He couldn't say precisely what made him aware of his past life. It didn't happen all at once. Dreams. Daydreams. Mostly, to start. Then came recollections-someone would say something-not even to him, in passing and he'd find himself into a memory. Far too vivid and consistent to be a dream. But the names and faces were strange to him. At first, he hadn't even thought of it as a past life, an over active imagination, with the same poigniant scenes too important to dismiss. That's all. At first.

The same dreams, the same faces, same names, night after night. Nothing changed. Dreams weren't like that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly dreamed. It seemed so long ago since the memories began. It was those same reoccurances that led him to research on his own. There were other new developments as well. Nothing like superhuman strength, but gradually, slowly, he began to notice and pick out different smells. Sharper, clearer, picking them out and distinguishing them, even in crowded streets. Everyone had their scent. That came first. All the smells.

Hearing was next. More sharp and accute. It was maddening at times, on top of everything else, stepping outside was like walking into a whole new experience that he'd been blind to for so long. But the last thing-the most disconcerting thing to him: taste.

It didn't sound like much, but the texture of his food-especially meat...oooh, now that was a new experience. One night he'd had such a realistic dream-of his teeth sinking into an aging neck. It was so much like old leather to him-not tasty at all, but the blood! The meat was old, but even just sinking his teeth-of tasting it upon his tongue! When he woke up that morning the taste of blood still seemed to linger on his tongue, a phantom taste.

Out of all the faces and names in his memories, there was one that stuck out more than any other. Nakago. The name alone made him grit his teeth. Nakago. The man who ordered him to retrieve that item...what was it called? Shinzaho? Did it matter? He'd done it. He was good. Obedient. He wouldn't get the whip. He wouldn't get pain. 

Or so he thought. Nakago had killed him. Ended his second life. Nakago. Nakago. The name was a mantra and everytime it came to him, the same image of that blue light, of that-that prick's cold expression. His eyes narrowed as his fists clenched, lips twisting into a snarl. "Nakago..." he seethed as his nails cut into his flesh, blood welling to the surface. He was going to find him, whomever he was now, and once he did...he was going to rip him apart, He was strong, skilled in martial arts. When he found him, he better just pray he was in a good mood. Good enough to finish him off quickly.

You didn't with him and get away with it. Maybe it was petty, being pissed off for being murdered, twice, in a past life, but he wasn't letting this go.

"Oy, Tao, you coming?" his friend called out.

"Oh! Whoops, sorry!" he called back with a laugh, playing it off as he raced over to his friend.

"You better watch out, you're getting as spacey as Yixing these days."

"I'm not that bad. I know what I'm doing." he defended. Oh yes. He knew exactly what he was working towards.