Ryoga was exhausted. He had walked for hours and inadvertently ended up going even further into a humid forest. The environment was heavy, the temperature was high, his hair had stuck to his sweaty skin and his feet felt like they were bursting, he had painful blisters that did not allow him to walk normally. Not even the makeshift cane he picked up at some point on his trip was not enough to get some rest.
He knew it was noon, the sun was at its highest point. The trees could not create a shadow greater than that of some leafy branches. The few rays that penetrated were incandescent. Ryoga couldn't remember a hotter day than that. Sure, he was in deserts and dry summers, but the humidity of the place made him feel more burdened.
He looked at the insect-riddled floor and decided to stop for a moment. He didn't think he could walk much longer, his feet ached and his throat was dry. Sighed, letting out a warm breath that was lost in the weather. Removed his heavy backpack and dropped it between the thick roots of a nearby tree. Ryoga yawned, perfectly showing his fangs and sat down without any delicacy using his suitcase as a backrest.
His heart was beating slow, the eternally lost boy felt sick. His head began to throb in time with his heart, and his feet desperately sought to get out of his shoes. He closed his eyes a little dizzy. Ryoga knew that he should not be on the ground directly, his basic survival knowledge screamed at him that he should be setting up his tent to avoid any bite or attack (in the worst case). But Ryoga wasn't thinking clearly.
For a few days he had been lost in that place, on his way he had not found any hut or signs of civilization. His provisions had been exhausted the day before, the humidity of the forest did not allow him to light the fire for long, he still could not find a stream to fill his canteen. For the first time since he had fallen into the Jusenkyo spring, he wished it would rain. That way he could at least drink clean water, even if it was a pig.
Ryoga laughed bitterly at that thought, being a pig could never be an advantage, especially if he couldn't have a hot kettle nearby. It would suddenly be the target of a thousand hungry predators. On the run, he would lose his luggage (again) and would be without any survival tools for the next few days. The potential dangers and roaming around like a pig without any protection was not a fun game.
The teenager put a hand to his face, trying to cover a bit of the annoying sun, but his strength seemed to leave him and his arm fell reluctantly next to his leg. He couldn't move much. His energies instantly faded, opening his eyes became an enormous effort. Ryoga felt helpless. If only he had looked for water before, if only he had not let the rabbit that could have been his dinner escape, if only he read the guide signs more often, if only he were not useless with an unreadable map.
He let out an anguished sob, although his eyes produced no tears. He felt a tightness in his chest that left him breathless. Wanted to scream, but he didn't. Closed his eyes again when he began to let out piteous moans. Tried to calm himself down, he couldn't.
And suddenly a thought flashed across: "Maybe I'm dying" and this scared him far more than any monster he had ever faced. Was this what death felt like? A mixture of fear, helplessness, bitterness, sadness and anguish. Ryoga didn't want to die, not so soon. He had to duel Ranma, he had to confess to Akane that he was P-chan, he had to try Ukyou's special Okonomiyaki, he had to marry Akari, he had to learn more techniques from Cologne. He still hadn't hugged his parents closely, he still hadn't finished high school, he still hadn't said goodbye to Shirokuro. Ryoga was exhausted. He was only 18 years old.
And although many times he wanted to disappear, and although many times he wanted to die, he did not feel ready. However, death comes to us when we least want it, doesn't it?
Little by little, he stopped sobbing, because he didn't have the energy to do it. He was tired, and it wasn't just physical anymore. An overwhelming dream presented itself before him. He knew he shouldn't sleep, but, again, Ryoga wasn't thinking clearly. He dropped into the unfamiliar misty mist. No one would attend his funeral. On his grave you would see some withered flowers that some hurt passerby left by mistake in the wrong grave. No one would know that he died.
Loneliness was never more present.
He woke up to the smell of bleach that he recognized from a hospital. Ryoga was disoriented. His crystalline eyes surveyed the room and stopped at the door through which a doctor in a long coat entered.
"You're awake." The doctor's monotonous voice didn't surprise him at all. "Boy, you are very lucky. Some biologists found you lying next to a backpack. Did you run away from home? Leave it, I don't care. But paperwork is hell when there is no contact with anyone." Ryoga didn't answer, he was still a bit disoriented. The doctor picked up a booklet hanging from his gurney and flipped through some sheets, then whistled in shock.
"Severe malnutrition, third degree dehydration and serious injuries to your feet. Boy, one more day and the story would be different. Tell me your name to see if at some point I can fill out this form." The doctor saw him out of the corner of his eye.
"Hibiki Ryoga" The boy spoke with a thick voice while the doctor noted lightly.
"A contact to inform you where you are?" Ryoga thought about it. He remembered his last thoughts before he passed out and then sighed.
"No"
And the conversation ended. Loneliness never really left him.