled, and turned to enter the inn, by other residents proudly labeled as a hotel. Cheap or not, he just needed a place to sleep on and something to eat.<br/><br/>"Whatever can feed a man and doesn't taste like puke. Twice as much wasabi as you usually give a man. And a bottle of sake." he requested off the bartender in his rather jaded, uninterested voice, not caring at all about how comfortable his pair of gleaming crimson eyes, set on him without even once darting off, was for him. He was paying, right? He had the full right to do it, then. No 'cut me some slack, mister creepy-ass samurai', please.<br/>Returning a just as jaded attitude, the bartender smacked a bowl of noodles in front of him, some rice balls, a large bowl of the spicy green stem, and a large bottle of strong sake.<br/>"Now money." the hand outstretched to him.<br/>Hirohisa raised a brow, slowly reaching underneath his haori, but at the last moment, his hand flashed back, gripping around the bartender's hand stronger than a steel cuff, and twisting it. "I'll pay you when I eat it." he hissed, finally releasing the bartender after the distressed look and beads of sweat, running down the man's temples. He was in no mood for bullshit.<br/><br/>Picking all of the food that was served to him onto a tray up and moving over to the remote corner of the dark premise, he begun stuffing himself with it just a few moments later. It was tasteless, the noodles more like if he was chewing on his own keikogi. But the wasabi was quite good, and thus he liberally dunked pretty much everything - even the things a normal person wouldn't even think about putting wasabi on - in it. Just a few minutes later, he poured the contents of the bottle over it, and leaned back, letting his back rest against the wall. Hopefully nobody would bother him today.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What's pissing you off, Enryuu?</span>This time, she sounded kind. Almost concerned - as concerned as something one hears only as a figment of the mind can be.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">My existence is pissing me off.</span>He growled back.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Don't be ungrateful... At least you still exist at the very least.</span>She would have raised her hand and stroke him on the back, softly running her fingers down the curved line his vertebra formed under his muscles.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">I'd switch places any day with you.</span>