tenipuri_xp | RP Log-Kamio and Oshitari

Date: Today, late afternoon, early evening.
Rating: PG; some blood and mention of death.
Summary: Kamio goes out for a walk and happens upon Oshitari after his escape.

Kamio hunched his shoulders, pushing the heavy collar of the wool coat he'd borrowed from his boyfriend's closet closer to his chin. The winter wind was bitter against his skin. Not that the redhaired mutant payed it any mind. He was moving at a quick walk, paced just slow enough that he could 'pass' for a human. His movements weren't as smooth as they normally were, either; the pain in the back of his left thigh was just enough to keep him from breaking into a full run.

Which was probably for the best. A streak of red and black, going at nearly two hundred kmp, would draw attention that he didn't want to deal with right now.

Headphones from his iPod -- the smallest of the three, a gift from his still missing teammate turned lover -- blared in his ears, covering the noise of the city with rancourous guitars and heavy drums. It may have closed out the sounds around him, but the lithe redhead was more interested in shutting out the noise in his own head.

A bullet…a scream. He'd been hearing his first name at full volume in his dreams lately, echoing off the concrete of a tunnel.

Grinding his teeth, the redhead paused long enough to clench his eyes shut and shake off the unwelcome memory. He'd slipped out of his room, leaving only a note for his tiger-like boyfriend saying that he'd be back 'later,' and headed into the city to escape the bitter memories, not to wallow in them. He'd done enough of that, as he'd been trapped in his bed for the past several days. His leg was vaguely healed -- passable, at least, if he had enough adrenaline in his system to dull the pain, but he couldn’t run at full speed just yet. It was frustrating. His body ached to move…to go faster and faster.

To run.

From all of it, he admitted. And he knew how easy it would be to head back to the manor, pack up things and bolt. Except…he was a lot of things and would do a lot of things. Thief and killer being key among them now. But he wasn't a coward, and he wasn't going to betray the one…thing that he had any actual belief.

Or the one remaining person.

He couldn't leave Saeki -- didn't even what to think about -- even if they never saw Oshitari alive again thanks to his stupidity. He grunted to himself, turning a corner into a small park. He should have made sure that bodyguard was dead. He could have done something -- anything -- if he hadn't gotten shot. Gone after the car, taken out its tires. The redhead was still replaying the entire scene in his head, despite knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it now. It had just taken one little fuck up…

It wouldn't happen again, he promised himself. He would be fucked over by some idiot human before he let anyone else be taken from him like that.

The pathway he took led him away from the gatherings of humans; Kamio didn't trust his temper as it was, and the bugnucks were on his person even if they weren't on his fists. They were in a metal case, stashed away on the inside pocket of his coat, right next to his iPod; he could have them on in two seconds if need be. Still, he didn't want to look at a bunch of humans right now. Then again, he wasn't in the mood to deal with most other mutants either; he wanted away from some of the idiots he called housemates just as much as he wanted seperation from the humans.

He was cold.

No...he was hot. A violent shiver raced through Oshitari as another slap of cold, bitter wind battered his body, and he nearly changed his mind again. Logically, if his body was covered in goosebumps and he was shuddering, huddled in the tight ball he was now in, then he must be cold.

But...whatever that last batch of injections had been, they were burning his insides. His forehead, laid precariously on his outstretched arm, felt scalding, but he wouldn't move it.

So logically, he was both. And where was he again?

Oh yes. The park. It was quiet here at least. Humans had murmured around him as he'd slowly made his way from the lab, though some of it was a blur and he kept mixing it up with the voices of lab techs from before...before they'd done whatever it was that had made his power roar to some twisted form of life and kill them all.

But...quiet. Yes, so quiet, except for the wind in his ears but he could ignore that. Could try to at least. He could ignore lots of things if he tried so this wasn't so bad. Gods, he couldn't keep his thoughts straight for anything. Gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut, he ran the stolen scalpel from the lab over his shin; easily cutting through the smallish pair of surgical pants he'd yanked off a dying tech's body as he'd left. He couldn't feel the blade sinking into his flesh, couldn't feel much of anything except he was hot he was cold he was so weak and tired and angry and destroyed...and the psionic energy writing about unchecked in his mind, somehow churning back on him, seeking an outlet.

