[He doesn't know where to go. People pass him by as he stays rooted in place, beckoned by the light and darkness both, his attention shifting from one to the other as he stands straight-backed and still with his fists clenched tightly by his sides. A strange dream, he thinks. He desperately thinks. A strange dream. One of the stranger ones he can remember having.

His bright eyes shift to one side, watching another person walk past, his gaze boring into their back as the distance between them grows.

Heizou takes a small step forwards. Before this, he had been sitting on a high peak on Watatsumi Island's outer rim, watching the sun setting over the water. Clearly he had simply fallen asleep. The next person who passes by close enough will find an arm outstretched blocking their path, and a strangely bright and confident voice speaking to them from the young man the arm belongs to.]

Which way would you go?

[In the end, the mysteries that the shadows held had been too much to ignore. Heizou awakens slowly and has to shake the cloying sensation of devouring darkness out of his mind before he opens his eyes in the hope of finding himself back on that hilltop. No such luck.

He can only struggle a little but struggle he does, and the mounting panic at being unable to break free builds itself into a knot of tension in his chest that is almost suffocating by the time he forces one hand through the casing holding him in place. A strangled, weak yell escapes him as the sensation of air on his hand gives him the last push of strength he needs to fully break out.

Then he simply lays there, panting, aware of his own nakedness but lacking the energy to be perturbed by it. The shard embedded in the back of his right hand goes unnoticed for now. Slowly, the chill in the air draws him into a more alert state and he sits up, absent-mindedly grabbing a piece of the broken chrysalis to cover himself. There's too much new information to take in all at once and his mind is in overdrive already, his widened eyes roving across the room as his slender limbs begin to tremble from a mixture of weakness and the chill.]

... Curious. [He whispers, momentarily seeming startled by the sound of his own voice. Heizou lifts his hand to pinch the back of it and jerks his fingers back as they touch the shard there. He stares, confused, and picks at it with the tip of his finger.] You're not supposed to be there.

[Despite his weakness he fights the attempts to make him drink anything for as long as he can, but there's only so much he can do when all of his limbs feel like boiled spaghetti. Eventually one person has him held prone with his arms hauled behind his back, while another one forces his head up and covers his nose until his burning lungs force him to open his mouth to take a breath. Then he's gagging, restrained until he has to swallow or suffocate against the thing that feels like it's trying to force its way down his throat--

The young detective is left in a poor state. He resists, and resists, and the corruption attempting to take hold forces black ooze from his ears and nose, up into his mouth to occasionally choke him, and from the back of his hand.

For the first day he simply sits as if catatonic while he battles the force in his mind and body. He stares blankly at the space ahead him and acknowledges no one as his worst doubts and insecurities are dragged out of him and spat back by a voice that seems to be echoing in his head. By the end of the day he seems to be stirring through it, the disgusting blackness dripping from every orifice eases in its appearance, and he starts to at least seem to notice when other people are coming near to him. Hopefully someone took pity on him while he was fighting... and he at least has some clothes by now.

[Half way through the second day after his arrival, Heizou gets slowly to his feet and looks around as if only just realising where he is. He scratches at the shard in the back of his hand again, closes his eyes, and then wipes a smear of black ooze away from the corner of his mouth.

The world is not good enough.

He still feels weak. Hungry, thirsty... Cold. He wraps his arms around himself as his usually active mind remains strangely, yet blissfully blank. His eyes are dull, skin pale, hair matted with the substance that had been leaking out of his ears for the past day and a half.

A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand.

That doesn't seem like such a bad thing. Why did he spend so long fighting? He isn't even sure, now. All he's sure of right at this moment is that he's... tired.

And very, very hungry.]

Where can I get something to eat? [He asks the first person he sees who looks like they have their wits about them.] Something deep fried, preferably, but I think I could eat anything right about now.