He knew Tokyo like the back of his hand, and from the Japanese signs and commercials everywhere, he thought it was safe to assume that he was still in his hometown, or at least somewhere in Japan, but he couldn't seem to recognize the streets, much less the almost entirely destroyed buildings.
Never letting down his guard, he tried not to give in to the panic growing within him, as he walked seemingly nowhere, the night sky above him devoid of stars to wish upon.
He was usually totally fine on his own, sometimes he even preferred being alone to constantly being surrounded by people who only talked about themselves, their problems – which were always far, far worse than anyone else's – and seemed to be under the impression that he was just dying to hear their opinions on just about anything.
Right now, he wouldn't have minded either of that, because the most terrifying thing about this situation by far wasn't that he didn't know where he was or what had happened, it was that he seemed to be entirely on his own. The last survivor.
And just as that very depressing thought crossed his mind, he abruptly came to a stop and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound of approaching footsteps.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he shivered, sensing danger before it was too close to him, and although he hardly believed he had anything to be worried about, seen as he was sometimes called the strongest person in Japan, he decided to take refuge behind several large garbage bins.
Light steps came closer, halting and resuming to walk, before hesitating again. The interval of silence between each step grew smaller, as the person the steps belonged to broke into a run, almost inhumanly fast, though Shizuo could hear the person breathe heavily, as he passed his hiding spot.
Daring to crane his neck and look into the direction the steps had come from, Shizuo immediately knew why that person had been running like the devil himself was after him.
They looked harmless at first, just a couple of dark silhouettes standing out against the orange tinted edge of the horizon, but the way they climbed over dilapidated buildings that had most likely been completely intact only a couple of hours ago, bending their limbs in ways that were impossible for humans, gave away that those weren't other people searching for answers.
Each and every one of their movements gave them away as cruel predators hunting their prey, way before the blond man could hear their angry howls and grunts as seemingly thousands of footsteps swept past him menacingly.
He swallowed and didn't really know what to do, his hands shaking, while his brain was trying to make sense out of what was happening. They seemed to be human, but they brought with them a foul stench of putrefaction that made him feel dizzy and nauseous.
Their cries and screeches were deafening, and the blond ex-bartender covered his ears, instinctively shielding his head in the process, all the while wondering if that person that had come rushing past him was one of them, or someone like him, who didn't know what the hell had happened and had been caught off guard by those things.
Shizuo couldn't even think of a right way to call them, because there was no denying they weren't human. At least not anymore.
He had to do something. He couldn't sit on his ass forever, because sooner or later, they, whatever they were, would discover him and he'd be in trouble if he was still just sitting there in petrified shock.
Slowly, he crawled out from where he was hiding, scratching his knees open on rocks and car parts that littered the cracked streets.
The mob of dark figures had stopped about 50 meters away from him, forming a circle around someone or something, and just thinking that a human being could be trapped by them and about to get killed made him run towards the crowd blindly, forgetting about his fear and confusion.