He sat on the ground, an exhausted marionette with its strings cut, one fist passing the scalpel in its grip over his leg repeatedly, absently, and mechanically. The other arm stretched out over the stone bench he'd collapsed by, the very one Saeki had sat on not long ago, grinning up at him through sunglasses. Oshitari let out a harsh sob, burying his face into the freezing rock. Saeki, he had to get to Saeki. Saeki and Kam-

Akira.

Stabbing himself now, heedless of the broken blisters on the bottom of his feet, the branded number just barely visible under the flapping arm of his hospital gown, the myriad of bruises and cuts and trails of blood from the IV's he'd ripped out not two hours ago, he wept. Nothing hurt so much as seeing Akira fall, over and over and over again in his mind. Saeki would kill him. And he would welcome it. As much as he told himself the redhead was alive, two weeks of being told he'd killed his teammate was too much. Saeki was the only thing keeping him going now, he had to get to the tiger mutant, had to warn him, warn them...

But the pain in his mind and chest was too much in that moment and he couldn't move, only to stab shallowly into his leg again, wishing desperately that he could feel it.

"Kou...Koujirou...Koujirou...", he chanted brokenly under his breath, wishing he knew what to do, how to summon the transmorph to this spot...how to stop his mind repeating the sound of a gunshot in the tunnel, the feel of a needle puncturing his skin, the antiseptic smell of the white room and the taste of his own blood in his mouth. It was all overwhelming and now his leg was warm, warm, no that was just his blood pouring, pouring, Koujirou, where was Koujirou?

The paths were like a maze, winding and twisting around each other, and the redhead followed them without thought. Moving…moving felt good. The ground was solid beneath his feet and every step jarred enough to have him hissing a bit.

It wasn't much pain, and the still-wounded calf would probably scream in pain later that night, but right now, moving helped him focus. Or loose focus, as it were, on the thoughts that still ricocheted around his skull.

Either way, it was better than lying in bed.

Another twist, a new path. His gaze was focused on his feet. Tennis shoes plodded on the crisp, frozen ground, and every breath he blew out was smoky-white. Head ducked, his blue eyes wandered from the tops of his feet to his sides and then ahead. It was easier to see when he was moving slow, though if the headaches and the last eye exam Banji-sensei had forced him to endure were any indication, then his eyesight was improving steadily, catching up with a mutation that had accelerated the rest of his body more than his vision could handle.

Still, it was unexpected for him to catch a glimpse of…a foot sticking out into the path he was walking. A bare foot, at that, and…blood.

A pool of it.

The redhead came to an abrupt halt and lifted his head. Eyes darted up, along a leg draped in thin, white cotton. He caught the sliver flash of a blade, his fingers seeking out the butterfly knife tucked away in his pocket before his eyes even made it up to the sob-wracked shoulders and a head of blue hair.

Kamio's mind skipped over itself, thoughts jumbled as that frame…the familiarity of that frame hit him like a fist. He dropped the knife back in his pocket, lean fingers seeking out his headphones and ripping them from his ears.

"Oh fuck," he gasped. He could hear clearly now, the continual chant of a name that Kamio was used to screaming on a regular basis.

The redheaded mutant was shaking, adrenaline spiking with a mix of rage and fear. His eyes scanned the other mutant curled on the park bench, took in bruises…cuts…blood. So much blood, it looked like.

Too much blood.

He moved forward without thinking, ignored the pain in his leg as he skidded down next to the bench. "Oh fucking hell. Tari? Tari…fuck. Tari?"

Tari?

Oshitari's head snapped up, his bloodshot dark eyes darting wildly at the sound of a voice close to him. Too close. Far too close. His eyes widened, seeing Kamio next to him, and his face paled dramatically for just a moment as he stared at a ghost.

Gods, was he that far gone that he was seeing Akira's spirit?

No. It was another damned trick. They were trying to trick him again. He'd dreamed his escape and the fucking doctor had put something else in him again and he was seeing Akira there but it wasn't really Akira at all...

"Baa...stard", he choked out, his voice harsh and hoarse, tears still streaming unrelenting down his face. In his fist his grip on the scalpel tightened and he lunged for the figure. It looked like Akira, just like Akira but it wasn't, couldn't be, it was one of those disgusting human bastards mocking him again...making him see Akira.

Well this time they had fucked up. He had a weapon in his hand and he was going to cut this sick human filth into bits.

