Chapter 1: Revival
"Someday we'll manage it."
"It's already begun."
Where am I? What's happening? Am I even alive? I don't feel like it. Eyes opened and their owner saw a clear blue sky with a handful of white, fluffy clouds. Are there clouds in hell? The eyes blinked themselves, and their sight became filtered with a reddish tint. The owner of the eyes, it seemed, also owned an arm with a hand attached, so he used this to rub his eye. He viewed his hand with a half-interest, noting the spot of blood he had wiped from his eye. Do people bleed in hell? The man dismissed this thought as a cough erupted from his lungs and smashed through his throat and out of his mouth. He rolled over and supported himself on a single arm and two knees as he coughed violently. Aren't I supposed to have two arms? He wondered offhandedly, not really caring. His train of thought was once again interrupted as more coughs flew out of him and racked his body. As he coughed blood spattered onto the ground below his shaking body in small droplets. Finally the coughs stopped and the man collapsed onto his stomach. I feel like crap. He turned his head sideways and looked at the skyline. He saw water, lots of water. He also saw, far away and over the water, some very tall buildings. Not all were tall, however, and many seemed to be mutilated and broken down.
He gave another wet, sick-sounding cough. Don't tell me I have pneumonia or something. He watched as a huge black bird landed a few feet from him and hopped nearer. He didn't mind as it stood inches away from him, bobbing and tilting its' head side to side. When it began pecking at him, however, he got annoyed. He murmured something unintelligible, meaning for it to stop, but the bird continued. Stupid bird. The man felt angry. Why did this idiot creature have to decide to try and eat him? "Get away." He murmured. The man gritted his teeth. The bird had made a hole in his already ragged shirt and began pecking at his skin. "I said get away." The man murmured louder. The bird glanced at him for a moment, and then went back to pecking. I hate birds. A vein stood out from the man' neck as his anger grew. A few pebbles nearby started shaking, and the mans' hair started waving in the still air. Suddenly the bird stopped pecking and became motionless. Its' feet lifted a few inches off the ground and it started squirming, as if in the grip of an invisible hand. There was a faint crack its' light bones began snapping. I remember hearing about how fragile birds' bones are. More veins stuck out from the mans' neck, and suddenly the bird was flung away as if shot out of a cannon. That's what you get for screwing with me you stupid buzzard. Thought the man as he watched the bird retract into a black dot, then finally disappear. No one can push me around anymore, not even Akira. He passed out.
"Hahahahah! So then I beat the crap out of the guy and left him there in his underwear! Ahahahaha!" "Yeah, that was the last time that gang ever screwed with us! Hahahahahah. Man, Kaneda, you sure are good at showing people who's boss!" A small group of people was sitting in a dark, smoky bar at a table laughing and conversing loudly. In the background a T.V flashed various images of destruction and death, but the boisterous group paid no attention. They were looping broadcasts anyway. Most of the reporters had already died. The group just continued their rowdy conversation, laughing and swinging their drinks around. There were four people seated around the table. Kaneda, the center of most of the attention, was wearing red pants, a red jacket over a black shirt, and a pair of sturdy boots. Kei, the only female in the group, had a pair of jeans and a jacket. One of the other men, Koji, was dressed similar to Kaneda and Kei while the last man, Sosuke, was dressed in a loose military uniform. They all looked worn and tired, but by looking at the group one got the distinct impression that a great weight had been released from all their shoulders recently.
Kaneda stood up from his seat, banging his empty glass on the table, and walked over to the dilapidated jukebox that sat in the corner of the bar. He looked through the selection and chose his favorite band, Geinoh Yamashirogumi. As the song began playing, he thought back to last time he had heard this song, the night it had all started. It had been about three weeks ago, before Tetsuo had. changed. It had also been before Tetsuo had died. Kaneda had been there the whole time, watching the horrible changes occur in his once-friend. From the night when he had found Tetsuo writhing on the ground in pain next to his ruined bike to the very end, when his friend had been reduced to that huge, squirming, pulsating. thing. He had watched as Tetsuo, suddenly imbued with powers he was never meant to have, slowly went insane. Slowly lost control of his body and mind. And at the very end as Akira, the very one Tetsuo had set out to find, began enveloping the entire city in a massive explosion, Tetsuo had called out to him. He had called for Kaneda, crying out for his help. There was nothing I could do. He was too far-gone anyway. Kaneda had been reassuring himself a lot lately, he realized. He almost felt guilty, but not quite. He knew it wasn't really his fault. It was more that he felt pain for the loss of his friend. "Hey Kaneda, what're you doing? Ya' haven't gone into a coma from one beer have ya'?" Kaneda turned back to his friends and smiled. Besides, I have plenty of friends in the here and now.
A lone figure pulled itself onto a heavily littered beach on the outskirts of the city. As he got onto the shore, he bent over and coughed heavily, reddish water falling from his gasping mouth. Finally he was able to restrain his coughing and stand up once again, somewhat weakly. He blinked stinging salt water from his eyes and looked around, trying to recognize exactly where he was. Everything is different. Akira really screwed this place up. The man winced as salt water dripped onto the area where his right arm should have been, stinging the large wound. I'll have to fix that. As before with the bird, a vein stood out on the man's neck and small objects nearby began shaking wildly. Sand blew around him erratically as various pieces of metal and other scrap began being pulled, as if by a magnet, toward his right side. The scraps and pieces of garbage slowly began shaping themselves into a recognizable shape, until there was no longer a hole where the man's arm should have been. He looked down and surveyed his new "arm" and was satisfied. Not as good as the last one, but I'm still recovering. The man flexed his new appendage as he walked up the beach towards the city.
