Chapter Text
Nathaniel watches his mom take her last breath in front of him and wonders if it's regret or resentment in her eyes as the light goes out of them. Her mouth is moving, shaping around words he can't hear. His ears are ringing with his own screams. There’s laughing too, high-pitch and shrill; Lola is too happy to be holding him back as Nathan brings his cleaver down again and again and again and again. Nathaniel wonders if there is any end to this nightmare.
He doesn’t know what he did wrong, what they did wrong. His mother and he were vigilant and cautious to the last second; their trails should've been almost impossible to track down. Alex Cashew had one of the most convincing backstories, and a little extra on the expenditure meant he had documents to hold up all kinds of questioning if needed. Daphne Cashew was an even better identity, foolproof to even the trained eye. This was supposed to be their chance to rest and recuperate, to gather intel and renew resources, to try to imitate some semblance of normalcy before setting off again.
Maybe, that was the mistake. His mother wasn’t keen on staying in one place for too long, but she had seen him too near the edge, run ragged from being on guard for too long, eyes red-rimmed from paranoia, and she had made the decision to stay a little longer, to allow him rest. In conclusion, their prolonged stopover in Seattle was primarily for his benefit, and his incompetence had gotten them caught.
At least it’s over, he thinks, when his voice finally gives out. His mother’s body is nearly unrecognisable, laid out in front of him in a pool of blood that soaked his clothes at the knees. Behind him, Lola is quiet too; her only presence is in the sharp pinch of her fingernails into his forearms. Nathan is making his way towards him now, yet he can’t take his eyes off of the corpse.
It’s over now. We can rest.
Nathan’s knees are in front of him, blocking the view. Nathaniel lowers his gaze. The blood is drying slowly along the creases of his skin in a familiar manner. He tries to focus on that feeling instead of the looming threat of death, but for some reason there is none. His heart pumps fast and hard and the adrenaline flowing through his veins keeps him from feeling much of the pain that should come with his physical state. His mind is racing, but nothing of substance actually sticks. Like trying to read the licence plate of a moving car, each thought is stark but takes too much energy to ponder on, energy Nathaniel is severely lacking despite the adrenaline. His consciousness feels loose and detached from his body.
I can rest.
So, he stares downwards blankly. Nathan is speaking but the words are indecipherable. Nathaniel should pay attention, find a way to talk himself out of being killed. He should be searching for something—anything— to help him fight back, to help him escape. It’s as if some unknown force is holding his head down. The weight on his shoulders and back feels impossible, and he cannot help but slouch even further, trying to curl into himself as much as possible while kneeling.
Something knocks into him from the side, sending him sprawling across the blood. The metallic taste of blood floods his mouth and the impact startles his mind back into his body.
“A few years with your bitch of a mother and all your etiquette lessons are moot,” Nathan snarls in a thick heavy drawl that cuts through the fog in his mind. ”Look at me when I’m speaking, Nathaniel, or I’ll take your eyes and remove the problem.”
Nathaniel’s limbs are numb and it’s only due to instinctual fear that he finds himself straining his neck to look up at his father from his place on the floor. Nathan looks amused, and the sight of it sends shivers down Nathaniel’s spine.
“Don’t forget your place, Nathaniel. You are the Butcher’s Son, and property of the Moriyamas. It’s time you paid your dues.”
The next few hours mesh into a blur. Nathaniel looks on as his body is hacked through piece by piece. It’s nothing permanent, because Nathan still has plans for him, but Nathaniel can’t move a single finger. All he can do is let his vision fog up so he doesn't have to see his father mutilate his body. The last thing Nathaniel feels is his father’s boots pressing his head into the scarlet floor. He smells the tangy iron of blood and tastes it on his tongue.
The image of his mother singing him to sleep flashes across his eyelids before falling unconscious.
‡==‡
Nathaniel wakes up in Hell.
Lying on pristine white sheets, he doesn’t know how long much time has passed since he was last conscious but his injuries have been patched up and at least he can move now. His body is numb but he prepares himself for pain when the painkillers wear off.
His guard is up, naturally, but his hackles rise further when he sees Tetsuji Moriyama standing at the foot of his bed. The man has cold dark eyes, and when they pin Nathaniel down, he feels puny.
There is no further interaction and Tetsuji Moriyama leaves without a word. The thud of his boots against the tiled floor is foreboding. Soon after, a man in a white coat enters. Nathaniel doesn’t have the time to be wary of the nurse before the drugs kick in and he loses consciousness.
The next time he wakes up, Nathaniel is struggling to make sense of his surroundings. A tall dark-haired boy manhandles him into a jersey Nathaniel knows to be the dreary attire of the Ravens. The boy drags him by his elbow while Nathaniel, still out of it from the medication, can barely resist. They walk in a funny rhythm until they reach the large doors to the Nest’s Exy court.
Nathaniel knows who the Ravens are, what they represent, and how they are related to the Moriyamas. Therefore he is not too surprised when the boy takes a pause before the doors to mutter out a warning.
“For both of our sakes, play this game like it’s life or death.”
Then he is shoved into the court, into Exy gear, and made to play the game that would determine his life.
Nathaniel used to dream of playing exy, but after the first game, he wonders if he dreamt up how exy was even played.
