Just outside a two bedroom hotel room a bluenette was stood leaning against the balcony, watching the nightlife of Tokyo. He didn't know how they'd managed to do it, to convince him to go away with them for a few days. And frankly he wasn't too pleased with himself, seemed a punishment was due.

Why punish himself? Simple, he wasn't going to become weak; he'd suffered too much to let that happen. Lost too much and gained too little. Lost his family, his friends, a normal life, emotions and for what? A simple bit beast, one he loved, but still his whole world for a chip no bigger than a penny.

Pushing away from the cool metal of the balcony rail he turned slightly to gaze in at the teens in the hotels living room. Laughing to some nonsense TV show on that mind numbing box they were so addicted to. He'd never much liked TV, never saw the appeal it had, never saw the benefit it had to him. Why would one want to sit before a box and become its servant? He was no one's servant. Never again would he be. He was free, and it was going to stay that way.

Despite himself though, he did allow a small smile to grace his usually placid face. Damn, he was getting weak. He could feel it, a small spark of happiness inside him at watching those naïve children. How he could tolerate, and dare he say, like them was beyond him. They were idiots, naïve idiots. And yet, he couldn't break away from them. They kept pulling him back, refusing to let him go back to his non-confusing life.

A punishment was definitely due. Maybe after he could regain some of his former self? How did he punish himself? The same way his grandfather did, through pain and food. Mainly food, after all, there was no greater control one could have over someone when they controlled the thing that sustained their life.

Nodding absentmindedly at his own thoughts he turned fully, debating with himself on whether to go back in. It wasn't cold, well, to him at least. But the night was wearing on, and if he was going to skip his meal with the least notice he'd have to do it while they were serving their electronic master. After all, he didn't need them prying into the last part of his life he had control over. No, they wouldn't take this away from him.

Deciding to no longer hide away in the seclusion of the balcony he forced himself back inside. Passing the Bladebreakers without even gaining a glance in his direction, perfect, the less they saw the easier this was.

Trying to ignore the tingling in his fingers as they were woken by the warm air the bluenette entered the room he shared with Ray. Ray, perhaps the only one he could stand to be around, the only one intelligent enough not to bore him in their conversation. Maybe that was why he chose Ray over Kenny. True, Kenny was smart, but only if it involved a computer. Ray however seemed to have a grasp on the world that even he didn't fully understand. He knew when and when not to pry. Maybe that was it, Ray respected his privacy.

Whatever it was it wasn't important. And the blood eyed teen simply flicked on the lights and dropped back onto his bed. Thankful that the room had two singles, it wouldn't do if he got blood on the neko-jin. Fumbling around in one of the deep pockets on his trousers he pulled out a simple penknife, the wooden handle having two simple initials engraved into it 'SH'. SH, Susumu Hiwatari, his father's knife; the last thing of his father he had.

Glancing down at the door with mild apprehension settling in his stomach he pulled off one of his arm guards. He hadn't locked the door, couldn't, it'd look suspicious if he had. He couldn't risk snaring their curiosity. It wouldn't bode well, for either of them.

His eyes scanned over his arm, almost unseeing, he'd mapped the countless scars on his arm before, many times. Some days he'd just lay there trying to count them all. He never managed to, always getting swept up in the memories that caused those scars to multiply. Memories that caused them to switch from clean horizontal strokes across the skin to diagonal zigzagging lines, looking like they hadn't been made by a clean knife but a rusted nail.

Shaking his head to free himself from his mind he pressed the cold steel against his pale flesh.

'Oh well, best get on with it.'

Just an idea that's been stuck in my head for a while. The next chapter will be longer than this, this is just to see if it's any good. Please read review