"Where am I?"

Was the first mutter from Bankotsu as he awoke. Little did he know, it was the first thing that came from his chapped lips in months. He slowly eased his achy body so he was propped up on his elbows, glancing around his location. He felt the stiffness in his muscular neck as he started to rotate it. He brought a hand up to his chin and cracked it to the side, his whole body felt this way he comprehended. Stiff. Like he had been in years of slumber without moving, part of him wanted to remain the way he was, but the ache wasn't subsiding in his current position so he slung his legs over the end of the bed he was on, though he didn't recognize.

As he got to his feet his knees buckled, causing him to nearly collapse against the bare white wall. He leaned his weight on it, hoping the blood would circulate in his legs soon, just so he could walk, he'd be satisfied with limping at this point. He scrunched his nose and looked down at himself. He was wearing what he remembered last wearing, a v-neck white t-shirt and loose-fitting faded jeans. His black Timberlands, too. What had changed in his outfit was him. Sweat stained down the front, and he assumed the back, of his shirt. It was down the sides of him as well. Only then did he realize the beads of sweat dripping from his loose hair, then he wondered why it was out of its usual braid.

He peeled the thin shirt off his well-toned torso, carelessly throwing it aside and making sure his dog tags stayed in place. His brows furrowed, what was going on? The room he awoke in had two beds, the one he woke up in and one parallel to that. He noticed the molding of a head in the other bed's pillow. Someone was here, maybe someone with answers. That only angered him. The humidity here was crazy; he wanted to be back in his apartment, back working, nothing made sense. Had he gotten so shit faced he ended up here? He looked for a window and saw only on, a narrow one that neared the ceiling of the white room.

His ears stopped ringing; he could hear the sounds around him rather than the blood thumping between his temples. They went into phases frequently; they'd ring for seconds, minutes; sometimes longer periods at a time. A side affect of war. Now, he heard the sound of running water. It was distant, but he was sure that was the sound. Holding one hand on the wall, Bankotsu slowly followed to where he believed the source of the sound was. He felt disgusting, he didn't smell too great either, and despite the long-term rest (he figured it had to be long, though he had no idea how lengthy it actually was) his body felt tired. He had a routine everyday, getting his muscles some use. They were so tense; a simple step took so much determination.

The random side door he only just noticed opened at a normal pace. He growled a little, preparing himself for whatever was on the other side. The running water had stopped. He should have been more alert. Emitting from the steam that flooded out of the room beyond the door exposed the figure of a man. When he came out, in the dim lighting of the room, Bankostu was able to catch his features. The man before him had to be around his age, give or take some years. He was well-built, wearing nothing but a towel at his waist, and his widow's peak pulled back into a braid that ran down his back. He had lightly tanned skin, just a few shades lighter than Bankotsu's, and piercing red eyes. Eyes that right now, were staring into Bankotsu's. Trying to read him. At least, he guessed that, for that was exactly what Bankotsu was attempting to do. Read the man before him, his thoughts.

Unlike Bankotsu, this man seemed calm. How much sooner had he woken up? Was he perhaps the captor, or whatever he was supposed to call the man who took him here? Was this a façade, him feigning to wake up the same way? He straightened his posture the way he had done many times before, opening his mouth but finding his voice dry.

"Who are you?" The man asked. He dropped his clothes on the bed beside him, they looked clean. "You mind?" He arched a brow and Bankotsu scowled, glaring daggers. "I don't know what's going on." He stated blankly. Bankotsu's brows only knotted tighter to this, he didn't like people understanding his thoughts, especially people he didn't know.

"Where the fuck are we!" He finally managed; the words that had built up in the back of his throat. That he was trying to find the moistness in his mouth to yell, allow himself to reveal his frustration, even having only been here 17 minutes. The man rolled his eyes.

"Look dumbass, I told you. I. Don't. Know." He said, glaring out the corner of his eyes as he redressed himself. "I woke up the same way you did."

"Then why are you so calm?" Bankotsu questioned, figuring he had to trap him. The man sighed and sat on the end of the bed, putting his boots on casually. "Well?" He pressed and the mean pointed to the room he just came from, Bankotsu assumed it to be a bathroom. He peered over just enough to glance inside the room, seeing the shower curtain sprawled across the tiled floor, a mirror cracked, and anything that could be demolished or thrown around…demolished or thrown around.