It‘s brutal. He can barely see past the dizziness of blood loss and the constant torrent of players knocking into him from all sides leaves him too disoriented to do anything but blindly chase the ball. At one point, he lands so heavily on his back that the world goes white for a few minutes, during which Tetsuji somehow makes his way over to him to deliver another round of punishments for his incompetence.
It’s ridiculous, Nathaniel knows this, yet a desperate part of him stands up again and again, tightens his grip on the racket with sore fingers, and faces the sea of black with grim determination. A pathetic part of him wants to take this chance to play, no matter how horribly. A reckless part of him decides it’s worth the broken bones if he can play this game a little longer, the game that started his life on the run and now might end it once and for all.
When the torment finally ends, Nathaniel is no longer hollow. He doesn’t know if he passed whatever test he was taking, but he does know he can do nothing more. All of his appendages have finally given up on him. All he can do is lie haphazardly on the hard floor, cool against his flushed cheeks. He can barely take in enough air to fill his lungs.
The feeling slowly returns to his body. The pain is startling in its severity, but it brings with it a sense of clarity. Nathaniel is unsure whether it was the drugs in his system finally dwindling, but for the first time since being caught by his father’s men, he is fully present in his own body.
His fingers twitch with awareness.
From the corner of his eye, Nathaniel sees Kevin Day approaching. His expression is a strange mix of pain and pride. He offers Nathaniel a hand.
Nathaniel takes it.
‡==‡
Riko Moriyama has the air of a person too used to having things his way. Nathaniel knows this by the casual arrogance the former carries himself with, as if he knows no one can hurt him.
During their first conversation, Nathaniel aims his fist at his cocky smirk and wipes it right off. He deserved it for uttering his mother’s name with such disrespect.
Of course, he doesn’t get away with it. Tetsuji makes sure to put him in his place and make a good showing out of it as an example to the rest of the Nest, to solidify Riko’s standing as the all-powerful No. 1. Yet, Riko’s untouchable aura is ruined and it is because of Nathaniel.
‡==‡
Nathaniel’s introduction with Jean Moreau is awkward and stilted, mainly because there isn’t one. Jean is always there to clean his injuries and wrap his bandages, and these moments occur when Nathaniel is rather out of it. Other times, Jean is holding him down, restraining him as Tetsuji or Riko punish him.
His actions are strange, but they make sense when Nathaniel learns of the Nest’s partner system. Jean is a steady constant in his life, almost rivaling his mother, except less cruel and way more sarcastic.
“Are you naturally this much of a pain, or do you try?”
Nathaniel looks up from his place on the bathroom floor. He had just finished puking out his innards after Riko made his run laps until his legs gave out. That, combined with being refused breakfast, made him sick to the point he found himself too weak to even get up. Jean is looking down on him, expression unreadable except for a hint of disdain Nathaniel doesn’t quite believe in.
“I try, sometimes,” he quips breathlessly.
Jean shakes his head, levelling him with an unimpressed look.
“Fool, why don’t you try to keep your head down so I do not have to spend precious minutes cleaning up after you?”
Jean’s smooth voice is a pleasant balm to the static in his head. Nathaniel doesn’t really understand how Jean managed to keep his accent after spending almost his entire life in the Nest, but appreciates it nonetheless. He has come to associate the soft, nasally roll of consonants and vowels with finally being allowed to relax while Jean takes charge.
‡==‡
The Nest is dark, dark, and dreadfully boring. All the hallways and rooms are almost identical. The 16 hour days are arranged to the minute, and barely differ from day to day to account for classes and other school curriculars. Nathaniel is exempt from those, considering he is still in high school. Instead, he spends the time with Lola.
“I gotta say, Junior, I have no idea why your daddy’s so intent on making you useful,” Lola trills and she throws one of her knives in Nathaniel’s direction. He barely dodges. “It’s not as if you have much of a use right now. I heard even Riko is getting tired of you.”
Nathaniel doesn't understand either, the point of these sessions where Lola is sent to teach him. He isn't even sure what he is supposed to be learning, to be fair. He focuses most of his energy on evading Lola’s attacks and catching his breath. Even that feels unusually boring; after all, it is what he has been doing for the past few years: running, dodging, and catching his breath, only to run again. A dreadfully boring cycle.
After the first few sessions, even Lola seems to get bored, because she increases the harshness of the training and by the end of it, Nathaniel is left with multiple injuries and sore spots.
Jean is always there for him after his classes, eyes searching and cataloguing his condition as he gazes at him with mock contempt. He makes a few remarks critiquing Nathaniel’s masochistic tendencies of getting injured, but fixes him up anyway.
Kevin and Jean get along, which explains why he seems to know when Nathaniel is injured. Kevin is a more lenient teacher than Riko, but practice is still hard. At the end of the day, Nathaniel can do nothing but fall into bed exhausted and sore. The next day is a repeat of the same old routine, and so is the day after that. He must be used to it if he can call each 16 hour cycle another day.
The routine is boring, but it keeps Nathaniel occupied. Being busy ensures no time for wandering thoughts and fantasising about concepts like freedom, ensures no time to think about his mother or father or himself.
Each day, Nathaniel wakes up, does his duty as a Raven, and goes back to sleep. Each day Nathaniel survives a little longer, and a small, tiny, puny part of him yearns for an end that will never come.
‡= tbc =‡