Rain Rain Go Away (1)

Hope wanted to leave.

Whether it was because his [Chimera] Attribute was at its work, or not, these people were beginning to hold him back. 

"Where are you going?" Someone asked. 

"Deeper into the city." 

"The city…!" One rasped under their breath. "But that's where the monsters are…" Another whispered. "He can't possibly be in his right mind…"

"You won't survive on your own. Especially with–"

"It. Is. None. Of your business."

Zzzp!

Hope tightened a fallen cord around a pair of folded clothes before placing them in his backpack.

Over the short time that passed, Hope shattered the soul shards from the other Harrowfiend monster. He might as well reap what he sowed—he fought both of those fur balls afterall. But it was a conflicting feeling of strengthening his soul core in which he still had little desire to do so.

'Strength. Strength. Strength…'

No doubt it was demanded for one to be strong in this damned environment. He couldn't help but think that the Spell, fate, or whatever outside entity, had a role in this situation. 

But besides that, the people were still more or less wary of him.

Hope didn't threaten the strays as they were prepared for. Their memories also seemed not to stretch far enough when he had killed their people. Or maybe they didn't properly watch the slaughtering scenes with all the chasing in the fog. But they had leaned to the accord of 'stranger danger' as one would say.

Not that he cared for their favor anyway.

But Hope had stripped the clothes from the hanging man he cut down, leaving it completely naked like exposed meat—a body that rotted for an estimated month or so. There was a bit of an outburst from the strays though:

"W-what are you doing?"

"You can't do that–"

"Shut up."

"…"

'What's one dead's body worth dammit.'

After that, no one dared to intervene.

The corpse's rot which they hung up on a pole dropped like baggage when Hope cut its cord. Earlier, Hope walked from pole to pole observing each corpse, almost as if he were inspecting cargo. And seeing how one corpse carried a similar height to himself, and with no blood on its uniform, Hope thought it was suitable to switch attire.

Of course, these pairs of clothes wreaked their own stench of death. But it seemed that the monsters were untempted by it, given how few bodies withered to bones, rotting without the worry of being snared down. 

As if their scent blended with reality enough to reel no consequence.

It was fresh blood afterall that tickled the monster's senses. 

'Is the demon hound's blood that enticing?' Hope thought. 

Either way, Hope didn't want to easily attract more monsters with the stained blood coating his sleeves and skin, not when traveling deeper into the city.

But another reason was needing new clothes because his sleeves were ripped and holed.

'How unfortunate.'

Hope shook some extra bits of flesh off his sword until–

Graaaar!

"...!"

"...!"

"..."

Hope internally sighed. 

'Well then.'

Hope nonchalantly looked down the shrouded street from where the noise came from, followed by a distant rumbling like the sound of a giant's belly. It sounded further up ahead, not close enough to go into a panic.

Unless, one planned to head in that direction. 

In which he did.

And some distance down was another street that cut left in the fog. He remembered from dawn's wake shining on the rooftops of those that led toward the leaned towers. Of course, several were hidden and were yet to be discovered, blocked like children lost in an adult crowd. But he got the gist idea of where he should go. If anything, all he had to do was look up.

And likely gain higher ground to see those rooftops through the thick fog…

Hope paused.

Then looked back at the strays.

They continued to stare at him with conflicted expressions. Shrunken faces gazed at him with skins blotched and eyes red-rimmed. An animalistic trait hinted behind those features from blurred years in this so-called 'freedom' city they battled in day and night. 

'Ah dammit.'

At that moment, flashed images of familiar masks of starvation fleeted past his eyes. The times when he grew up in those severe environments. A normality that was embraced in their fragile wrists, boned fingers, and sunken eyes.

'Stop-' Hope thought.

But another memory flickered again, ghostlike.

The thought of his mother's shrunken body on the kitchen chair as she counted the credits she received peeled through. Fragile. Delicate was she. As if the wind could have picked her up. But…out of all those starving people, she was the one who held up smiles through her lips, cheeks, and eyes—charming the neighbors with unexplainable glee.

She was one of a kind.

Too much sometimes.

'Mm…'

A weird feeling twisted in Hope's stomach from those thoughts.

