Hypothermia

Saburo took several cautious steps back until he felt the wall behind him, newly wrenched from the darkness just to stop his retreat. He shook his head slowly, though not in despair as one might expect to come from a teenager entrapped in such empty black. No, it was merely a negation of some idea, just an ordinary negation of an unspoken statement. He did not flinch, nor did he seek any other method of escape, because he knew he wouldn't find one. A grim sigh escaped him; there would be a fight here. Still, he had given the answer that would lea to more conflict himself, and though something about it set his stomach squirming, he smirked. It was not a completely confident expression, however, the smirk was contrasted by his eyes, narrow and serious. He was terrified, in fact. He didn't want to fight, his form itself resisted the idea, making it hard for him to move. There was too much at risk, perhaps, and it was better to avoid such a chancy fight. It wasn't even as if he considered himself a cautious person, he often went out on limbs that had all the strength of twigs in them, and he was accustomed to these breaking.

This was worse, but he didn't know why. For all that he was familiar with, some instinct was coldly informing him that this was more. That despite his ability to perceive this so distinctly, the indiscernible reason for it still remained, and this would cost him more than he should even have been able to pay.

“Well, do you want something?” The silence swarmed around those words, fading them with unnatural speed for such an open space, but he was quite sure they had been heard. He pillowed his hands between the head and the wall while he waited on some response, for comfort's sake.

“Yes,” The demon said, following the quiet word with a simple, disapproving noise. “You're not taking this seriously.”

“Sure, I am,” Saburo contradicted mildly, and honestly as well. He didn't give it anything else, however, he needed to take stock of the situation first. It would have helped, to begin with, if he could have seen his opponent.

“Maybe you are. Still, you seem...” It paused, not bothering to conceal the mocking when it continued, “You seem like you expect a fight. That's what you've convinced yourself has to happen. But really, that's too dangerous.”

The boy allowed himself a chuckle, “For you or for me? Maybe this can turn out better than what I've been thinking, as you seem to be so familiar with that.” That was concerning, but if it knew that, then he wasn't going to try to avoid the notion. It was there, whether either of them admitted to it, and so he would not gain anything by ignoring it. At the very least, he would show the demon that he wasn't so cowardly.

“For me, as it happens. If I was to actually try to fight you, given that I haven't devoted any time to weakening you first, the odds would be rather up to chance...”

Saburo blinked. He had not thought of that, and tension rippled through him briefly as he paced away from the wall. The Pen was slipped free of its pocket along with his notebook as he advanced, watching as far as his peripheral vision would allow for any form of attack. His movements were once again relaxed, but in some ways, this was still defensive. He was collect enough to allow himself to relax, certainly, yet there was also the matter of stiffened limbs being harder to maneuver. A question pushed his lips apart, but he swallowed it with a more self-direct smirk. He should have known better than to consider asking what the demon wanted to do instead, as this was inclined to get himself an answer through actions.

“You're interesting, you see. You don't have power, but you could. You already have... pieces... The cunning. And I can get my vengeance this way, too.” Its tone changed to something higher, more hysterical. The delight of a child who didn't understand that bullying was wrong, only that it would bring them what they wanted. Apparently, though, it did not favor youthful metaphors. “It's not a game to me, nor just one of your human cliches. So I won't treat it like one. You don't <i>get</i> a chance to fight.”

Saburo drew in a sharp breath, he had only been given a temporary refrain from action on the demon's part, after all, and his own silence probably had had nothing to do with that. He was jumping away from the spot where he stood a few seconds before the creature had finished declaring its intentions, but it seemed that he was still slower than he should have been. It wasn't coming out itself, apparently, not right away. Chains sprang up in its stead, dark iron clamping around his feet in the spot he landed on. He only had time for a gasp, no actions of his own, before he was jerked to the ground, his head bashed against it. The Pen was kept in his grip despite the fall, and he shoved himself upright to use it, but his hands were caught, too, as he placed them against the ground to do so. The manacles on his wrists were tugged back by their attached links, forcing him down again, and bringing his arms up above his head as he lay there. Despite this, he continued trying to wiggle the Pen to a place where it could be used, and muttered aloud, “A-ah... that was fast. Still, I don't see why a fight would be worse. It's pretty clear you'd win, right?”

The boy's smile had a decidedly nervous quality to it. In a fight, he could have tried something more easily, so it would have been nice if he could have talked one into occurring. He was totally confident that the demon had lied to him, as far as its motivations were concerned. He didn't stop to wonder how he had missed that because there wasn't time. The point was, it had not wanted to fight because it had a different end in mind, one that it apparently regarded as more unpleasant for him than the possibility of being torn apart in combat. Something that he was fairly sure could have literally happened. And, he reflected bitterly, it seemed like it would be a good judge of what would cause people pain, even him. It had spent the past year sealed in his mind, so what else would be expected?

The demon selected this time to appear. It prowled out, inspecting its prisoner with fiendish excitement, who stilled himself and returned its gaze softly. Its appearance was unchanged; his own school uniform, splashed with blood, all the life in its eyes dulled in a sour kind of foreshadowing.

“As I said, maybe. Anyway, fighting is not something you need to worry about. Soon, you'll be more worried about filling that pit at the heart of you,” It almost chirped this information to the boy.