"Someday we'll manage it."
"It's already begun."
Where am I? What's happening? Am I even alive? I don't feel like it. Eyes opened and their owner saw a clear blue sky with a handful of white, fluffy clouds. Are there clouds in hell? The eyes blinked themselves, and their sight became filtered with a reddish tint. The owner of the eyes, it seemed, also owned an arm with a hand attached, so he used this to rub his eye. He viewed his hand with a half-interest, noting the spot of blood he had wiped from his eye. Do people bleed in hell? The man dismissed this thought as a cough erupted from his lungs and smashed through his throat and out of his mouth. He rolled over and supported himself on a single arm and two knees as he coughed violently. Aren't I supposed to have two arms? He wondered offhandedly, not really caring. His train of thought was once again interrupted as more coughs flew out of him and racked his body. As he coughed blood spattered onto the ground below his shaking body in small droplets. Finally the coughs stopped and the man collapsed onto his stomach. I feel like crap. He turned his head sideways and looked at the skyline. He saw water, lots of water. He also saw, far away and over the water, some very tall buildings. Not all were tall, however, and many seemed to be mutilated and broken down.
He gave another wet, sick-sounding cough. Don't tell me I have pneumonia or something. He watched as a huge black bird landed a few feet from him and hopped nearer. He didn't mind as it stood inches away from him, bobbing and tilting its' head side to side. When it began pecking at him, however, he got annoyed. He murmured something unintelligible, meaning for it to stop, but the bird continued. Stupid bird. The man felt angry. Why did this idiot creature have to decide to try and eat him? "Get away." He murmured. The man gritted his teeth. The bird had made a hole in his already ragged shirt and began pecking at his skin. "I said get away." The man murmured louder. The bird glanced at him for a moment, and then went back to pecking. I hate birds. A vein stood out from the man' neck as his anger grew. A few pebbles nearby started shaking, and the mans' hair started waving in the still air. Suddenly the bird stopped pecking and became motionless. Its' feet lifted a few inches off the ground and it started squirming, as if in the grip of an invisible hand. There was a faint crack its' light bones began snapping. I remember hearing about how fragile birds' bones are. More veins stuck out from the mans' neck, and suddenly the bird was flung away as if shot out of a cannon. That's what you get for screwing with me you stupid buzzard. Thought the man as he watched the bird retract into a black dot, then finally disappear. No one can push me around anymore, not even Akira. He passed out.
"Hahahahah! So then I beat the crap out of the guy and left him there in his underwear! Ahahahaha!" "Yeah, that was the last time that gang ever screwed with us! Hahahahahah. Man, Kaneda, you sure are good at showing people who's boss!" A small group of people was sitting in a dark, smoky bar at a table laughing and conversing loudly. In the background a T.V flashed various images of destruction and death, but the boisterous group paid no attention. They were looping broadcasts anyway. Most of the reporters had already died. The group just continued their rowdy conversation, laughing and swinging their drinks around. There were four people seated around the table. Kaneda, the center of most of the attention, was wearing red pants, a red jacket over a black shirt, and a pair of sturdy boots. Kei, the only female in the group, had a pair of jeans and a jacket. One of the other men, Koji, was dressed similar to Kaneda and Kei while the last man, Sosuke, was dressed in a loose military uniform. They all looked worn and tired, but by looking at the group one got the distinct impression that a great weight had been released from all their shoulders recently.
Kaneda stood up from his seat, banging his empty glass on the table, and walked over to the dilapidated jukebox that sat in the corner of the bar. He looked through the selection and chose his favorite band, Geinoh Yamashirogumi. As the song began playing, he thought back to last time he had heard this song, the night it had all started. It had been about three weeks ago, before Tetsuo had. changed. It had also been before Tetsuo had died. Kaneda had been there the whole time, watching the horrible changes occur in his once-friend. From the night when he had found Tetsuo writhing on the ground in pain next to his ruined bike to the very end, when his friend had been reduced to that huge, squirming, pulsating. thing. He had watched as Tetsuo, suddenly imbued with powers he was never meant to have, slowly went insane. Slowly lost control of his body and mind. And at the very end as Akira, the very one Tetsuo had set out to find, began enveloping the entire city in a massive explosion, Tetsuo had called out to him. He had called for Kaneda, crying out for his help. There was nothing I could do. He was too far-gone anyway. Kaneda had been reassuring himself a lot lately, he realized. He almost felt guilty, but not quite. He knew it wasn't really his fault. It was more that he felt pain for the loss of his friend. "Hey Kaneda, what're you doing? Ya' haven't gone into a coma from one beer have ya'?" Kaneda turned back to his friends and smiled. Besides, I have plenty of friends in the here and now.
A lone figure pulled itself onto a heavily littered beach on the outskirts of the city. As he got onto the shore, he bent over and coughed heavily, reddish water falling from his gasping mouth. Finally he was able to restrain his coughing and stand up once again, somewhat weakly. He blinked stinging salt water from his eyes and looked around, trying to recognize exactly where he was. Everything is different. Akira really screwed this place up. The man winced as salt water dripped onto the area where his right arm should have been, stinging the large wound. I'll have to fix that. As before with the bird, a vein stood out on the man's neck and small objects nearby began shaking wildly. Sand blew around him erratically as various pieces of metal and other scrap began being pulled, as if by a magnet, toward his right side. The scraps and pieces of garbage slowly began shaping themselves into a recognizable shape, until there was no longer a hole where the man's arm should have been. He looked down and surveyed his new "arm" and was satisfied. Not as good as the last one, but I'm still recovering. The man flexed his new appendage as he walked up the beach towards the city.