Hello everyone! This rewrite was a long time coming, and now after three years of having finished the original draft for this story, I bring you the "I'm you but stronger" version of DBD. Updates will come somewhat apart from each other because Easier is my priority right now, and DBD 2.0 chapters are way longer. So yeah, enjoy while at home, stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane. I'll see you on the next one!
Chapter 1: What's Left of Us.
Sweat dripped down my spine and settled into my under-armour as I ran through the empty streets of the capital. My controlled breathing had turned into panting as I struggled to get enough oxygen in order to maintain the pace I had set; sprinting past long abandoned market stools and carts, jumping over orphaned toys on the sidewalks. My body tensed as I tried to move faster, the adrenaline of hearing airborne weaponry missing their target by mere inches, edging me forward. This was what our country had come to be: scavenging for food and medicine while trying to hold onto your own life.
That was exactly the reason I had been at the pharmacy that day. My aunt had needed antibiotics for one of the orphaned children, and the nearest place in which it might be found had been a warehouse under the jurisdiction of the local underground gang. The place had been poorly guarded, which had made me question whether I should go through with it. that gang had had a reputation for being rather thorough when guarding supplies as valuable as medicine. So the fact that I hadn't been spotted made me hesitate for a moment.
Where were they?
Did they have a change in shifts?
Were they expecting someone?
I shoved the thought to the back of my mind to deal with later, and headed straight for the section that held the drugs. I took the duffle bag out of my back pouch and started packing up anything that looked like it could be useful, cursing myself for not asking the medic to make a list for me before I left the compound.
In my desperation to be done and out of there as soon as possible, I made the terrible mistake of lowering my guard. In retrospective, it was the most naively stupid thing I've done, because I only noticed someone behind me when the blade of a kunai was placed against my throat. My body froze, and I felt the blood leave my head as the clear threat of death sobered me up like a bucket of ice water to the face. My heart started pounding as my brain put two and two together and realized what was the most likely outcome in such a situation. Even then, the kunai inside my thigh holster started to gain weight.
"Take what you have and leave," said the deep voice of the man behind me. "They have not noticed us yet, but when they do, you won't want to be here."
I reached for my bag as slowly as I could so that he could see every move I made clearly -one does not move suddenly when in the presence of a predator- and started to make my way towards the window I'd used to enter.
"Go through the back alley, the guards on the roofs won't be able to spot you there." He offered.
I turned around to face him and was met with a white clay mask resembling some sort of canine animal. I had never seen one like it, and the fact that the creature seemed to be grinning horribly at me, sent shivers down my spine. But I stood my ground anyway.
"Thank you. I hope you can get out in one piece." I said before throwing my bag over my shoulder and rushing out of there. The last thing I heard from him wa a low chuckle and several other whispering voices.
The fact that I was still breathing after that encounter and now running for my life surprised me much more than the first attack did. I had no Idea how they'd managed to spot me, but what I did know, was that the only way out was forward, and slowing down would definitely get me killed. The kunai that had once been safely inside my holster was now held tightly in the palm of my hand, so tightly in fact, that my knuckles had turned white enough to belong to a corpse. I made my way through the once busy streets of the capital as fast as my legs could carry me. sweat had settled on my face and loose strands of hair kept sticking to my forehead and neck.
I too the narrower side streets, where maneuvering would be hard, but throwing weapons would be harder. I didn't know the extent of my pursuers' knowledge of the area, but I was convinced it was not as extensive as mine. I had been scavenging the city when the war had broken out nine years prior, and I had yet to meet someone who could navigate the torn city as well as I could.
It did not take long to lose my tail,, but still I kept running like I had the devil on my heels, turning a left here and a right there, and leaving such an intricate trail that even if someone managed to get a hold of it, they'd get lost in a sea of decoys and faux tracks I'd left.