Saburo responded with an arched eyebrow, he most definitely was still fighting, but at that time, it was only his own urge to look away that needed combating. “Eh, what do you mean by that? I'm pretty sure... the place where my heart is, to put it that way, is fine.”

The demon shook its head, though what it said was not any kind of denial, “What do you think it would be like? To always be empty of life? You want it, of course, and you don't have enough to care for to think of anything else. So... you work to get that. And it's so much fun.” It clapped its hands together, an impatient gesture. It wanted to hurry this along. “You get to watch as people lose their lives bloodlessly, or before they have time to lose their blood, you know? Sometimes, you might attack, just for fun.” It grinned maliciously, but Saburo interrupted.

“That doesn't exactly seem like fun. I'm pretty sure I'm okay not knowing what that's like.” His heart battered him in his chest, almost seeming to be trying to flee rather than be lost. The threat was clear enough. He persisted, though, his smile light and empty of actual satisfaction. “So, thanks for the offer, but you don't have to show me.”

“Oh, it's no trouble at all... I'm sure you'll make a good demon, Saburo.” It laughed, a harsh sound, and unforgiving. Saburo was going to provide what it wanted, and it would not permit otherwise, even if he had reduced himself to begging, crying, shrieking. Knowing this, it was not hard for him to maintain his bearing, and he only gave a final sigh, as if the solid black smog that poured up from the ground to cover him was just a math test he didn't want to take.

“Somehow... I-I doubt that...” He coughed, unable to avoid taking the smog in through his mouth and nose. He held his breath, but that didn't stop it. It jammed itself down his throat unchecked, stirring wild sickness in his stomach, and somehow, it was pushing his blood. It claimed his heart, rolling down his veins and cornering the blood at the edges, pressing it from existence. This was by no means a quick process, and it was what might be called the essential opposite of painless. It overcame him completely before it had fully spread, he was shouting endlessly and he hurt too much to hear himself. Though the substance had seemed to have no more substance than fog ordinarily would, it felt as if razor blades were combing along his insides. They scraped at raw tissues; they would continue peeling away his entire self and leaving numbness behind, because trying to feel anything at that point would have been almost maddening.

The demon didn't wait for its work's final results to be shown. It immediately assumed command over the boy's body, steering it out to find what it needed to finish the process.

-----------------------------

<i>Nagogo's probably just out drinking again...</i>

Pirarah only half-mumbled that aloud to himself, for the most part, it remained an internal sentiment as he padded quietly up the Hinatas' front walk. As it happened, no one was entirely sure where the eel hybrid was, but there was no evidence to suggest he was anywhere other than a bar. It had been in the interest of time and out of that unshakeable concern that Pirarah came to the Hinatas' house, of all places, while Hikiki had gone the more conventional route. If Nagogo wasn't at the bar, and someone would know where he was, that person was as likely to be here as anywhere. The residents of this house, he had noticed, tended to be very knowledgeable of recent occurrences.

Having been so intensely focus on his thoughts, the young Keronian didn't see that the door was unzipped until after he tilted his head up to examine the door and figure out how he was going to enter. He eyed it curiously, he knew who had to have been responsible for that, and it was odd of that Pekoponian to not close up properly after he had done what he needed. He assumed that the boy had arrive only recently, an assumption both correct and incorrect. Saburo had not been there long, but then, it was open to debate as to whether or not Saburo had been the one to arrive.

Nonetheless, since he wasn't aware of that debate, Pirarah entered without much trepidation. Saburo was standing in the entrance hall, twirling his Pen in a familiar manner as he appeared to be inspecting the floor, probably planning to use it as a shortcut to the basement. The hybrid greeted him, and went on to address the most significant issue of the evening without delay, “Hi, Saburo... Have you seen Nagogo anywhere?”

“Oh, hey, little guy... It's been a while, hasn't it?” It doesn't turn right away, concealing a fresh rush of cruel delight with a smooth tone. “No, I haven't, sorry. But, anyway, I don't think that's what you need to be worried about...” The smoothness slipped a bit, pressured by impatience.

“Is something wrong?” Pirarah frowned more deeply.

“That would depend on who you ask,” the demon turns on his heel, his empty eyes wide. “However, I just think you should worry about yourself right now.” It lunged, grasping for the Keronian before it even reached him. The hybrid's shock filled him for a dangerously long moment, but reflex led him to throw himself out of its reach. He stumbled, but swiftly found his balance, and turned to face his friend, or at least, his friend's body, with hands curled into determined fists.

“What did you do to him?!” He demanded, though he was careful to keep his eyes to the ground. The memory of a sleepy spell drawing over his mind was clear, and he was not going to risk a repeat.

“You're better off not knowing. It would only make you even angrier than you already are, and I don't want things to get violent,” It held up a hand, an almost friendly gesture to accompany a teasing tone. That gave Pirarah pause, he didn't want to hurt Saburo, but he knew that the Pekoponian would want him to do something, and more than that, he wanted to do something himself. This steadfast desire served as the visible bubbling atop increasingly heated anger, but he still held himself back. His teeth were the most obvious weapons at his disposal, but the thought of using them here was something he had reservations about, particularly since he had seen their effect on the Pekoponian last time. He did know, though, that he was not working with an unlimited amount of time. So, he took a breath, and made a lunge of his own, because acting would do far more than ideas that were restricted to the inside of his head could.