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Mamoru wasn't very big on flying. Putting the boy in a confined space with many other people was generally a bad idea. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice. There was no way out of Japan for him, not after all the people The Other had killed and even less so for someone who, individually, had no abilities to speak of. So Mamoru fled Karakura, fled civilization, but it wasn't enough. Hiding from the authorities in that god forsaken country was beyond impossible. Which led Mamoru here. The flight he was on was unlisted, he wouldn't have been able to book passage with a legitimate travel service, given his "priors" no matter how much money he had to spend, which seemed to be a trend on this air craft. Mamoru got on to the aircraft easy enough, if you could even call it that. The vessel looked ancient, something called an "Airplane" and it was incredibly slow. It did not however have the kind of spirit emissions that modern vessels had, which in and of itself made Mamoru a little more confident in the people hunting him not finding him. Of course, that reality turned out to be quite the double edged sword. With no law on this kind of vessel, it made some people much more keen to behave irresponsibly and since the plane was, specifically, ferrying criminals...Mamoru had placed a lot of people in danger.
He was a diminutive man, Mamoru, and predators usually key in on things they believe, erroneously or otherwise, to be weak. Mamoru looked weak. He was skinny, somewhat scrawny looking, and quite obviously uncomfortable. There had been a quick check at the beginning of the flight to screen people for weapons, but nothing extensive or particularly effective. It was a group of them, three, who began staring down Mamoru. When you're, consistently, hunted, it isn't difficult to pick up on when you might be in danger and Mamoru followed his first instinct, he moved. The boy got up and moved toward the back of the plane. The room he found must have been an old fashioned lavatory, Mamoru noting what appeared to be an archaic toilet and what also appeared to be a century of neglect. Mamoru was surprised the vessel even moved. He was supposed to be heading to England, it was in the possession of the organization Asmodeus had told him about and, while he had no desire whatsoever to see her or her kin...someone spontaneously murdering crowds of people would be less noticed there and, best case scenario...someone would finally kill him. Hopefully before he realized it though, which was not what had happened here. The boy quickly stealed in to the stall, locking the door behind him and quietly praying that his aggressors had found a more appetizing child to pick on. If they weren't several thousand feet in the air, it almost looked like a bad high school bully movie.
Unfortunately, no one was that lucky. A familiar and rough rapping on the door before him rocked the whole cabin. Mamoru curled up, resting upon the closed toilet as the world around him shook, his lips silently mouthing "no, no no no no" over and over again. He couldn't handle it, he felt it coming, the surge of energy, the surge of hate, the surge of animalistic self-preservation. The door finally gave way and the full visage of his assailants came in to view. Mamoru didn't pay them any mind. He heard words, words that might otherwise have had meaning. Bounty and money and dead or alive, all words he understood, they spoke a language he knew, he understood them...but the words didn't matter. How could they? The leader stepped forward with a knife and as he stepped forward, Mamoru's world went blank. What came next was a series of flashes. Torn fuselage, Thanatos had cleaved right through it with the sheer energy of his manifestation. The plane split in half above him, bodies everywhere as the ominous spectre of his Other darted through the air from one body to the next, eliminating anything that could be construed as a threat. It looked strange in his clouded vision, as the bodies were torn apart in the air, the blood exploding from their bodies looked like large blotches of ink being dropped on a piece of paper. Then that drop slowly became rain in Mamoru's fragmented vision. Then it was over, a hard jerk woke Mamoru from his stupor, driving him back to reality. He had landed on something hard, something dangerous. He felt the jar rush up his spine as he was roughly caught and carried the remaining few meters to the ground as he hazily looked up toward what had caught him, knowing the answer before he saw it. Thanatos had caught him, the other, the hollow eyes glaring down at him like he was a foolish child who stuck his hand on the stove. Mamoru's eyes trailed down to the beast's maw...and then they grew wide. A sickening crunch echoed through the field around them, blood spraying as if from a backed up hose down upon Mamoru's body as Thanatos bit clean through the last survivor of the plane, adding one more, or he supposed one half of a, body to the carnage that now coated the plain.
It had been some time since Mamoru arrived in Europe, he wasn't even quite sure where he was. Based on the climate and geography he could deduce it was probably Germany or Austria, but more than that he couldn't possibly say. The boy would continue to limp along, coated from head to toe in dried blood, not caring enough to relieve himself of it as he wandered hopelessly. He had no mission any more, no goal. He had hoped to go to Karakura to learn to control what plagued him, that was a failure and he became nothing more than a toy and his control over The Other had only slipped further. He had no control anymore, no presence of mind, and now he had no purpose. He'd simply wander, unable to die, Thanatos would not let him, and hope that something, somewhere, would put him out of his misery. If he couldn't find that much pity in the world, then the least he could do was to make the last plane full of victims his last.