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Hitoshi had been with his new owners for four weeks now.
Four miserable weeks.
Weeks spent being put in his “place”, weeks of pain and fear. Living with someone with a quirk that tricks the nerves to think they were on fire added levels of fear that, despite how many different owners' hands he'd passed through by now, he had never experienced before.
And, strangely, of missing his last owners. He guessed that, after spending more than a year and a half with that small gang, it might be normal to miss them?
He didn't know, he just knew he missed the routine they had, missed knowing all the rules, even missed seeing them drunk and passed out on the couch as he snuck into the kitchen to rummage for any food he could find, or, in a pinch, digging in the trash for anything edible.
But as with every new owner he had had in the past, these new ones all wanted to make sure he would obey them without question, would jump when they yelled jump, that he would follow every direction given, and would never ever ask a question of his own and every lesson was taught with pain and fear and invisible fire. He was just so tired of it all because the stupid thing was is that all Hitoshi wanted to do was be good! He only wanted to be useful, to follow the rules, to do as he was told, to be, well, good.
So all of the pain and fear had no point, all they had to do was give him an order and he would turn himself inside out to obey it.
He did make mistakes sometimes though, even in his old place where he knew everyone's tricks and tells, where he knew all the rules and how best to be useful he made mistakes and paid for them in pain and bruises but sometimes he got it right and then, oh then, he was fed and told he was good and he would try harder and harder to get that back again.
He was bad though because he was a villain, they made him a villain but when he did what he was told they told him he was good, praised him, and made him feel proud of himself. The confusion of being bad and good at the same time hurt in a way he had no words for but he would do anything, anything at all, just to be told he was good.
So obedience didn’t have to be beaten into him! No one ever believed in him though and while before, in the last few places that had him that meant fists and feet. Now, in his new place, when Hitoshi fucked up, he burned.
Curled up in his kennel - no more comfy closet for him, now he was caged like the property he was - he remembered the last time he saw his previous owners (not family, never family, not for him) and how he felt, standing in the room, listening to them telling the other men what he could do, setting a value on him, watched them gamble with him as the pot.
Watched them loose.
Hitoshi changed hands that night and now, here he was, caged like a dog, still burning from his mistake earlier when he begged for something, anything, to eat.
Well, at least no one had searched him yet so the lockpicks in his shoe were still safe. Later, when everyone had drunk themselves blind, he would slip out and dig in the trash. These people were lazy, no one cooked, and loads of food got ordered and then thrown away. ‘Honestly, if it wasn't for them being so mean then it'd be great here, I eat so better than I used to at least.’
‘Well, maybe not great,’ he admitted silently to himself as he listened to raised, angry voices, ‘but at least there's food, as long as I don’t get caught getting it.’
Thinking about what happened the last time he got caught raiding the bin he cringed, curling tighter into himself, remembering the feeling of fire, remembered his screams. ‘I wanna go back, please, I’ll be sooo goood, I promise!’ He begged in his mind for someone, anyone, to hear him but he knew his pleas were futile even as he made them.
He was only grateful that they thought someone else had forgotten to lock him in properly so he wasn't punished for escaping as well.
And then there were stomping footsteps coming his way, a harsh voice yelling for him to “Get up, come here Trash!” and cruel hands were dragging him out on a job without warning. The time from curled up in misery in his kennel to being shoved towards the building in front of him felt like 0.23 seconds flat and he still hadn't been told what his part was in the job, not even numbers, which were so important! He was powerful but he had a limit so if they reached that in a job then he was the one who would get hurt for it!
And everyone was already tense with anger, he had the burns and bruises to prove it.
‘Okay, okay, I’ve got this, I feel three people, all in one room, and,’ he was shaken from his assessment by a rough hand striking him harshly across his head, “Get in there, do the lost fuckin kid thing and get them all under you, do it right and you eat tonight, do it wrong…”
The threat was left hanging but was clear enough.
‘Yeah, like I need a fucking warning, asswipe’ he thought to himself in the only privet place he had left, his mind, where he could be as snarky as he wanted and no one could hurt him for it.
Catching himself as the harsh shove from behind had him stumbling, he walked up to the door and knocked politely.
When it opened the lady looked surprised but she answered readily enough when he said, “Please, I’m sorry to bother you but I’m lost, can you help me?”
“Of cour…” ‘Got her, one down, two to go.’ Holding her gently by the mind he said “ Lead me inside, explain that I’m lost and that you’re helping me. ”
True to his command, she led him inside, saying as she entered the main office space, “This kids lost and I’m helping him.” No one noticed the slight monotone of her voice as he piped up, asking “Will you both help me too? I’m really scared, I can’t find my mum or dad!”
