Knives spent the rest of the day searching through the houses. He found some tan pants hanging on a clothesline along with a tee and a white button up shirt that mostly fit. Guessing that whoever had lived here must be his size, he went inside to search for more clothes. A pair of boots from the closet would suffice for now. They were a little snug, but he could make do. He grabbed a handful of other clothes from the dresser drawers and shoved them into a pack he'd found, smiling at his good fortune.
He was less successful in his search for food and water. In fact, he was entirely unsuccessful. There was nothing left. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Of course the people who had been trapped here would have ransacked the entire area in order to feed themselves. It was all they could do.
He spent the night in an empty bed, grateful for a break his fruitless searching. He wished he could continue on at night, avoiding the burning heat of the suns, but the moons were only half full and provided little light. It wasn't worth the risk of injury to continue on in the dark. He fell into a restless sleep.
x.x.x.x.x
The morning sunlight beamed into the bedroom, waking him. His stomach gurgled angrily. He scavenged the bathroom for some toothpaste and rubbed a tiny amount against his teeth with his finger, wishing he had some water to rinse with.
Water. He wouldn't last long if he couldn't overcome that obstacle. His lips were already cracked and his tongue felt swollen. He had maybe another day before he'd collapse. It was just too hot. He glanced at himself in the mirror and was surprised to see a man with jet-black hair staring back at him.
Of course. The hair darkening effect. So he really had used up all his power. Then why was he here? What was the point of returning to life if he was just going to die anyway? He looked down, unable to meet the eyes of the man in the mirror.
He searched for the rest of the morning, stopping for several hours when the suns were at their peak. He rested in a shaded alley where the sand was still cool enough to sit on. His throat was beginning to hurt. He attempted to swallow but it did little to ease his discomfort. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep for a bit.
Once the suns were burning a little less fiercely, Knives began searching again. He felt a weight settle on his heart—the situation was looking very bleak. He tried to move as quickly as possible without overdoing it. He was running out of time and out of energy.
He slept in another empty bed once the suns had sunk below the horizon. He had one more day, if he was lucky. His head was beginning to pound. He closed his eyes tightly and willed himself to sleep.
x.x.x.x.x
It was hard to rise the next morning. He could already feel the hot breeze blowing through the window. He forced himself to stand, threw on his pack and walked out into the hot sunlight. His empty stomach clenched, causing him to stumble for a moment. He leaned against the wall of clay house and took a deep breath, trying to relax. His limbs were cramping as well, from lack of water.
But he had to keep going. He couldn't let it end like this. He couldn't become like one of them—abandoned here and left to die. He pushed himself upright and began moving forward.
x.x.x.x.x
Nothing. There was nothing left. If there was any water left in his body, he might have cried. Knives collapsed in a patch of shade, his body wracked with pain. It was just too hot. Maybe, if he rested for a bit, he could go a little further. He smiled, knowing that it was a lie. That this was the end.
He'd been such a fool. He had no one to blame but himself. He laid flat on the ground, staring at the sky.
He wished he could have seen Vash one more time. He would have apologized—for everything. He hoped he'd die for real this time instead of going back to that purgatory bullshit. He had a feeling he would. He sighed and closed his eyes, drifting into blackness.