Live Specters in a Dead City [Kiku

[Kiku Honda]

It was growing dark. Kiku could see it in the long shadows that stretched out, wrapping around him like cloak. The dark could be an advantage to Kiku Honda. The man was quiet in his movements and the darkness could provide him with protection from any other survivors, looking to scavenge a few extra supplies. Kiku was not an easy man to kill, but he’d had several would be robbers make that mistake. With his diminutive frame and delicate features, most survivors assumed that he was weak, an easy target for the taking, prey to release their most base desires upon.

Most survivors assumed wrong.

Kiku’s blade glinted in the light of the dying sun, a clear warning to those who might dare to test him. His fingers gripped the handle, tight enough that he could feel the fabric digging into his skin. It was comforting feeling. He was armed and he was experienced and he felt pretty sure that by now, most of the scavengers in the area knew to steer clear of the petite Asian with the red scabbard and the deadened eyes.

It had been a good day, relatively. (Everything is relative, now.) Kiku found a supply of medicine and a couple of Emergency rations over looked in a house that had certainly seen several raids. He found a side arm and a fair amount of ammunition, and it felt nice to have a firearm again. The infected had been few and far between and were hardly worth the effort needed to take them down, but Kiku wasn’t about to take the risk to leave any alive. What may seem like a minor inconvenience now may turn out to be a major threat when joined with a multitude.

Kiku’s eyes swept across the empty streets, the cars rusting and abandoned on the lanes, a testament to a lost world. It was strange, Kiku could barely remember what it was like when those cars were humming, when these streets were alive with people and machines and bustle. Even the air around him felt stilled, subdued… sick… And yet, Kiku couldn’t help but feel like he was more comfortable in this dead world than the one he lived in.

Kiku never quite fit in the world that was, never felt comfortable in his own skin. He played his part well, the honorable son, following in his father’s footsteps and serving both his family and his country. The polite one, the reserved one, the dependable one. He never quite bought into his own façade and in a way, it appeared that he had been right not to. His parent were dead, his friends were dead, the country he pledged his life to had disintegrated right before his eyes. Dependable Kiku couldn’t be counted on to save a single person. It was only now, wondering through the specter of civilization, was Kiku truly himself. It was the first time, Kiku was nothing but alive.

And that was an accomplishment in and of itself.

A clatter, a shift in rubble, caught Kiku’s attention and sent a shiver of adrenaline dancing through him. An infected? Or a survivor? Kiku wasn’t sure which he’d prefer at the moment. He ducked down, silently making his way to the sources of the noise, a small little shop with gaping jagged wounds where its windows used to be. There was that noise again, that shuffle, too purposeful to be an Infected. A human then… Kiku’s lips thinned and he climbed into the building, silent as a wraith, his eyes scanning the gloom for the source of the disturbance.

Ah, there! A figure, huddled in corner, sorting through a pile of clothes. Kiku stood behind the figure, eyes narrowed as he watched the boy pilfering through the cloth. It was definitely a boy, though he was clearly petite and his clothes hung off of him, Kiku could clearly make out the broad line of his shoulder. The boy didn’t move like a warrior, his fingers had the furtive movements of one used to operating outside of the spotlight. He didn’t appear to be a threat, but Kiku had learned (painfully) that it was best not to take chances. Finally, he shifted his hand, so that the tip of his blade was pointed at the boy’s back.

“You shouldn’t make so much noise,” he said flatly, weapon at the ready. If the boy made any threatening motion, gave any reason for Kiku to believe he’s hostile, Kiku was ready. His eyes were just as flat as his voice, steeled for any action he might have to take.

“Stand up. Slowly. Do not reach for any weapons. If you do. I will cut you down.”

((Feliciano Vargas ))

[Feliciano Vargas]

Dust and dirt coated Feliciano's lungs as he smothered heavy gasps behind the fabric of his sleeve. While he believed he had evaded the loitering zombies roaming the streets, Feliciano had to be careful. He wasn't equipped to deal with a zombie attack. This whole excursion to the business district was because someone had broken into his home and ransacked it; taken all of Feliciano's supplies while he was out looking for other survivors. His food was gone or rendered inedible, clothes ripped apart, makeshift bed unsalvageable. All he had left were the clothes on his back, the knife tucked up his sleeve, and the frying pan tied to a belt-loop.

