It was morning. Kogure rubbed his eyes, and blinked at the streaming rays of the sun. He got up groggily , one hand rubbing his jaw.

Where am I?

The surroundings were sparse, but it was passably neat. It looked as if the owner knew he had guests and so, had deliberately tidied up the place.

I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here?

Kogure turned slowly around, fear starting to rise like bile in his stomach.

Don’t be such a coward..

Memories of his childhood still haunted him. Little kids dancing circles round him and taunting him in a silly sing-song chorus :"Weakling weakling weakling ... ..." That was for refusing to join the rest of the class in their stupid games involving the teacher’s seat and a bottle of glue.

With that unpleasant memory, came another more recent one. A flashback of his performance yesterday in the streets of the city brought Kogure to his knees.

***Shit!*** I’ve done it again!!

He did the best thing he could do next. He despaired. Sinking down bonelessly on the floor, he wrapped his hands around his legs in a pathetic attempt at protection. Whining softly, he rocked himself in a strangely child-like fashion. He didn’t know how long he stayed like this. Burying his weary head in his hands, he blocked out the whole world. Nothing will ever happen to him. Nothing will ever harm him. He will be safe.

Despair. Darkness.

It was always fire and night in his visions...

A sound at the door. A slow, sure footstep.

"..go...go away.., I swear I won’t do it again..." Kogure ‘s muffled voice came.

The footsteps stopped just beside him.

"I never wanted to see them. It’s not my fault. It’s not even my business. Why should I care? Please, just go away.." Kogure’s voice choked.

"Whose house do you think you are in?" A clear, clam voice.

Surprise took the self-loathing out and Kogure looked up, tear stains on his face.

"It’s MY house. So if one of us was to leave, it should be YOU and not me." The tone was slightly sarcastic and mocking.

Kogure could only gape at him. It was him! This one appeared in his damned visions too. A young man, with a dagger in his hand and the scar on his face, carrying the battle flag for the Prince of Light. This one would be loyal until the day he dies and he would fight to the death, until he can rise no more ...

Mitsui couldn’t move. The other young man was staring at him, a strange light in his eyes. It was as if he was looking through into his very soul, knowing all his deeds and thoughts. A kind of muted glow was starting to gather around Kogure.

"Go away."

Kogure shifted his eyes and the light disappeared. Staring down on the floor, he just went back into his own dark world.

Mitsui blinked and inwardly cursed. What had just gotten into him?

"Aren’t you hungry?" Mitsui dropped to one knee in front of Kogure and peered intently at him.

"No." Kogure refused to even look at him.

"Friendly huh." Mitsui gave a feral grin and then asked;" Tell me about your prophecies."

"..." Kogure just kept quiet, his heart hammering away. What does he know? Why does he care?

"My name is Hisashi Mitsui. I belong with the Brothers of the Dagger. It’s your turn, prophet."

"I am not a prophet." Kogure said sullenly.

"Whatever you wish." Mitsui shrugged. "Are you always this unfriendly?" Inwardly, Mitsui sighed and wondered: at least the client had provided his name, but how the hell am I going to get the prophecies out of him? Glancing sideways at him, Mitsui was suddenly struck with a thought: lord, he looks just like some small wounded animal in the forest...

Kogure shook himself out of his trance-like and got up shakily. Turning, he made slowly for the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" In a flash, Mitsui was already at the door, blocking Kogure’s attempt to leave.

Kogure just stared at the wooden door and said coldly; "Thank you for your care. I shall leave now."

Mitsui wanted to kill him in frustration. Giving a despairing sigh, he grasped Kogure’s shoulders and almost shouted: " Kogure, where do you think you can go? You are someone who sees crazy visions! People everywhere will shun you ... even your classmates at the university know about it.." His voice drained away at the cold look in Kogure’s eyes.

"I don’t care anymore. Let go of me." Kogure‘s thoughts were still in a jumble. But one clearly stood out. How did he know my name and how did he know I’m a student at the university?

"Fine." Strangely infuriated at Kogure’s words, Mitsui stepped into action. He grabbed Kogure by the waist and threw him on to the nearby bed .

"You..!" Kogure gave an indignant shout.

Grinning evilly, Mitsui flicked a dagger at Kogure. "You may not leave here until you have recorded all your prophecies. By the order of my clien: that is his wish. Obey, and live. Disobey me, and you will die a most assuredly painful death." The silver glint was unmatched by the rising anger in Kogure’s eyes.

"What do the Brothers of the Dagger care about my visions?" Kogure muttered.

"That is a misconception. I said ‘my CLIENT’, we are just the agents, my prophet." Mitsui corrected.

Kogure kept quiet as his cheeks flushed.

Mitsui stared at Kogure’s red cheeks, amused. Now was that the embarrassment over the mistake he made or was it the fact that I had called him ‘MY prophet’? Well at least the mission wasn’t turning out to be too boring... ...

"I will bring you some ink and writing paper." Mitsui said.

Kogure stared down at the floor as though it was very interesting.

Mitsui sighed again. I think it's time I asked for a pay raise and that bonus... "Look, I have to tie you up so you can’t run." Taking out a long piece of tawny rope, Mitsui tied Kogure’s legs expertly to the bed. Surprisingly, the shorter young man didn’t try to resist. It was as if all fire had gone out of him. He was lost in his own world again.

Mitsui‘s brows furrowed. No help for that. The job has to be done. After making sure the ropes were tied properly, Mitsui got up and left. He was back after a few minutes. Dumping the writing materials on the table, he half-dragged Kogure there and then left without a backward glance.

Kogure stared at the paper. There it was again. Always at the brink of his consciousness. Sometimes they were too powerful for him and they broke free from his restraint. They clamoured for a voice and the din was making him go crazy. Would it help if he let them out after so many years?

Biting back a choked sob, Kogure reached for the ink. It seems he had no choice at all.