Fanfic The Dead Don't Wait For The Sick (Death Mark)

[SpookyBoi]

These are characters from a Japanese horror game I played recently that I really enjoyed, called Death Mark. I liked the characters, especially the main character, Kazuo Yashiki and the detective character Satoru Mashita so here's a little fic with them. Not a lot of sneezing in this chapter but might have more as I go along.

~

Kazuo jerked awake in a cold sweat. Running his finger through his sticky sweat-damp hair, his eyes moved around the room. The room was empty, like the rest the large estate. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he’d learned to live with, getting visitors rarely these days.

Reaching his phone, Kazuo checks the time groaning when he realized how late it is. He’d been staying up late most nights researching anything that could help him destroy Mary.

So far he’s accomplished nothing unless working himself to the bone counts as an accomplishment. Kazuo got up, his vision started to blur as he stumbled slightly clutching a hand to his head.

When his vision cleared, he glances around the room expectantly, not noticing anything out of the ordinary, “I really need to get more sleep.” He moaned, going over to his bed, flopping down on top of the covers closing his eye.

~

The next day he’s startled awake prying his heavy eyelid open, rubbing the sleep from them exhausted. Kazuo sat up his sleep mused hair sticking up every which way as he wondered to himself about what had woken him.

Another heavy thud drew his attention, recognizing it to be someone knocking on his door. Stumbling to his feet, he made his way downstairs, opening the door only to have someone shove past him.

“What the hell, Yashiki?” Satoru grumbled, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, “What gives you were supposed to meet me an hour ago!?” He shouted.

Kazuo sighed leaning against the wall, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “It’s nice to see you too, Mashita?” He said, trying to ignore the sharp throbbing in his head.

Satoru paused in his rant, looking over Kazuo suspiciously, “Did you just wake up?” He asked, “You’ve been staying up late again, haven't you.”He chuckled, pulling a lighter out his pocket liting the cigarette in his mouth.

Kazuo shifted uncomfortably under the man’s gaze, brushing his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it out some, “No, I did not just wake up.” He lied, knowing that he wasn’t convincing the detective in any way, shape, or form.

“Sure, you didn’t.” He mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, “Whatever you look like crap, so I guess you’re not going anywhere.” Satoru said, flopping down on the red couch.

Kazuo opened his mouth to argue, but another wave of dizziness struck him, so he shut his mouth knowing Mashita was right he really wasn’t up for going anywhere.

So he sat down sighing, letting his body relax into the couch cushions yawning, letting his eyes droop.

~

Satoru sat on the couch, smoking a cigarette when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Looking over, he saw the taller man had fallen asleep and was now leaning against his shoulder. “This isn’t exactly what I meant when I said you should get more sleep.” He grumbled.

Kazuo just snored in response, making Satoru laugh figuring he would allow this just once, looking at the man.

The man was pale, and dark circles were under his eyes, but it was the most peaceful he’d seen him in a while. Satoru sighed, brushing his sweaty bangs from his forehead, the heat coming off the man stifling, “God damn you Kazuo.” He grumbled.

Kazuo’s face wrinkled up, and Satoru was worried that the man was having a nightmare or something, but his breath snagged, “HaHh'TSCHh!”

Satoru grumbled wiping the spray off of his face, “Nice time over.” He said shoving the man of the couch with a squeak.

Kazuo looked around confused, “ What the heck?” He mumbled, glaring up at him.

Satoru shrugged, blowing a thin stream of smoke from his mouth, “What are you glaring at?” He asked casually, “ You fell off the couch, not my fault.” He said.

The taller man sighed not believing the detective in any way shape or form, “Whatever.” Kazuo grumbled getting up off the floor, “I’m going back to bed, you don’t have to stick around.” He said, struggling up the stairs.

By the time he made it back to his room, he was sweating and panting heavily having to lean against the door frame to catch his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, he stumbled the rest of the way to the bed flopping down onto of the covers, closing his eyes really wishing the room would stop spinning before the world around him faded to black.