It was dangerous to be out now. The sun was setting, and the zombies were generally plentiful in this area. However, it's been nearly two days since Feliciano had eaten, and he needed food if he wanted to live to see the end of the week. While life was infinitely more difficult than it had been before the disease reached his state, his city, Feliciano didn't want to die, either. Not like this. So he had left the safety of his safehouse to find something, anything he could use to stay alive for even a little longer.

Eventually, Feliciano's breathing slowed, and he deemed it safe enough to lower his free hand from his face. The zombie shouldn't hear him, so long as he was careful. Being quiet was a skill Feliciano had mastered years ago, staying nondescript as he moved through the world without a sound. So long as they didn't see him crawling around, until he found the cover of the hops down the road, he should be okay. One of the buildings should have a storeroom of some kind, or places high out of reach he could hide until the sun rose and the teenager could return home with...whatever he discovered today. A quick glance around the hood of the vehicle working as his cover showed the zombies he'd been hoping to evade had wandered away--the lack of sound meant they hadn't spotted him or anything else, which posed a boon for Feliciano. The...creatures, if he could call them that, were less dangerous just milling around than when something had riled them up.

With one last steadying breath and a moment more to steel his nerves, Feliciano eventually crept away from the car and continued on his way, ducking behind other vehicles and debris whenever a strange sound reached his ears. Being on such high alert would only weaken him further, but Feliciano couldn't afford to be anything less. While zombies were the most pressing concern right now, Feliciano couldn't even afford to run into other people right now. He might be armed, but neither of his weapons were ranged, and he was too weak to hold his own in a fair fight. No one he'd run into so far seemed willing to cooperate with anyone outside their small groups and factions; considering the theft and destruction of his own supplies, Feliciano wasn't sure hew as willing to be charitable, either.

The trip took far longer than it seemed, and by the time he reached the run-down, damaged walls of the first shop along the street, Feliciano's limbs were trembling with anxiety and exhaustion. He had to eat, or at least get water, and soon. The doors were chained shut, when people attempted to barricade themselves inside, but most of the windows were broken. Feliciano had been through here in past supplies run, and he could only hope the bags were still here. Glass crunched beneath the soles of his work boots as he slowly stepped to one of the jagged openings. Tucking his knife further up his sleeve so he could bunch the edges down over his hands, Feliciano carefully rested his hands over the sill and hopped inside. He winced at the sound of glass shattering as his shoe knocked one chunk loose, and he rushed into cover, nearly crashing to the ground as his shoe lost traction upon the debris littering the ground of the store.

In his haste, he cracked his shoulder against the jagged edge of a metal shelf, but he couldn't stop long enough do more than hiss at the sharp pain blooming through the injury as he ducked into the narrow space between shelf and wall. Despite the obvious noise he had made, echoing distortedly loud in the otherwise overbearing silence; no one else seemed to be around. Feliciano mentally cursed to himself as he felt dampness slowly seep into his shirt and his shoulder consistently throbbed with his heartbeat. Hopefully he could find a thicker coat while he was here--something to better protect him against zombie teeth and nails and wayward shelves alike.

He couldn't keep hiding like this. If he didn't move, the sun would sink below the horizon entirely and he'd be trapped in the dark without shelter or supplies. So, despite the fact he hadn't properly cleared the area, Feliciano slid out of his hiding place and to the first pile of merchandise he could see. His knife was carefully set upon the floor, handle against his knee so he wouldn't lose it, but the steady thump of his frying pan against his thigh soothed frayed nerves; even if he fumbled for his knife in the dark, he wasn't unarmed.

Most of these clothes were too big for Feliciano, and would do little to protect him from the heat or zombie attacks, but if he could rip out the seams, they might make decent blankets... There was a department store further down the way, and Feliciano highly doubted all the needles and thread had been taken. He could maybe make these fit...

Something narrow and sharp prodded against Feliciano's spine, a small stab of pain even through his baggy sweatshirt. "You shouldn't make so much noise."

Terror chilled his blood into ice and he visibly jerked, seams tearing underneath the yank of his hands as every muscle in his frame tensed and vibrated. The movement sent another sharp bolt of pain through his injured shoulder. His hissed curse was buried beneath the stranger's next words; words that froze him to the bone. "Stand up. Slowly. Do not reach for any weapons. If you do. I will cut you down."

