Once again, Soryu was in the storm. This time, however, he had a clear destination. He had been around this area before — and while he didn't know it like the back of his hand, he had a vague idea of the layout.
Soryu turned around to face the metro tunnel behind him, staring into the darkness through his fogged visor.
"I'll be back soon. Hang in there," he said to himself.
He turned back to the storm in front of him and moved through it.
The wind was worse than it was just six hours ago — as if it had been amplified tenfold. Good thing, just moments before, Soryu had a plan. He was going to follow his broken blizz line until the point where it was accidentally cut by Arika's crampons.
His feet sunk beneath the ash, dirt, and snow that had been accumulating for years now. As he followed his old line, he eventually found where it had been cut off — but he could find no trace of Arika's bag.
"Fucking piece of— where did you go?"
He could not see it anywhere from where Arika had tripped. Soryu prayed to God it had not been swept up in the strong winds. Now that he thought about it — was she using a backpack, or was it actually just a bag?
"There's no way it's buried beneath all this crap."
And yet, it most likely was.
Soryu checked his pocket watch.
2 hours, 1 minute, 30 seconds.
What the— it had already been nearly 20 minutes? Soryu thought to himself, before, without wasting another second, fell to his knees and starting to desperately dig around the area Arika fell.
Seconds dragged on to a minute, a minute dragged to 10, 30, and an hour.
Soryu's arms were on fire. He couldn't give up. If he gave up now, he would never be able to recover her bag ever beneath all this snow. She would be without a lifeline, without any way to move about the surface reliably. He needed to hurry.
Soryu's head was beginning to hurt like hell again — no doubt his nicotine cravings were getting to him. He put off making a cigarette and instead decided to chew it like an animal. It did not work as well as he thought it would. Plus, his mouth was as dry as sandpaper because of it.
CLANG
Soryu stopped digging as soon as he heard the sound of metal. He wiped the area down that made the noise before hitting it again.
CLANG
Okay, that sounded like something important — that or it was a random piece of metal. But he didn't want to jinx himself.
"C'mon, give me something good."
He dug around the area some more and found it — a small fabric handle. Without delay, he tugged on it again and again until the snow finally gave way to a faded purple duffle bag with the words Hibiya High School across the center of it.
Soryu opened the bag, and inside it contained: a lighter, a storm lantern (hence why it made a loud metal noise most likely), an M1911 with three loaded magazines, a half-full box of .45 ACP, and a suitcase of some kind.
Soryu opened the suitcase, and within seemed to be a cleaning kit of some kind, three filters, and a small notepad.
He opened up the small notepad and found something interesting within the faded pages.
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"Today was as monotonous as any other. More sewers, more shit, more looting. No other soul in sight. I swear to God I'm this close to losing it. I think the only thing that's really keeping me together is you — even though you're not a person, you're a notepad I found in a freaking school supplies store. But whatever, that's besides the point. I need someone, ANYONE. I hope if I am to ever find another person, they are someone I can depend on — and I hope that they can depend on me also."
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He closed the notepad and stopped himself from reading more. He was breaching her privacy. But still, he had found what he was looking for.
Bingo.
Soryu checked his rusty pocket watch once more.
55 minutes, 34 seconds.
Soryu put away his watch and stuffed the notepad back into the duffle bag, zipping it shut with a rough and heavy tug. He had found what he was looking for, and he was getting out of here. He tugged on his line again, half expecting it to be cut again — just to be met with it going taut.
"Good. Now I can find my way home."
Soryu followed his line through the powerful, never-ending storm and eventually arrived at the entrance of the metro. He untied himself and took cautious steps down into the underground.
Soryu reached the bottom of the metro steps and was met with the checkpoint he had jumped more than a thousand times before. But something felt off — almost as if he were being watched.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled his flamethrower off his shoulder and aimed it toward the darkness in front of him, past the checkpoint. Something was off. He wasn't safe. Or maybe it was his paranoia getting to him — who knows. He probably looked like a crazy, trigger-happy schizophrenic.
But all those thoughts evaporated when he heard a low canine growl protrude from the darkness like a spear being chucked at him.
Soryu, in an attempt to look intimidating — or possibly because he was terrified — shouted in a deep, adrenaline-filled tone:
"Come on, motherfucker! Come have a taste of me!"
He raised the nozzle of his flamethrower, turned on the lighter, and fired in a short two-second burst toward the darkness.
Flames erupted from the nozzle, lighting the air with intense heat and spewing onto whatever made the noise. It was a large, disgustingly malformed dog with multiple legs and eyes protruding where there shouldn't be. Its claws were not that of a usual dog's — they were extremely elongated and blade-like. Its size wasn't any better. It was as massive and colossal as a grizzly bear.
As soon as the flames touched it, it made a loud, nauseating roar in agony as it charged forward, pushing past Soryu and sending him flying into the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs before the creature ran up the stairs and into the storm — never to be seen again.
Or at least, not for the moment.
This was the second time he had encountered another creature like this. Soryu thought that maybe — just maybe — the one he had killed two years ago was the only one.
But he was wrong.
Arika was sitting in Soryu's bed, fiddling with a bolt and nut screwed together, when she heard the door to his shelter open and turned her gaze to it. Soryu walked toward her — her bag in one hand and his flamethrower loosely gripped in the other.
She saw how dirty his suit had gotten since the last time she saw him and noticed how exhausted and bruised he was behind his visor.
Arika stood up from the bed, before pain shot through her abdomen. She suppressed the urge to groan and held her injury with her left hand.
"You should sit back down. Here — take your bag. I need a few moments alone to think."
Soryu dropped her bag on the ground and turned around, starting to walk toward the small scuba shop in his home.
"Wait one second — hold on."
Soryu turned around to face Arika once more, taking off his mask and tucking it beneath his arm.
"Yes...?"
"T-Thank you."
Arika said, her face red with embarrassment. She outstretched her right arm and opened up her hand.
Soryu stared at her, silent for a few moments, completely expressionless — then extended his own arm and shook her hand firmly before walking away in complete silence.