Remember the bear? Yeah, the guy that accompany the girls?
Yeah. This guy. Well, apparently his name is yamato. And Yamato is shoving a guy's face against the grainy rough ground of the poor district right now.
And he's not being soft. His hand is palming the back of his head and he's grinding his cheek on the ground, it's peeling in big chunks of meat and blood, mixing with rain water until it makes a disgusting. Sticky. Soup. That's gonna stick to the ground for a while.
He's squirming right now. Just in front of me, he's squirming. His hands are pushing left and right dragging on the ground as his own frantic eye, the left eye, the only one anyone can see as his other eye is being grinded into a pulp on the ground, this eye. The left eye, is frantically bumping from people to people, searching for help. Probably. His cries do make me think he's trying to beg someone for help.
But nobody really wants to piss off Yamato. Nor the homeless, nor the guards that are watching this happen from their usual place.
The guards, well, it's their job. And the homeless? Well...it's not like they have much of a choice.
When leaving the periphery of the brothel put them at risk of getting hunted by academic students with some loose screws, they better be friend friend with the brothel since they apparently have a deal protecting their clients/the homeless in the plaza.
That's kind of a horrible situation to be in.
And that's kind of a gory situation to look at.
He's really close to me too.
Way too close.
Close enough for me to hear what Yamato whisper in his ear, the abused man still under him. The whole path in front of the brothel empty now.
"You think we're free or what?"
"Waitwaitwaitwaithere'smoneywecanfindsome-sorrysorr-!" And he screams as yamato pushes his fleshy cheek harder on the ground.
Deciding to look away from what's happening. My eyes land on the building, the brothel, where they come from. It started off pretty innocently you know?
I was here. In the middle of the street. Laying down. Trying my best to infect the guards. Some homeless around me, not a lot, more on the periphery and in the ruins of houses around the brothel. Ruins so grounded down that the only real building close to the brothel is...well, nothing, it's as if I was laying in an empty platza.
Empty apart from the brothel.
Then. Randomly. Just like that. The bear, Yamato. Came out from the brothel with a shirtless man. He dragged him by his arm while he pleaded and tried his best to escape. When the man tried to punch him, Yamato decided to slam him on the ground and carry him out like a potato sack instead.
Which promptly lead the homeless around to scatter out, even more than they already were, soon enough, no one was around me.
No one but Yamato of course.
Yamato and his human baggage.
Yamato lifts his human baggage once again, and in front of everyone drags him back inside the brothel. Ignoring the blood pooling on his torso. The man doesn't resist much now, even while yamato has a death grip on the back of his neck and yanks him forward every second or so when the barechested man dares to walk slowly.
When the bear and the man are back inside. And out of view. The mood goes back to normal.
Just like that.
As if a man hasn't been dragged out and crushed against the ground. As if there wasn't a dirty and bloody piece of skin stuck to the ground just beside my feet right now.
Nobody fucking care. They just go back to their things. Leave the ruins on the outskirts of the plaza, some walk over pieces of wooden foundations that hasn't been removed because they didn't need it, or it was too much of a pain. Some stay in the ruins and sit with others on the wet ground, and some even FUCKING get in the brothel.
Just like that.
Soon enough. A good amount of homeless are around me again, moving from a place to the other.
So it's not something that's rare huh? They can just....do that?
They can just...
Okay.
My hand comes up to rub the back of my neck. In my sixth sense. The one I use to feel the flow in my body and the flow outside of my body. In my sixth sense, my flow doesn't feel adequate anymore.
I do have my crossbow on me, it's been resting on my torso while I was laying down. And now it's in my lap, sat down when...this happened.
I have some bolts in my pockets, and some kunais too. I also have some shurikens. I just use them as a way to attach the sharp trap wire, which I also have in my pockets.
My hands come down to hold my crossbow tighter. Closer to me. And instead of laying down with my hands behind my head like nothing could affect me, I stay down with crossed legs.
Every single breath of mine is done cross legged. With my hands tight around my crossbow.
I...
I need to be more careful.
And careful. That I am.
For a first, I slide back to the periphery where there is more homeless people around. This makes spreading my flow harder, but it also makes sure that whenever the bear comes back with another man. I won't end up being in hugging range.
Then, I make sure to stay sitted. Still and seated. With my crossbow in my hands. I don't want to let it go. Nor will I. I won't let it go, it's fine in my hands, there's no need for it to go on the ground or on my lap. Between my hands is perfect.
Perfect.
More importantly though?
I stopped complaining about time.
It takes a long time. Yes. But for the next hours, my unblinking eyes stare at the guards. My gaze does not shift for even a second. My sense focused on the magic around me. Every single one of my breath spreading more and more magic, every soundwave spreading the magic closer and closer to the guards until a big heavy cloud of flow stays above them. It takes hours, I ignore the homeless that leave, I ignore the homeless that come, I ignore the homeless that decide to sleep in the ruin with packs of other homeless to protect each other backs. I ignore everything, and make sure to focus on the rain, I make sure that every single drop of water falling on the guards passes by my cloud, transfer this energy on their skin, passes into their flesh and merge with their blood like some kind of disease that won't let them go for even a single second. I don't move until I can feel my magic in their head, in their brain, I don't move until I shape it in their own brain and press as much intention on the back of their brain, on their occipital lobe. Exactly what my flow targeted when I tried to make myself look invisible to myself yesterday. I double checked that everything looked good TWENTY times. But that wasn't enough. So instead, I pushed more of my magic in the air, I pushed, harder, and harder. Until the rain stopped. Until the guards left. Until other guards took their place. Until most homeless around me had their little pack and were sleeping in the cold around me. Until the sun was gone. Until my mother passed me and went home without me. I pushed harder until the rain came back, until the rain dripped on the wood of the brothel again. But at this point it didn't matter anymore, because rain is just faster, I can still spread my flow with sound, with the slow sound of my exhale. And I exhaled ten-thousand and five-hundred and twenty-one times. And my magic is sticking to the plaza. And my magic is everywhere. And my flow is everywhere. On and in the ground beneath me. On the sky above me, in the clouds, until every drop of rain that fall is already infected. On and in the homeless around me. On the ruins, on the guards of yesterday that are still infected with my illusion even after coming out of a looooong restorative sleep. Everything is in my domain. Only when I made sure every strand of my flow was deep in every people brains, on the back of their brain.
Only then did I moved.
Only then did I got up. Waited for twenty more minutes for a homeless to enter. And only then did I enter, behind their back, to make everything extra sure. Even if I didn't need to wait because they shouldn't be able to see me, no they shouldn't, I did wait though, just to make sure. Just to be sure.
I'm a bit tired....
But now I'm inside.
And that's all that matters.