Disclaimer: Yo no concedo Namco o Klonoa personalidades. c:

Chapter 1: Endurance

"Shinigami!"

I knew just who they were referring to, but that didn't mean I was about to stop. They grew impatient quickly. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" I still didn't respond, continuing my indifferent walk down the dark alley. The sudden, deafening fire of a gun behind me shot past inches from my ear. A bullet struck into the brick wall ahead of me. "Ignore me again and I'll kill you!" With an exasperated sigh, I stopped and turned around.

I really didn't need to look to see that I was outnumbered. I could tell by their poorly disguised footsteps as they followed me to a secluded area that there were three of them. Each one heavy with overstocked firearms. The one that was screaming at me was standing a step ahead of the other two.

He wore on his face the same arrogant grin I'd seen on just about every clueless adversary I'd faced. He held out a pistol in front of him, a thin line of smoke emitting from the barrel. I frowned in disapproval mostly at the wasted bullet, but also at the waste of time and energy this was going to cost me.

"Do tell, Shinigami. Are you enjoying this Hell you've wrought upon us? All of this death that consumes our world?" The front man tilted his gun horizontally as he spoke. This wasn't the first time my title had been mocked to take the blame. Everyone was looking for someone else to put the fault on for this. But in all honestly they had no idea how right they were.

But I decided to play along, anyway. "It keeps me entertained," I replied with a sadistic grin. He didn't like my answer, the fury building in his face quite quickly. Anger was too easy to come by nowadays. I knew it wouldn't be long before some noise was to be made. "I'm gonna make you eat those words," the man growled. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you," I replied calmly.

That blew him up. I was pretty sure that he was mostly getting angry over the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. There he was pointing at gun point-blank at my head, and all I could stand to do was rebuke everything he said. That, and the easily snapped short-temperament most everyone seemed to have now on this planet.

I really didn't care if he pulled the trigger on me. Part of me actually wanted him to. What was worse; continuing to live this life, or receiving a bullet to my head? I really couldn't say. But he never pulled the trigger. Instead he came charging at me with a furious war-cry, a dagger suddenly in his other hand. He held it up high, ready to stab it into my chest.

It wasn't hard to dodge his first blow. He was about a whole head shorter than me and not as fast as he seemed to want to be. I guessed by his sluggish movements that he probably hadn't slept or eaten much in a while. I grew tired of this child's play and threw him a punch to the face as he was staggering to regain his balance—after thrusting his dagger at empty air. His pistol clattered to the ground as he lost his grip on t.

It was as he was staggering back in recoil that his two partners decided to join the fight. As one distracted me from the front, another managed to jump me from the back. I subconscious reached for my own dagger at my belt and thrust it behind me. I felt it break skin and the man behind me released his grip with a painful grunt. He fell hard on the ground, blood oozing from a wound on his leg.

One down; but there were still two left. The one I had punched was back up and ready for more. They faced me on opposite sides, bodies tense and ready for someone to make the first move. They didn't look as confident as they had moments before. I decided to give negotiation a chance.

"Now, let's be sensible men. Is this all really necessary?" I tried to give the appearance of relaxation, for I knew letting my guard down at any moment could mean death. Such a use of words in this time of age would have probably sent anyone into a bitter laughter, but these people were in no mood for jokes.

"Sensible? You must be kidding. Words like that don't exist anymore," the first one snorted. I noticed him slowly reaching down toward his belt. "I'm just trying to spare you the medical treatment. It's not cheap, as I'm sure you know," I replied calmly. "Don't talk tough, if you're scared. Maybe we'll spare your life if you give us all your money and valuables," the man sneered.

I frowned. As expected, negotiation was a foreign language nowadays. I was wasting my time. "I don't think so," I scowled lowly. The man chuckled for a moment as his hand found what he was looking for at his belt. "Then die!" He yelled out as he thrust another gun out in front of him. But I was already moving before he even managed to pull the trigger. He wasn't quick enough to realize his target had shifted and wound up shooting his partner behind me in the shoulder.

