Empty days went by while I hung on the wall like an old photo in a picture frame. I didn't have the will to speak, to struggle, to do anything but hang there. As far as I'm concerned, I don't even deserve to walk on the soil beneath my feet.
Miyazaki died that day, and the only thing on my mind was that If I hadn't existed he would still be here. It was all my fault.
Every day, he comes back to torture me, to haunt my dreams, to taunt me even in the afterlife. I see him now, sitting in that same chair and watching as I let myself be physically beaten and left to sit until my wounds heal. Day after day, night after night, he never leaves the room. Maybe I'm just insane, but I can't shake the feeling that he still walks this earth despite him being right in front of me.
______________________________________________
At first, it felt like waking up from a lucid dream. That point when you're aware of everything around you but part of you is still asleep. Sleep paralysis? No, I can feel my conscious flowing back into my body like a river... have I been reincarnated?
I couldn't see anything and I couldn't move, but I could feel that I was somewhere cramped and cold. Eventually, I was fully in control.
I opened my eyes, I saw a wide stretch of night sky above me and the tops of buildings on the sides. I moved my gaze down a little, trying to process my surroundings. I was in an alleyway.
Whoa, whoa, whoa... Shouldn't I be in a hospital if I was reincarnated? Hold on... I shouldn't even be aware that I've been reincarnated! What the hell is this?!
I sat up and looked down, It turns out I was in a dumpster. With the same clothes on that I wore before I died.
Wait... these are the same clothes, I'm in a dumpster, I can't feel any wounds, I seem to remember everything until the point of death..... WHY THE F*CK AREN'T I DEAD YET?!
I scrambled out of the dumpster and fell onto the ground, then got back up again. I looked into the dumpster one more time.
"Oh, charming. I was laying on a corpse this whole time. Damn lazy mafia members, couldn't even be bothered to bury me or clean up my body before dumping it on the street." I muttered under my breath, dusting off my shirt.
"OH SH*T, KANOE'S STILL IN THERE!" I exclaimed, running down the alley and turning the corner onto the sidewalk.
Police station, I need to get to a police station! I've seen his face, I can tell them what that mafia boss looks like and they can pull up people that fit the description! I don't have time to think about the details of how I'm still alive, I need to rescue Kanoe!
Just my luck, I was miles away from any police station in the area and I had no access to my ID, cash, credit card, and phone. I was forced to walk 16 blocks in my blood-stained sneakers and by no means was I pleased with this at all.
I pushed through the doors of the station just as the sun started to rise, feeling the heater blow warm air into my face. I walked up to the counter and slammed my hand down onto it, making the man behind the computer jump in surprise.
"I'd like to report a homicide and kidnapping, and I need results immediately." I growled, staring menacingly into the gaze of the officer behind the desk.
"Y-yes sir!"
______________________________________________
"Can you describe what the assaulter's face looked like?" The investigator asked, setting his coffee mug down in the table.
"Messy brown hair, sideburns, stubble, pale skin, and icy blue eyes. He was tall, somewhere around 6'8 on estimation and I'm pretty sure he runs some kind of company." I replied, slumping back in my chair.
"I feel like I've seen you somewhere, have we met before?" he asked, folding his arms close to his chest.
"I don't think so, I work as a medical examiner for this area though. We might have worked on the same case once or twice or passed each other at a crime scene." I said, letting out an exhausted sigh.
I had told him the entire story excluding the details of how I met Kanoe, his immortality, that he was involved with the mafia, that I had been shot, and why he had to move in with me. I had replaced that last part with a lie that he had been kicked out of the house by his parents.
The investigator pulled out a tablet, typed something in, scrolled around a bit, then flipped it around to face me.
"Is this the guy you described?" He asked, showing a picture of the exact guy who was responsible.
"Yes, that's him!" I said, zooming in on his picture.
"This guy's got quite the clean record, are you sure this is him?" The investigator questioned, taking back the tablet.
"I'm one hundred percent positive."
"I'll look into it, in the meantime you can stay here until we can do something about your... current predicament." He said, standing up from his chair and gesturing towards the door.
"What do you mean you'll 'look into it'? Get a warrant and get my roommate the hell out of there! He could be severely injured or worse, dead!"
"I'm sorry but it takes time to get a warrant for these things, not to mention there isn't enough evidence to directly prove what you claim is true." He said.
"If you want evidence, go look in the dumpster on 165th Avenue! The corpse I found in there should be enough proof!" I said, getting up from my seat and pursuing the investigator to the door.
"I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience, but you'll just have to wait." He said, ushering me out of the room.
What the hell?! They know something about this guy, I'm sure of it. If the police won't help me, then I'll just have to get him back myself!