At first, Feliciano couldn't do more than crouch there, body trembling and frustrated, terrified tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. However, the press of whatever weapon against his back forced the teenager into action. He slowly raised his hands in what he hoped was a universal sign of surrender, attempting to swallow down the large lump lodged in his throat. Standing was a bit more difficult, with his legs refusing to support his weight and his head swimming with fear and stress and exhaustion. However, he forced himself to his feet, frying pan swaying against his leg. He dared one glance down at the knife on the floor near his foot. There's no way he could reach it if it turned into a fight. His frying pan would only be useful if he could free it in one smooth movement, and Feliciano wasn't sure if he could.

Feliciano was fully at the stranger's mercy, and he couldn't even muster the courage to see what the other looked like.

Finally, finally, he managed to choke a few words out. "I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't--" Feliciano cut himself off a moment, trying to steady his breathing before he broke down sobbing. He just wanted to find a backpack and some extra clothes, and some food. He meant no harm. Feliciano forced himself to stay still, when all he wanted to do was collapse. "I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to d-draw attention o-over here. I d-don't want any t-trouble, ve. I s-swear, I'm j-just looking for supplies. I don't have anything v-valuable on me, a-and I won't do anything. Please d-don't hurt me." Feliciano didn't care that he was begging, or that he was so close to tears. He just wanted to be left alone. He hadn't even done anything. He just wanted to find his supplies, take care of his injured shoulder, and curl up somewhere safe for the night.

---

Kiku Honda

[Kiku Honda]

The boy was so… fragile. It was the only word Kiku could come up with, looking at the boy on the other edge of his blade, his delicate features and thin frame seemed almost bird-like. He was hardly appeared to be a threat, with his trembling lower lip and widened amber eyes, but Kiku was not one to lower his guard, even to someone who appeared so vulnerable.

And no one seemed more vulnerable. Even Mei, his cheerful, talkative companion, never seemed so in need of protection as this boy. Sure she was hardly a fighter, but she had managed to survive just fine on her own. And she had proven she could handle herself in a crisis. The fact that Kiku was there at all, staring down the stranger, was due in no small part to her actions. While she was not a fighter, Kiku never pitied her, but this little creature who trembled before him. Kiku couldn’t help but pity him.

Listening to the boy talk, Kiku frowned, but finally lowered his katana. It remained at his side, ready to swing to action at the first sight of danger, Kiku may pity him, but that didn’t mean that he trusted him. In order to trust him, Kiku had to ask a few questions. He knelt down slowly, never breaking his gaze on the boy. He tilted his head, eying the bruised rings around the brunette’s eyes, the stiffness in his shoulder.

“I will not hurt you, as long as you don’t give me a reason to. I’m not a thief and I am not a murderer.” He gave a faint smile at that. Nowadays everyone was a murderer, but Kiku had never harmed anyone who had not first raised a hand against him. In this new age a lot of words took on meanings very different than they had in the old world.

“I just wanted to make sure you would not pose a threat to me.” He said, hoping his voice sounded somewhat comforting. Mei was much better at putting people at ease. “Are you alone… ah.” He sighed and shook his head, realizing that he had no idea what the boy called himself. “What’s your name? My name is Kiku.”

There was a time for intimidation and a time for diplomacy. He had used intimidation and the boy had broken under it, if Kiku wanted to hear more than just begging for mercy, he had to rely on diplomacy.

[Feliciano Vargas]

The moment that blade left his back, Feliciano whirled around to face the person threatening him. The sudden action made his head swim and he had to visibly catch himself before he tipped over, but Feliciano kept his feet. He kept his eyes on the short, black-haired person holding--is that a sword? A katana, if Feliciano could trust his memory, anyway. Whatever, the stranger was holding a katana in their hand and there was absolutely no way Feliciano could fight that off with a butcher knife. No way.

Thankfully, the stranger didn't strike him down when Feliciano turned to face them, sharp and unexpected as the move must've been. Or perhaps they did expect it, Feliciano couldn't really say. He was starting to think himself in circles; Feliciano had to calm down. But that sword was still a threat, this strange was still a threat. Feliciano's heart hammered in his chest, practically stumbling over itself trying to race up his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, another plea to leave him be--he didn't want anything to do with anyone else--when the stranger crouched down on the floor. Immediately, Feliciano shifted his stance to stand one foot firmly on the blade of his butcher knife. Even if it wasn't much of a weapon, it was all he had. Feliciano would risk that katana to keep his weapon close. He was good as dead if it was taken.

"I will not hurt you, so long as you don't give me a reason to," they said after a long moment, and Feliciano froze save for the trembling of his hands. Fuck, fuck, they saw the knife, and they were going to take it and Feliciano wouldn't let them do that without a fight-- But that didn't happen. The stranger kept talking, and their next words struck a nerve in Feliciano. Left his hands trembling for more than just terror and pain. "I'm not a thief and I am not a murderer."