After successfully shaking off any trals I'd had, I finally arrived at the compound great wooden doors had always been a sight for sore eyes, even when the dents, cuts and scratches made the memories of the war that much bitter.
During the early stages of the war, many people had tried to gain entry to either gain refuge or scavenge, but throughout the first few years of fighting, the gates had remained resolutely closed, damning everyone outside and allowing a select few to remain unharmed. I had been lucky enough to be considered a child and thus be allowed to remain inside, but that is as far as my luck got me. Sometimes it is better to struggle to survive with people that care for you than live a life of privilege with people that don't. I'd been sent out into the war torn city at ten, with no training, no knowledge of the place and a single kunai to either die or survive long enough to bring something back. I'd had my fare share of broken bones, burns, stab wounds and concussions, and yet, there I was refusing to die and resolutely on my feet once again at the compound gates.
The two guards on duty let me in, and I let out a breath I hadn't noticed I'd been holding. My heart had yet to stop beating as the gates closed behind be with an astounding lack of subtlety. Around me, the people were just starting on their duties for the morning, some with sleep in their eyes still, and yawning every now and again. There was nothing to fear inside the walls, no burglars, no murderers, no war. There was no crisis within the walls, everything was good, and no harm would ever reach them. Or so they thought at the time.
I made my way to the council's building, walking past the infirmary, the greenhouses and residential areas as the more tolerant early risers bid me good morning. The communication's department was just opening their doors and getting ready for a day's work, and those on farming dury were taking their first break of the morning.
When I arrived at the main building, I took off my boots and went on to the briefing room, which on special occasions turned into a meetings room, and was now receiving and classifying reports, as well as assigning jobs to the compound residents. I nodded at the man sitting at the front desk and took the report sheet he handed me.
"I hope that run wasn't too much for you, Junsei. It would be a shame if you got replaced." Said the man I'd never cared to learn the name of.
"Oh don't you worry, honey, I won't get replaced. Not when I'm the one with an impeccable record and no interest in a councilman's wife." I responded with a sickly sweet smile.
The guy took the awful comment for the jab it ws and warned me not to turn in my report late of he would make sure it would end on my record. For as long as I'd lived in the compound, some of its residents had been deliberately hostile towards me. I'd never known the reason behind it.
In the beginning, when my parents had just passed away and I'd been sent to live with my aunt at the tender age of three, it had only been a feeling of not belonging. But as I grew up and I found out I bested my male peers in all matters physical, the feeling became my reality. People around the compound began actively avoiding meanwhile some remained politely distant. Even those who were supposed to be my family.
When the war broke out, the compound doors remained resolutely shut for six entire years. Only when we were told what was going on outside did we get roles assigned. At the age of ten, I was told to go out into the devastated city, still at war, still crawling with criminals and people as desperate to survive as I was. The remaining traps, ongoing battles and crumbling society made surer I did not come back unscratched. But not once did I fail to bring my cargo home.
My success as a scavenger only made those who already avoided me resent me even more. There were times when their sons hadn't come home and I had, when they had but had been missing a limb and I had been the one fit enough to carry them home. There had been resentment, there had been hate, there had been "Why couldn't it be you"s. I would not have been able to keep it up if I hadn't found people who supported me and genuinely cared for me. My aunt had crumbled under social pressure long before then and had adopted the same cold attitude everyone else had. Mob mentality affected weak willed people like that.
After my encounter with the receptionist, I made my way to one of the available councilmen and gave my oral report, careful not to mention the masked man. At the time, I wasn't sure why I left out that specific piece of information, it wasn't like me; but as time passed and hindsight gave me perspective aided by experience, I realized I'd known the answer all along.
After being told to hand in my report by the next morning, I headed for the infirmary. Dan, our resident medic, had worked at a civilian hospital up until the war broke out and had agreed to remain in the compound as a head of medical care as compensation for saving him. One of our runners had found him covered in his family's blood and about to commit suicide in a dirty black alley a year into the conflict. He was rather distant, but it wasn't like anyone was going to blame him for it, still most of them chose to avoid him rather than keep him company. Until he got himself a student, that is.