"I did my venting, scoped the whole fucking place out. There's no sign of anything, figured I'd at least wash up, felt disgusting. I think we're in a desert, but now that I'm ready, I believe we can go our separate ways." He shrugged and Bankotsu continued to eye him skeptically.

"Why would you wait for me?" He asked.

"I didn't, I woke up weak, drank a shit load of water, scraped up what I could for food, walked at least a mile diameter around here finding nothing, and figured I may as well clean myself up." He put both hands on his knees, looking back to Bankotsu.

"So where are you headed now?"

"Beats me. There's a shower or whatever in there, guess it's your turn to freak the fuck out. Have fun finding what I haven't already destroyed." He grinned and Bankotsu kept an eye on him as he walked by. Water, food, and a shower. Enough to clear his head maybe. He made a step into the bathroom (also completely white), and just as he went to shut the door, he felt a strong arm wrap around his neck from behind. He gagged. The man yanked his head back by his bangs.

"Get…off…" His raspy voice demanded, attempting intimidation.

"Listen asshole, I want to know where the fuck we are, why we're here, and how we got here. I don't have one fucking clue so I suggest you tell me before I snap your pretty little neck." He whispered in Bankotsu's ears, his tone sharp. The tone Bankotsu wished he could muster. He paused for a minute, actually holding his breath, then with what was left of his strength, curled forward, reached back, grabbed the man's shoulders and swung his entire body over, leaving the man on his back in front of him. He panted but kept it quiet, he felt the blood coursing through his veins now, felt his strength coming back. Clearly the man hadn't braced himself for such retaliation, he stared in shock for a few moments, wincing as he got up, and then charged himself at his enemy.

"Back the fuck off you psycho!" Bankotsu grunted. Their arms locked on each other's shoulders. Still both in a weakened state, they were matched. Hiten snarled, made an aggressive shoved which was just enough to make his opponent stumble back a few steps. He sat on his bed, panting.

"You know something…" He said between breaths. Bankotsu shook his head, walking so he was towering over him. Hiten looked up, and then saw the tags that reflected the few beams of sunlight that made their way in the room. He yanked them in front of his eyes and Bankotsu tensed and pulled a fist back. "Bankotsu…" He muttered, running his thumb against the lettering that came out. He let go and Bankotsu glared.

"Yours?"

"Don't worry about it." He got up and made his way to the door. "Hoped you'd be of more use."

"Don't you think there's a reason we're here? You don't want to know who did this and...what reason?" Bankotsu grumbled, hating that it sounded as though he depended on this hasty stranger. He shrugged in response.

"You think it matters much."

"You'll die in that desert alone; sticking together could open more doors, just until we figure this out." He pointed out and Hiten pondered the thought. He didn't like teamwork; he couldn't even be on a sports team as a child. He liked loner work; he had a low-tolerance for outsiders, unfamiliar faces. He kept who he had to close, and right now, that was only his sister. "We don't have to talk, just get out of here."

"Alright." He agreed after some thought. He reached in his back pocket and threw the bottle of Poland Springs water at (versus to) him. Bankotsu caught in, now realizing his thirst, and downed it. "Make sure you drink…" His voice trailed off to a sigh. "Go shower dumbass." He waved his hand and Bankotsu did so. Stripping his jeans and boxers, he'd wash as soon as he found where he could; he stepped into the open shower.

Hiten sat on the end of the bed patiently. His temper was boiling inside of him, he didn't like not knowing. He reached in his pocket, which had been stripped of most personal belongings. He was craving a cigarette, maybe he wasn't trusted with them, and maybe it was the lighter. Either way, Hiten had access to neither. He pulled out his worn leather wallet, all money and credit cards were removed, no ID or license, just one picture. Souten. Quickly tucking it back away he made his way outside. He leaned against the side of the cabin-like shelter he woke up in. It only had two rooms he noticed. Kicking the sand up and watching it slowly drift back to the ground, a weak wind blowing it slightly to the side. Then Hiten noticed something he hadn't before. They were vanishing with the sand but it was unmistakable. He must have walked right by it before, his anger clouding his thoughts as well as his vision.

There, deeply marking the dirt: tire tracks.