Chapter Text
Nana hefted himself up onto his elbows, coughing weakly.
He tried to stand, and keened in pain when his legs screamed in complaint as a result, millions of aches springing to life when he moved them.
He compromised by pulling himself to the nearest wall using his arms. They hurt too, but as the pain was minutely less, he figured they could suck it up until he was slumped against the wall, panting from the exertion.
He was so exhausted he wanted to throw up. The bags under his eyes were probably suitcases at this point.
His eyes drifted over to where the ceramic knife lay, after that not-guard had ripped it out and fled off into the depths of Building 13. His shoulder twinged from slamming it back into one the wannabe fairy bastard’s stupid, pointy ears.
The not-guard’s scream surely attracted some attention, and real guards would surely be along any minute now. Nana tried to glance down at his sleeves to see if any incriminating blood spatter had gotten onto them, but for some reason his vision was blurry and something hot was dripping down his face.
“—Fucks’ sakes.” He muttered brokenly, trying to wipe off his tears on his shoulders since his traitorous arms had now decided they weren’t going to work either. He should not be crying like a baby after just that. It wasn’t even the worst fight he’d been in! He was fine, he hadn’t even gotten a scratch on him despite the close shave at the end there!
But his body, his stupid traitorous body, kept trembling and crying, spasming like it was caught in the aftershocks of an earthquake. It had been so close.
He hadn’t stabbed his would-be kidnapper because he was about to be stabbed himself. He could handle knife wounds, like the one he was currently sporting in his lower back thanks to that shitty serial-killer Hani-sa— Hani-senpai had managed to frighten off.
He’d stabbed him on instinct. Because, in that fleeting moment, Nana was terrified the next words to come out of the adult’s mouth would be the ones that could kill him.
“You’re not Johnny Powers.”
He let out a dry snort. Johnny-fucking-Powers. Always came back to that prick, didn’t it.
It was because of him that Nana was in this mess. His enemies that kept popping up to make Nana’s precarious balancing act more complicated than it already was. His orders that forced him to carry out this charade and live in fear in case anyone—even his well-meaning cellmates or caring supervisor— should discover the truth.
Going to any length to hide his true gender, avoiding doctors when he needed treatment, using a smokescreen of steam from boiling water while washing, even forcing himself to use “he” and “him” in his own head.
That pointy-eared bastard had proved that there were plenty of enemies around who had weird abilities—even blinded, his speed and strength had the boy using all of his training just to avoid being nicked. With guys like him and Powers running around, Nana wasn’t willing to put telepathy out of the realm of possibility just yet.
The fear churning through his veins was just another reminder of how weak he was. He hadn’t been able to save that poor kid or any of his predecessors, hadn’t been able to defy Powers or find a loophole no matter how hard he tried or what limits he pushed.
It would always come back, ringing clear as a gunshot while his heart spasmed and breathing cut off.
“I don’t care how it happens—talking, writing, drawing, hell, even interpretive dance; ya tell anyone ya’re not me, ya’re dead.”
If he ever saw Powers again, Nana vowed tearfully, he was going to make him wish he’d just killed him in that bloodstained boat and thrown his body into the ocean with the others.
Footsteps broke his self-pitying reverie. They were coming closer by the second, the pounding resounding of the walls, testifying to their speed and number. But it was a surprisingly familiar voice calling out his name, instead of a guard’s.
He shifted more upright against the wall, licked his lips, and managed to croak out, “‘M over here! Hani-senpai, ‘m here!”
Nana opened his eyes in time to see Hani-senpai skid around a corner, looking out of breath and bearing bloody nose that had definitely not been there when he’d left the recreation room.
And, of course, that was when Nana’s body decided that bursting into a flood of fresh tears was the best idea possible.
Hani looked paralyzed for a moment, as though a crying child was a new type of animal he’d never interacted with before. Then he swiftly crossed the room to where he was sitting, whipping out a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbing at Nana’s face.
“You’re a goddamn nuisance, you know that? How do you get assaulted every fucking time you use a public bathroom?!”
Nana hiccuped. “Te-tech-ni-nically, i-it did-didn’t ha-happen in the bathroom th-this time.”
“Shut your damn mouth.” Hani-senpai ordered. “What the hell happened?”
