Furyo feels like his head is cracked open. He feels water in his nose and had dreams of drowning. Feeling sand under his eye lids and cold cramps seizing up his stomach, he awakens in silvery moon light on a black beach alone. His car is burned out and still smoking at the base of the cliff. Picking him self up is hard, one of his arms in broken and touching his chest he feels warm gouts of blood pumped out of holes in his shirt. His back feels burned and one of his knees is barely holding his weight. Coming to the bodies of Rikki and Machiko, both have taken machine gun rounds to the face, leaving empty pits where pieces of ruptured eyes and sinuses reflect the cruel moonlight. The cliffs above are full of activity, flashing lights and a helicopter coming along the beach towards him. He has to run but his legs won’t carry him. Finding some shelter in darkness he slinks along the treelike, drawing like a wounded crab into ruined bunker made of broken cement and jagged rebar. Like a dying animal, he retreats into a quiet place while hunted down by the police.

He doesn’t know whats real any more. So many strange scenes fill his mind, regrets and missing pieces of a life that feels distant from his. Only thing that’s real is his freezing temperature, gunshots and broken bones. It’s funny when you get really injured and most of your body goes dormant like a solider with a missing limb. The only screaming pain you cant get away from something stupid like a torn off fingernail or stubbed toe. Torment that robs you of sleep for days. A knife in the gut, bullet in the stomach or cracked open head fades away with sleep but not those retarded little injuries that chase you like rabid hounds in the small hours of the night. Furyo thinks of Rikki and Machiko, nice girls who ended up executed on a dark beach because they came to rescue him. Thats the odd part, how did they know to come and at what point in the night did they get killed beside him? Was this some thing of setup to frame him?

The helicopter has found the car and the bodies. Pools of blinding light search the scene for survivors. From above him on the road he hears yelling of police and rescue crews. Furyo tries to search the dark rubble for some exit deeper into the tunnel but every where he claws in the dark is more cold and broken stone. His heart races as he hears search and rescue dogs in the distance, adding more terror to the rush to flee. Finding an old rope he follows the line to pieces of drift wood and a collection of old glass fishing floats. Then he sees a shape in the shadows of the cliff, a floundered fishing boat on its side. Crossing the distance of 70 feet with pained steps, he makes it to the open hatch and crawls in the hull. Inside its tangle of broken appliances, radio equipment and furniture toppled over. Still even in darkness and a broken up boat, there is a little light. Finding a cushion and some dry fabric he takes off his wet clothes and bundles up in what could have been the sail. It’s not very warm on his feet or hands but keeps his core functional.

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Sometime in the night the dogs leave, the police lose interest and all thats left is the burned out car. Besides stepping on a nail, Furyo is remarkably more able to walk around. His clothes dry and wounds washed in sea water, he looks less like a zombie and more like a run of the mill ex con living in an abandoned boat on the beach. Making it to the road he walks until he comes to a town with pay phones. Useless when he goes know any one to call. Again he lives by his whits. A sad reality of Japan is about one third of all traditional homes in real areas are abandoned due to lonely deaths of the elderly and high inheritance tax. This is his saving grace as finding an abandoned Akiya is never a problem. He remembers the cause of the downfall of the Devil Clan being a dispute over his disrespect of these abandoned properties. He doesn’t buy that, he believes the opposite. Honoring of a shrine where spirits welcomed him must be the real issue. Not eating canned food or drinking sake in a haunted house. Furyo has no life skills, he is a thief and can talk girls out of the underwear but only in English and only self destructive girls who are using him like he is using them.

Finding a seaside home, he sees no signs of life in the windows. Opening a wooden door, it slides open with no problem. Inside the familiar dead air, dust mites and spider Webbs. He comes to a floor pillow where the corpse of a dog is mummified. A sad think when pets become trapped In houses once their owners have stroke or heart attack. Animals with no wild instincts must pick flesh from the bones of their owner but have no way of getting water and die of dehydration when no one comes to check on the house. Furyo says a prayer for the dog to find peace and finds some way to fix up his own wounds. His arm looks nasty but he is no doctor so has no way of telling if there is a best way to reorient the injury. Finding some holiday clothing of the former owner, Hawaiian shirts, aviator sunglasses and a collection expensive Italian loafers. Furyo looks around for medication or whisky. He finds some obvious cough syrup and a bottle of scotch. He makes him self a little nest of blankets, pillows and lays down looking out the sliding glass door at the ocean. The house is full of manga in English and western adventure novels. Furyo feels a yearning for home as he looks at mid 20th century pulps on ww2 and spy novels. It’s too sad, he find some real escapist manga about demons, monsters, nuns and tentacles. Warming up in the sunlight and finding a little peace from the pain of his injuries. Sometimes he just wants to slip away into a calm death in his sleep but his curse is being hard to kill.