[Falling asleep, his thoughts were poisoned by memories of his life. Screaming at his parents, getting thrown out of the house, searching desperately for his next fix... He remembered the nausea and the chills so... vividly.]
[And the staring eyes of a dead body he once woke up next to.]
[He startled himself awake, losing his place in bed and falling out of it. Wait. This... wasn't where he'd fallen asleep. Was he still dreaming? He untangled his legs from the crimson blankets now half-strewn across the floor, standing up and fixing his clothing.]
[He observed each of the items on the table, taking interest in the key specifically. Maybe he'd played too many adventure RPGs when he was alive, because he immediately slipped the key into his coat pocket without a second thought. You never know when it could come in handy! And the mask... he looked at the accompanying note, figuring it couldn't hurt to put it on, so he did.]
[He sat back down on the bed, turning the TV on out of simple curiosity... only to see static. Ah well, it was worth a try. He picked up the bell, rolling it over in his hands before giving it a loud ring.]
[What's the worst that could happen? It's just a dream, right?]
[That's when the television started working, at least somewhat. The sound quality was grainy and the picture kept going in and out, but it was something.]
["And it's a pop fly to second! Gee, if he catches this one, that'll win the game, won't it, Daisuke?"]
[The screen flickered to an image of a dark room, several people cramped inside. One of them held a spoon over a lit candle, several pairs of eyes watching intently as the dark substance in the spoon melted into a liquid. The TV flickered back to the sports announcers after only a brief glance at the unsettling scene.]
["That's right, Eiji! If number four catches this one, that'll wrap it up for us here at Hanshin Koshien Stadium!]
[Oh. Oh. He stared at the screen, unblinking. The picture once again returning to the dark room. Someone with a filthy white dress shirt was rolling up his sleeve, tying a strip of rubber tightly around his upper-arm, feeling around the bend in his arm where veins were becoming more easy to find.]
["And he caught it! The crowd is going wild! Keep an eye on this team, folks, you might see their faces again in the big leagues!"]
[The dirty figure in the dark room was handed a syringe, trembling hands holding the needle to his arm. Fresh blood tainted the amber liquid in the syringe before he pressed at the plunger with his thumb, shuddering with relief as he emptied the contents into his bloodstream.]
[The picture snapped back to the stadium, zoomed in on the one who'd caught the ball, his team lifting him up in celebration, thanking him for their victory. He was player number 4, he had... blue hair.]
[It was him.]
[The reception failed as he saw his own overjoyed face torn in half by static, left with his stunned reflection on the glass of the TV screen.]
[OPEN] [trigger warning: drug use]
[And the staring eyes of a dead body he once woke up next to.]
[He startled himself awake, losing his place in bed and falling out of it. Wait. This... wasn't where he'd fallen asleep. Was he still dreaming? He untangled his legs from the crimson blankets now half-strewn across the floor, standing up and fixing his clothing.]
[He observed each of the items on the table, taking interest in the key specifically. Maybe he'd played too many adventure RPGs when he was alive, because he immediately slipped the key into his coat pocket without a second thought. You never know when it could come in handy! And the mask... he looked at the accompanying note, figuring it couldn't hurt to put it on, so he did.]
[He sat back down on the bed, turning the TV on out of simple curiosity... only to see static. Ah well, it was worth a try. He picked up the bell, rolling it over in his hands before giving it a loud ring.]
[What's the worst that could happen? It's just a dream, right?]
[That's when the television started working, at least somewhat. The sound quality was grainy and the picture kept going in and out, but it was something.]
["And it's a pop fly to second! Gee, if he catches this one, that'll win the game, won't it, Daisuke?"]
[The screen flickered to an image of a dark room, several people cramped inside. One of them held a spoon over a lit candle, several pairs of eyes watching intently as the dark substance in the spoon melted into a liquid. The TV flickered back to the sports announcers after only a brief glance at the unsettling scene.]
["That's right, Eiji! If number four catches this one, that'll wrap it up for us here at Hanshin Koshien Stadium!]
[Oh. Oh. He stared at the screen, unblinking. The picture once again returning to the dark room. Someone with a filthy white dress shirt was rolling up his sleeve, tying a strip of rubber tightly around his upper-arm, feeling around the bend in his arm where veins were becoming more easy to find.]
["And he caught it! The crowd is going wild! Keep an eye on this team, folks, you might see their faces again in the big leagues!"]
[The dirty figure in the dark room was handed a syringe, trembling hands holding the needle to his arm. Fresh blood tainted the amber liquid in the syringe before he pressed at the plunger with his thumb, shuddering with relief as he emptied the contents into his bloodstream.]
[The picture snapped back to the stadium, zoomed in on the one who'd caught the ball, his team lifting him up in celebration, thanking him for their victory. He was player number 4, he had... blue hair.]
[It was him.]
[The reception failed as he saw his own overjoyed face torn in half by static, left with his stunned reflection on the glass of the TV screen.]