He didn't remember falling asleep, but waking up felt like a mistake.
He stayed still for a moment, eyes half-open, waiting for the feeling to pass.
It didn't.
His gaze drifted downward without him meaning it to.
His hands rested in front of him, palms half-open against the ground. They were smaller than he expected. Thinner. The skin looked tight over the bones, veins faint but visible beneath it.
He flexed his fingers slowly.
They shook.
He stopped.
Lifting his head slightly, he took in his surroundings.
Stone walls pressed in on both sides, close enough that light could reach only the shallowest part of the space. The rest sank into shadow. The ground beneath him was cold, hard against his skin, the chill seeping through fabric that offered little protection.
Beyond the alley's mouth, faint shapes passed by. Shadows stretched and disappeared. Voices drifted through, distant and indistinct.
People.
The thought surfaced quietly, followed by a weak sigh. The presence of others brought a brief, fragile sense of relief.
He tried to push himself up.
His body refused.
He sank back down with a dull thud, jaw tightening as he forced himself to try again. Muscles strained uselessly, neck tensing as a low grunt escaped his throat. His stomach twisted sharply, pain flaring as if in protest.
With a final push, he managed to stand.
His knees buckled immediately, forcing him to stagger sideways until his shoulder hit the wall. He leaned into it, chest tight, breathing shallow and uneven.
A few moments passed.
His body felt wrong.
Not tired. Not sore.
Just… thin.
Like there wasn't enough of him to move properly. Even breathing felt deliberate, each inhale measured, each exhale incomplete.
Then his stomach growled.
He pressed a hand lightly against it, listening to its demand.
"Food," he murmured.
The word felt heavy.
If he stayed here, nothing would change.
Grinding his teeth, he forced himself forward, dragging his uncooperative body through the narrow space. He didn't look at the scattered trash lining the walls or acknowledge the foul stench clinging to the air.
His focus narrowed to one thing.
Movement.
By the time he reached the alley's edge, his breaths were uneven, pain echoing faintly behind him.
He stopped there, half in shadow, half in light.
The brightness made his eyes ache. He blinked several times, letting the darker shapes blur before the street beyond slowly came into focus.
Sound reached him first—footsteps, low voices, the dull rhythm of movement that didn't care he existed.
He swallowed.
Then, unsteadily, a small, frail boy stepped out of the dark and into the open.
He sank down against the nearest wall, tattered clothes pooling loosely around him as he slid to the ground. They looked like they had once fit someone else, the fabric hanging off his shoulders instead of resting on them.
The cloth was stretched thin and darkened in places, heavy from absorbed moisture. A faint, unpleasant smell clung to it.
He didn't pay it any attention.
His chest tightened again, breath coming shallow and uneven. He slowed instinctively, focusing on the rise and fall of his breathing until the pressure eased.
Only then did he look around.
The street was wider than the alley, busy in a quiet way. People passed by without looking down, footsteps moving at uneven rhythms—some hurried, some unbothered. The sounds blended together into a low, constant hum.
It made him feel smaller.
Not safer.
Then a scent reached him.
Warm. Rich. Faint, but unmistakable.
His head lifted before he realised it had moved, eyes locking onto its source. A food stall stood nearby, steam curling lazily into the air as customers came and went.
The smell alone eased the tension in his body, if only slightly.
People bought food without hesitation. Coins changed hands casually. A woman laughed as she accepted a wrapped skewer and walked away.
Eating looked effortless.
His stomach tightened sharply.
He shifted his weight and felt dizziness creep in at the edges of his vision, his breath thinning after only a few seconds on his feet. He swallowed, focusing on staying upright.
This wasn't getting better.
He told himself to look away.
He didn't.
Another portion was set down. Heat followed it, brief and tantalising. Hunger flared suddenly, sharp enough to border on pain. He pressed a hand lightly against his stomach, jaw tightening.
Just once, a quiet thought surfaced.
He didn't finish it.
The vendor turned, voice raised as he argued with a customer over price. Coins clinked. A pouch shifted at his side, briefly exposed.
For a moment, the stall was unattended.
His heart thudded.
He realised how close he already was. Close enough to see the sheen of grease on the food. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from it.
His fingers curled slowly.
Walking away would be easier.
Safer.
But hunger didn't ease simply because he told himself that.
He hesitated.
Then he took one small step forward.
The vendor's back was turned for half a second.
That was all.
He moved before his thoughts could catch up, body acting on something older than caution. His hand slid forward, fingers brushing warm wrapping..
The heat startled him.
He tightened his grip and pulled.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the food slipped free.
His stomach lurched as if it already knew.
He turned and walked, forcing himself not to run. One step. Then another. The stall's noise swelled behind him, ordinary and loud.
For a brief, fragile moment, he thought he might get away with it.
"Hey—!"
His breath hitched.
He ran.
The world narrowed, the street blurring as he pushed himself forward. His feet slapped unevenly against the ground, each step heavier than the last. The warmth in his hand felt unreal—too solid, too present.
Footsteps followed.
Faster than his.
His chest tightened, breaths coming sharp and shallow. He turned into the nearest alley without thinking, nearly slipping as pain flared up his leg.
He didn't slow.
He couldn't.
The alley stretched longer than it should have. A ringing filled his ears as his vision dimmed at the edges. His grip loosened for a moment, fingers numb.
He clenched harder.
Another step.
Then his legs gave out.
He stumbled forward, catching himself briefly against the wall before sliding down hard. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him gasping, chest burning as he struggled to breathe.
The footsteps passed the alley mouth.
He stayed still.
Seconds dragged by.
His heartbeat thudded unevenly in his ears, too loud, too close, as if it were trying to escape his chest. The cold crept back in, heavier this time, settling into his limbs and pressing him against the ground.
His hand loosened.
The food slipped from his fingers and landed beside him with a soft sound that felt far too loud.
So close.
His fingers twitched, scraping weakly against the stone, but they wouldn't obey him. They hovered there, useless, trembling inches away.
"…just a second," he whispered.
The words barely existed.
His breath stuttered, coming in shallow, uneven pulls as darkness began to seep in from the edges of his vision. The alley blurred, sounds dulling, the world pulling away as if it had decided he wasn't worth the effort anymore.
However..
Something shifted inside him.
Not warmth.
Not relief.
Awareness.
Host Status: Critical
Primary Issues Identified:
– Severe malnutrition
– Acute fatigue accumulation
– Muscular failure
– Dehydration
– Nervous system overload
Body Integrity: Compromised
Motor Control: Failing
Consciousness: Unstable
Survival Probability: 18%
Immediate Action Required
Initiating Emergency Evaluation…