Toshiro stepped out of the gaming cafe as swiftly as he'd come in earlier, a few large strides until he reached the door and ducked outside. Despite his reassured movements, worry pulled at his thoughts; he was fine with Zhou keeping the book, by all means, but it wasn't like him to not show up. Perhaps he'd been so caught up in reading that he'd forgotten? That didn't seem too unlikely, as Toshiro searched for explanations. Still, something felt wrong. Off.
Pensive, he almost ran into a kid in front of him, or the kid almost ran into him. He wasn't completely sure.
"Zh—?" Then, "Oh, sorry— I wasn't watching where I was going."
The kid grinned, messy hair tousled from the wind, the same energetic fervor in his eyes. "No problem!" he called, before dashing off in the other direction.
It was Toshiro's turn to decide where to go. Home? That seemed the logical procedure, and he began walking, until it occurred to him that he somehow was following the same direction as the kid earlier, toward the park rather than back to the apartment building.
He entered the park, its iridescent piles of fresh snow mostly unsullied by footprints. He guessed most of the city was huddled at home, with the dual comforts of warmth and the Oasis, making for few park-goers in this weather.
He wove his way toward the grove of evergreens at the edge of the park, each sprinkled with snow. Pretty, really, the white blankets on the pines resembling a delicate icing. And the trees, weren't those where Zhou had been—
Zhou. Had he been all right in the storm? Last night's had been one of the worst so far. But he'd seemed to have been fine the past couple of times, and there'd been quite a few recently. He should be okay, Toshiro told himself.
So he continued along the path, meandering along slowly. Take a walk, clear your head. Trying to clear the nagging worry.
That was, until the plastic caught his attention. Or at least, the faint snippets of neon blue visible from underneath the snow.
At first, he'd thought it was just litter, bits of blue plastic that someone hadn't bothered picking up after themselves. Shaking his head, he went over to clean it up. A wild animal could get caught in that — not that there were all that many animals in the parks anymore, anyway. But still, better to err for caution.
As he bent over to pick it up, however, he realized that he couldn't: the blue pieces seemed to be connected together. It wasn't buried under the snow too deeply — after all, it was visible — but he would have to coax it out.
He flinched as his fingers first made contact with the cold snow. Drawing his hands back, he blew into them for warmth, then returned to the task at hand, trying to pinch the bits of plastic without touching the precipitation. But he couldn't lift it. Was it caught somewhere? He adjusted his pull, bringing it over instead of out.
He jumped back, startled. Underneath was—
"Zhou?"
Was he—
Curled up on his side, Zhou looked even smaller than his normal slight stature. Despite the covering he'd had over him, he was drenched, probably freezing.
Mind racing, Toshiro drew in a deep breath. Panic won't help. He leaned forward, placing his fingers on Zhou's wrist. Please.
He waited. Finally, a pulse: slow, but it was there.
Toshiro exhaled, a long sigh of relief. At the sound, and perhaps from the warmth of his hand, Zhou stirred a little.
"Zhou. Zhou?"
Zhou mumbled something, incoherent. Toshiro guessed he wasn't fully conscious.
And he wasn't in good shape — his wrist felt like ice, and his flimsy garments stuck to him, wet and cold.
But, at least, he was there. Alive.