I took the moment of shock and confusion to narrow in on the man. He immediately released his gun with a painful cry as my dagger met his right shoulder. I took the moment of closeness to give him a little message. "Next time you want to waste someone's time make sure you've at least got something to give to apologize for it."

He dropped to the ground as I forcefully pulled my dagger out of his body. "Besides your own blood," I finished. I felt his eyes on me as I continued my way down the alleyway, as I had been before I was so rudely interrupted. "W-What…" He struggled for his voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

I didn't stop as he continued to yell. "You're supposed to finish the job! Where are you going?! Don't just leave us here alive! Come back here and kill us!" I thought I heard his voice break slightly at the end. I had to suppress a sigh. Some people honestly only picked fights to get themselves killed—that way they wouldn't have to do it themselves. It was pitiful, really. But it wasn't like I could say I wasn't the same way half the time.

It was finally quiet when I reached the road again. Only a very few people were up and about. It was night, last I checked. Though I was impossible to tell the natural way here. The sky was always black. It was always dark. But somehow we still managed to keep the natural "sleep by night, wake by day" order of life.

The only thing that told us what time of day it was was a huge clock tower that stood in the middle of Volk city. I could barely see it from where I was. I was pretty close to the outskirts of the city. It was usually calmer out here. Most home burnings and murders were taking place more towards the middle of this kingdom.

That was because out here had already been taken care of. Charred homes and collapsed buildings lined the roads. Only the poor people who preferred safety over quality stayed here. The people here died of starvation and disease more than homicide—as it was vice versa central city.

Unfortunately I'd have to go there soon. Central city was the only place where shops still existed and I was running low on supplies. That was the only reason I hadn't used my own guns back during that fight. I needed to save what little ammo I had for real emergencies. It'd been a while since I'd really eaten anything, as well. Hunger meant little energy; little energy meant vulnerability; vulnerability meant death.

Fortunately water was always available in this city. Though to call it "water" or "fortunate" really wasn't suitable. It was really the only thing the government offered us—poured in old wells posted at every corner. And yet I'd have rather drank mud. But the fact that it kept us from dehydration and no one—as far as I knew—had died from it meant that we'd just have to suck it up and endure its horrid taste.

I walked aimlessly down the cracked, broken roads as I thought about the route I'd take to get through the central city the fastest with the least interruptions. The only good thing was that I blended well in there. Most of the madmen out there looked for poor women or scrawny men. Sure, I was dirty and in desperate need of a change of clothes, but I was tall and well-built despite the conditions.

People told me I had a deadly look in my eyes and the way I walked was of dignity and constant defiance. But I would have never proclaimed myself like that. Personality I just felt downright tired and defeated. So maybe it was just a habit I had developed over my years as an infamous bounty hunter.

But the point was I looked like a thug. And I even had battle scars as further conviction. My right ear was badly torn. Half of it hung over limply in shreds. I had two long, ugly scars across my muzzle. And I wouldn't even begin describing the ones that marked the rest of my body. Such an appearance was only good for scaring off troublemakers.

Only the extremely confident or stupid would pick a fight with me. Unfortunately there were a lot of people like that around here. So no matter what approach I made, I was surely to be challenged several times. That was why I needed a restock now. As little as I cared for death itself, some unbested natural instinct wouldn't allow it could come so close if I could help it.

My walk was cut off as two children ran past me. They were laughing and playing, completely oblivious to the horror that was life. I tried not to look at them; at their rags for clothing, their skinny bodies, their dirty faces. I tried not to feel bad for them. I tried not to think about how many times they needed to skip dinner, how cold they were at night, how many times their mothers cried.

These sorts of feelings weren't allowed anymore. It wasn't normal. No one family felt bad for another family; no one person pitied another. It was a dog eat dog world. Every man for himself. I knew that. So then why did I still feel this way whenever I looked at a poor, suffering family? Why did I even sometimes find myself sometimes giving up things I need to help another?

