damned_institute | Day 67: Breakfast

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Day 67: Breakfast

For the first time since Kyousuke arrived, waking up didn't feel the slightest bit strange or out of place. It was still like night had suddenly stopped, with nothing in-between then and now, but instead of being disorienting, or like there was something missing, it was like waking up from a nightmare. His breaths came heavy and anxious, everything flooding back to him, but unlike last night, he had more mental clarity, and he actually understood what it meant.

Sora... was dead.

After a moment, his breathing seemed to ease up, and he sat up slowly, and simply stared down at his blanket. The motion hurt quite a bit, a lot worse than it had yesterday morning, but he seemed to be in decent shape, all considered. Sore, battered, a little faint, but compared to worst of it...

He wondered if he should feel upset right now, or want to yell, or cry, but the truth was, he didn't. If anything, he was just numb. Tired and listless. He wasn't sure what to think or feel about anything, but somehow it seemed distant and disconnected, like something that hadn't actually happened. Yet, if he lingered on it too long, the lifelessness grew into something nauseating, heavy and constricting in his chest, and he didn't even notice until he realized he was gripping his bedding unnecessarily hard. So he forced himself to relax, and not focus on it too much. ... He preferred the cold sort of nothingness.

When the nurse arrived, she wasn't empty-handed, unfolding a wheelchair by his bedside and looking at him expectantly, as if she wanted him to settle himself into it. Looking at it was strange and uncomfortable, and he found himself refusing automatically.

"... I can walk fine. I don't need—"

"What you don't need," the nurse said sternly, "is to be overexerting yourself. You got to walk around yesterday, and what do you do? You go and reopen your injuries! Honestly, Mr. Taylor, you might be young, but you need to take better care of yourself! Today, you're resting, and if you're good about it, we'll see about maybe taking the chair away tomorrow."

That was bad enough, but then she wouldn't even let him wheel himself, and pushed him along from behind. This was totally unnecessary... But though it made him feel helpless, Kyousuke didn't have the energy to argue, so he let her do what she wanted. She asked if he wanted to make a quick trip the bulletin, first, but... Would the news be there? There were people who deserved to know, but there would be reactions to it, questions he didn't want to answer, and feeling his stomach give a lurch, he decided he didn't want to deal with it. Any of it.

Once in the cafeteria, the nurse asked him about breakfast, but Kyousuke insisted he wasn't hungry. ... He wasn't. Sensing he wanted to be left alone, she wheeled him off to an easily overlooked portion of the cafeteria, but quickly returned, setting food and some juice in front of him, "just in case." She set a small paper cup with a couple of painkillers on the tray, and after that, she left, leaving the boy to stare down the meal he didn't really want.

[ Kratos! ]

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"We were separated last night due to the sudden appearance of one of the creatures I mentioned yesterday," Barnaby explained. It wasn't untrue, exactly, even if he didn't divulge all of the details. "I informed him about your arrival, though, so I imagine he'll be speaking with you soon."

Provided nothing had happened to him last night, at any rate. Barnaby trusted Kotetsu, but he also knew the institute had them all at a terrible disadvantage. Even if there was nothing he could have done about it, part of him felt unhappy that his partner had gone out there, alone, on his behalf.

"You should probably know that the nurses use that name for him," he quietly added. "When talking with other patients, he's been using a couple of aliases for his own reasons."

_{[Sorry for the slow! Internet was out for the part of the day. DX]}

Was it reassuring that Kurogane was still stubborn enough to dodge a direct question? Her eyebrows came together in a concerned frown. If Kurogane wounds were something he didn't want to talk about, he wouldn't, not unless she pushed harder. In this case, though, Tsubaki wasn't sure if he'd been injured in an attack he simply didn't want to recount, or if he was trying to protect her from the answer for whatever reason.

What were the chances it could be a coincidence? That Kurogane could be infected with the monster illness and appear one morning looking like this?

Pulling out a chair beside him, she sat. There was no way she was walking away now. "I'm fine," she answered. Quick and firm. If her chest hurt, it was only because of the worry locked inside, not because of the scratches Sora had put there. "I'm more worried about you. This wasn't..." It was crazy to have to ask, to suspect her fellow prisoners of such a thing. "This wasn't because of your symptoms, was it? Did somebody pick a fight?"

