Shinji spent the next hours just wondering the strangely familiar yet unknown streets, deep in thought. The strange events ever since his awakening in that hospital plaguing his mind.
As he walked, no longer restricting himself to back alleys, he saw the other kids keeping their distance from him, one girl even changed directions and crossed the street just to avoid him.
As he kept going, trying to not let it ruin his day, he didn't notice a car driving by, almost running him over, the driver, clearly a foreigner, yelling expletives and insults at him while driving by, without any accent.
After some more hours, the sky darkened, just like his thoughts.
Deciding that he should look for a place to sleep,
Shinji asked a passerby for a motel, and was directed at the direction from which he went, as he discovered that he was at the wrong part of the city for it.
And so another track… Only to discover that the place was a Love Hotel. The manager (or the clerk available, Shinji did not know, nor cared much at that point), was a fat, balding man
Who took one look at him and yelled at him to get out, not giving him any chance to explain himself, or even ask for directions to a real hotel, muttering about the shameless youth of today.
By the time Shinji exited the building it was already dark.
"It can't get much worse, at least." The boy muttered to himself.
The skies rumbled, as if in disagreement, as a thunder sounded, and it started raining.
"I should have remained silent."
And so, the boy who escaped from a hospital with nothing, found himself walking hours in the dark, under heavy rain that even thugs and delinquents hid indoors from, until finally, he heard a voice.
"Hey, kiddo… ya lost?"
The voice was raspy, with the hollowness typical to heavy smokers. As the boy turned, looking for its source, he soon found himself looking at an old man, with a short grey beard, and heir, wearing an old baseball cap on his head with some American slogan on it, and used clothes in a faded color that Shinji was pretty sure, almost… probably, was green, once upon a time… maybe during the Pacific war.
"First time with no roof?" The Homeless bum asked, curious.
Shinji bowed his head in shame, looking at the ground, at the falling rain drops.
"Well, than, I suppose nothing to it. Got anything to trade for?"
"Hai."
"Well, you look like you got some cash on ya. I can show ya a place you can crash at, in exchange for some money, what say ya?"
At a hesitant nod, the bum cheerfully started walking, unmindful of the rain. "Well than, let's go."
The man led him through the streets with a practiced familiarity, as they walked in the side streets and back alleys towards some unknown place.
As the got closer and closer to the alleged place where he could 'crash at', the boy started to wonder, just where was he being led to-some sort of a slavery operation, a drug house? A dark corner where the bum will rob or kill him? Some prostitution ring (and he couldn't help but blush at that particular thought)?
He still had no better place to go to, and so was at the mercy of the man who was leading him to who knew where. And in his current state, Shinji found himself not caring much.
"Well, kid here we are…"
'Well, this is not a Yakuza slaver camp.'
They have indeed, reached a…shelter. Another sign of western influence-a place where those with too little would get a meal and a futon to sleep on, by volunteers.
As they entered the building, Shinji found the lack of rain falling on his head and the worth of the building- hinting at a heating device, to be welcome change.
They were greeted by an obviously western woman- American features and blonde hair who greeted the older man in accented Japanese.
"You are just in time Kevin, we got a place for you and there is still some soup remaining. And who is this young man?"
"Hay, Joodee, got room for one more? The kid got nowhere to go."
The woman's features softened, as she took in the leather clad, drenched young man, and with a soft voice, she addressed him.
"Of course, come with me, honey, let's go find a futon for you. I'm sure we have some soup left, and we'll see about something dry for you to wear. You'll get sick otherwise.
As the boy obediently followed her aside, and into a kitchen area, the woman called to another, a man in his twenties, another western foreigner, and asked him for a bowl of hot soup for the kid, and to check if they got spare towels.
Shinji did not notice any accent this time.
Afterwards, she knelt near him, and looking into his eyes, asked, the accent appearing once again.
"What's your name, Baby?"
"I-Ikari, Shinji, ma'am." He awkwardly replied. The attention made him uncomfortable.
"Its last name first, right?" At his nod she continued-"Well, Shinji, do you want to talk about your parents? "A negative. "What about your home? Did something happen? "She hesitated before asking again, "did someone do something to you? Maybe something you were not comfortable with?" at his silence, she soon relented.
"So tell me, how did you meet Kevin? That's the guy who introduced us, and my name is Judy by the way, sorry for not introducing myself right away."
"Kevin?" the kid asked, looking at her doubtfully, despite his clothes, the man looked Japanese, not a trace of Gaijin heritage on him. it seemed odd for one like that, particularly so old, to have such an 'unjapanese' name.
"Well, he didn't tell me his name, though between you and me I think he just didn't know it, and so I called him Kevin, Norton, after a character in a Novel I was reading at the time. Would have called you Zion if you shared that problem-which might have been awkward, so you got lucky you got a name already."
As the man from before interrupted further discussion, and led them to tables in the dining area of the shelter, a bowl before him, and the woman-Judy insistently using the dry towel upon his person, Shinji thought was, that it was…nice…being fawned upon, nice and strange. As if he was unused to it.
Still it was probably the best he could expect from his life, with no reliable memories, family to pick him up, or even documents, and strange men seemingly interested in him, in some bad way.
Liliana kranjcar, knight in service of the seventh Campione, the 'King of Lust' Kusanagi Godou, couldn't help but worry. There was an Eighth Godslayer in Japan, in the territory of King Godou. And the Devil Kings were not known for amicable relations between one another-on the contrary, an attack from the Eighth was expected.
Liliana wondered, just what was the newly born supreme sovereign planning, in the golden halls they were lairing at, scheming. And how difficult the battle will be for Godou, and more importantly, how much collateral will there be.
"My Lady, are you sure you wish to travel there, It is a territory currently hosting one Devil King, and suspected to be hosting the new, eighth as well. It seems imprudent."
the Death Glare the speaker received was answer enough.
Author Notes: This is my attempt to insert some drama, and a starting bit of angst into the fic. as it is not going all to smooth, i have to ask-just how successful was i in that goal?
There is little action in this chapter- How did it come across?
also, if some are wondering- the people that avoided him as he walked-he was wearing leather jacket that made him appear a delinquent, and the expression on his face as he was deep in thought was serious-out of place on a good kid, that and some instinctive feeling of apprehension led to people avoiding the strange delinquent boy.
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