Paws looped around the straps of a chewed and vainly repaired pack on his back, Kyotoshi backed his ears and looked over his shoulder at the latest noise, his heart growling angrily at him from inside his chest. The lightly furred alien chose to ignore the feeling, even as his body paid attention. His hands had started shaking some time ago, which was why he clutched the pack so tightly now. Elbows were bent inwards in spite of himself, the feliniod fighting an ingrained reaction to grab his sides and drop. It made no difference, walking or curled on the forest floor, the pain wasn't going to stop. He was used to it at this point in any case, during these daily slammings. Sometimes it felt as if a creature was living inside him, waking and throwing itself around its flesh prision trying to claw its way free. Just one more animal in the jungle, driving him crazy with its insecent nagging for his attention. The sweat beading under his short yellow fur was making his entire body itch..and also apparently attracting smaller animals. Twisting into an awkward circle to slap abruptly at his ankle, a avian no larger than the Hekshanian's index finger took off from his body and vanished into the mingling colours of Magos. Gritting his teeth, Kyotoshi resumed marching.

He'd grown up in cities. Fairly small cities to be fair, but still. Kyotoshi had never had any extreme need to be in the great outdoors, what little of it there was left on Hekshano. He'd always figured that he would have made a lousy survivalist when put face to face with the mother nature of any planet, let alone Magos with its dense jungles and preditorial oceans. Ironicly, there had been no real climate shock. The term 'concrete jungle' seemed a little too accurate in this case, Kyotoshi thought bleakly. The trees were just as good as buildings, the only real difference was that everything was a little more basic in a jungle. That, and there was no real place outside the last small seaport they'd visited where he could restock his deminishing liqour supply.

It wasn't that in the woods Kyotoshi was so stupid as to start drinking, especially when he was the designated scout of their small troupe. Add onto that the factor that they were trying to skirt the sleeping dragon that was the Rulerist occupation of the jungle here, and the idea of drinking during the hours they were on the move was downright imbicilic. Playing gurilla warfare and drinking weren't things you mixed. Any other being might have just been able to give up on it, but there were some pressures Kyotoshi wasn't cut out for. Leadership was one of them. Whiping his bare yellow arm across his forehead under his bangs, Kyotoshi began walking again. He'd always been a fairly lousy when it came to dealing with stressful situations, but when he was given other peoples lives to take care of, that was when it became too intense for him to handle alone. Some people needed to break, the young Hekshanian reflected to himself. Some people needed to break to keep from killing everyone around them. Instead of sleeping nights, that was what he did. With a silver capped mirror that fit his hands and a burning tsunami inside him sweeping over his brain until he felt no more, Kyotoshi would break.

Should check and see how far off track I am from the group, Kyotoshi thought to himself, glancing around at the noisy trees. Unclipping the blocky black radio from the shoulder of his pack, he shook the machine in his hands a few moments. It was breaking in the heat and humidity, even the Myches hadn't accounted that the small resistance force would be pushing through the jungles for quite this long. The machinery was all starting to take a beating, but that meant at least something in their favour. Their opposition, the Rulerists, would be in far worse shape. They hadn't the foresight of the small multicoloured equine technicians on their side- the racism of the Human religious army was starting to show in their preformance, and thankfully in the Pagan army's favour. The radio felt heavy in Kyotoshi's paws, but gradually began to cackle and hiss with static. Holding down the side switch with his thumb and bringing the microphone close to his mouth, Kyotoshi spoke. Hopefully only his team mates would be the ones to hear. "This is Tenshi-no-Oni to Stabbing Westward, over," he smirked to himself at the group name. He and the pale morbid Inhuman had picked it out together, it was the name of a band that'd been banned years ago, which they both knew. The primary idea behind it was one song they'd preformed which had never really become a hit. The lyrics already began to intertwine in Kyotoshi's mind as he kept walking. There was no point in holding still long enough to allow more of those sweat-consuming avians to start covering.

