damned_institute | Day 51: Breakfast

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Day 51: Breakfast

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

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The vampire wasn’t confident he would get a direct answer when his question had been only half-serious to begin with, but when it came--carrying more specificity with it than could be brushed aside--he turned it over without pause.

"No," Aidou answered a little speculatively. Not once had he heard about a therapy doctor acting outside of their daytime therapy slots. They did appear outside of their offices and even the hospital, but as potentially dangerous as they could be, that threat had never manifested after hours as far as he knew. Whether it was possible or not was a different issue--when the unimaginable became reality on a daily basis, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. What Sasuke added, though, didn’t sound quite right.

"Former doctor?"

Sasuke had expected the answer he received, and knew it: he and Aidou had been in the Institute for the same amount of time, and although Sasuke had been distracted from the explicit task of escape for a while, he hadn't been deaf on top of being blind. If the doctors had had free rein of the Institute before tonight, at least one person other than Sasuke would have had the idea to interrogate them.

Unless the man who had interfered last night really was just a minion of Muraki's, intended to protect him -- but he hadn't intended to die, that much had been obvious. It didn't make sense.

"Former," he clarified, frown deepening. It was entirely possible Wilson had lied when he'd said Muraki had quit the job (certainly the man had seemed to enjoy it far too much for quitting to be expected), but even if he had ... "I was told he had left the Institute's employ."

‘Appeared’ was just a euphemism for the most visible bruise on Sasuke‘s skin, and Aidou wondered what had happened. How could he not? He was born to be curious, and what happened in Landel’s affected him, too. Well, since their acquaintance was what it was, what happened to Sasuke affected him, too. And though he’d never gotten into a physical test of wills with one of the hospital doctors, he knew the therapy ones weren’t harmless. Combined with nightshift’s lack of boundaries…

“That happens,” confirmed the noble, mostly for the sake of granting the fact equal form. “They come and go like we do.” The question was, did they reappear, too? The prisoners did, sometimes returning much different than they were. But did the doctors? Did they return differently?

Once the unanswered equation was set in front of him, he had to look at all its sides and build its form, too.

“The simplest explanations I see are that he showed up as one of Landel’s doctors, or he showed up as one of Landel’s prisoners. What do you think?” In either case, they were required to swallow something unsettling--doctors roaming the halls during the day and night, or the possibility that those who started out in one camp could just as easily be switched to another as in Special Counseling. Aidou could believe either, but the truth was, there was evidence supporting one theory and not the other. It being his incident, Sasuke had to have his suspicions.

That much Sasuke was aware of; Oak had gone and Muraki come in the same therapy session. And it was certainly true that what Oak had managed to tell Sasuke before he'd been permanently called away for coffee had more than suggested that the professor deserved to be one of the patients more than a doctor -- let alone what Muraki did in the confines of his office.

The problem with concluding that Muraki had returned as a patient, stripped of the privileges he had as a subordinate of Landel's, was that Muraki had proved himself the type who was thoroughly capable of lying when the opportunity called for it. That in itself opened further the question of who the hell the man who had interfered was.

"He claimed he didn't remember having been my doctor," Sasuke answered, and was grateful in a strange, distant way for Aidou's better-than-human practicality when approaching matters. "But I wasn't able to speak with him for long enough to confirm whether that was lie or truth."

Ha, the vampire was certainly sure that talking had been the least of Sasuke’s concerns then. Aidou wasn’t familiar with Muraki, doctor or otherwise, but he automatically held little trust in anyone who had been under the Institute’s control. Even if they were innocent, even if they had no recollection of their actions. The therapy doctors were especially questionable in that they exhibited more personality than outright automatons.

“Who is he?” he asked. What he wanted to know by the question was implied: was he a threat? Enough of one to-- “Did you attack him?” Coming from Aidou, there was no judgment over the idea. Sometimes it was something that just needed to be done, the elimination of a problem.

