Prologue: Running…

A gunshot rang out through the peacefulness of the night; a lone figure ran through the woods at an unnatural speed, his long, silver-white hair billowing out behind him.

The bullet caught him in the shoulder, and the impact knocked him sideways, almost causing him to lose his footing in the dew-covered grass. He kept running. He tried to ignore the pain searing through his arm, a pain so intense that he was afraid it would make him sick.

"Dammit," he cursed, blood oozing from the bullet hole, standing out clearly through his white t-shirt.

He didn't slow; he could smell his pursuers' scents all around him, as if trying to smother him with their rank stench of gunpowder and sweat.

"Surround him," came a quiet voice from his left.

Perhaps the officer had thought he wouldn't have been able to hear him. Instead of continuing both straight and blindly through the forest, he leapt high into the sky. The hat perched on his head flew off in the wind, revealing two dog-ears poking out of his hair.

"There! Hanyou! Get him!" came the call, and over a dozen gunshots rang out.

Twirling in the air, he easily dodged all the bullets but one. It hit him hard in the leg. The hanyou roared in pain as he fell to the ground. Things became a swirling mess to his vision as he plummeted into the dirt.

"God damn…" he muttered, trying to stand, though his leg wouldn't yet support his weight.

It buckled underneath him and he fell face first into the mud.

"Get him!"

He suddenly felt the weight of a dozen bodies pressing in around him, crushing him. He growled and lashed out fiercely with the long claws at the ends of his fingers, and kicked out at the offenders. Four of them grabbed his arms and began to drag him backwards.

"Bastards! Let me go!" he hollered, but his cries went unheeded.

He pulled his good leg forward, and then kicked back, hitting one of the four in the chest and sending him flying, but the hanyou still could not free himself. Another two humans ran to take the other's place.

"Keep him down, men!"


He suddenly found himself facedown on cold iron. The inside of a truck. He had been here before. Memories flashed.

"LET ME GO, DAMMIT!" he roared, though a heavy object connected with the back of his head.

He crumpled onto the metal. His face was forced down as someone stood on the back of his head. He could hardly breath. Someone twisted his arms cruelly behind his back. He snarled, his heart starting to beat furiously with absolute panic. He had been here before. He had felt all this before. A pinprick in the back of his neck, and all of a sudden, his vision blurred. Everything went black, though he was still conscious.

"Arg!" he growled, trying to rise. "What the hell'd you do to me?"

No answer.


Someone kicked him, hard, and in his disorientation, he was thrown up against the wall of the truck with an echoing bang over. Someone else pulled his shirt off of him. Before he knew what was happening, one of his opponents was bludgeoning him with something heavy and metal. He groaned in agony, unable to fight back. The metal connected with his bare skin. He felt a rib crack. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He slumped down onto the ground and was finally released. He felt someone tie his hands behind his back. He didn't move at all, however, and tried not even to breath yet; he felt as if playing dead was the best solution here. After a moment, he heard them open the door to the truck, heard them leave, heard the truck's engine start. He lay panting on the ground. He could taste the blood inside of his mouth.

"Shit," he groaned.

He rolled over, blinking. He could see nothing but darkness despite the fact his eyes were wide open. Blinded. The pain throbbing through his body was almost unbearable, but he took a deep breath to try to calm himself. His panic was unceasing though, he knew he had to get free, but he couldn't rush it. He lay still, conserving his strength.


After about half an hour, he managed to heave himself into a sitting position, and then to a squat. With extreme difficulty he lowered his hands behind his heels and he pulled one of his legs through the loop his arms made behind his back. He then did the other. As soon as his hands were in front of him, he raised them to his mouth and chewed carefully through the rope with his fangs. Once he was free, he rubbed his bare arms, trying to get the blood to circulate through his wrists once more.


He stood slowly, testing out the strength in his leg. It was better; he could walk on it, though he wouldn't be able to run away anymore for a while. He placed his hand on one of the walls of the truck, and both felt and sniffed his way to the lifting door. He found the handle. Though it had been locked, and he felt sore, and weak, with just a few tries, he broke the lock in the back completely and pushed the sliding door up only to be met with a burst of cold, night wind. He frowned and tried to quell his worry, but it was to no avail. He had no way of knowing where he was. He didn't even know if he was still in Tokyo. The wind from the moving truck blew his hair into his face and he brushed it back in annoyance.

