✰Rocket Ship✰

After The Endgame

Blackness. Blackness all around. He can't feel his body. He can't move. He's trapped in what feels like a tight space.

Is this hell?

The leader tries to scream, to move, to do anything, but he can't. It's just sitting there.

"...dying?!"

"Dunno, but they say his body is pretty..."

Back into the blackness. Those voices... Did he recognize them? Names...

What's my own name? What do I look like? Why am I here? Where is here? Where did I come from? What did I do to deserve this? Am I dead? Who were those people? Who am I? How do I get out of here? Why can't I talk? Why can't I move? What is going on? Can someone please save me?! I'm scared... I don't want to be here. I want to escape. Someone help me!! Someone! Anyone! Please!

The blackness subsided slightly. There was light from behind the darkness. What felt like heavy weights were preventing him from getting closer to the light. He wants to move them, but he can't.

And the blackness engulfed him again.

What was that?! Light? Please, let me back! It's dark here. I don't like the dark. Please, let me out! Someone! Anyone! I hate it here!!

The blackness lets him take in the scent. It smells of cheap air freshener, of sweat, of unwashed clothing.

Back into the darkness.

Stop taunting me! Just let me go into it fully or stop giving me the taste of life! Why am I being taunted like this? What did I do? Please, let me go! Stop making me suffer! I just want to go one way or another!

The blackness gives him another sense back.

The soft feel of fabric, a calloused hand. The wet, unpleasant feeling of sweat all over his body. Scratchy coverings. A still body. Tubes attached to the body.

Then back into the blackness.

Who are they? Why do you keep showing me them? Am I them? What is going on?! Please stop your cruel taunting.

Then, suddenly, the blackness subsides enough to give him control of the mouth. The breath is uncontrolled, being out of practice. He struggles to move it to make words, barely remembering how to move a body.

"M.. ng... Ag... Hng... H... He... Heee... Help..." He struggles to move the heavy lips.

Suddenly, he's dragged back into the darkness, and before getting a chance to readjust, is spat back out into the body.

"Ouma!"

The feel of fabric, the light, the hand-

"I think he's waking!"

An annoying beeping, a heaviness in this form, a scratchy feeling of clothing-

"He will be very uncoordinated. We nearly lost him a lot of times, so it's a miracle he's even waking up. Don't overwhelm him."

The scent of unwashed clothing, the heavy weights blocking the light, move them, move, move-

And his eyes open. There are many colours and things to take in.

A bunch of people around his bed, most dressed in fairly dark colours. It's easier on his eyes, so he's grateful for that. He can't remember any of their names, but they seem to recognize him.

There is also a nurse with purple hair. She is checking all the equipment, making sure everything is still functioning.

Slowly, he sits up, his head and vision swimming the first few seconds when he's in an upright position.

"Ouma..?" A hesitant, male's voice. He turns his eyes to see who spoke. There, sitting down near him, holding on of his hands with both hands, sits a purple haired male, who looks strong. The boy on the bed meets his purple eyes, and a name comes back.

"M... Mo..mota-chan?"

Word count: 614