[Content warnings: suicidal ideation, graphic descriptions]



It's hard to know when exactly the shift started to happen. At first, Ken did not show any abnormal signs. Sure, he was far from being a good state, but he was no worse than expected right after weeks of intense stress, a fight to save the multiverse, and a massive injury.

But things started to spiral some time after this. It became more and more visible to those around him. He was often... mentally checked out. Like he wasnt't really there at all. And that was when he didn't decide to hide in a hole alone with no warning. And it became worse and worse.

And now... he is at a breaking point.

It's not exactly clear what was the final thing that pushed things over the edge, but Ken's head is filled with mental static. He barely even remembers that he is walking through Tokyo's streets, and is certainly not perceiving anything around him, going around on autopilot.

The pain is so much. So, so, so much. He is used to pain, his very existence brings about excruciating physical pain, a consequence of a body stitched together against all natural laws. But his wound, his unhealing wound, his gap in his very essence, makes it ten times worse, and brings his pain to new, unbearable heights.

His mind is static. What is the point? Why is he here? He is so tired. He hurts. The pain is unbearable. No one can truly relate to what he is. The pain, it hurts. He is so tired. Why bother? Why exist?

His mind is static. The world is horror. Buildings fall into rubble. His mind is static. People are locking him up. They are looking at him with fear. They are looking at him with pity. They are looking at him with anger. His arm is bleeding. He is yelled at. No one notices. No one bothers. They are giving up. They don't look at him. They mock him. They don't take him seriously. They don't care that his parents were murdered. They are happy, even. They praise the murderer. Reward him. Throw him into the dust.

His mouth is filled with ash. His pet hamster is thrown into the trash. They are raising their voice. They are leaving him alone. This person is trying to grab him. This person is a puddle of blood. He is alone. He must scavenge for food. He gives up on food. He doesn't need it anyway.

The blood is everywhere, a puddle on the ground. Intestines are dragging on the ground. Why bother? The word is hateful. They aren't looking at him. They aren't seeing him. They only give him pity. It hurts. So much fighting, and for what? It hurts. No one cared about him. It hurts. Nothing is fair. It hurts. He hates, hates, hates, hates, hates so much being alive. Why is he alive? Why is he cursed with being alive? Why wasn't he the one to die and save his mother? Why is the one who killed her being rewarded, given everything, having his problems fixed?

Ken hates everything. Why live in such a world? But above, Ken hates himself. Why does he live? What good is he? He hurts, he hurts, he hurts. People like him, but he is poison, they will choke, they will die, they will suffer, agony, agony. He is hollow, everything good emptied like his innards are. His other self was so cruel. They had so much trouble because he was so weak. He almost messed it all up for everyone. He is a disease, he must be cured, he must be-

His bones are fractured. He is given meds, they make him go crazy, he vomits, he is locked up, he is belittled, they want to kill him, they hate him. His head is rolling on the ground. Let it end. Please let it end. Let it all end, let it end only for him, at this point, what does it matter? Just grant him mercy. Please. Please. Please. Grant him rest. It is too difficult. Too hard. There's no point. Please. Please.



[Locked to those with existing CR with Ken.]

A. You noticed the signs of Nox worsening, and tried to talk to him (or even just discuss with someone else!) before the breaking point was reached.

B. You find Nox a few hours after the events of this post. He is alone, sitting and hugging his knees, crying. He is somewhat hidden. His clothes are torn up and completely drenched in blood, and there is blood splattered all around.

[Locked to Ken and Falcon. May be opened to intervention of others depending on how it goes.]

Immediately after receiving Raven's message, Ken left his home to search for Falcon. This madness needed to stop. Clearly hoping others would sort things out was a mistake.

He does not know where Falcon is, but he does remember from their last fight that a small part of him felt like Nyx's power. He can latch on that to track him. He'll look everywhere, spending the whole night if he has to, starting with Inaba.

The more he searches, the more his emotions melt into this weird state he gets into when he is truly upset. This is getting dangerous...

Well. Some of the past few days were... difficult, to say the least. He had hurt Raven, he had been very stressed, his face was now deeply scarred, he had snapped a few times...

But after some days of recovery, he felt a bit better. And now he even felt good enough to just... go outside, relax, and maybe talk to some people.

After informing Raven of where he was going and when he intended to come back (something he now always did, to make sure Raven would never get anxious ever again about him being gone), he was now just... sitting on a bench in Inaba, relaxing, enjoying the fresh air.

If one were to greet him at such a moment, Ken would be disposed to have a nice chat with them.

Ken Amada was barely listening while Igor made his introductory speech, his mind occupied by a more pressing question: "what's going on?". This place made no sense at all, and he certainly had no idea of how he ended up there. The last thing he remembered was going to bed...

Oh, a dream! That made sense. This was a dream.

(Even though his senses were screaming at him that it was wrong wrong wrong, and his mind was yelling that this is not a dream this is not a dream this is not a dream)

This place was making him feel uneasy however, and he would rather avoid this unpleasant feeling to last until he woke up. So he walked towards one of the doors leaving the room, his steps unconsciously guiding him towards the one that felt the most familiar to him... and ended up in what looked like Tatsumi Port Island. Huh. Well, it is known that dreams take inspiration from real-life memories.

(But this was not a dream, not a dream, and his senses were still screaming that the place was wrong, although it did not feel as wrong as the previous room)

Since this uneasy feeling was not willing to leave him be, he decided to wake himself up. He's had more than enough nightmares to know the routine by now, it was almost as natural to him as breathing air. He'd be up in two seconds.

Or not.

(Because this is not a dream, not a dream, look at this place, look at you, it's real, it's wrong, it's fake, it's not a dream not a dream)

The fog that was clouding his brain finally lifted, and a moment of clarity and dreadful realization hit Ken all at once. He had wrapped himself inside the nice, comfortable thought that this was a dream to not face reality. The truth was, what Igor had said was correct. He had somehow been transported in a weird world in order to "make bonds".

Anger seized him suddenly. Was that a sick joke? He finally had a drive, a motivation, something to push himself forward and cling to the miserable mockery of life he had left, and now he was robbed of even that?! Flung somewhere else, with no end date in sight, to... what? Make friends in Care Bears World? All other people ever felt about him were condescension and pity. Why would he willingly submit himself to such a thing?

He could feel tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Crying was childish, crying was weak, crying was an invitation to be pitied, or worse, to be taken advantage of. He would not cry. His breath accelerated. He would not cry. He sat down on a sidewalk, back against a wall. He would not cry. He did not cry. He knew by now how to hold the tears in, wiping the few traitorous ones that had formed themselves anyway.

A thin trickle of blood left from the right corner of his mouth. He had been working himself up too much. This was not good for his health. He needed to calm down before worse things happened. Deep breath. He needed to calm down. Deep breath. He closed his eyes. Deep breath.