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Summary
The first thing Ryuji was aware of was the cold touch of wet grass pressed to his face. The scent of it, coupled with the flavor of dirt and salt on his tongue.
He was freezing.
He moaned and rolled himself over onto his back. He could barely breathe, his heart pounding like a mallet swinging against his ribs. He blinked through hazy wet eyes, struggling to focus on anything. Above him was the gray dark haze of city lights on a blanket of cloud cover. His ears rang, a piercing shrill that blocked any other sounds that could be around him.
His first coherent thought was, Wow. I’m not dead.” But he couldn’t quite piece together why he was so certain he should be. He honestly was more than happy to just lay there, find his breath again (why was he so short of breath?) and wait for someone to find him (where were the others? Where was he?).
And then the pain hit.