She thought back to the creature she and Leanne had seen in the hall, the blood and the signs of violence. Kurogane... no, he couldn't have become one of those monsters. No way.

"I see. Well I expect him to make his way back soon." He didn't care either way. The old man was stubborn and even if he had gotten lost he would just break everything in sight until he realized there was a door just five feet away.

"Should I use another name for him, Mr. Brooks? Perhaps Wild Tiger, but that pseudonym is no longer in use since his retirement announcement." He asked, looking at Barnaby with his usual dead looking eyes.

For one blessed moment, the instant he woke up, Kratos did not think of what he had just done. His mind reacted as usual to the white ceiling, the feeling of fatigue--as he traced the source of the weariness that had already settled upon him, he remembered it all.

He'd tried to save Sora, but instead, he'd killed him.

Truth be told, Sora's death wasn't the thing that weighed most heavily on him, especially since death seemed to be impermanent in this place. No, the real nail in the coffin, so to speak, was his failure. He who depended so thoroughly upon himself and his own abilities - who everyone else depended on, even - had failed. Without a doubt, not a single aspect of last night had gone in any way like he'd (wistfully, he'd admit) assumed, and that had certainly not been for lack of trying.

"Good morning, Mr. Clarke!" The nurse took that moment to make her entrance, and Kratos sat up with a grimace, the motion tearing slightly at the cut on his face. Out of instinct, he reached up in an attempt to relieve the pain, and for a second, he could feel the stitches--or something; they didn't quite feel like stitches--beneath his fingers, but then the nurse gently grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

"Ah, ah, don't touch! I know it's hard, but you can't touch it while it's healing. Poor thing, you took quite a fall yesterday..."

"Sorry," Kratos mumbled as she stood aside to allow him to stand up. He would have snorted, if he could, since the nurse's fabricated reason for his injury was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard so far, but that would have only irritated the cut more; it was better to not say anything at all and reduce the risk of aggravating it.

She continued to lecture him about letting the cut heal properly all the way to the cafeteria, and by the time Kratos got in line for food, he was not only still reeling from the events of last night, but also fighting the urge to punch her (or something that wouldn't get him sedated) in the face. Thankfully, the nurse didn't also accompany him through the line, or else the latter might have actually posed a legitimate risk. As things stood, though, Kratos still wanted to hide himself away in the farthest corner of the room and seethe, sulk...he wasn't sure exactly how to describe it, but what he did know was that he did not want to talk to anyone.

Upon seeing Tsurugi, though, he had a change of heart. The boy looked shellshocked, which wasn't surprising given how things had gone, and immediately, Kratos knew that he owed it to him to see how he was doing, even though he so badly wanted to just avoid humanity. He would...this would be his exception.

He walked over and sat down across from Tsurugi, careful to make the whole thing casual and slow. "How are you feeling?" He tried not to let his voice sound so dead and flat, but it was hard when he too felt like just staring at his plate for all of breakfast.

"Patients here know him as either Wild Tiger or Kobayashi," he answered. The name was apparently retired now, but Barnaby suspected that he'd hoped to boost morale by announcing that a former hero was in their midst. After all, they were his primary concern right now, and there was nothing to hide from the staff when it was clear they knew about his background already.

Of course, his efforts meant very little when no one recognized either of them.

"Perhaps you should ask what he'd prefer for you to do when you see him," Barnaby suggested. Because Petrov would see him, he told himself. It was only a matter of time before the nurses escorted Kotetsu out of his room as they usually did.

But now wasn't the time to continue talking about Kotetsu. There was little else Barnaby could say outside of what he'd already told the judge, and he had little interest in needlessly repeating himself.

He carefully took another bite of his waffles and gazed at the man across from him. "Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions?"

Kobayashi? Strange, but at least it fit in with his Japanese descent. No matter, he would continue to refer to him as his legal name with Barnaby and hero name to the others until they could arrange a proper meeting. If they could find him after all.