A soft intake of breath, and Trois-senpai was suddenly there, tilting Nana’s head up to get a look at his throat. “Où est le connard qui a fait ça?”
Nana blinked hazily. He must be really out of it to not notice him showing up. “Trois-senpai, ce n’est pas bon de dire des gros mots. Un enfant peut vous entendre.”
Unusually, the reply did not make Trois smile. The French inmate normally enjoyed their banter once he had discovered Nana could speak his native language, taking the opportunity to gossip about Hani-senpai while he was in the room and left impotent with rage as he could not tell if they were complimenting or disparaging him.
“Je m’en fiche. Il y a un fils de putain que je devrais repayer pour ses crimes contre la beauté. Où-est il?” His voice was just as calm as always, but his fingers were shaking the tiniest bit.
Nana winced. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
Hani scowled. “Well, I would be able to offer a better opinion if you two didn’t keep talking frog, but if you’re referring to the damn bruises, yes it is.”
A cold sweat broke out on the boy’s forehead. “K-Kiji-San won’t be mad at me, will he?”
Hani-senpai stared at him incredulously. “Yeah, of course, Kiji’ll be super mad at you for getting choked by some bastard—OF COURSE NOT, YOU IDIOT!! You really think Kiji’s gonna get fucking mad at you when the shithead who did this is to blame?!”
As though their discussion had summoned him, their supervisor rounded the corner, followed swiftly by Sugoroku-San, Yozakura-San, and Gokuu-San. Surprisingly a number of inmates from the recreation room were there as well.
“Nana-chan!” His supervisor knelt down, eyes scanning his face frantically. The overwhelming scent of perfume that accompanied him felt like home. “You aren’t hurt, right?”
He had to swallow a lump that was rising in his throat before replying. “N-no scratches, Kiji-San. I-I got some bruises though, I-I’m sorry, I-I tried no-not to.”
Kiji tilted his head up to look at his throat, and then to the side to see where the pointy-eared bastard had clocked his temple. Nana squirmed, the guilt of letting his supervisor down and not protecting his face well enough eating away at his insides.
“What the hell happened here? Were you trying to escape?” Sugoroku-San barked, glaring at Nana in a way that made him want to shrivel up and die.
“Isn’t it obvious he was assaulted?!” Kiji-San shouted back, running a hand through Nana’s hair soothingly. “Honestly, what kind of a Building are you running here, if your problem inmates are running amok and attacking whoever they feel like?!”
“Our inmates are kept safely under lock and key.” Sugoroku-San growled, glaring at Gokuu-San when he happened to have a coughing fit. “It’s more likely that he ran into our traps while he was trying to get out, you spoil him so much.”
“What kind of traps do you have that they result in these kinds marks, huh?!” Kiji tilted his head back again, prominently displaying the marks that were beginning to feel sore. “Only a human could make these kinds of bruises, so if it wasn’t an inmate, then who was it, huh?!”
“I-it was a guard.”
At the statement, all of the supervisors froze up and stared at him.
“If the-there’s somewhere I-I need to file a formal statement of complaint, I-I’ll do it.” Nana continued, feeling less and less sure of himself with every disbelieving moment that passed. “It was a guard who assaulted me.”
Sugoroku-San looked like he was plotting his imminent demise. “Could you identify this alleged guard?”
Nana concentrated. “He had blond hair, green eyes, pointed ears, sharp teeth, pointy face. If I had to guess, I’d say he was approximately Jyugo-San’s height, maybe a little taller.”
Sugoroku-San did not look impressed with his recall skills. “No guards who work here fit that physical description. So either you start telling the truth quick, or I’ll beat it out of you.”
“I am!” Nana shouted, terrified, then winced at the strain that put on his neck. “I had a feeling he wasn’t from this building though. He was wearing a guard uniform and accosted me outside the restrooms, claiming his supervisor had sent him for me. I assumed he meant Sugoroku-San, but after we walked much farther than it should have taken to get back, he revealed that he was not taking me back to the recreation room and pulled a knife on me when I tried to run.”
Yozakura-San spoke up. “Did he mention where he was taking you?”
He shook his head. “No, sir. He did say that he was planning to take me to be, quote “fixed up” by his supervisor, though I don’t know what that means.”