What does it even matter anymore? he thought bitterly, and then, without a second thought leapt from the back of the moving vehicle.


The hanyou hit grass, and then rolled down a hill.

This definitely can't be too good for me, he thought.

The rolling soon stopped and he found himself face-up in cool grass. He was still incredibly sore, but he reveled in brief elation at his at least temporary escape. He then sat up and lifted his nose to the wind. There was the smell of water, newly mowed grass, and few humans around him. The human scent was lingering; there wasn't anyone there now. In the distance there was the scent of exhaust, more humans and various types of food. The hanyou moved up the hill, following his nose towards the city scent, but then froze.

"I can't go walking around like this," he muttered to himself.

He pressed his ears as close to his head as he could and mussed up his hair a little in an attempt to cover them at least a little. Hopefully, it was still dark, and no one would notice him as anyone different. He was hesitant to go into the city now. He made his way to the very edge of it, and sniffed around for a place that sold clothes. He didn't want to resort to stealing.

"Oh god, those creeps had better not've taken my money," he hissed, and shuffled around in the pockets of his faded jeans.

His hand landed on a roll of bills, and he sighed in relief.


He soon caught the scent of clothing materials, and ended up outside what seemed to be a clothing store. He heard a jingle as someone opened the door and walked out. Judging by the smell, it was a human female.

"Uh, excuse me?" he said as politely as he could.

"Oh, yes?" the woman answered him.

"Sorry to bug you but I… see, I was playing football and a bunch of girls stole my shirt. I need to get a new one. But I... I can't see. If I were to give you money, would you go in there and get me a… a sweatshirt or something?"

He hoped the football lie would explain the bruises that must've been all over his body. The woman didn't answer. Luckily she didn't ask why he had been playing football if he was blind.

"I know this sounds really weird," he said. "But, I'm uh, kinda desperate."

He smiled weakly. The woman considered it.

"Okay, sure why not? A good deed every day, right?" she said.

The hanyou sighed in relief.

"Oh god, thank you so much."

He reached into his jeans pocket and handed the roll of bills to the woman.

I can't believe I have to put my complete faith in a stranger, he thought.

It wasn't something he was normally comfortable with, but what other choice did he have?

"Stay right here," the female said to him, and he heard her re-enter the store.

He waited impatiently outside. Soon enough, those humans would find out he was gone. They would come back for him. He heard the bell as the door opened again, and the female came out.

"Here" she said, handing the remainder of his money back to him.

"You have a bit over 200,000 yen left," she told him, and then handed him his clothes.

It felt much heavier than just a sweatshirt. The female must've seen the puzzled look on his face.

"You look cold," she explained, "so I got you a white t-shirt and a black hat as well as a sweatshirt. It's red by the way… Do you know colours?"

"Yeah," he said, "I haven't been blind all my life."

Only for the last hour, he added silently.

"All right, honey, be careful," she said, and then pressed forward and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "You'd better put that hat on as soon as you can, sweetie."

The hanyou was stunned, and he froze, knowing immediately what she mean, but she had pulled away and headed off before he could ask any questions at all.

She knew. Oh god, she knew.

"Thank you very much!" he called after her, though he heard no reply, and then he hurried back towards the park.


In the park, the hanyou skulked around until he managed to find a bench, and he plopped down onto it gratefully. His whole body ached. He care fully pulled the t-shirt and then the sweatshirt over his head. He then fixed the hat over his ears so that they were invisible. It only barely muffled his hearing, which was good. His life would probably depend on the only senses that he had left. He sighed.

Very suddenly, a faint beeping caught his attention, almost causing him to jump. It was coming from the back of his neck. He moved his hand onto it, and then cried out in alarm as an electrical shock passed through his body. He recognized the beep from a previous incident in his life.

"A… A tracking device?" he said in alarm, and then was shocked again.

It burned him; hurt like hell.

"Those bastards! They're trying to track me!"

He was rewarded with another shock. He groaned in agony, and had to resist the urge to clap a hand to the back of his neck.

Great, he thought. I can't even talk about it without this thing trying to kill me! How am I supposed to get help?

He sighed, and then set off back into the city, not heading anywhere in particular, but away.