He dismissed it as he shrugged the backpack more comfortably on his shoulder. The strays' eyes kept darting between him and his weapon. Envious almost. Others…desperate?

Hope internally sighed again before speaking.

"Your leader…rejected the idea of 'recruitment' from the Sectors. Right?"

Their heads perked up.

"Well, she's dead." Obviously. "So now make new choices. If you want to raise your chances of survival then take up on their offer."

They narrowed their eyes and snarled. Others spat even. "With them? And abide by their 'righteous' rules?"

Another spoke. "Pch…their help isn't worth spending."

"Not after what they've done."

Murmurs of agreement rippled among them.

'I don't think you guys are any different…'

Hope then shrugged. "Doesn't seem like a bad thing to temporarily deal with. You could afterwards escape back to your original lives."

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

'Honestly, why the hell am I still here.'

Hope thought as he swallowed back an annoying click of his tongue.

Step. Step. Step.

He then walked down the street.

"They've got plenty of food if that means anything to you." Hope said. "Some choices are worth it in the long run if it means you survive another day."

'Even if you have to annoyingly bear with the choice.' Hope silently thought, recalling back again on his experience.

It wasn't a particularly ideal environment in that strange Sector. But food, rest, and information would be admittedly hard to find by oneself. And with the gate still open in the city's centre? Anything could happen to these strays out here.

"..." The people didn't respond after that.

Which relieved Hope. He didn't want to be held back anymore.

Maybe his words would leave a deep enough impression for them to consider his words. Or was that even possible?

What were the limits exactly?

'How does this Flaw even work…'

Surely there was some loop to it. A roundabout. A cheat of some kind.

What's that saying…like a 'white lie'? 

Whatever the case, all these people were crazy. It seemed pathetic to dismiss the high chance of survival, especially when Sector Two offered food. Who rejects a full belly?

Was there a possibility of the strays being used by the Sector? Likely. 

But. 

Food was food.

And speaking of food…

'Last time I ate was yesterday.' Hope thought as he casually began spinning his sword again, passing rows of suspended feet.

It seemed like two days had passed since he couldn't skip the portion of the night. A time when the mind would usually blank into a void and tune into dream channels.

But it was only one day.

Half day had now passed.

What the hell could happen in the next twelve hours?

And Hope continued with those thoughts—mainly to distract himself from the voices—as the distance between him and the strays lengthened with each step. His figure becoming a splotched shadow as fog wrapped around until he disappeared altogether like an illusion. An imagination even, that faded from their minds until he was all but a distant memory.

In those seconds that passed.

And in those seconds turning to minutes.

No one called out to him.

***

Rumblerumble….

'I swear this Spell is testing my patience.'

Ten minutes have passed as he walked down the street. And already the setting changed 'not' in his favor.

Patter. Patter. Patter—

With the city swallowed by the fog, it was the clouds' belly that grumbled. Then the clouds shook. And before he knew it, there was a blast of cold drops, thousands of tears with fragrant earth springing from the ground that made his head swim. A downpour of rain hissed and shushed on the ruins, its own chorus singing around him. 

Shake.

Hope whipped his head side to side, shaking off the water in his hair.

At least he had cleaner water to 'bathe' in.

'Still not what I meant.' But he would take what he could get. 

'Rain.' Hope knocked the side of his head with the edge of his palm, his ear cupped from the water. 'Of course damn rain.'

It didn't have to be monsters but the damn weather even to serve as odds, stalling his journey. Rather than snowing like the South of Quadrant I at this time of year, the West would have rain in both winter and spring. Was it technically spring now?

Hope had chosen a random building for shelter as the downpour started. 

Stepping through a barged door and over scattered cardboard boxes of…toys?...he reached the back of the room where some worn dusty colored tables were decorated with stickers on it.

Bam!

The table trembled as Hope tossed his two heavy items onto it: backpack and spine blade. At least, they seemed heavy.

Tap. Tap. 

Water dripped from his soggy clothes, collecting into a puddle at his feet. Hope rummaged through his backpack and pulled out the folded clothes, unbinding the cord, and laying each layer out one by one. 

It was a uniform alright.

But the Special Force kind…

"…"

A small red badge had the Brave Arm's emblem: silver shield with wings.

