Chapter 6: Lazarus of Verdif (1)

"Hey, you. She's not dead, is she?" I ask Diatra while crouched down beside Sayuri's body. Poking her in the back a few times, she doesn't give a single reaction, remaining stiffer than a log.

"No, she's alive. It's faint, but my connection to her hasn't been fully severed yet. Had she been dead, I would've noticed the instant she was killed."

"Huh... So 'God', you know what happened to her?"

Lifting her up, I struggle to lay her down on the couch but will myself to do so. She's breathing softly, and while picking her up, I notice two things. The first is that her body is ice cold when I lift her up, freezing even, and that'd be a huge cause for concern if it weren't for the second realization. I didn't fuss much over it when she walked in and collapsed on the floor, thinking that it was coming from the outside since she left the door open, but now that it's just the two of us here, it's clear to me now where 'that' smell is coming from.

"Like I said, I'm not omniscient you fool. Still, considering she came to you in such a state, there is no doubt this Servant isn't normal. I can come up with a few possibilities on what happened. For now, I advise you to stay here until she's fully rested. Going out and about like normal would only put you at further risk."

"I'll think about it," I say as I enter Sayuri's room.

Her room is barren and lifeless, the only pieces of furniture in it being the bed that's placed awkwardly in the center and the dresser right behind it. All throughout the room, scratch marks are scattered along the floor and walls. I forget which ones are mine, but I'd say that most on the floor are my doing. Simply standing by the doorway brings me unwanted memories from a time not too long ago, and entering is even more off putting.

"Ah, the first death. The Black Bloods before you underwent their firsts during their infancy, so for you to have to undergo it at such a mature age, it makes sense that you're struggling to control your Dara. I would tell that it gets better over time, but then I'd be lying to you."

"You're telling me it gets worse?" I find that incredibly hard to believe considering of thin of a thread I'm hanging on from already. For that thread to get even thinner would make me practically insane if I wasn't already.

"Let me put it like this- if your future plays out the way fate intends it to while you're still here, you alone would be the cause of humanity's extinction."

I don't say anything back. How can I? Being told that I alone could kill everyone on this planet... it's fucking disturbing. How can one person hold so much power, and even worse, why me of all people? I didn't fucking ask for this.

"'Why me?' I reminisce on the moments in time when I asked myself that very same question. You're better off not finding out as the answer you're going to get is both tedious to obtain and devastatingly disappointing once it's in your grasp."

"Just shut up, will ya? The more you talk, the worse my life seems to get."

"Hmph, you'll come to appreciate me soon." Putting in that last remark, she stays quiet.

Leaving Sayuri's room with clothes and a blanket that was in the closet, I come back to the living room to see her sitting up.

"Ah, you're awake. Here, get changed. You're clothes smell like shit." Tossing her the clothes I brought, I put the blanket on top of the couch and head into the kitchen to get her some water. Coming back with the glass of water, she's in the process of taking off her shirt. On her lower back in the space between her kidneys is a wide open gash, pus and a clear liquid seeping out of it. "Fucking hell... Never mind, keep your shirt off. Come with me."

Helping her make her way to the bathroom, I spent about 10 minutes cleaning her wound with warm water from the shower head and soap. In that time, she filled me in on everything that happened during those three days, and it was essentially as Diatra said. After having sensed whoever this Servant is, she went to dispose of them as fast as she could. She tailed them for nearly two days before finally seeing the opportunity to kill at an abandoned construction site. She had managed to fatally wound him, but right when she was about to confirm his death and give the finishing blow, she dropped to the ground with her entire body paralyzed. Apparently, and in her words, they had 'froze time' and snapped her spinal cord. It would've sounded like a whole lot of bullshit a couple of days ago, but now that my grasp on reality has been completely flipped, I'm prone to assume that everything is possible for now.

There's just one thing that bothers my mind from what she said-

"If what you're saying is true and all that did happen, why aren't you a vegetable then? Don't think you'd be able to stand up right after having your spine snapped, much less walking all your way here."

Even with that disgusting wound on her back, she remains as emotionless as always, staring at me blankly. "Receiving Diatra's blessing, my body is capable of healing itself beyond its normal capacity. As long as the wound doesn't instantly kill me, I'll be able to heal it, albeit certain wounds take longer than others. Now, if you've gotten all the information that you need from me, I shall proceed to let my body fall into unconsciousness in order to fully regenerate all of my spinal cord."

On cue, her body slumps over, falling forwards and close to hitting the ground if it weren't for me catching her.

"This is a lot worse than I predicted," says Diatra as I lift put Sayuri's arm around my shoulder. "I didn't think that he'd send one of his so early. This completely changes everything."

"You have an idea of who it is?" I grunt out as I take Sayuri to her room. Laying her on the bed, I grab the blanket from the living room and cover her with it, a pitiful attempt at keeping her warming considering she's still topless. I also couldn't bandage the wound on her back, but if she's able to heal a snapped spinal cord, a gash on her back would be like a papercut. Still, seeing her like this makes my heart heavy, but with what I can't say exactly.