Yuri poured a small dab of honey into his tea again. It wasn't sweetened enough for his tastes, but he beckoned Barnaby to continue. "If you don't have anymore information to disclose to me, go on ahead. But I know little about this facility and certain records back home are subjected to confidentiality rules."

If he said he could take care of himself, all he'd earn was more scolding, so he kept that belief a silent one. He could take care of himself. He wasn't dead, was he? And even if he had been with someone else last night, there wouldn't have been a damn thing anyone could have done.

When she started talking about symptoms and picking fights he looked over her again. She sounded like she knew something he didn't. "A fight...? Like the ones that get controlled?"

Was that her reasoning? That someone had been controlled and fought against him. Or maybe she thought that he'd been the one controlled. He couldn't say either way if that much had happened. After that doctor had started zapping him and had gone for his eye, his memories had gone hazy. He didn't know if he'd been forced to do anything more than get experimented on.

And if he had, even without knowing, not explaining anything would make him easily suspect.

Damn.

"What did you see?" he asked back, head lifting. Her tone told him that she wasn't just asking questions at random.

"Of course." He knew better than to ask someone who had only arrived yesterday for information about this place. And, unfortunately, Barnaby couldn't say he had much else to share with Petrov that wasn't speculation or something he hadn't been able to verify himself.

"I'm mostly wondering about the state of things back home right before you were kidnapped by the institute." Some of Petrov's comments before sounded as though something had happened, but of course Barnaby couldn't let himself act like he was completely clueless. On the other hand, if Stern Bild was currently experiencing some sort of upheaval, Barnaby wanted to know about it.

"Since neither of us are sure about how long we were held before the staff allowed us to wake up in our cells, I'm trying to get a better idea of what I might have missed after my own kidnapping," he added for clarification's sake.

"Certainly makes you wonder why they even bother, hmm?" Scar commented, "Who knows? Maybe they are finding it enjoyable to treat us like we're mentally impaired idiots incapable of making any decisions."

He continued to pick at his food for a moment. "You have no idea," he answered, "The sadistic little fool in charge here will allow us to wonder in circles during the night, taunting us as we run around like headless little chickens while making matters as inconvenient and irritating as possible." Such as letting the night end before you could actually accomplish something, but the other man would probably find out sooner or later anyway.

Scar slid his plate aside and decided to hope for something better during lunch, even if that was nothing more than a glimmer. "Oh, and it gets even better: there are monsters."

Edited 2012-11-10 18:55 (UTC)

Yuri didn't know much more than what Barnaby already knew. That was of course assuming he was the same person who was present during all the events last night and the morning. Unfortunately Yuri wasn't going to be kind and skim around those details. Barnaby deserved nothing but the uttermost truth.

"Well as you know Maverick was transported to a high security NEXT prison. But only halfway through his journey, he was found murdered inside of the van that transported him. Eye witness reports have told us that Lunatic was again behind this murder and still remains at large." He said this so calmly, as if discussing the weather. But inside he was smug that he had reduced the sinner to almost nothing.

Kyousuke could hear someone approaching and set their tray down, but even as the chair across from began to move, he didn't bother looking up. Privacy seemed to be a rare luxury here, but he still silently hoped that, whoever it was, they'd take the hint and just leave, or at least not talk to him. The voice behind the words, however, did catch his attention, and he finally lifted his head, catching sight of about the last face he wanted to see right now.

"... If you're here to talk about what happened, spare me," the boy spoke numbly, not bothering to answer the question he'd been asked. It wasn't a real question, anyway, just something people asked for the sake if it when they already knew the answer. ... What a waste.

After that, he looked back down, still silently wishing to left alone, especially by Kratos. It wasn't that Kyousuke blamed him for anything that happened, because he didn't, but that seeing him put the events of the previous night on a loop in his mind, and was an uncomfortable reminder of just how real those images were. He felt himself growing tense again, and tried to push it out of mind, but this time, it wasn't working.

"So far, it seems so." After all, if Landel let Zero keep such things like a medical kit and a handgun... There hadn't been a time yet where something he had stolen had not been in his room the next evening. Hopefully it stayed that way.