Nozomi was definitely not one to care about people's opinions, her thirst for knowledge had been greater than the pressure others tried to impose on her. She was loyal, honest, brave, and hadn't once tried to bring me down. She had become my friend alongside Amaya after one of the gangs attempted to raid the compound and the three of us had barricaded ourselves inside one of the closests of a greenhouse. Those had been the most mentally gruelling eight hours of our lives up until that point, and the three of us came out of there holding hands and refusing to part for the following week. Not ones to pay attention to gossip, both Nozomi and Amaya had refused to stop being my friends, as many of the compound residents had suggested.
Both Don and Nozomi had been busy when I entered the building. Dom was doing inventory while sneaking glances at Nozomi's work. My friend was stitching a farmer's arm closed, whom I assumed had had an accident while working to fix the roof the green houses. A strong gust of wind that only lasted a few seconds had blown it away the week prior. Many whispered and speculated about its origin, but no one dared say a thing. Some topics had been forbidden ever since I'd been young so I guessed that even if curiosity burned my brain dry, I'd never find out what it was they'd been talking about.
"I brought you guys a present." I announced without further greeting as I dropped the half full bag onto the counter.
Dom opened the bag and let out a little chuckle at the contents inside.
"We've used a lot of bandages and thread since you left this morning," said Nozomi without looking up. "Not only did Taka here cut his arm, but the team that left after you did got caught in the crossfire between two other groups."
"I did warn them that leaving after six a.m. wasn't a good idea."
Nozomi had made it a habit to fill me in on anything the rest of the compound wouldn't tell me. She never reacted to the over-the-top tales of the other runners that wanted to give their injuries some heroic backstory. Except this time, for some reason, she decided to tell me about it.
"They said that one of the groups looked like they worked for the Shinigami themselves. Black cloaks with painted masks, the whole shebang. They even said they could manipulate the elements and call on some wolf-like beast that tore their enemies apart."
There was mirth in her eyes and a sort of amusement one didn't usually see in her unless she thought something was plain ridiculous.
"Funny thing is," she continued. " They all coincided in the written reports, they caught Amaya's attention."
That had been odd. Amaya had been put in charge of report filing and storage, her job was dull, but it gave her insight into anything and everything that happened in the compound, and she made the most of it. Few and far apart were the times something in a report called her attention, and each and every time, something else had been behind it. Corruption, affairs, even robberies within the compound. This, however, was on an entirely different level and all of us could tell.
"All done, Takahiro-san. Make sure to wash the bandage every night and let the wound breathe. You can re-dress it in the morning. Do refrain from physically strenuous work until it's fully healed. We don't want to waste more resources that are necessary."
The man thanked her and Don, and shot me a nasty glare I ignored before he heft. It wasn't like it was the first time it'd happened, and it would certainly not be the last.
"You girls should keep certain gossip to yourselves. Most of the compound would find it rather unsettling that you are interested in the matter." Said Dom as he rolled the last bandage and stored it away in a clear box. "You are better off without the consequences that knowledge will bring you."
All those years working alongside Nozomi had not taught the man not to poke at her curiosity. If someone ever wanted to keep us away from something for whichever reason, then the worst way to go about it would be to warn us against it. My friend and I looked each other in the eyes knowingly, but neither said a word.
I grabbed my things and said my goodbyes before exiting the building. there definitely was something behind the masked people that everyone in the compound wanted to keep from us, and we would be damned if we didn't find out. Somewhere in the back of my head, something told me this secret was different from the others, it felt bigger, more dangerous, almost earth shattering. Then I remembered the masked man and how he had helped me escape unharmed and with everything I'd taken from the warehouse. There was many things I did not know, but I would have sworn on my life, that had not been the work of the Shinigami.