A sharp intake of breath had Nana glancing around to where Jyugo-San was standing. He was trembling, eyes wide and frightened, as though he were having a panic attack. A taller inmate with flame-colored hair seemed to be having a similar reaction.
“It’s Elf.” The taller inmate rasped. “Th-that’s what he said to me when—when—”
Yozakura-San and Sugoroku-San seemed to be the only ones who knew what that meant, as the disbelief had finally slipped from their features, replaced by something Nana was hesitant to call worry.
Kiji-San and Gokuu-San seemed just as at sea as he was. “Who, exactly, is Elf?” Kiji demanded irritably.
“Did he cut you?” Jyugo-San demanded, ignoring Kiji’s screech of “DON’T INTERRUPT ME!!”.
Nana blinked. “He-he tried. I managed to avoid him though, and he ended up stabbing himself in the ear, with that knife.” He pointed, and felt Hani-senpai’s grip tighten on his sleeve.
Of course he would recognize the knife from when the serial killer had tried to murder Nana with it. Nana didn’t look at Hani and kept his gaze fixed on his audience. If he looked, he would give his lie away, and Kiji would never be able to treat at him the same way if he knew that Nana had stabbed a man, even if it was in self-defense.
Jyugo-San exhaled and looked a lot calmer, if a little more tired. Unfortunately, that was not enough to placate everyone.
“And why, exactly, did he stab himself in the ear?” Sugoroku-San demanded, looking like a silverback gorilla who had spotted unfortunate intruders in its territory.
Nana cringed. There was no good way to lie out of this, so the truth would have to do. Some of it, anyway. “You can’t get mad.”
Sugoroku-San scoffed, as though he would be the judge of that.
“…I had a baggie. It was filled with salt and iron filings—small ones, from the inventor’s workshop. When the not-guard tried to choke me, I threw the contents in his face, blinding him. One of his swings went wide.”
Kiji-San blinked in mild stupefaction. “Why on earth did you have something like that?!”
Now for the tricky bit. The truth, but not too much. “My-my mum. She always made me carry around a mixture of those things, to stop fairies from taking me away. They don’t like salt and iron, so if you carry some around, they leave you alone.”
“Fairies.” Nana did not think it was possible for Yozakura-San to sound more unimpressed.
He fidgeted. “Yeah— cause she says they take special people. Talented people. Kids. Babies. They take them away and they play with them, and they twist them into something—something inhuman. And they kill you and the people you love if you don’t play by their rules. Horribly. She was always scared of them taking me, so she made me promise to always carry some around. So I do—or did, before that jerk made me waste them.”
Kiji-San’s face softened, carding a hand through Nana’s hair again. He felt bad about lying—his mother had never said anything of the sort, even if defense against fae was why he carried it around. But Sugoroku-San and Yozakura-San looked a little more convinced than before.
Gokuu-San looked like he wanted to call bullshit, but fortunately for Nana he never got the chance, as the child swayed and nearly faceplanted on the floor of the corridor.
“Nana-chan!” Kiji-San grabbed him by his collar and gradually eased him back.
“‘M fine. Jus-just tired Kiji-San. Running was-was hard.” Nana slurred, feeling his adrenaline and energy leach away.
It was hard to hear what went on after that. Kiji-San lifted him up, declaring that his cell were going back to their Building. There was some argument, something about more testimony, but it seemed it was agreed that it would be better to wait until later, when he was more alert, to do so. Then Kiji walked off, carrying him easily like he hadn’t been since he was very small.
Hani-senpai shot him cautious looks as he followed behind. He would probably draw his own conclusions about why Nana had lied.
Most likely the wrong ones, but that was what kept Nana safe. Adults never thought that children had any real ability to harm them. Protective instincts or simple hubris usually made them underestimate kids. Even if said children had been taught how to kill, how to hurt extensively, they never quite believed it.
Not until it was too late, that is.
It was funny, Nana reflected muzzily as he drifted off to sleep on Kiji’s shoulder. Hani-senpai and Trois-senpai and Kiji-San all saw him as someone to be protected, never thinking that he was in fact the one who would protect them, just as he had left home to become a hero and protect his mum, dad, and little brother.
Because while he may not have liked killing people in as a child soldier, he was sure he could make an exception if Elf decided to show his face around Nanba ever again.