This youma had been literally nothing in any way that mattered. It had looked and acted remarkably like the "rabid dogs" that the news always claimed were at the forefront of attacks and murders in Destiny City. Antisana may have even believed this youma to be an actual animal if he hadn't felt the Chaos radiating off of it, and if it hadn't dispersed into dust after one good clock from a crowbar. He should be grateful for the simplicity of the fight. Most were much less straightforward.

But as he slung his improvised weapon back into the trash he'd plucked it out of, smacked his back into the brick wall of a dirty alley and slid down to sit in a puddle of filthy dumpster water, he just felt tired.

And done.

And sad.

And desperate.

He'd been dealing with this for over a year. Youma had poisoned literally every aspect of his life. He had no friends, hadn't seen his family in ages, his savings were practically depleted, and there was nothing he could do about it. Literally any other knight or senshi he'd spoken to said that they were mostly left alone when they weren't powered up. Nothing came hunting for them as civilians. Just for him. Because of whatever cursed magic had been put on him during his first fight...

Antisana had expected they would just kill him eventually, and he was willing to put up some resistance until that inevitable reality. But it would just be better if it didn't have to be that way. If he could find some cure or deterrent, or... Anything. It wasn't like he wanted to die.

But that would be the simplest way out. He'd been using his wonder as an 'out' previously, but given the oozy oil amalgamations that kept popping up to attack him whenever he visited, it was starting to feel less like a sanctuary. He'd been safe there. Now he wasn't. Now he wasn't safe anywhere. Now he had nothing besides persistent thoughts of what he could do to make things easier. Die. Or corrupt.

Either way, he wouldn't be fighting youma endlessly and living with fear and dread and paranoia.

Probably. He didn't know. He was too scared to ask.

But every day, after every fight, the fear felt more and more inconsequential when compared to how tired he was and how much he just wanted some reprieve. He braced an elbow to his knee and dropped his head into his palm with a quiet, discontented huff.