[Hiro]

Wake up.

With wide eyes his body shook awake, blue eyes scanning his surroundings as he tried to figure out where he was, where he had been taken.

The last thing he remembered was waking up on a beach he didn’t know, feeling the wounds on his body that had pushed him within an inch of his life, quickly passing out again.

Now he wasn’t on the beach, and instinctively feeling his body he noticed that his wounds were gone, well… the scars remained, jagged ones that zigged and zagged its way into a pattern that made one wonder how anybody could’ve survived the onslaught that had caused them.

"Hey you, you’re finally awake." an inquisitive voice rang out in the doorway.

Like a cornered cat, he’d try to spring into a defensive stance, only for his body to stop him dead in his tracks, making him realize that despite the healing the damage was still there, trying to mend itself.

"Yeah I wouldn’t do that, we healed your wounds, but whoever hurt you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t walk it off…" they’d react to him coldly, the older man’s arms crossed and a cold sight on his eyes.

The old man would step forward, no threat in his features but possibly more so because the person on the bed was in no state to be regarded as a threat.

… Why was he being regarded as a threat anyways?

"So, who are you, because I don’t want you to cause us any trouble." He questioned, with an implication in his voice that if the latter was true he’d be out of the house really quickly.

Despite the questions, despite the pain coursing through his body, his eyes glanced around and he forced himself out of the bed, if only to collapse to his knees quickly. He was searching, he didn’t know what, but he needed to find it.

"Where… is it?" he’d ask, like an addict trying to crawl towards his final cigarette.

"The sword? That piece of junk is somewhere safe, how about you don’t worry about that and answer my questions..." the old man would continue to press,

"Go easy on him Alphonse, he’s barely alive." a young woman would call out from behind, making their way into the room and forcing him back onto the bed.

She would check his scars, furrow a brow, and bite the inside of her cheek. "Listen to me, you shouldn’t move. I closed your wounds, but you’re still susceptible to internal bleeding…" She tried to explain.

His eyes would look up at hers, questioning whether or not he knew her from somewhere.

"I don’t know..." he’d voice through ragged breath as he tried to breathe through the pain.

"Internal bleeding is when wounds inside of you start to..." she’d start to explain, but he cut her off.

"No, who are you? Where am I?" he’d ask, grasping for clues.

"Pretty sure I asked that question first, boy." the old man returned.

He’d think for a few seconds, his eyes fluttering around the room as he tried to genuinely find an answer for the questions. But as the seconds passed by, the old man only got more annoyed at the lack of a reply.

"The sword?" he’d ask again, now knowing what his mind was looking for.

The old man growled a little, and the first indication of anger showed as his fists clenched. But the woman gave him a look and a shake of the head.

"You’re on Okinawa, they found you dying on the beach..." she’d tell him, but she noticed the lack of recognition in his eyes. "I’m Mako, that is Alphonse. We run a clinic… But you’re currently in Alphonse’s apartment." she’d continue to explain.

"I still don’t understand why we didn’t bring him to the clinic..." he’d question out loud.

"You know there’d be questions, Alphonse." Mako replied with a hint of jadedness.

"I don’t see why that’s our problem, let the police deal with him..." he’d answer callously.

Grabbing a bottle of water, she’d offer it to him, gratefully he would grab it and take a few sips, if only to get the lingering taste of seawater off his palate.

Letting in a deep breath, he’d run a hand through his black hair, clingy and dirty from the seawater.

"I don’t know who you are, I don’t think I am from here… I don’t know where I am from, or who I am?" he’d reveal to the two.

The old man would react with a derisive snort, but the woman would look at him with the worry a mother would show a sick child, and she’d glance back at Alphonse.

"Heavy trauma can sometimes cause amnesia..." her voice dry and matter-of-factly, purely as a doctor open to possibilities.

"Yeah I know, but you’re telling me this kid wakes up, knows he needs some sort of sword, but then tells us he has no idea who he is anymore? It sounds like crap Mako, I say we call the cops, maybe he’s on the run… Maybe they put him in that state in the first place?" Alphonse would tell her, doubt in his voice.

"It’s… not a lie…" he’d cough a reaction, but his eyes would flicker again as he once more looked around for some memory to cling on, but there was only one. "Where is the sword?!" he questioned again, but now his voice became distressed as his adrenaline spiked.

Almost like a zombie refusing to stay down, the question forced his body to move on its own through the pain. He forced himself to his feet, but one step forward was one too many as the world went white around him and he collapsed backwards.

Grasping his side, his breaths started to stutter erratically, his eyes laser focused on the ceiling.

"Crap, I think a cracked rib might’ve punctured his lung… Quick --" the woman’s voice trailed off as he passed out.

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@self | The Amnesiac: Origins 1