Hope tore the emblem off the shirt's shoulder and tossed it aside. Maybe, just maybe, people would still recognize these clothes belonging to a soldier, but at least the emblem no longer screamed that it was. 

'So, Special Force was really involved in this city.'

Perhaps not an Awakened member. It would be ridiculous for an Awakened to die by the hand of strays. But some 'expert' mundane human did die around the time of the gate's opening.

At least, that was what he could gather from the corpse's face. And how so?

Hope had seen time weathered on a corpse before. From out his family's window, he watched people dying on the street as if it were simple scene. People died every other day. Days would turn to weeks. Weeks to months. All the while left outside before the government decided they had enough time on their hands to throw them who knows where.

"And you're here." Hope said as he lifted up the uniform.

Why would a Special Force in this city–

'Nope. No. Nope. Not my problem.' Hope thought as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

He was beginning to question too much again on something that didn't personally involve him.

It was fine to distract himself.

But dangerous to start acting like some detective with a long built-up queue of unanswered questions.

'Don't get too curious now.' Hope thought as he nonchalantly started to undress himself. Chest rig was the first to go. It was the most tarred in all sorts of filth. 

As the shadows grew thick inside the room, rain pattered outside as if it were mindlessly running and tapping on every surface it could greedily touch.

The gray afternoon carried a blue tint like a reflection of its own gloominess, a light that faintly breathed on his skin.

White scratches on Hope's arms and wrists gleamed like bone from the scars the [Pearls of the Moon] had healed. They were striped along his ribs as well but from another battle he was involved in the past. Hope avoided his eyes from that area to prevent the memories from jumping again.

Reliving an injury was one of the last things he wanted.

Chhh–

Hope slid on the black tactical trousers. Then the belt. Gloves. Socks and boots. A thick long-sleeve combat shirt. 

All of them in black.

'You can never go wrong with black.' Hope thought.

Fitting his head through the shirt and pulling it down his torso, the fabric whispered against his skin with the corpse's smell shoving up his nostrils. But he had to admit that it wasn't as bad compared to the time when he ate spoiled meat.

"Mm…"

A sour flavor tingled his tongue from the thought.

'And might have to do it again…'

But at least with the cursed Attribute, he could eat raw—even spoiled—meat without getting food poisoning. 

His appetite would be saved.

His tastebuds would not. 

Hope turned his head and looked out the squared bright-eyed windows. There he'd left out was a small metal water bottle slowly refilling up, the raindrops tinkering off its metal rim. Hope ran his hand through his damp hair, the strands slicking between his fingers. They were long enough to stab his eyes. Huh. How did Masters cut their hair? Surely not with a sword...right?

What Hope also needed was to properly wash his hair to get the grime off once and for all. 

But before that.

Hope blinked as he looked around. 'Where am I now?'

Although the colors were faded, there were colored blocks and jumbled toys and dolls sprawled on the floor as if someone had dumped them carelessly. Ah. There was a teddy bear in the midst. That one looked a lot like his sister's—

!!!

Hope instantly clutched his head.

'Yeah yeah I get...'

He groaned as an ache started to form. Then paused when something else caught his eye on the wall.

"Hm?"

Along with strange scribbled lines and colored handprints, there was big white lettering: Daycare Center.

"..."

'Daycare…What?'

Hope…was not going to question it. 

Hope looked down at the table in front of him which was also had strange coloring. Half was red and half was green. Another dusty table beside was half yellow and half purple…?

'Ah.' Hope's fingers traced the green side. He heard about these pairs of colors before. Red and green were 'complementary' colors.

But why the hell it was called that was beyond him, considering he'd also heard it being explained as opposite sides of some wheel. 'Complementary' meant things that fit together. Which was the opposite of…well opposite.

Black and white made sense. 

But colors?

His eyes were bluish purple if he recalled. Of course he could. What wheel did that fit on?

Before expanding on that thought, Hope frowned. 'What am I thinking now?'

He sighed and shrugged the thought off before it led to…well he didn't want to think about that either.

Patter. Patter. Patter–

Rain continued to hum outside like the sound of an applause—clapping on pavement, glass, metal, grass, and more. His steps were muffled by them as he walked toward the doorway, standing between the outside and the inside, watching the street slowly flood.

