Another step, one foot in front of the other. Tired shoes, worn out soles, aching feet and stiff legs. An icy wind hitting his face, making him pull his scarf tighter around his face. As long as he kept going. Just walk, he told himself. Another step.
12 000 steps from Shion's door, Nezumi finally felt himself coming closer to the white-haired airhead. His feet were weary and sore after two days of almost constant walking, but soon it would all be worth it. He looked forward to a good shower and a nice, warm fireplace.
11 000 steps from an address he obtained with a little help from Hamlet, the rat felt wrong. Something in the air told him to be careful, that he should proceed with caution. So, he did. Living a life in the slums – where any day could be the last – had sharpened his senses. He knew when to trust his instincts.
10 000 steps from the street name that floated through his mind, snow began to fall. Tiny snowflakes landed in his hair and melted on his skin. Coldness crept under the man's thick layers of clothing and made his uncovered hands shiver annoyingly. The whiteness covered the ground in a thin coat of flour. Looking up at the clear winter sky, Nezumi took in the sight of the full moon, shining as bright and radiant as ever before. He reminisced an old quote by Shakespeare, but his mind was not up to remembering the exact words. From "A Midsummer Night's Dream", perhaps...
9 000 steps from the number "39" painted on the house walls, the arctic wind grew stronger. Chills traveled down the worn man's spine. Though his ears were red and fingertips blue, he did not pay the bone-shilling He had experienced lot worse. Sitting in a dilapidated shack as a kid had rendered him pretty much senseless to sub-freezing temperatures.
8 000 steps from a small apartment hidden in some forgettable alley, Nezumi's chest was a millimeter from being ripped open. Jumping out of the way with usual skill, he barely dodged another swing of the blade. Using half a second to thank his instincts, the rat quickly regained his posture. The shadows in front of him looked young and angry. Just two thugs, out for nothing more but trouble. And maybe some easy-earned money.
On any normal day, Nezumi would have had no trouble taking out two idiots trying to ambush him. But days of little sleeping and skipped meals equaled exhaustion. Aiming for one of the armed men's chest, the rat lifted his leg to give the delinquent a real fight. Too bad the other one saw his kick coming. A quick slash with the knife and Nezumi's calf was gushing blood.
7 000 steps from a stone plated backyard and two apple trees, the dark-haired man pushed his body to its limits. His labored breaths turned in to puffs of steam in the bitter winter air. A red trail followed his foot prints. Unfortunately for the rat, so did the two other figures.
Nezumi was a proud man. He often liked to think of himself as the predator, not the prey being chased. He had been the prey one too many times. Simply running away in such a manner did not impress him, but he would always set his own survival first.
They were catching up. "Fight or flee" was no longer an option, but "fight or die" was. Though he was clearly at disadvantage now, he has the gift of turning odds in his own favor. That is why, 6 000 steps from windows with healthy houseplants, Nezumi stopped running and turned around to face his opponents who were only a meter behind him.
His fast reflexes took the young idiots by surprise, and they almost ran into him. The rat managed to bestow them with several kicks and a couple of uppercuts in a matter of seconds. One of the petty weapons was dropped in the short fight.
The rat smiled cockily as the figures crumpled to the ground. "Heh... Weak." He turned, obviously pleased, despite his mangled right leg. Fatal mistake.
A sound behind him made him turn around on his heel. A dangerous glint of a blade. A disgusting smile pulling at the other part's lips. Nezumi's kick hit too late. At the same time his foot connected with his enemy's stomach, something else connected with his abdomen. The thug fell back into a heap and attempted to hack up his lungs, having had all air knocked out of him. But the satisfaction of seeing the delinquent suffer did not stop red liquid from hitting the paleness of the snow.
5 000 steps from a silver door handle and a broken rain gutter, Nezumi stumbled. Silently cursing his own weakness, he continued forward. Snowflakes fell faster and more closely, but he paid it no heed. The man's worsening limp left an uneven trail in the ice crystals.
4 000 steps from a heavy oak door with a bronze name plate – with his name, Shion's name – the rat refused the temptation of closing his eyes. Giving in was no option. Not now, he was so close, so close, so close. His touch with reality started fading. Reach him, just reach him.
3 000 steps from extinguishing lights and locked doors, his thoughts became jumbled and disorientated. Pain radiated from his wounds. Red everywhere. Pressure to his stomach. His right hand became warmed up by the hotness of the blood.
2 000 steps from his featherbrained moron, he felt ready to give in. Soon, he thought. So he pushed himself a little more. Just another step. Then another. Where was he going again? Fighting his way through the alabaster coldness, he barely remembered.
1 000 steps from a smile and a warm embrace, Nezumi felt life leave him. He did no longer walk in a straight line. His feet tangled up in each other. Suddenly, he was on his knees. A wet cough escaped his lips. Metal in his mouth. Ringing in his ears, too loud, too shrieking. Pain subsiding, and somewhere, deep in his consciousness, he recognized that as a bad sign. A step. When had he gotten up?
500 steps from a simple "welcome home", he started seeing double. Another cough. More metal. He couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe? His body numb, each step a struggle. His legs were quavering like a newborn foal's.
"I can't", the man whispered – or did he imagine? "Sorry, I can't." But you have to. You can't give up. With only a broken resolve to keep him walking, Nezumi stubbornly set his foot in front of the other.
100 steps left, only 100 steps, he could do this, he knew he could, please, just a little longer. Through blurry eyesight, he couldn't see much besides his own lashes. The rat could only hope he walked in the right direction. He had to – he needed to – reach his destination. No matter what.
10 steps from salvation, the rat felt a warm feeling well up inside him and ignite every fiber of his being in a gentle and loving flame. A shadow in the window revealed smiling eyes and white hair, too long, it wasn't supposed to be that long, not at all like that veil of ghastly silver.5 steps from release, Shion turned away from the window, unable to see the wobbling figure in the shadows. No, don't. Please. Don't! Look at me. I'm here!1 step from his home, Nezumi wanted to raise his shaking fist to knock, but he could not lift his hand. Eyes seeing nothing but the memory of Shion by the window, the rat's legs gave out on him.
On Shion's – his Shion's – doorstep, Nezumi collapsed, head hitting the oak forcefully. It would probably have hurt, had he not been more dead than alive.
Ten seconds. Then, the sound of a lock being turned. The door creaked open, but the panicked voice that followed didn't quite reach his ears.