Eating gruel in jail

A doctor, donned in a knee-length white coat, stood facing the battered seven-story building. Early this morning, a shockwave had swept through half of the city. 

In more severe cases, the doors were knocked off its hinges and the windows were smashed just by the sheer force alone, leaving the residents bloodied and injured.

The farther away from the place of impact you were, the safer you'd be.

He had followed along after them because of that grumpy guy.

He shuddered slightly, remembering how he would drone on and on. His ears had almost grown calluses from his words.

Listening to him, he followed along, blending into the group, but halfway through their journey, something happened.

An hour into their journey, he caught a whiff of something. He couldn't quite explain it, but his blood boiled at the scent.

He dropped whatever he was doing, abandoning it, and followed after it. It was as if it were calling to him. He walked, entranced, and after a few turns, he came in front of a seven-story building.

But then the scent vanished, as if it were blocked by something.

"But that shouldn't be possible. Could there be something on this mortal plane that could block my perception?" he doubted.

His eyes narrowed in thought. "Usually, I would just leave, but I want to know what it is that could shield itself away from me."

So he resigned himself to a few hours of being a doctor once more.

Moving from floor to floor, he treated the injured residents and, at the same time, confirmed their identities.

As time passed, his curiosity only grew stronger until he reached the sixth floor.

Knocking on the door, he repeated his introduction as always, awaiting a response.

He waited, his ears perked, listening for any signs of sluggish movement, labored breathing, or whispers of "help." 

Anything that could indicate an injured person in need of help, but he heard nothing.

Instead, he heard strong and steady footsteps making their way towards him. The door was yanked open, and a man with rugged features appeared. He was tall, "possibly a head taller than me, and I'm already 6'1"," he estimated.

With an athletic body, the man had dreads neatly packed up.

The man stood by the door, looking at him with a mix of inquiry and caution.

He quickly spoke to ease the man, but it seemed to make it worse.

The man's body shrunk towards the door.

Immediately after that, Olokun smelled that enticing scent again.

His back straightened, all casualness disappearing from his mind.

He became serious.

He could not recognize the familiar scent the first time, but the second time, it struck a chord in him.

The scent was just the same as that grumpy man, although a tad bit different.

The grumpy man had once told him, "If one day you get this feeling, it means you've met someone like us."

He continued, "But if it gives you a good feeling, it means the person you've met shares a similar affinity with you or could be from the same party as you."

Jidenna struggled to keep his expression neutral as he politely declined the doctor's request to treat him yet again.

His brows twitched in irritation.

"Doesn't this doctor understand English? Or does he not know the meaning of the word 'NO'?"

His forehead almost popped a vein in anger as the doctor insisted once more with the same annoyingly calm expression.

Jidenna felt like his words just entered the right side of the doctor's ear and flew out from the left side.

In anger, Jidenna said impulsively, "If I say I'm fine, that means I'm fine. It's my body, and I told you, the impact wasn't that much, so I'm fine. Thank you very much, doctor, but I don't need your help."

He retreated to his door, saying, "There are still a lot of injured people around whose lives might be hanging on by a thread. I would not delay you," he slammed the door behind him.

Outside the door, the doctor stared at the shattered window in thought.

His mind flashed to the rag slung over the man's shoulder. He wasn't sure if the man was aware that the rag had a bloodstain, and it wasn't just a drop of blood.

At least that showed someone was injured.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "It did not make sense."

He had also smelled it again during their conversation before it was blocked.

"The person he was looking for might be that man."

"But I could come back another day to confirm if that person is a god."

But Olokun did not know that the next time he would see Jidenna, to confirm his god identity, would be a few years later.

Inside the house, Jidenna peeked through the thick cloth he used as blinds, covering the window.

He checked once again to make sure the doctor had left for higher floors before his tensed shoulders relaxed a bit. His fingers, gripping the door knob, released it.

He paced around the room, the cool tiles almost heating up from the friction.

His eyes moved erratically, not settling on a spot for even a second.

There was just something odd about that doctor that unsettled him. His neck kept tingling, disturbing him while the doctor was around, but once the white-coated man left, the annoying tingling stopped.

Jidenna couldn't understand.

"And those eyes that stared straight at me, like they could see something or knew something I don't."

He grabbed his dreads in panic, tugging them. "Did he know that I was the one who killed the muscular man?"

Jidenna tried to calm himself down, reasoning, "It's not possible! I handled everything neatly. I cleared all traces of evidence."

But his fears weren't having it. Instead of becoming smaller, they increased.

"He knows. He just came to confirm your presence. Before you know it, he'll come back again, but this time with the police," his mind mocked him, his ignorance, promising him years in jail, no freedom. "You'll always look out a tiny window in the dark confines of your cell like the convict you are, eating gruel and beans."