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Not for the first time, Naoki’s reminded himself of just how much he hates this new world he’s found himself in. Most things are out to kill him, there’s sand constantly in his shoes, and he’s fairly certain his (former?) friends have gone off the deep end, after his recent discussions with them.
For some reason, though, he can’t muster up the energy to feel much about it - only a vague feeling of what he think could be dread. They’re resistant to him, and maybe Naoki should be the one to finally push a little bit more - to put his foot down for once and insist on .. .
Well. He doesn’t know. Something! It feels like his mind isn’t properly functioning, still stuck on watching black lightning from a rooftop, and waking up in a morgue - cold, his mouth feeling dry and a distinct feeling of wrongness right underneath his skin. There wasn’t any disorientation to come with it, and the pain had subsided for the most part.
It’s not something he tries to dwell on too much, because there’s nothing he can do about it, but he really wants to go home.
It’s a silly wish, and Naoki feels like a child stuck in an uncomfortable situation that it was dragged into. His home was probably struck with lightning, and there’s nobody around to give a proper funeral to either his parents or himself. Or anyone else that he knew, because he’s one of the last six people alive, if he wasn’t counting that old man and his nursemaid - and he’s not even fully sure if those two are human, so maybe they didn’t count.
He doesn’t heal himself immediately when he scrapes by in the fight - careless, just a little bit stupid. It’s not something that can be afforded here, and he knows that it can’t, but the sting of pain helps distract him from the ever-present coldness to his body, the unnatural stiffness.
But, as for safe places, the first room he could think of dragging himself to was one of the ones with the strange drum - Amala drums, he thinks Hijiri called them. The rooms were cramped, and the drums themselves freaked him out a little bit, if he tried hard enough to feel it.
There’s constantly looking over his shoulder as he travels, sharp ears picking up the slightest shuffling around him. Its hands don’t shake as the door to the room with the drums is messed with.
It should, Naoki thinks. There’s a lot of things that its body should be doing, but it either has to force it to happen, or it doesn’t happen at all.
He wonders if Yuko saving him was really any sort of mercy at all.
The half-demon slumps against the wall as soon as he’s inside, the door shut and locked as harsh as he can allow himself to shut it - which .. . Considering his neglected state, wasn’t very.
Gray eyes flutter shut, long eyelashes casting shadows down pale cheeks. He can’t stay here, and he knows that, but .. .
It’ll have to do, for now.