As for how a doctor could possibly appear during the night and what kind of danger it could have for the future, Aidou continued on, saying, “Ask the staff again. Put a description of him on the bulletin. If someone else has encountered since he left, you’ll probably hear about it. Or leave a message for him directly. If he was telling the truth and he’s in a position to see it, you could draw him out.” Sasuke was still handicapped, but he wasn’t helpless: he could find a way to do those things without raising suspicion. And considering the ease of anonymity that came with that kind of communication, he didn’t see why the boy would be reluctant to take the search beyond Aidou, if figuring out the doctor’s presence was what he wanted to do.

The noble didn’t see why he wouldn’t want to, either. If Aidou even caught a hint of actual doctors making the transition to night, he’d hunt the information down himself.

"Kazukata Muraki," Sasuke answered, and couldn't help but remember the disrespect with which his own name had been treated by the man. Another knot of tension built up in his posture, enough that he had to forcibly remind himself to relax or risk becoming too tautly-wound to move properly. "I attempted to capture and interrogate him, but ... someone interfered."

It still wasn't clear who said interference had been, or if he'd wsurvived the night. Sasuke's day-blind eyes stared in the general direction of his juice with an expression that might have tried to shatter the glass if it were visible or possible.

Leaving a message was something worth consideration -- most of what Aidou suggested was worth consideration -- unless Muraki chose the opportunity to turn the tables back on Sasuke. Last night had brought more bloodshed to his hands (again; and why did it feel harder to wash off than it did to see it swept away), and Muraki was hardly the type not to take advantage of it if he really were a patient, even if he had genuinely forgotten Sasuke.

"I'll find him," he said finally, with a determination that was familiar (too familiar, but he grabbed onto its slipping edge and pressed it into place) in both its strength and vagueness.

Immediately, the name went into memory, to be drawn on later when the moment arose. He was not the greatest of friends with black-and-white thinking, but when it came to the Institute and the people within it, Aidou didn’t make fine distinctions between enemies or otherwise. As the only vampire, everyone else was under varying levels of suspicion. But Aidou had to admit, he held some value in Sasuke’s instincts.

The way Sasuke reacted to the man in question turned an automatic, blanket disdain into something more tangible. As seen through the boy, Kazukata Muraki was obviously someone to be aware of.

On the simplest level, the vampire didn’t need to know more than that.

Regarding the so-called interference, Aidou could assume with a fair amount of certitude that it had not been in Sasuke’s best interests and had allowed Muraki to get away. So much for that, although Sasuke’s displeasure probably wouldn’t have (or would) let the deed go unpunished. A well-meaning prisoner? An enemy of Sasuke’s or an ally of Muraki’s? He couldn’t imagine an average captive knowingly being in league with one of the doctors, former or not. Either way, the situation would come to a head one way or another. Aidou wasn’t about to ignore it, himself.

After the echo of Sasuke’s declaration had filled the silence for a few moments, he spoke up again. There was really no point questioning the boy’s intention after that. “Have you made up your mind what you’ll do tonight, or are you able to join me in challenging the basement?” If Sasuke had an interest in securing Aidou’s strength for something, he’d leave it to Sasuke to ask, like Aidou was.

Aidou moved right along to business as usual, and Sasuke had to reflect on how much his impression of the vampire had changed since their first meeting in the kitchen. Had the Institute wrought change, or merely brought out a side of Aidou that was less ... prone to midnight cake?

Practically, though, the question wasn't one that needed asking unless Aidou showed signs of returning to his more flippant earlier behaviour.

"I'm going to investigate Muraki's appearance first," he decided after a pause. "If there's a chance to find and interrogate him tonight, I'll take that. If not, then I'm still interested in going with you.

"I'll let you know before the dinner shift."

That was fair enough. Aidou understood why, even if a part of him hesitated at following the thought too far. His doctors had only ever tested him with words, and what he was learning about this Muraki in the present and the dim rumors from a Muraki in the past… well. Had their positions been reversed, he would’ve wanted to interrogate and kill the threat, and if Sasuke had even a sliver of that feeling, then Aidou understood this decision, too, as he had before when a relation closer in blood than this Obito had been around.

"All right." He cut a slice of French toast into perfect halves. "If I find anything you don’t, I’ll let you know."

Cooperation. Aidou realized there had been more of it happening, and it continued to be an unusual phenomenon in comparison to home, where he’d never take action so closely with humans. It was not completely the same as common interests.

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Day 51: Breakfast

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