Decayed bodies like small islands poked around. 

Fragrant earth, rot, and stone filled the air.

The ground which humped and cracked in some parts of the streets, as if tiny hills were sprouting, trailed down between the city's wreckage. 

But across from him, torn and drenched under a puddle, was an American flag.

Hope blinked. 

Watching the faint bled stripes become murky underneath.

He remembered there was a myth that one had to burn a flag when it touched the ground.

'That's a lie?'

'Nah you don't have to. If you are going to destroy it, might as well do it in a dignified way I think.' His teammate GA-015 said.

'Ah…And burning is the way to go?'

'Guess so. So! It seems like burning to death is the best way to die-'

'Shut up.'

'Eh…right…'

Hope was pinching the bridge of his nose again as the memory passed. 

'The fuck does he go on about dying a preferable way…'

Maybe Hope could properly ask the next time he sees him. The time when he saves his damn ass–

Thra-DOOM!

!!!

Suddenly, thunder roared.

Hope clutched his ears from the noise.

Immediately, new memory voices spiked as well. And he could faintly feel his mother's warm arms hugging him and his sister as they hid beneath the bed covers—

'Shh– Shh…'

'The sky's falling!'

'No, Yura. The sky's not falling…'

'Wait. Don't hide under the bed–'

'They can't get me if I'm under here!'

'Oh darling…Hope, why don't you join your sister.'

'No.'

But Hope always did. And he hated it. Not her of course. But the under the bed part. 

He could understand the reason why she cried, why she chose to hide, cover her face, or bury her head, as if there was comfort in being holed up somewhere other than being completely vulnerable. Ironic though because Hope hated to be in that type of situation, especially when he crawled after her under the bed to keep her company.

It was cold and dark and dry underneath.

Almost suffocating.

Like being closed up in a box.

Bubblebubblebubble—

"…"

Hope lowered his hands from his ears, noticing the bottle now overflowing with water. It gurgled and bubbled as if it were being drowned like some method of torture. He set it aside before stretching his neck out in the rain. Water ran through his hair and down the nape of his neck like cool wet fingers. He scratched his scalp. Rubbed his face. Rid of any trace of grime, blood, and sweat. 

Rumblerumble…

And thunder clashed again.

Hope paused and blinked through the rivulets.

How…were his teammates doing in this weather? Were they still alive? Were they in one piece?

Did they have their first Nightmare too…?

"Ah dammit…"

Questions questions questions. 'Stop. Asking.'

But it was him and his thoughts alone. What other company did he have-

"..." At that moment, Hope sullenly peeked above him at the stormy sky. Then away. Tsk. He didn't want to consider that as company...

Hope straightened himself, ruffling his hair, then pulled his bangs in front of his eyes. 

Back to their original pale color. 

'At least in this way I don't look anymore like someone crawling back from the dead.'

"…"

Hope glanced down at himself.

He reeked of death though.

'Never mind that.' Hope thought as he walked back inside, his boots squeaking on the floor with each soggy step–

Squeak!

"..."

'Not my shoe.' Hope thought as he tilted his head down and lifted his foot.

Ah the damn teddy bear again.

'Huh…'

'Hope! Have you seen my teddy bear?'

'He's to be wrapped up in a blanket ok? Why? He'll get cold cold!'

Hope crouched and held the stuffed animal up to the blue ambience. He began fiddling around with its small-rounded ears. Flapped its arms. Then poked its nose where a curved 'T' was stitched below it.

'What are you smiling for?'

...

'Tsk.' Hope looked away. 'She'd like you...'

For a moment, Hope entertained the idea of bringing it to his sister, in which before she would have felt pity for such an old lost thing as if it were actually alive. Not that it was possible. Alive or bringing it to her that was. No fourteen-year-old would want a stuffed animal.

Pluok.

Hope tossed it aside.

No Awakened for that matter would want it.

And speaking of Awakened.

'Near the leaned towers is where the other Awakened is huh.' Hope thought as he looked back out at the downpour.

If this paranoid Awakened had set up traps, then to measure his progress was to at least come across one of them.

Likely to set some off in the process.

'Right. Just don't die.'

Simple.