Repercussions [H/C - Ein Virus geht um/Ansteckungsgefahr - fürs Team]

[rolly-chan.livejournal.com]

Titel: Repercussions
Team: Weiß (Titanic)
Challenge: Hurt/Comfort - Ein Virus geht um/Ansteckungsgefar [fürs Team]
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke (Monster-AU Spin-Off)
Charaktere: Seijuro Akashi (+ his father)
Wörter: 1.214
Sprache: Englisch
Warnungen: torture, kind of, child abuse
Inhalt: Akashi is a prisoner, in more than one way.
Anmerkungen: Mehr Hurt als Comfort (mehr Comfort sollte im folgenen Teil kommen, falls ichs noch schaffe *hust*). Es ist recht deprimierend? Nicht mal ich hab das kommen sehen? Help? Aber keine Sorge, wer mich kennt, weiß, dass ich nur Happy Ends schreibe, weil ich ein Sap bin :D (es ist eine Art Spin-Off zu meiner Monster-AU - Akashi war Teil des Monster-Teams, in dem auch Momoi war)

Akashi had always known that, after everything he did, and in the wake of every person he had disappointed, there would be repercussions.

“What is that…thing?” had been his father’s words when he had first developed his mutation at age twelve. He had come back early from playing outside because his back was aching and was changing into appropriate clothes for dinner when his father had knocked and walked into his suite.

Akashi had turned his head around, away from his father and towards the mirror, so he could see his own back. At first, it just looked like there was faintly red shimmer on his skin, but upon closer inspection, he could make out tiny, sharp scales along his spine that led all the way down and under his trousers.

He had assumed his father had meant the scales. A day later he knew he had been wrong.

“Father?” he had asked, when his father had brought him to their private doctor, but his father hadn’t even looked at him.

Akashi had followed Dr. Itou to the laboratory, had let the man poke and prod him with all kinds of needles and appliances without complaint. He had borne all the tests and beeping of the equipment, all the pain that some of it brought.

“Akashi-san,” Dr. Itou addressed his father, wringing his hands. “I’m afraid it is a mutation, just as you feared.”

Akashi’s father had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath. When he opened them again, he finally, finally looked down at Akashi. His face had been neutral as always, but Akashi thought he could see some emotion behind those dark eyes. Some affection, perhaps, or maybe even love.

“You will cure him,” his father said, obviously addressing Dr. Itou, but it was Akashi who replied.

“Father, what’s wrong with me?”

“You are sick. And you should stay here until you are cured.”

Akashi’s heart had broken, then, and the pieces had sunk down, drowned. He had opened and closed his mouth a couple times, trying to verbalize what was going on, how he didn’t want his father to leave him, how he wanted to see his mother.

But nothing had come out.

His father would have been displeased if he had opposed or questioned him. He had known that. He had been trained well, after all.

“Do whatever is necessary to get my son back,” were his father’s last words. There was no last glance, no goodbye. He had just turned and gone.

And Akaashi had stayed and watched him leave.

Dr. Itou had shown him to a tiny room with a tiny window and a tiny bed. Everything was clinically white or metallic silver. There was no mirror. There was nothing sharp in that room. Nothing that could break.

Akashi had curled up on the tiny bed and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. His father’s words had kept echoing in his head, over and over. Do whatever is necessary to get my son back.

“Am I not your son?”, Akashi had whispered into the void. He didn’t remember how long he hadn’t been able to go to sleep, but he had passed out from exhaustion eventually.

The first and at the same time last experiment had gone awfully wrong.

There had been a ringing in his head and his back and lungs had been on fire. It had been the worst he had ever felt in his entire life. He hadn’t been aware of what he was doing. The fire on his back and the stabbing in his lungs had been too strong. He had tried to ease it somehow, had tried to run, tried to brush it away with his hands. As if they could have put out the fire.

Nothing had helped. There had been screaming, and Akaashi still wasn’t sure how much of it had come from his own throat. He remembered hands on his shoulders, arms around him, the beautiful amber eyes of his mother in front of him, remembered that he had, for a very brief moment, believed that finally, his mother would free him, like she had freed time for him when his father wouldn’t give him even a minute for himself.

“Ouch!” His mother had recoiled from him when her hands had brushed over the scales on his back, and all Akashi could focus on was the blood dripping from her hands. It had been the first time his mother didn’t have a smile for him.

It had been the first time, and the last time, Akashi had backed away from his mother, away and away until his back had collided with a wall. Immediately, a wave of pain went through his whole back, as if he had fallen on his back from a great height. The pain had been so great he’d lost his consciousness.

When he had come to, the pain had dulled, but was still there, simmering, waiting for a spark to reignite it. The room he had found himself in wasn’t the room he had been given. He hadn’t even been lying on a bed but on a hard table.

He had been locked in, and there had only been a small glass window in the door to look outside.

He had been met with his father’s face, a neutral mask, and his voice had come through the speakers in the corners of the ceiling.

“Seijuro’s mother is dying,” he had said. “She got sick from your scales.”

Akashi closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. He was all alone, just like he had been back then, when his father, with Dr. Itou’s help, had turned him into a thing.

“You can’t survive this, freak,” a voice said to him through the speakers in the corners of the ceiling. “It’s a virus of our own design, made to kill freaks like you slowly. And once your freak friends find you, you’ll be the one to infect them, you’ll be the weapon that kills your fellow mutant scum!”

Akashi pressed his fingers against his ears and slid down the door until he was sitting on the ground. He couldn’t do this. All his time with the Monsters, all his training, all his experience - it was all nothing in the face of a clever captor who knew all his weaknesses.

“I can’t do this alone…”

We don’t have to, a voice inside him said, We can fight back.

“How…?”

We are more powerful than that. We are not a Scorpion, like your father thought, the voice insisted. We had poison in us because of the virus Dr. Itou gave us, not because we always had it, and you know that.

“But what…?”

You have suspected this for a long time, haven’t you.

“What-”

We are a dragon.

“Yes…”

Let me save us. Let me out.

“I…”

We can win. Let me out.

“We are a dragon…” Seijuro whispered. He focused on the speakers in the corners. It was easy to jump that high - he was a dragon, after all. It was equally easy to cut the thing in half with his claws.

Now that Seijuro was free, he knew how to get them out of this situation.

He would never let anyone hurt them again.