As for the rest... Zero could only slowly shake his head, a frown creasing his otherwise emotionless face. "Everyone wants to know that," he said, setting his eating utensil down on his plate for a moment so he could focus his attention solely on the other man. "But if anyone actually knows, they aren't telling us. Landel won't say anything, either." And again, he most likely wanted it to stay that way.

"I don't know how likely it is that we're all here for some specific purpose, but I wouldn't be surprised if that tyrant kidnapped us just for his own amusement..." Landel wasn't the only power-thirsty madman Zero had ever known, after all - and based off of personal experience, people like that didn't always do things that made sense to anyone else.

Barnaby struggled to fully process Judge Petrov's words. Out of all the things he'd expected to hear about (a terrorist attack, a high-profile bank robbery, a natural disaster), the arrest and death of Albert Maverick hadn't even crossed his mind.

The thought was outrageous. Maverick tirelessly worked for the acceptance of NEXT everywhere and the safety of Stern Bild. He would never do something that would land him in prison, much less a high-security one. He wasn't even a NEXT! And for Lunatic to murder him? There had to be some kind of mistake. Even if the story was true, Maverick was surely framed for something he didn't do.

If that was the case, though, wouldn't Barnaby have tried to stop it? Retired or not, he owed everything to Maverick. There was no way he would have allowed something like that to happen to the man who had practically raised him.

But Barnaby knew for a fact that his own memories couldn't be trusted, and that his perception of reality wasn't always correct. The fact that he couldn't confidently refute Petrov's claim, not even to himself, felt like a knife to the chest.

What on earth was going on? What was wrong with him?

Barnaby felt the color drain from his face as his stomach grew increasingly nauseated. He didn't even try to pretend to be interested in his waffles as the fork almost slipped from his hand.

"I wasn't...informed of his death," he managed to say after a moment. To his credit, Barnaby stayed composed as he spoke, knowing that it would be shameful to reveal his memory loss to the judge. He just had to keep telling himself that there were several perfectly rational explanations for all of this. The effort, though, sapped more energy than he needed to expend today, and he knew the uncertainty would plague him until he had a chance to talk to Kotetsu about all of this.

Hiding it at this point wasn't going to do a lot of good. Yuri kind of suspected he suffered some form of it thanks to Maverick's powers being broadcasted everywhere now. Now he was just going to twist the knife in Barnaby's heart a little more.

"I know it must be hard on you to lose him. He was your godfather, am I correct? While I am disappointed that he never found proper justice, one day Lunatic will be apprehended." The last part was a complete lie, but Yuri tried to fake sympathy.

Then he went back to cutting up his food, as he was hungry while he discussed these events. "Is there anything else you need to know from me?" Fortunately he hadn't found out that Barnaby didn't even experience certain events yet.

It had been a quick turn for the serious, but Taura had never been good at not saying what she meant, and it wasn't the weirdest idea she'd ever blurted out. Even when she tried, she usually looked so clearly like she was trying not to say something that it wasn't worth it.

The name he'd just given her was familiar, though. Guy? It had struck her as a bit of a strange name, if it wasn't an alias, and it had stuck with her. And if it was an alias, it was either ridiculous or brilliant or both; she wasn't entirely sure. "Oh! Was I talking to you on the bulletin yesterday? About, um, plants? We found something, too. I just need to figure out what to do with it."

That look of realization on Taura's face took Guy by surprise, but it didn't take long for her to explain. "Right, the bulletin board... I remember." So she had found something? Did that mean that she had also gone to the forest last night and encountered that strange masked figure? Well, there was only one way to find out.

"What did you find? My friends and I went down to the river in the forest..." Which had been a pretty unpleasant experience, considering the rain. Guy didn't have a stuffed up nose or a cough or any sign of getting sick from that, though, which was a relief. He still hoped they'd be showering today, though. "We encountered someone... or maybe I should say something. But I think whatever it was, it gave my friend a cure."

The way Orihime woke was less like waking, and more like a violent jerk out of a hazy cloud of half-consciousness. It was a struggle to organize the disconnected images that came flooding into her mind's eye; immediately, she remembered Lloyd-kun and Vantas-kun -- but there was also a (kind of) smiling Ishida-kun, and a ballerina princess with a tutu as white as snow... Still, reality burned bright into her retina when she finally opened her eyes, when it occurred to her that she was on the floor and that her nurse was peering down at her -- possibly worried, possibly amused, her blearily addled mind couldn't tell. "Ah, Miss Highwell." What she first thought upon awaking then, was how bright the light overhead was -- she admired how it framed her nurse's head, how it cast sinister shadows over the nurse's face like a horror movie. "What are you doing down there? Breakfast has already started, you know." The woman's voice was softly chiding, her arms unusually strong as they hefted Orihime's upper arm up and over her shoulders, lifting her from off the ground.

They were out the door before Orihime even registered the words: "Let's get you something for your empty stomach, okay?"

She wasn't tired... or as tired as she was during the past night, at least. Whatever oppressive fatigue had overcome her when she used Souten Kisshun was mostly gone now, reduced to a weirdly dreamy weariness that left her feeling light and sliding on her feet. Yet, by the time they reached the cafeteria, she had abandoned her balanced perch on her nurse, already scanning the crowd for familiar faces. She recognized Lloyd-kun in the distance, Lee-san and Kurogane... but where--

"Ah, aren't you going to wait in line?"

She never gave her answer to the nurse; she had already started running, ignoring the admonishments of careful, you'll slip! that echoed shortly after her.

After all, she'd have recognized that pop-star haircut anywhere.

"Ishida-kun?" she tried, standing to the left of the hunched over figure, her fingers curled into an entangled grip that left indents of her nails along the back of her knuckles. "Ishida-kun, is that really--"

Edited 2012-11-11 08:52 (UTC)

"Mm? Not exactly..."

Special Counselling? If only. Brainwashing wasn't an excuse for hurting people, not exactly, but it made more sense than what Landel had been suggesting for the last few nights. That people would voluntarily attack the sick prisoners out of a sense of self-defence or, worse yet, a sense of justice.

Even if the infected were brainwashed in their own right--made to lash out on instinct like Sora had--that didn't mean counterattacking was the right thing to do.

"The way the Head Doctor's been talking... and some of the others, too... it sounds like there's a chance people have been attacking the infected. You know, because of the illness." Tsubaki was reluctant to say as much, and her words came slowly. She didn't like implying the were other prisoners out there resorting to violence, but neither could she pretend she didn't suspect it. Kurogane had plenty of experience himself, more than her; he had probably considered the same thing.

As for what she'd seen herself...? Nothing that counted as evidence. What she and Leanne had gone through had been entirely different. So she she shook her head. "I was just... afraid that might have happened. Did it?"

Being rebuffed stung his pride, but Kratos knew that if their positions were reversed, he would have said the same thing. Granted, given the right person and enough careful, pointed pushing, it was possible for him to eventually cave and talk, but he and Tsurugi barely knew each other, although they were forever linked by Sora's death, and Kratos was hardly the kind of person to push things anyway.

Ah, at least he'd tried. That was probably more effort than he might have usually made; after all, he didn't want to talk about last night either.

"Alright." He'd leave it at that for now. Kratos turned his attention to his food, beginning the task of carefully cutting his waffles into small, bite-size pieces.

Niikura woke up feeling strangely relieved and more rested than he'd been for the past week or so. Maybe it was because the ordeal was over--well, not entirely, but the worst part of it was for sure. And that? That felt awesome. In fact, he felt so awesome that the nurse didn't even need to come wake him up; by the time she came around to escort him over to the cafeteria, he was already on his feet and done with a few stretches just because he could.

Of course, seeing Shiina in her current state was kind of sobering, but that wasn't enough to stop what seemed like his new source of boundless enthusiasm. "Mornin' Nagasawa!" She looked like death warmed over, just as she had last night, but Niikura wanted to be through with the doom and gloom for a bit, and he suspected that it would be more encouraging to Shiina if he was his usual loud self. She had seen him at his most serious for a little too long over the last few days.