The voice which returned over the faulty machinery was the designated radio operator of the main group, a mammalian alien with leathery pink wings and large hind feet called a Ranec. Misuka Sakura, an alien with an unknown background also had an inheret tallent for machinery. Kyotoshi had known her a while now, she was never particularly fond of him though. The Ranec remained cold and aloof most of the time, but was one of the few members of their designated party who could operate a tripod machine gun without trouble. "Wolf's Clothing for Stabbing Westward," Misuka's voice replied cooly. "There a problem, Oni?"

Kyotoshi turned in a slow circle as he walked, moving backwards now and craning his neck upwards at the canopy. A brightly coloured web-winged lizard soared overhead in a flash of blue and green and was gone again in an instant, a cackling thrall remaining in its wake. "Yeah, I'd like a fix on my position here, or at least an idea of what direction to head. Over."

Now over the radio he could hear broken in the background the speech of his younger sister, Soshika, and that of the albino Mite, Ashido. They were debating something, but he couldn't make it out beyond the light buzz of their different tones. Misuka's reply was sweetly devilish, she was enjoying herself. The Ranec's voice had a peculiar cackle to it when she felt like causing trouble, but it was the kind of trouble that made you slap your forehead and laugh at how aimless it was. "Ummm...Well you know," there was a edge to her words, not unlike a car salesman. Kyotoshi shook his head and scratched the fur on his bare chest, wanting to get back with the group as quickly as possiable. The increased activity of the jungle meant that sunset was probobly coming fairly quickly. Even though the daylight animals didn't seem all that dangerous, Kyotoshi didn't feel like dancing with one of the twelve foot horned Pourras that they'd encountered their first night trekking through Magos. "We really can't give out locations over the open signal, Oni."

"Look it smells like a fart out here, I want to get tents set up and get to sleep and god damnit use good radio grammer, Sheep! Over." Another rustle in the foliage and Kyotoshi made a point to avoid that area as he moved onward.

There were some sounds of scuffling on the radio and Misuka's leashed laughter as Soshika insisted she not give him a hard time. "Okay okay," the Ranec finally relented, "Where are you?"

Kyotoshi flipped over the rusty compass attatched to one of the belt loops on his jeans. "Not so far from 134, 8484 and heading South," he reported. "Say 'over,' god damnit."

"Grey says you should move about ten points to the east and we'll meet up in fifteen minutes. We'll camp then."

One of the other animals inside Kyotoshi, the one that lived in the back of his skull, woke up and started scratching. He needed to get to a safe location and get a drink. He hated all this hiking and sneaking, he felt like one of the mice living in Reiwou School back on Hekshano. Or what's left of Reiwou now...after the Rulerists found it... The Hekshanian flicked his ears and shuffled his feet, making the adjustments to his course, watching the little needles on the compass peirouette for him. "Okay, I'm back on track then, thanks. How's Psychoboy doing?" Kyotoshi had realized that since the Inhuman had crossed paths with them again, there was obviously something on his mind. Soshika agreed that he'd changed, and although Kyotoshi had not known him proir, he could feel the pressure on the silver-black haired demon in the air around him. It moved like a bubble, screaming for someone to notice.

"That isn't his callsign." The sudden note of dark anger in the Ranec's voice took Kyotoshi by surprise. She seemed partial to Grey, but it felt irrational...

"Craika, sorry, I just meant it like a nickname. Don't tweak out."

"Call him by his callsign." Cold and serious, like a distorted guitar sound made tinny by computers, Kyotoshi wasn't about to argue with Misuka.

Dropping the compass to his side and walking again, Kyotoshi sighed auidably into the radio. "Alright, sorry. How's Hedgehog's Delimma doing?"

"Fine," her tone was clipped now. Something didn't feel right about it. "Over and out."

The radio shut off before Kyotoshi could even reply, and he shook it up and down lightly in his paw, scowling down and speaking to the alien who was no longer listening. "Yeah, love you too Sakura."