Except his aim, hampered by his physical and mental distress, was way off. He missed, his quicksilver lunge breezing him past the figure next to him and toppling towards the ground. His arm came up immediately, slashing the air with the bloody surgical blade, aiming for any of them who might be near.

"You told me he was dead, filthy human fuckers! You think you can torment me with his image? I'll kill you! I'll...I'll kill you...Akira where are you...Koujirou...I'm so sorry...Koujirou get out get out..."

The slashing stopped as his arm dropped limply to the ground beside him, and he whimpered, curling back into a defensive ball, abandoning the blade to fist his hand into his hair, yanking it viciously and fighting back the sobs. The ground was cold underneath him, and he wondered if he'd only imagined it all again.

Kamio jerked back just as the other mutant lunged at him, the silver blade flashing through air. Not that Oshitari would have hit him. The swing was too wide…too wild. He scrambled back and to the side, his calf aching as he moved. The redhead winced, gritted his teeth, and forced himself into a crouch. He was ready to bolt, if need be, though he hated the idea.

Watching his teammate/lover/friend slash the air, he stayed just out of reach. Breathing hard, his mouth hung open and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Tari…stop it," he gasped softly, panic tightening his throat. He swallowed it down. Refused to feel it.

He couldn't panic right now. One of them had to stay sane.

"Tari. Fucking hell."

The other needed to stop screaming. He was going to draw attention and right now, Kamio didn't think he could deal with anyone else, let alone some nosey human. However, the screams stopped quickly and the redhead watched helplessly as the other curled into himself.

Right. Calm down. He needed to calm down. Hell, he needed to calm Oshitari down…but first. The redhead moved forward quickly, snatching up the blade the other mutant had dropped. There was no sense in both of them bleeding, right? He slipped into a pocket, right next to his butterfly knife, and then tugged off his gloves. "Tari," he started, taking a deep breath and focusing on something other than the adrenaline buzz rushing through his veins. "Tari…calm down. I'm here." His hands were shaking.

Still, lean fingers reached out tentatively and brushed over the other's arm. Fuck, he was hot and coated in sweat.

"Shit, Tari...we need to get you home," he murmured, though he was already wondering just exactly how he was supposed to and what the hell he was supposed to once he did that. "Just calm down, Tari. C'mon, babe," he whispered. "Ta…Yuushi. Calm down. I'm here."

Flinching hard at the touch, Oshitari paused, fingers still pulling hard at the lank blue strands, the others digging hard enough into the frozen ground to threaten cracking his fingernails, the tips of his fingers bone white.

His eyes beneath the wild, tousled hair were wide and feverish, focusing and unfocusing with alarming randomness. He was still half convinced he was imagining Akira there...but...the fingers on his arm felt real, the timbre of the voice sounded like the redhead, in a way his mind couldn't seem to duplicate. At least he hoped so.

Uncurling just a little, he very slowly let go of his hair, never blinking as he reached out a shaky hand, touched an arm, a shoulder, traced the line of a neck...Akira?

If this was his power deluding him, it was too cruel. He wouldn't be able to stand it. He moved a little closer, eyes darting all over the slim figure, memory providing little details, small idiosyncrasies that only he and probably Saeki knew of. He moved close enough to press his nose against a jean-covered thigh. He wasn't aware he was mumbling to himself, speaking the thoughts that were rambling unchecked in his mind.

"Feels like Akira...smells like Akira...does it kill like Akira? Knife in the back pocket..." His hands were both roaming now, Oshitari rising up the slightest bit, shivering more now, "Shaking...adrenaline must be running...dresses like...dresses like Akira wearing Koujirou...no...Koujirou's clothes..."

He paused abruptly, everything in his fractured mind slowly adding up to one possible conclusion. "A...Akira. Akira?" Midnight eyes rose to electric blue ones, full of the dull hope of one who expected to be crushed once more. His arms wrapped around the redhead's slim waist. "Akira? Akira? Oh...please be Akira, please...please..." He drew a shuddering breath, burying his face in the black woolen coat, shaking uncontrollably. He clung to Kamio, unable to let go.

The redhead felt sick. Very, very sick and if it weren't for the fact that he knew he had to stay calm -- stay sane -- he probably wouldn't be fighting to hold it back. But seeing Oshitari so…

Damaged?

Desperate?