I wasn't a benevolent person. It wasn't right for me to be this way. Kind people died early. But I was still alive. I didn't understand it. Why only when the world turned to darkness did I find a sympathy in me I had never seen before? My whole life had been in darkness. Now the whole world had joined the club of suffering. I had no reason to pity those that were going through what I had my whole life.

But I knew why I did. It was because just before all of this had happened I'd met him. His benevolence and thoughtfulness had obviously been contagious and rubbed off on me. Without even knowing it he'd affected me to such a degree… I didn't want to think about it anymore. That was 4 years ago. When was I going to suck it up and move on?

But it was hard to move on when there was nowhere to go. One of the children suddenly tripped and landed right in front of my feet. He looked up at me with his big innocent eyes, the first hint of uncertainly reaching them—as if ignoring me had made me less threatening. I dared not make any attempt to touch or help the boy. I knew what kind of reaction it would have.

It was then that a mother ran out of a small, unsteady hand-built home. She stopped at the edge of the road, urgently summoning her children over with a hushed voice. The child at my feet had yet to rise. I simply took a step back before slowly walking around him. It was unfortunate that we had to treat each other like unpredictable wild animals, watching each other carefully for any unexpected movements.

But to trust was a step too close to vulnerability and death. The woman watched me like a bird watching a cat. I didn't even look her way. When I was apparently a comfortable distance away, she raced to the boy and hurried her children inside, probably grateful that no tragedy had just taken place.

I didn't target families. I might have before, more than 4 years ago when I was a merciless bounty hunter only looking for rewards. But now there was no reward. These people were barely living off of the clothes on their backs. It would mean certain death for them if they were robbed. And since four years ago murder was something I avoided.

I used to love it. I used to love spilling their blood, watching them squirm, listening to their screams, seeing the fear in their eyes; all before they finally stopped moving and the silence of death took place. But now… I felt as though there was enough death going round without me adding to it. I no longer felt that sadistic, disgusting excitement that made me want to kill senselessly to no end.

But now, more than anything, somehow… I actually wanted to help. Some incorrigible part of me defied all reason and made me want to bring righteousness to this world of hate and suffering. But I had to resist it. I'd seen what happened to the few people that tried to bring hope and justice to this world. They're practically killed on sight as soon as they let their views known. It would be a troublesome thing I didn't feel like dealing with. I was working hard enough to survive rather bother trying to give people false hope even I didn't have.

Though I honestly didn't have it all that bad. I had all of my limbs and none of my senses were contorted. I'd seen people much worse off than I; surviving off of one leg or deaf ears. They had to work much harder to survive. No one would ever bother to show pity for their disadvantage in life. There was only one thing keeping me from having a complete advantage.

I was walking down a deserted road when the involuntary chill crept up my spine. My eyes blurred suddenly and my legs buckled. As soon as I fell to my knees I started retching. When that was over I got caught in a violent fit of coughing. When I finally calmed down I was completely out of breath. I stared down at the blood that had come out of me as my breathing finally slowed to a normal pace.

My health.

I slowly got to my shaky feet and wiped the blood from my lips. I was sick; with some disease I couldn't be bothered to name. It was really only a disadvantage to me when it interrupted me during a bad moment. And sometimes it made me have to stop and rest more often than I'd like. But I was managing to ignore it mostly for now.

I had more important things to worry about right now. My internal clock told me that morning was coming. Unlike the outskirts of Volk, central city was least active in the morning. My best chances of getting through the fastest with the least energy wastes would be to go in a few hours. When I was done I could find a place to stop and rest. I would plan the rest from there.

Central city could have probably passed for the most dangerous part of the world at the moment. Volk was always a dangerous place, even before the nightmares took over. But I grew up here. Even if this place had up'd in its danger level, it was like my backyard. I was confident I would get through this morning without any difficulties.

Like the prologue but with much more detail and some dialogue and action and stuffs. It'll get more interesting eventually, but for now things need explaining. Sorry if it seems a little confusing for a while. It'll all be thoroughly explained soon enough... just not now. c: