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"Itona!"
"Itona!"
"Where are you?"
No. He's not coming down. Why are they even looking for him? He's not one of them. He's not even properly human anymore.
He shifts on the branch, leaning back against the trunk and tucking his feet beneath him. His bandanna catches on the rough bark, and he reaches up to untangle it.
"Itona!"
That’s Terasaka’s voice, coming from directly below him. He twists around to look.
"There you are! What -"
His hand slips on a patch of moss.
"- were you -"
He falls.
"Itona!"
Everything hurts. He's vaguely aware of Terasaka's still body under his, and he tries to ask if he's okay, but his voice won't work.
A shadow falls over them both. With difficulty, he turns his head.
It's Koro-sensei, asking what happened.
But the blackness is welling up again and he can't answer.
The next time he wakes, he's inside an ambulance. The fluorescent lighting strips in the ceiling hurt his eyes, and he tries to raise a hand to block out the light.
He's tied down.
Frantically, he struggles against the straps holding him. Some tiny, rational part of his mind is saying that it's alright, it's only to stop him sliding off the stretcher, but that part is swamped by a flood of panic and memory.
Someone's standing over him, holding his shoulders to stop him moving. The grip is gentle, but it does nothing to allay his terror.
"Shh, shh," says the nurse holding him down. "Shh, what's wrong?"
He keeps struggling, gritting his teeth against the pain it causes.
"Stop it, you'll hurt yourself!"
A mask is pulled over his mouth, and his next breath fills his lungs with ether.
Everything goes black.
He wakes, but keeps his eyes shut. Two people are talking nearby, and he strains to hear.
"How are they?"
"The big guy's fine. The little one, not so much. Had some sort of panic attack on the way here."
He breathes a sigh of relief. Terasaka's okay.
"Sh, he's awake."
No point pretending. He opens his eyes. He's still on the stretcher in a white room, and the nurse from the ambulance is standing next to him, along with an elderly doctor. Strangely, there's no pain, but the edges of his vision are dark and fuzzy.
"Where am I?" he asks. His voice sounds strange. "Terasaka . . . how is he?"
"You're in the hospital, young man," says the doctor. "No, don't move," he adds, as he tries to look around. "You're not fixed yet."
"I'll set up the scanner," says the nurse, and leaves.
"How do you feel?" the doctor asks.
He tries to reply, but no sound comes out. From behind him comes a mechanical blip, the whir of a machine starting up.
These sounds, simple and terrifying, break down the walls he has built so carefully. For the second time that day, the memories come flooding back, and now the pain arrives with a vengeance.
"I said, how are you feeling?"
He's fading out, but he manages to reply.
One word.
"Broken."
When he wakes again, he's inside the scanner. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to pretend he's somewhere else . . . anywhere else.
A chime sounds, and his stretcher is drawn out of the machine again. Fuzzily, he hears the doctor and the nurse poring over the images.
"Fractured . . . ribs . . . skull, maybe . . . what's this?" The doctor looms over him, his face out of focus. "Are you wearing any bracelets, young man?"
He shakes his head no. He doesn't trust his voice.
"Alright . . . we'll have to check that. Now, we're going to have to knock you out for a bit, okay?"
He shakes his head again. He doesn't need anaesthetic. He won't scream. Shiro never bothered with it, so why should these people?
A needle slides into his hand, and everything fades.
He's lying in a hospital bed, his mind fuzzy. The pain is there, but far off, a sea roaring behind a dyke of painkillers. For a moment, he just lies there, enjoying the comfortable, half-asleep warmth. Then he tries to move.
His right arm won't move at all. His left tugs against . . . tubes?
No!
He jerks his arm away, feeling the IVs rip out of his skin. A spatter of blood stains the crisp hospital sheets.
"Stop it!" It's the nurse. She rushes over, gentle hands on his arm. He flinches away, forcing himself to sit up, though his head spins and he nearly blacks out again.
"Doctor! Doctor, quick!"
The doctor from before hurries towards the bed. "What's up, kid?"
He pushes back, pressing his shoulders against the wall. His right arm is in a sling, and his head and chest are swathed in bandages. He can't run like this.
He's trapped.
Another figure joins them. It's Koro-sensei, wrapped on his awful disguise. Mr Karasuma is behind him, whispering to another doctor.
"Calm down, Itona," murmurs Koro. "It's okay, calm down, no-one's going to hurt you . . ."
He shakes his head, his whole body trembling. It's not okay. It's never going to be okay.
He pushes back further, shoulderblades digging into the plaster. It hurts, but that's nothing, nothing . . .
They're all crowding around him. He can't breathe. Too close, stay away, they'll hurt him . . .
Another shape shoves through the group, crouching down beside the bed. Terasaka. A tiny part of his mind is relieved, he's okay, but most of him is screaming.
Warm hands on his shoulder.
"Hey."