…broken?

It made his stomach clench and the small bit of ramen he'd eaten on his way through the kitchen roll inside of him. Still, he didn't. He held as still as he could, drew a nervous breath as fingers that were way to warm skimmed up his arm, over his shoulder to his neck. Then around his back, hands exploring him but not the way he wanted to them.

"It's me, Tari…Yuushi," he murmured in response, doubting that his words were even registering as fingers skimmed the other spare knife he kept tucked away in his back pocket. "Yeah…Kou's coat. Looked warm." Half a dry chuckle that felt wrong on his lips. "Still me, babe."

His breath caught when Oshitari finally looked him in eye. Once sharp blue eyes, dangerous and charming all at once, were…hollow. He tightened marginally, rage and horror clashing in the back of his mind.

What the fuck…what had they…those damn humans…what had they done to him?

Later, he resolved, letting out a breath. "Me, Yuushi," he replied. "It's…me." He sagged down to the ground fully as the other wrapped shivering arms around him. He was moving without thinking now, his fingers skimming over bruises and cuts, into blue hair. And all the while, he just kept chanting, "It's me…I'm here, Yuushi…calm down…"

They would pay for this. Whoever the hell "they" where, the redhead didn't know, and really, he didn't care. He'd find out later. He needed to keep his mind focused on now.

"Fuck, you're running a fever," he muttered as another chilled breeze crossed the path.

Path…right. Shit. He was sitting in the middle of the path in a public park with a bleeding heap of another mutant, collapsed and clinging on him. This was not good.

There were humans not a kilometer away.

"Let me up, babe," he whispered. "Let me up so I can get this coat off and get it around you. We need to find you clothes, Yuushi…get you home."

Whatever was left of it, anyway.

Home?

The single word spilled from Oshitari's mouth in a hoarse drawl, sounding it out as if it were something foreign.

And then he laughed.

It was a short one, hysterical and far too high pitched to be Oshitari's normal laugh. He shut his eyes, burrowing further into Kamio, laughed again. "Home...home? There is no home, no home, it's all an illusion, don't you see? We are not really here and there is no home."

A particularly frigid blast of wind struck him and he whimpered, shocked out of his lunacy momentarily. Enough to relax his hold a bit and look around. "Are we going home now? Where is Koujirou? I have to tell him something...something...something important, I think. I can...not...think..." He drew carefully away, though not quite releasing a hold of one sleeve of Kamio's coat, uncertain whether the redhead would simply fade away or not if he let go.

Slowly, dazedly, he looked around, shaking his head slightly every time his mind wandered or his eyes unfocused too badly. "I know here", he murmured, sitting up some, unconsciously chewing on the tips of two fingers that wandered up to his lips. "Do I know here? Yes...yes..." His fingers tugged that thick black sleeve, and he glanced over, watching it with fascination for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Kamio.

He had a moment of lucidity, and it pained him as much to see Kamio there as it made him deliriously happy. A fresh tear slipped from the corner of his eye, snaking a trail down his dirty, pale face and disappearing under his chin.

"I...I'm tired. Can't seem to think straight", he croaked quietly, "What they gave me...I don't know...Akira...thought you were dead. I am so sorry." He nearly crumpled to the ground, slapping his palms on the ground just before he fell again, his arms holding him up shakily as his mind teetered dangerously close to the dazed panic again. In his save, he has also let go of the coat, and he looked up sickly, expecting Akira's image to have gone away in a blink of an eye. He shuddered a relieved breath when the redhead remained visible.

"Oh...you are really here...” he whispered, hanging his head wearily, fighting the sickness but feeling it roll back regardless. "Akira..."

That laugh had been…disconcerting. Kamio swallowed, his throat dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth. The other was right, sadly, and in ways that the redhead didn't feel like explaining just yet.

There was no 'home' -- and never had been. Just a roof and some walls and a comfortable, warm bed with a tiger in it.

A tiger he wanted very badly right at the moment because…fuck.

Kamio didn't know how to deal with things like this.

Still, he steeled his nerves and tried to keep his voice even. He was not going to fly off the handle, let his power override what common sense he did have. Right now, he couldn't. And he couldn't let on to Oshitari just how much was really wrong right now…how vulnerable they were. "We'll go home, babe. I think Kou's there," he said. "You can tell him later, babe." He reached out, stroked the other's matted blue hair, letting the other ramble.

