The sequel begins! Yusuke's issues with Kuwabara's hands turns out to cause more trouble for Kuwabara than he was ever expecting. Possibly more than he can handle.
The bite of hard metal chowing down on his wrists was the first sensation to swim through the hazy blackness that clouded Kuwabara's mind. He tried to focus on the annoyance, but his thoughts wouldn't organize; they wouldn't even form to begin with. Breathing deeply, Kuwabara was able to pick up the strong smell of alcohol hanging in the air. The stench made him gag as the memory of him and Yusuke pounding shot after shot of some odd demon world concoction suddenly slammed into his befuddled mind. He was pretty sure the hangover was still messing with him even months later. That was his worst ass kicking he ever got from Yusuke, and they hadn't even gotten physical with each other.
Raucous laughter came at Kuwabara as if he was standing at the end of a tunnel. A low hubbub of deep pitched voices drifted in and out of his hearing, never staying tuned in long enough for him to pick up any distinct words that would tell him what was going on or where he was at. By the smell of it, he was either at Yusuke's apartment or he was in a heap of shit. Gangs of intoxicated guys were never good. One of the reasons he discouraged his small gang from heavily partaking in the substance was the violent tendencies alcohol brought out from the street raised thugs. He himself rarely touched the stuff. How was he supposed to keep to his honor code if the burning liquid stole his memory and replaced it with a lower inhibition?
Glass exploded against the wall next to his head, showering him in sharp slivers. A sole jagged shard slit a clean cut on the bottom of his sensitive lip. In a delayed, sluggish reaction, he lifted his head and shied away from the impact sight, trying to will himself into greater action. Or at least into churning out a coherent thought, instead of the doped up wavering his mind was giving him.
Opening his lids, all his eyes did was make him dizzy as fuck, doing a tuck'n'roll as if the sudden heat racing through his body was gonna melt his peepers. To steady himself, he laid his head against his shoulder. The action helped to cut down on the tilt-a-whirl sensation going on in his head, but now he was painfully aware that his shoulders were on fire. Understandable, considering his wiggling toes were telling him his feet where dangling in midair.
Kuwabara waited a few seconds for his vision to stop swimming around before he chanced glancing at what was holding him up. No matter how hard he forced himself, he couldn't get his body to do what he wanted. Instead of just looking up at his wrists, his head lolled around, swiveling on his spine like it was as detached as he felt from most of his body. He let his head flop back, finally getting a clear shot at the ceiling.
Chains were bound tightly around his wrists and halfway up his forearm, cutting off his circulation and into his flesh. Small rivulets of dried, already flaking blood snaked down his arms. The amount of blood was alarming, not because of an excessive amount, but the lack of more. He didn't know precisely how long he'd just been hanging around, but his arms were telling him it was long enough for the blood to drain from his limbs. Gravity was working too well, the skin closest to his shoulders was stark white, and a vibrant red blush was creeping from his hands down his arms, not quite working past his forearms. The tips of his fingers were tinted a deep, dull purple and a pervasive numbness cut off his ability to feel his own arms.
Panic threatened to break through the fog of his mind as his fingers failed to follow the command to move his sent. Kuwabara glared up at his hands, begging them to move, twitch, anything other than remaining dead and useless. Images of everyday, ordinary things flashed through his mind as his practically screamed for movement: writing out his homework, eating, bathing, caressing Yukina's lower lip right before he kissed her for the first time, closing his hand into a fist to either punch someone or grip his spirit sword…
At the thought of fighting, he watched as his right middle finger gave a minute twitch, followed by a small spark of orange spirit energy. The movement caused a spear of pain to shoot throughout his arm accompanied by a brief flash of sensation. Kuwabara closed his eyes, relief and hope bringing tears to his eyes and he just didn't want to deal with pussying out right now.
His mind spun around as he let his head fall forward, resting his head on his chest. He stared at his naked body and couldn't be bother to care that all his clothes were gone. Kuwabara sucked back as big a breath he could manage, gathering his strength as a fighter to help him through his next action. He really didn't want to do what he had to do. It was gonna he a pain in his ass. So like any responsible captive, he avoided working on his escape.
Kuwabara cast around in his head, trying to recall the reason for his captivity, but all he could remember was studying at home with Eikichi.
No. That wasn't right. He'd needed a break from studying . . . so he'd said bye to his sister . . . and went on a walk. Yeah, a walk. He was gonna go to the store to pick up the stuff to make cookies . . . something to use as an excuse to continue not studying.
Kuwabara screwed his eyes shut, picturing coming into view of the store. Everything was dark, being a cloudy night, so the light from the store was like a beacon. He could see the store front so clearly, could even remember the big signs announcing a sale on chocolate chips and cementing his decision to make chocolate chip cookies. But he couldn't remember making it to the store.
No memory of a grab'n'nab, no flashes of s struggle. Nothing else but waking up chained to the ceiling of what seemed to be a warehouse.
The sounds of laughter lazily washed over him once again, causing him to wonder just who had managed to capture the great Kuwabara and what they wan-
Before he could really think on his actions, Kuwabara threw all his power into forming a spirit sword into each hand. Whatever was causing him to remain disconnected from his body was also affecting his spirit energy, all his efforts only able to summon dull swords that flickered for a few seconds before disappearing. But that was all the time he needed or could even tolerate. The formation of his swords, if only for a moment, forced his hands to ball into fists. His energy forced his hands to close as well as the blood to return to circulating back into his arms
The numbness in his arms was gone, his blood restoring movement and the same pain in his shoulders only intensified. Flicking the switch from 'off' to 'on motherfucker' was a shock to Kuwabara's system that had his vision going black. He fought against the pull of unconsciousness knowing that while bliss from the burning pain would be a blessing, being lights out again could get him an expressed pink slip to the afterlife.
Kuwabara stayed as still as possible, riding the waves of pain as the crashed over him in progressively diminishing levels of intensity. His head was propped on his shoulder, giving him a spectacular view of a cement wall a few inches from his face. He concentrated on breathing steadily in his nose and out his mouth, trying to calm his body back down from the rush of adrenaline pumping through his body jump starting his arms caused. The plus side to having adrenaline cranking up his internal engine was the sensation of being back in his body. His head was clear and his body was catching up, beating back whatever was drugging him up.