Shiki's breaths were deep, ragged and absolutely, utterly, painful; every rise and fall of his chest felt like it would be the last, as his lungs expanded against his throbbing ribcage and his throat protested, already growing hoarse. His heart was in no better shape, it's pounding echoing in the raven's ears as it raced, pleading him to stop, rest and recharge his energies.
But he couldn't.
The soaring pain on his side made sure to remind him of that, the flowing blood unstoppable even as a gloved hand covered and clutched at it; his only comfort the fact that his already darkly coloured shirt would hide whatever stains came from his insides, for even the black splotches in his vision did little to ease his instincts as his mind, slowly but surely, attempted to go blank.
And how utterly humiliating it was; to think that he could have been so easily defeated, even after all his hard work, by the one he'd loathed and feared the most, only to be given another chance to live afterwards. It was like the universe had gathered to watch and ridicule him, make history repeat itself— Except that, this time, there was no one around to help him; to heal him from the wounds inflicted by his pursues of an unattainable victory and he had enemies. Many more enemies than he did the first time. Toshima was practically full of them, people who would do anything to take Il-Re's throne or just kill the mysterious 'Shiki', whose role in Igura they were not aware of.
It was only a matter of time before someone caught up to him, he thought, body leaning against a wall as he continued to drag himself forward, only stopping once in a while to make sure he wasn't being followed or else, he'd be in deep trouble.
He was nearly weaponless; his faithful sword having been claimed as a reward and souvenir by Nicole Premier after their brief encounter, leaving him with only a pair of daggers to use— A pair of daggers that felt sentimentally heavy in his hands and would be useless when he could barely bring himself to move, much less to get close to a threat to fight. They'd been taken from the annoying kitten he'd made sure to remove from his path, too. In a way, he was no better than Nano, though the fact was still difficult to accept and he found himself smiling, bitterly, at it.
Unfortunately, there truthfully seemed not to be anything good shinning upon his path, for the luck he'd had to move around unnoticed failed him as arms wrapped around his form and pulled him into an awaiting alley— Without a doubt, to finally get rid of him.
And Shiki found himself struggling; despite how his body burned and ached, wounds torturing his nerves with each of his movements. But the man did not stop, instead clamping his hand hard upon his mouth and pulling him inside a building, door closing soundlessly behind them. Only afterwards did Il-Re hear his attacker's voice for the first time.
"Quiet, unless you want them to find us."
Sure enough, a few seconds later, he heard the sound of heavy boots marching along the street they'd ran from and he realized— The revolution had broke out and he'd just been saved from an army of soldiers that would have been more than interested in getting rid of Vischio.
Just like that, the raven woke up; body drenched in sweat and uncomfortably hot, despite the fact that his night clothes were light, consisting only of an old t-shirt and a pair of underwear. He looked around, still dazed; hand then feeling desperately at where the wound had been on his dream— or rather, memory, but only managed to make himself aware of his surroundings as he felt a strong arm around his waist and, afterwards, the body it connected to pressed up against his; warm, naked, chest to back. It would have been a pleasant sensation, had Shiki not been Shiki and had the smell of tobacco not invaded his nostrils.
Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he pinched at the skin on the brunette's arm in a cruel attempt to wake him up and, soon, Motomi yelped; arm automatically retreating from Shiki's body and allowing him to finally sit up.
"Jeez, feisty...'the hell was that for?"
Perhaps, it'd been a rhetoric question, but Shiki still answered it— with a glare; red eyes screaming murder as he abandoned the warmth beneath the covers and leaving his very confused lover (if he could even be called that) behind.
"Where are you going?" Motomi called out, but the other was already gone; the closest thing to an answer to his whereabouts being the sound of running water and the brunette would only sigh, then, eyes darting to the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was still late into the night, which meant the former Il-Re was, yet again, having nightmares.
At moments like those, he just wished he could do anything about it.
But, alas, he could not.