"Yeah, 's the park, Yuushi." The redhead was answering automatically, not even sure if he was being heard and not caring. "And it's okay…you don't have to know. You didn't know. Not your fault."

The redhead moved instantly, an arm sweeping under Oshitari to stop him from falling. It was pointless, really, given that the other mutant caught himself. However, he still stayed close -- scooted closer, in fact -- and ran the fingers of his other hand through Oshitari's hair. "Yeah. I'm here, babe," he soothed. "Come on…try to sit, Yuushi." Urging the other, supporting when needed, he got the blue-haired mutant into a kneeling position and pulled back. Fingers unworked the buttons of the heavy wool coat, and the speed mutant was shrugging it off in seconds.

"Here, get this on." Kamio draped the coat over Oshitari's back, helped him work his arms into. So thin…bruised…bloody. Hell, even with the coat, the other still couldn't make his way back to the manor.

He needed...clothing, shoes.

Kamio's mind was processing the thoughts surprisingly slow, like all of his energy was so fully focused on the task in front of him. He didn't have any to spare; even the shivering and jitters were cutting out of his hands.

He'd think about that later.

"Babe…come on. Need to get you off this trail…outta sight," he murmured, slipping an arm under Oshitari's armpit and helping the other stagger to his feet. He guided the taller mutant off the path, settled him down near a large tree. "Stay here, Yuushi," he murmured as he skimmed his hand over the other's feverish face. One hand was slipping into his back pocket and pulling out the spare knife. "I need to go get you some clothes. It won't take me long. Just…don't panic, Yuushi. I'll be right back." He leaned forward, lips brushing over the other mutant's for a moment before he stood up and flipped open the knife.

"I'll be right back," he promised again.

Obediently sitting under the tree, Oshitari silently watched Kamio leave, craning his neck around the trunk to keep him in sight, but the redhead had sped away. He took a deep breath, reasoning with himself not to panic unnecessarily. Kamio had said he would be right back, so he would be right back.

But he'd also kept calling him 'babe'. Was that something Akira did? He couldn't recall, and that made him worry, fidgeting jerkily under the thick coat he wrapped around himself, hugging his knees to his chest so that he could fit them in the coat too.

Every few seconds his eyes darted to where Kamio had disappeared, searching frantically. "Said he would be right back...said he would be right back..." Oshitari took another deep breath, letting it out slow, his breath a foggy plume dissipating in the cold air. He shivered, ducked his head lower into the coat until his face up to his eyeballs were covered. He could smell wool, and his own faintly unclean smell laced with whiffs of blood and alcohol from the wipes they had used around his IV’s.

More importantly, he could smell Koujirou. It was a warm, heady kind of smell, and he breathed it in again. "Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright", he quoted quietly from his woolen cocoon, cackling another hysterical peal of laughter at the ridiculousness.

That is, he laughed until he could see Saeki burning. With a looping little twist, his psionic energy doubled backed on him, and right there in front of him, he watched the tiger transmorph burn, being consumed by flames that greedily licked at its fleshy fuel. Horrified, Oshitari slammed his eyes shut, still seeing in his mind skin blackening and melting away, soft, dual-colored hair turning to ash...

And then it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Oshitari whimpered into the coat, weakening more under another spike of temperature in his fever. Was he the one burning? An interesting coincidence, Saeki being a tiger with a poem written about burning tygers; Kamio's red hair, a spectrum of fiery hues in the light; and his body rebelling against whatever crawled within it...and losing if he was any judge. Was that a coincidence? Or was it a correlation? Or was it merely pointless nothing to keep him occupied while he waited?

His eyes peeked out again, looking for a pale redhead and failing. He bit his lip, imagining he could still taste Kamio's lips here. His breathing became more labored, harsh and uneven as his brow furrowed, trying to will Kamio back. Tried calling him, "A...kira?" Tried asking, "Please...come back? Koujirou was burning..." His breath hitched, and he weakly cried out, "Akira!"

His head sank weakly back into the coat, and his voice drifted out, muffled and feverishly singsong. "Come back, come back, the tyger was burning, Koujirou was burning but I can smell him right here and he burned...Akira please come back...TygerTygerburningbright..."