"I know of which Whisperer this Servant belongs to, but as for who this person is specifically, that remains unknown. Nevertheless, being informed of the identity of their benefactor is suffice enough. With this, I can see a silver-lining to your predicament."

"That's nice, I guess." Heading into the restroom, I open the mirror cabinet and take out the box of contacts, going through the painstakingly long procedure of putting them on.

"For what reason must you put on contacts for?"

"I don't know how much you know about me before I died, but let's just say my face was infamous for mostly bad reasons, specifically my eyes. There's plenty of other people as white as me, but there aren't many people with pitch black eyes."

"Ah, so it's a disguise essentially. That makes sense now! Is that also why your hair is now black instead of white?" She seems oddly interested in this.

"Yeah, same reason. I would also use spray tan as a safety measure, but that started to get expensive. That and the fact that I'd be technically brownfacing," I explain as I finally get the second eye contact in on my third attempt. Back in the living room, I go through the garbage bag stuffed with my clothe, taking out a white hoodie that looks clean enough to go out with.

"I take it this means you're not going to follow my advice of remaining inside?"

"Yeah, sorry, but I don't feel like being a sitting duck while I wait for Sayuri to wake up, and more importantly-" Reaching under the couch, I feel around inside the hole I made in the cushioning, taking out my keys and the mp3 player, my earbuds already connected. "There's somebody that might be able to help me."

There's one last thing I take out from under the couch, the only bargaining chip in my possession capable of swaying any negotiation I'd ever have with him. Without it, he'd still be likely to hear me out, but the chances of him accepting my proposal would be equal to none. This tiny vial held between my fingers contains what is possibly the most sought after liquid other than oil: the black blood that circulates within my body.

By itself, it'd be the most potent drug on the market. All it takes is a single drop for you to feel a trip so wild, you'd never want to take another drug in your life. With its only source being mwah, it had disappeared from the drug market for a while after my death, so for anybody to receive the opportunity to get their hands on a couple ounces of the stuff would be like winning the lottery, even more so for somebody with connections like him.

Of course, I'd also need to make a peace offering as well after my accident with that Pawn. Nothing had showed up on the news regarding him after that day, and from the lack of outrage from the Pawns on the next street over, it seems like the problem was already taken care of.

"That's so like him, fucking geezer making me owe him shit," I complain under my breath as I enter the liquor store.

It's not empty when I walk in, at the counter an unhealthily slender woman sliding in a fist full of pennies and nickels in the metal slot under the glass divider protecting the lady behind the register. There's an awfully rancid smell coming from her, likely a combination of weeks without showering and her crawling towards death's door. She's not helping herself by using what I'm assuming is all the money she has left to buy pre-rolls, but I won't judge. Do you, random homeless lady.

Before I step up to the counter myself, I take the opportunity to grab two packs of gummy worms and a soda, my eyes instinctively being attracted to the wall next to the coolers holding beers. I've always wondered why liquor stores have these type of posters plastered everywhere. They've been on the walls for as long as I can remember, the same Latina women with short shorts holding soccer balls for no reason whatsoever. Is it so that more people would buy the beer they're advertising? Why would having busty women holding sports gear increase sales? It never made much sense to me.

"Why you stare at poster so much, dirty boy?" says the Asian woman at the register.

"Is that really how you're supposed to be treating customers, Nana?" Placing what I'm going to buy on the counter, she begins to push the buttons on the register, likely overcharging how she always does. "Give me a pack Soriano's also, please?"

Reaching under the counter for a pack of cigarettes, she shakes her head as she punches in another three numbers on the register. "I don't like you anymore. You've become bad boy."

"Aw, come on now. You're exaggerating." Well, exaggerating with the information that she knows about me at least. She isn't entirely wrong calling me a 'bad boy,' but the basis of her claim doesn't include the entirety of my skewed moral compass.

"It's true. You were nice and sweet little boy, but now you buy cigarettes!"

"You're the one who sells them to me," I retort, sliding her a twenty under the slot as she bags my things and puts them in the revolving panel to her right.

"Business is business, so I don't complain," she says shrugging her shoulders, handing me back what little change is left. "Doesn't change fact you're bad boy though. I should ban you from the store."

"I'm sorry, Nana. I'll definitely stop being a bad person from now on. I promise!" If I didn't look so stupid doing it, I'd give her puppy eyes right about now.

"Ah huh, sure. Now, go away - Oh, and cut your hair too! It's too long."

"I'll think about," I say as I leave, pushing back in the earbuds that were hanging off my ears. Turning the corner, I walk down the block and head into the next street, a street that I'd be avoiding at all costs if I didn't need his help. "Fucking hell..."

Letting out a sigh, I reluctantly step foot into a Pawn's street, one that I'm extremely familiar with: Verdif, one of the Black Pawns many streets, and more importantly, Pook's current base of operations.