Fingers catch his chin, turning his face towards Terasaka's.
"What's wrong?"
He grips his friend's wrist. Too hard, he knows, but right now he needs something to hold on to.
"Get back." Terasaka gestures to the adults. "Give him some space." He sits, perching on the end of the bed. "Now, what is it? You can tell me."
He feels the tiny, shameful prick of tears in his eyes. Releasing Terasaka's hand, he swipes them away. They mustn't see him like this. They mustn't see how weak he really is.
"C'mon," says Terasaka. "I know there's something wrong. Maybe I can help."
He's fighting with himself, inside. He doesn't want to trust Terasaka, but at the same time he does, desperately. Maybe he can help.
He lifts his hand, turning the palm towards Terasaka. Stripped of its covering wristband, the plastic shunt embedded in his arm shows in all its glory, the skin around it red and inflamed, bloody from tearing out the tube. It was never meant to be in there for so long, but his muscles have grown around it by now. Even in a hospital, it would be hard to take out. The other one is just the same.
Terasaka's eyes widen. "Is that . . . from Shiro?"
He nods. "Yeah. Being here . . . it's hard. It . . . it feels just like before, and I can't . . ." He breaks off, swiping at his eyes again. "I don't want to stay here another minute."
Terasaka smiles, just a little. "Doctor's orders. Have you read your tag? You're concussed, you've broken your arm and most of your ribs, and you've cracked your skull. You are staying in bed."
He rolls his eyes, feeling the bubble of panic in his chest begin to fade. Why is it that Terasaka is always able to calm him down? "Yes, Mother."
"And there's something else." Terasaka looks around. The doctors and nurses have gone, and the only one left is Koro-sensei, sitting patiently by the bed. "How come you ran off during class?"
"I . . ." He stiffens.
Terasaka rests one hand on his shoulder. The touch is surprisingly light for such a big boy.
"You . . . you were talking about evolution and . . . and what it is to be human. And I realised . . . I'm not. I'm not human, I'm not one of you, I'm not a proper person . . ."
He turns his face away, pulling away from Terasaka’s touch. He doesn't want their empty sympathy, but he doesn't want them to agree, either. Both ways hurt, so badly.
Silence for a moment. He risks a look back.
Koro-sensei's face is a dark blue. He's surprised.
No . . . he's shocked.
Terasaka’s voice cuts through the haze. “Idiot.”
“What?”
“Don’t be stupid – of course you’re human. You’re just as much of a person as me, or Muramatsu, or Karma.” A small laugh. “Maybe more. That guy is evil.”
He smiles a little, too. It’s true, Akabane has a real dark side.
But it’s not as dark, as awful as his.
He drops his eyes from Terasaka’s face. “How can you say that?” he says, voice so quiet even he can hardly hear it. “You saw me, back . . . back then. I – I tried to kill you.”
The haze is back, drifting in front of his vision. His heart pounds harder and harder, until he’s sure it will smash, raw and bleeding, through his ribcage.
Terasaka’s hand is back on his shoulder, a warm, reassuring weight. An anchor. “No. No. Stop that.” His voice is firm. “You have to stop thinking like that, Itona.”
Tears sting his eyes again, and this time he doesn’t bother trying to stop them. What does it matter, anyway? He lets them fall.
“But . . .”
“Stop. Stop now.” Two fingers graze against his lips. “I’m not letting you do this to yourself, Itona.”
He shakes his head, pushing away the dizziness. “But . . . don’t you . . . I tried to kill you!” He drops his gaze down, away, anywhere to keep from looking into his friend’s eyes as Terasaka realises how much of a monster he truly is. “Don’t you hate me for that?”
Suddenly Terasaka’s face is close, so close to his own. “I nearly killed Nagisa. The octopus only just saved him in time. And yeah, sometimes I look back and I hate myself for that. But why the hell should I hate you?” He leans back. “You didn’t even know what you were doing.”
“No.” He realises he’s chewing on his knuckle – a nervous habit developed over the past year – and quickly drops his hand. “I knew. Terasaka, I knew. And I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all.”
He can’t see Terasaka any more – the tears are coming too fast, blurring his vision.
“Itona.” Terasaka’s voice is soft. “Itona. Look at me.”
He tilts his head up, slowly, until he’s looking into Terasaka’s eyes.
“Maybe you did know. Maybe you meant it. Maybe that was all you.” Terasaka pauses, and Itona flinches, waiting for the words that will hurt more than any blow could. I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I never want to see you again.
But Terasaka doesn’t say that.
“I don’t care,” he says. “It wasn’t all you – not by a long shot – but even if it was . . . I still don’t care.”
He can’t believe it. “You – you don’t?”
Terasaka cocks his head. “Of course I don’t, you idiot. I’ve forgiven you.”
“You have? But –“
Terasaka’s fingers are on his lips again, and they’re so warm.
“I have.”