A hand descended on top of his head, but he didn't heavily lift his head to look up until that hand lowered to shake his shoulder hard. He was still mumbling quotes of William Blake, and random bits about boiling and freezing points on the Kelvin scale between them, but stopped when his eyes managed to focus on Kamio.

"Getting worse", he whispered, "Koujirou was burning..."

The jogger had taken more time to kill than he'd planned, but leave it to an athlete to struggle. At least the man was about the same height and build as Oshitari, Kamio thought as he ran his fingers through the other mutant's blue hair. "Kous fine, babe," he murmured. The redhead had pulled on the dead man's jacket and secluded the clothing underneath its zippered bulk; now, he unzipped it quickly and let track pants, socks and shoes and a t-shirt tumble to the ground.

"Worried about you," he continued, kneeling down. "But fine. Let's get you into something warmer and I'll call him to come meet us."

Meet them where the redhead hadn't decided yet. But with a body not fifty meters away, hidden as it was, the redhead had a very strong desire to be somewhere -- anywhere -- else with the other teen as quickly as possible. He worked quickly, helping Oshitari strip off the coat and the thin hospital gown, replacing it with the t-shirt and muttering softly all the while. The bloody cotton pants were next, and from these, the redhead tore long, fairly clean strips from. He wrapped the bleeding cuts the other had left in his leg, then helped get the warmer, thicker track pants on Oshitari's frame.

The other had lost weight. Kamio bit his lip and frowned.

Socks and shoes next, then the speed-mutant took the coat back long enough to rifle through the interior pockets for his cell phone. He flipped it open and hit speed dial.

"Kou. Babe. You're not going to believe this…found Yuushi," his words were clipped as he spoke. Kamio cradled the phone with his shoulder and helped Oshitari slip the coat back on as he spoke. "No. The park. Yeah, need to get home. He's hurt…sick. Real sick, babe. I don't know. Need to get out of the park." A few seconds pause, and the redhead was grabbing the phone and changing from left ear to right. "Yeah, going to go back alleys. You know the routes…meet me? I'm going to need help."

Kamio flipped the phone shut and sighed.

"Okay, Yuushi," he murmured, stroking the other's hair. "Kou's going to meet us but we have got to get out of here."

All during the disrobing, Oshitari had fallen silent, staring off at nothing as Kamio guided his limbs out and into the dead man's clothes. He was phasing in and out, both mentally and physically, and the fever was making him breath harshly and laboriously now. The more constrictive t-shirt sleeve rubbed against his upper arm, and he automatically raised a hand to scratch and dig at the painful itch of irritated blisters around the still raw and blackened numbers branded there.

Are you ready, subject 202?

As Kamio finished dressing him and turned to finish his call, Oshitari's knuckles started to glow and pulse, unable to duplicate what he'd done before when his energy was so scattered, drained and unfocused.

He felt rather than was aware of Kamio helping him up, and the journey from the cold and dark paths of the park to a maze of back alleys was a blur in his mind.

Rain began to drizzle down when Kamio finally stopped pulling him, and the sudden stop in forward motion had Oshitari reeling, dizzy. He staggered to one of the brick walls, pressing his back against it. Raindrops fell down his hair, his pale, sweating face. Entranced and lost, he lifted his head, looking up into the clouded sky. He saw nothing, but felt the cold drops sting his skin. His lungs filled up automatically, a deep breath that was more of a reflex than conscious.

The act caused an instant gag reflex, and he crumpled behind a nearby dumpster and was loudly sick. Nothing much came out, as he hadn't eaten anything orally for two weeks; it was more automatic dry heaving after a handful of seconds, and once he'd stilled he felt hands reach around him and pull him away.

"'Kira", he mumbled, growing sicker and more nonsensical in his own head with each passing minute, "'Kira...tell him I'm sorry...tell him to run...tell him...tell Kouji...Koujirou...tell him they’re coming..." He groaned, curling up in those warm arms, and closed his eyes.

(OOC: Since Angel and Krys are on hiatus, I'll be reporting that soon after this, likely within the first day, Saeki took Kamio and Oshitari off of the Brotherhood grounds. Until further notice, they'll be using Oshitari's credit cards to stay secluded in a small, private apartment building. There may be reports of several missing persons due to military coverup of what Tari did escaping the lab, and about the jogger Kamio killed.

Oshitari will be on hiatus until sometime next week, when he's recovered from his fever enough to update something.)