"How're you, uh, feelin' today?"

Any other morning, Uryuu would have remained highly attentive to his surroundings. Whatever his preoccupations, whatever he mentally reviewed or debated, and however much he gave the deliberate appearance of being so much in his own contemplations, he would be at the least evenly divided. A sharp eye noting those who still arrived, seeking and marking the familiar -- especially now that Inoue-san ranked among them.

Any other morning, that would have been true, but not this morning. Once his forehead hit his laced fingers, it became an effort to keep his eyes open. His head swam, and though his vision steadied and focused on his thumbs, on the plate he could see beyond them, the rest of him felt as thought it swayed, bobbed, and dipped. Adrift, in skin that had yet to settle, in bone deep aches, pulsing in his skull that reverberated in every limb. His eyelids fluttered and he tried to summarize the last seventeen, eighteen months, to hone in on memory that should have been detached from his current condition, and as such, was relatively oblivious to the rest of the room.

It was simply too much, too hard to manage otherwise. Until-- a dim and distant commotion, and though it had only been a day since her tumultuous arrival at yesterday's breakfast (a day and eighteen months), he was already beginning to associate it with her. Running, smacking soles, a nurse's called and futile concern.

He dragged his eyes toward the source, finding her white knuckles and clutching fingers. Inoue-san. Her incredulous voice cut through the haze, the worry in it sharp and thrusting, and Uryuu wondered how he looked. Suddenly aware of the curve in his spine, the quiver in his wrists, and doubtless the sallow, blanched face.

He couldn't look so bad. He couldn't worry her.

Uryuu dropped his arms, hands on the table top (not quite gripping) as he straightened. His mouth thinned and found the after-image of a smile, even as his eyebrows lifted together with concern, with an apology.

"Good morning, Inoue-san." Carefully, carefully, navigating his pulped tongue. "Sorry about last night. Did..."

His eyes fell again to her empty hands. "Aren't you planning to eat?"

The nurse passed by the table then, dropping off Kurogane's meal and commenting that he should try to eat. As he awaited Tsubaki's response, he gave the food a side-glance before brushing it off. Atop everything else, his teeth hurt even when not biting into food. That doctor had said something about cracking, but he didn't want to think about it.

When Tsubaki continued, her words were basing on what she had heard over what she'd seen. That didn't mean she hadn't seen something last night, but whatever it was hadn't been either what she was speaking on, or him.

"It didn't happen," he told her, and that much was true - no patient had attacked him. He hoped that would be enough for her to take a better guess or else let him be.

Loki smiled. Ah, look, the cherry on his frustration sundae. "Rather boring, I'm afraid. I did a bit of exploring last night and came up utterly empty. All dressed up and nowhere to go. I've higher hopes for tonight, of course. Yourself? You seem in a good mood."

Tsubaki shut her mouth at the sight of one of the staff, vaguely nervous in their presence. At the same time, she was curious to know how they were treating Kurogane. In the day time, the staff would be helping him with his wounds, right? They'd be making him more comfortable? Not that Tsubaki expected Kurogane to jump at painkillers, but what had happened to him looked painful...

Hearing that he hadn't been targeted by someone else should have been a relief, since it implied he hadn't transformed or gotten sicker, but it did little to illuminate what had actually taken place. With the nurse gone, she tilted her head. Would he tell her if she asked? Maybe it was better not to force the subject when he was in the middle of recovering.

Her pause ran a little long before she decided what to say next. "How are the symptoms now? Better?"

She didn't press about what had happened, and because she didn't, Kurogane had no problem with answering other questions. If she got too intent on knowing the reasons for why he looked like this, he wouldn't be able to avoid answering after too long. He wasn't about to lie to her.

As for his symptoms, he hadn't even thought about them since coming around. The pain of his injuries and the mess of his thoughts had kept him from focusing on that lesser annoyance. If he was still ill, he honestly could not tell right then.

Again, he gave the only answer he had that would be true, "Maybe."

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Page 3 of 6

Day 67: Breakfast

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oops he meant to call Kotetsu Mr. Kaburagi I just now realized that

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okay, gotcha!

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