The stranger said those words with a smile, as if their earlier threats meant nothing. As if Feliciano could forget the sharp press of steel against the small of his back, that cold voice ordering him to freeze lest he be "cut down". Innocent people do not threaten to kill people with such ease. Murderers have to say they aren't actually murderers at all. It didn't help the stranger's case much, either, that Feliciano finally identified the awkward look on their face, beneath their faintly sardonic grin.

Pity.

Immediately, Feliciano forced himself to compartmentalize, because lashing out was the absolute worst idea, and honestly, he knew he was a pitiful sight right now. There wasn't anything he could do but try to plead this stranger away, so Feliciano could use the last specks of light to scope out somewhere to stay until sunrise. Before he could seal that box away, though, Feliciano acknowledged that he was seething.

And then he wasn't much of anything, at all.

"I just wanted to make sure you would not pose a threat to me. Are you alone...ah." The stranger continued on, projecting some...inflection in his words that only strived to put Feliciano back on edge. He had to stay calm. His hands continued to tremble, but there was little he could do to stop them as he continued to hold them in a sign of surrender. He could feel blood pooling in his sleeve, warm and wet, but he didn't dare lower his hands. This stranger was a threat, even if they were on the ground. They might seem vulnerable, but Feliciano highly doubted they actually lowered their guard at all. Even gaunt and sleep-deprived and on the cusp of passing out, he was a few inches taller than the stranger, and he had terror and desperation on his side, should he re-open their boxes. A fight would end poorly for them both. "What's your name? My name is Kiku."

Feliciano bit his lip, trying to suck a steadying breath through his nose. He would not snark, he would not snap, he had to be good. If Feliciano was good, then the other would leave him be and he could hide from the Infect lurking out in the streets--if they were still out there. He didn't know, he couldn't risk going out after dark either way. "...I'm just l-looking for supplies," he said instead, daring to slide back another step, putting himself between himself and his knife. Just in case. "S-So just...go away. I don't have anything you w-want, ve."

---

Kiku Honda I hope this works! Feli's just like "go away go away" ffff orz

[Kiku Honda]

Kiku’s lips thinned as he eyed the boy before him. He put Kiku in the mind of a frightened kitten, the way he trembled as he spoke, clearly finding no comfort in the words of a katana wielding stranger. Not that Kiku blamed him, the boy was clearly not a fighter, if he had wanted to Kiku could easily end the boy and be on his way. Not that Kiku intended to anything of the kind. Maybe it had been traveling with Mei, maybe he knew all too well what it was like to be teetering on the brink of death, maybe… maybe Kiku just wanted to believe that there was still something worth salvaging in humanity. Whatever the reason, he just couldn’t let the boy go on the way he was.

“You don’t look well,” Kiku’s voice was soft, meaning no offense; it was merely a statement of fact. The boy was trembling, his body rail thin underneath tattered clothes. He glanced around the abandoned clothing store. The shadows were growing longer, the light was quickly fleeing the store and retreating from the streets. It was not safe to linger here for much longer. He focused back on the boy who still hadn’t given his name.

“If you want me to leave you alone, then I can certainly leave you to your supplies, but I thought you might want some real food and perhaps a good night’s sleep. Forgive me, but you look as though you are in real need of both.” Kiku got to his feet, sheathing his katana in a single fluid motion. He surveyed the boy. “It is your choice. I have a companion and I think we would both welcome another partner for however long you choose to travel with us. But I will not force you, and I will not beg.” He smiled faintly, though he was aware that his smile was nowhere near as reassuring as Mei’s, she was far better at putting others at ease. “Whatever you choose, I wish you the best of luck. I really do. It is not easy to survive here alone.” With a slight nod to the boy, Kiku turned to leave. He wasn’t terribly concerned about turning his back to the boy, and while he hoped that he would take Kiku’s offer, there was very little time to waste allowing contemplation. Either he would come along, he would retreat, or he would attack. No matter the option, Kiku was ready.

[Feliciano Vargas]

Rather than leave as Feliciano had asked, it seemed the stranger became more content to stare at him. This Kiku's expression was not one of anger, or aggravation, or anything of the sort. Rather, they seemed thoughtful, but more than that. Considering, given the way dark eyes raked over Feliciano's form once more. He couldn't help but wonder if they noticed the blood, yet. Feliciano had to take care of the injury soon: standard Infected were not like sharks, or bloodhounds, but the more Feliciano bled, the stronger the scent would become, and it would eventually lead the hordes outside to them. That was an outcome neither of them wanted.

