The Innocent (A 'Finder' Fanfiction)

Shadow of Pluto - 5 - Arata (Akihito)

There was something bound tightly around his arms, fixing them to his upper body. It didn't feel rough, nor did it hurt, but it forced him to push the thick blanked away with his feet. It seemed to be something like a silk scarf, or anything as soft and still strong as that. He wriggled fiercely, turned and rotated, cursed and hissed, but ultimately, he fell down onto the mattress without any result. The bonding was too well done.

After catching his breath for a moment, he managed to sit up. He had been placed on some giant canopy bed with countless pillows around him, as if someone had wanted to make sure he would not fall out. The room was huge, the coffered ceiling far up. Lattice windows were set into wainscoted walls and framed by thick curtains. There were lamps everywhere, but not one was lit because it was bright daylight outside and the sun shone down onto some beautiful Mediterranean garden. It looked very different from the view Arata had when he squinted through the gaps in the shutters of the Warsaw apartment.

For a moment, his heart started to race at the thought that he might have been saved and taken here to protect him. But as quickly as the warmth of the idea flooded into him, the quickly it trailed away and left him shivering. No, he would not be bound like this if he wasn't a prisoner! The silk scarf embracing him might be a gentle chain, but it jailed him, nonetheless. Very likely the man who had once brainwashed him into believing he was 'Takaba Akihito' was just trying to play tricks on his mind again. Had he put rough ropes around him or handcuffs onto his wrists, Arata would have had proof that he was the enemy. Instead of pushing him into a cell, he had placed him on this bed, as if he could still hoodwink him.

'He cannot!', Arata swore to himself. He climbed out of the bed onto somewhat shaky legs and started to walk through the room, searching for anything with which he might be able to free himself. After a while, he realized that it was pointless. Even though there was a bed, this room looked more like a museum's exhibition to him than a bedroom. All the doors and drawers in the cabinets, wardrobes and tables were locked and no keys to be found – though even if he had been able to open them, he would not have been astounded to find them empty.

Momentarily he considered to just try and walk out of the door, if it was unlocked, or to shove open a window and climb out. But there was no hope of getting anywhere far if he was still bound like this. He could not even grab the door-handle with his arms tied to his body.

But he had to get out of here! He had to kill that bastard! That he had promised to Aaron.

A framed picture caught his eye. It showed some drawing of an ancient roman city, but that was not what he was interested in. He pushed his forehead against the side of the canvas. It slid off the hook, crushed down onto a cabinet beneath, and the glass shattered into several pieces. With his bare feet he flipped the frame and tossed it away, then he got down onto his knees, searched for the largest, sharpest shard and grabbed it with one of his restricted hands. He felt the glass cut him, but it could not be very deep. In any case, he did not care about it right now.

Letting himself fall back onto his heels, he pushed the shard up against the silk, tearing it apart. Even though he scratched his skin through the clothes into which he had been put, he did not stop, and inch by inch he freed himself.

At the end, he could rip the fabric from himself. Using the piece of broken glass again, he cut off a scrap to bandage his slightly bleeding hand, and another to wrap around what he had decided to be the grip of this glass weapon.

Only then did he walk up to the windows but found himself to be on the second floor. This way was probably the more dangerous exit to attempt, yet the only way to get out of the building without presumably having to sneak past other people. With both hands, he grabbed the handle and pulled the window's wing open. Warm air, a soft breeze and the smell of the near sea pushed past him into the room and got sucked out of it the next moment, when Arata heard the door open behind him. He spun around on the spot, not letting go of the handle.