Clipping the faulty machinery back to the strap of his pack, Kyotoshi absentmindedly hugged his midsection as he walked again, his claws sinking into the loamy earth as he pushed through the thick green jungle towards the others. Nothing here was feeling right. As if to agree with him, something in the trees screamed aloud and crashed away chattering. The Hekshanian pressed his ears to his skull and winced at all the irritation outside and the organ splitting feeling inside and kept moving on.

For some reason this time the regrouping felt awkward. There was an unsettling silence holding over the small troupe, their centaur-like Magin guide remaining all but mechanical in her duty, rather than engaging in an argument with Kyotoshi's sister or conversation with the gargoyle-like avian Solla Flint. Kyotoshi's paws pushed through the underbrush wearily, tripping back in line with the others. While Misuka and Soshika greeted him faintly, it was obvious there was something hanging over everyone's head, a vortex shaped storm that was dragging them all into this melencholy silence. Even the perpetually stoic and depressing Grey was more awkwardly unspoken than usual. "Criaka," Kyotoshi muttered, eyes moving over their small group as he did his best to ignore the small starpoint claws dragging lines down the inside of his brain. "What happened here?"

It was as if silence was strung up on a meathook, rotating in the air in slow circles with its slaughtered ribs exposed. Still present, but dead. Mouths opened slightly but shut again in turn as the others looked away or shook their heads. The guide's tail lashed upwards in aggitation as her thin hands wrapped around her staff, locking tight enough for the pale knuckles to grow white. A paw raised absentmindedly to Kyotoshi's face as he scratched his cheek, just before his trailing ears began. The feline alien began to recognize the silence by its shape, and it was shaking him apart inside. It was another massacre, they'd found another site. He was sure it had to be. The ghosts of memories scattered across the insides of his eyes, shadows of a little less than five years ago. Screams travelling up the walls of buildings on the street, spiked claws digging into windows and bricks and hauling through the cracks, pulling themselves bloodily through ears as they tried to escape what their originators had been trapped by. Gunfire sounds like the popping of firecrackers across the street, one by one. Snak, pop, clack, repeated as the Rulerists sent down to exicute the adults paused on command and reloaded like a machine moving perfectly, not one out of turn. The smell in the air was thick and wet and coppery, the same smell that stuck to the bodies of the rest of the group. Kyotoshi's hands began to shake in spite of himself...the Hekshanian grabbed his own right wrist and locked the muscles in his arms, trying to stop the shaking. "Was it..."

"Not far beyond here is a clearing," Flint's voice was waivering slightly as she spoke, striding past Kyotoshi and forward on the path beside their guide. The trinkets braided in the winged Animarian's raven black hair jingled in the dark green jungle, unlike any other sound around them. Being one of the only members of their travelling band who hadn't witnessed the mass murders didn't matter...the principle of the Rulerist massacres transcended species. The way the feathers on her wings raised off their own structure betrayed her emotion...It was affecting Solla the same as any of them. "We will camp there for the night. Keep moving," She gave a slight nod to the guide and they began walking again, Kyotoshi feeling his knees drag underneith him, the bubble of darkness which had enshrouded the others had expanded and accepted him as well. Eyes downcast he didn't notice his sister looking back anxiously towards him...Even though they were marching together, Kyotoshi felt isolated from each and every one of them. Seeing a massacre was one thing...a thing that never left you...but living in the aftermath was something that only he had done.

The rest of them had the option of running, and did. But he stayed, for some reason he could not yet define for himself. The Hekshanian almost didn't hear Grey's voice, the tall scarred human-looking creature whispering beside him, his voice like a falling bird shot out of the air.

"Welcome back, Kyotoshi."

The thick flat leaves of the Magin jungle moved like infantine doors in their wake, cutting off the way back. From high above the tropic canopy, a light rain began to push its way through the layers of the treetops, dribbling down faintly on the backs of the seven shapes moving in silence through the maze of green. Each one was locked away in a seperate catacomb of the same silence that captures one before suicide...the unspoken cold defaulted desperation for apathy doing nothing but inducing depression. And between it all, the skeletal black silver creature in Kyotoshi Lypha's brain continued its march across his conciousness, its claws longer and deeper with each pawfall.