"You don't look well," Kiku eventually settled upon saying. "If you want me to leave you alone, then I can certainly leave you to your supplies, but I thought you might want some real food and perhaps a good night’s sleep. Forgive me, but you look as though you are in real need of both." Feliciano had to fight the urge to turn away, though whether in shame or aggravation he could not guess. Calm, be calm, he told himself. Be calm and unassuming, and he will be left alone. None of these statements were meant poorly; in fact, Kiku had risen to his feet and was smoothly sliding his sword back into the sheath at his side. Feliciano visibly relaxed once the weapon was out of sight, because it not only signified that he was in less immediate danger, but if things devolved into a fight, Feliciano simply had to get close enough that a sword would be unwieldy. Feliciano knew he could be fast. Just enough to stun the stranger before he vanished.

Except Kiku's next words interrupted Feliciano's plans, completely derailed his train of thought entirely. "It is your choice. I have a companion and I think we would both welcome another partner for however long you choose to travel with us." Kiku's smile was small, but in the dying light it glowed. Wide amber eyes couldn't be torn from the sight. Vaguely, Feliciano realized his jaw had dropped in sheer surprise. "But I will not force you, and I will not beg."

It was only when stated plainly that Feliciano realized Kiku's first words, about Feliciano needing real food and actual sleep, had not simply been a statement of fact. They had been an invitation. One that had gone completely over his head, because why on earth would a stranger who had just minutes before threatened Feliciano's life offer instead to share his--and apparently his companion's--supplies on him, instead. Feliciano scrambled for something, anything to say, but nothing would come out. Instead he struggled to form words with a limp tongue, mouthing them helplessly as he tried to wrap his mind around this sudden shift everything had taken.

Kiku did not seem to be perturbed by Feliciano's silence. Instead, he turned to leave. "Whatever you choose, I wish you the best of luck. I really do. It is not easy to survive here alone," the smaller man said over his shoulder. Feliciano couldn't tell if the stranger was simply confident in his own ability to defend himself, or if he simply expected Feliciano to follow quietly if he so chose to accept the offer. But the fact that this veritable stranger was trusting enough in some capacity to show his back to Feliciano was enough to shock the boy into action.

"V-Ve, wait!" Feliciano called as loudly as he dared, scrambling after Kiku and reaching out with his injured arm. It was only a sudden flood of self-preservation--and a sharp jolt of pain at the sudden motion--that kept Feliciano from outright grabbing the stranger and yanking him to a stop. Instead, he kept his arm outstretched awkwardly, fingers twitching and grasping at thin air for several long moments. "I-I--" Feliciano faltered, not sure how to respond. "T-There's Infected out there, a-and it's too dark to go further than a few blocks, a-and--"

Deciding it was simply better to show instead of falter over an explanation, Feliciano fumbled and tugged desperately at his shirt, eventually getting the damn neckhole tugged halfway down his upper arm. "I-I cut myself when I got in here, v-ve," he explained anxiously as he turned partway around, to show the still-bleeding gash curling around his arm towards his shoulder blade. In the dim light, the blood smeared and dripping along his skin shone near-black, flesh paler than usual for a whole plethora of reasons. "It's not s-serious but the Infected will smell it i-if we go out there and g-get too close. And it's going to be hard t-to navigate in the dark."

Feliciano's tongue felt large and cumbersome in his mouth, making it difficult to speak. The act of even partially turning his back to an armed stranger, combined with the stress of being stuck out of shelter as the last dredges of the sun slid behind one of the towering buildings around them, kicked Feliciano's anxiety into overdrive. Still, he tried to persevere. "I-If-- If you w-want, the back room's door i-is still there, and we can b-barricade it until m-morning. Unless... B-But you can go, a-and maybe w-we'll meet up later?"

Because the stranger could have just thrown the invitation out as an attempt to be kind without actually intending to go through with it. Feliciano couldn't just make him stay. He was shaking again, and before the stranger could speak up he instead yanked the shirt back over his injury; a rough moment that scraped the cut and made him hiss under his breath. "N-Never mind, I-- I spoke without thinking about it, I'm sorry, ve."

---

Kiku Honda Sorry Feliciano's all over the place, he's a bundle of anxious energy like always |D; At least he's not demanding Kiku leave anymore?