‘Suckers’ he thought as both of them replied, one with a “Sure thing!” and the other with “What's your name, Sport?”
Holding all three immobile he went to the door, motioning to the bastards (he refused to call them anything else) to come in. Standing apathetically against a wall he watched as they tore the room apart around the frozen people, pleased that there was at least some care taken not to jostle them. Hitoshi was strong, yes, but a sharp shove or sudden pain would snap his control in an instant and he had been punished in the past for losing control, even when it wasn't his fault.
Between one instant and the next though, as the adults tore the room apart looking for something he hadn't been told about, everything went to shit as, with a squealing of brakes and a thunder of feet, help arrived in the form of a hero and police!
Knowing what was coming next Hitoshi tried to escape but the very last thing he saw was a clenched fist speeding his way, a shower of sparks, and then, nothing.
****************************
‘Stinks’ he thought groggily, ‘garbage, iz garbage, why?’ He tried to move until a blooming headache made itself known by a hammer beat driving behind his eyes and, more sinister, a slicing pain in his arm, both waking him up enough to realize he was in a dumpster, lying on bags upon bags of rotting gods only knows what.
‘Shit! Shit shit shit!!!’ he thought as he stilled, frozen, trying to work out which way to move that wouldn't make it worse.
He had been in many dumpsters before when he was too young to try to escape for longer than it took to find something to eat. Digging for food after slipping out of whatever house he was being kept in at the time, sometimes only holding on by being willing to eat anything. Nothing was too spoiled or rotten when hunger gnawed at his guts and whoever was holding his leash didn't feed him, so he knew that he could be lying on anything. Broken glass, razor-sharp metal, spent needles, rotting corpses. Truly anything at all could be under him and something was cutting deeper into his arm and he had to move, had to get out!!!
Which is when the nagging beeping noise finally worked its way through his confusion as, with a judder, the entire skip jerked, lifting into the air, tipping forwards only to slam to a halt, sway for a long moment, and then thunder back to the ground, causing Hitoshi to cry out as the whatever it was sliced deeper into his arm and the cover flew up and away, revealing three faces peering down at him in shock.
“Holy fuck, it’s a kid! Fucking hell the biohazard alert went off and I almost didn’t hit the safety in time, Jesus Sufferin’ FUCK!!!” Cried one of them and, in his panic, Hitoshi grabbed his mind as the other two said, “Here, give us your hand kid, well get you out and…” They grabbed his raised hands and pulled him free. At the same time, he also grabbed them , only not their hands but their minds as, swaying, he landed upright, still trying valiantly to understand everything that was going on.
‘Shit, holy fuck, what the fuck, I didn’t ask them a question, I just grabbed them, how? How how, what the fuck, right, command them, tell them something damnit, anything!!!’
“Stand still for ten minutes then forget any of this happened, forget me and go about your job, time starts now!” and he was off and running, well, staggering but the point was he was moving and that was good enough for him.
**********************
After an hour's walking, holding his bleeding arm close, he finally felt safe enough to go to earth under a pile of rotting couches, shoving himself into cover without a second's hesitation. Rank mold and mildew was a perfect cover, no one would see him, no one could smell him, and now he could maybe figure out just what the fuck had happened.
He remembered the job going wrong and ‘Oh shit, plan “Stash The Kid”, that’s what this is, the bastard knocked me out, stuffed me in the fucking garbage, and was coming back for me after shaking the cops off but they must have gotten caught!’ Hope bloomed in his chest, ‘Only Slugger knew where he put me so if he got caught then none of the rest knows where I am.'
'I’m free, I’m really free!’
Soundless sobs shook him as he huddled his knees close to his chest, burying his face into them, wrapping his arms over his head, holding on tight enough to bruise simply to keep his bones from shattering into dust with the force of his weeping. He had tried for so long, for years, to escape and now, now he'd done it and it wasn't even his doing, he had been thrown away and forgotten, left like trash, like garbage, like himself.
He was thrown away, he was free, he didn't know what to do with the feelings that filled him so, taking the risk his cover was good enough to keep him hidden, he fled away from it all, deep into his mind where nothing ever hurt him and fell limp against a rotting cushion.
******************
Awakening he didn't know how many hours later it was dark and hard to breathe and, while his head didn't hurt as much, his arm more than made up for it. Groaning, he crawled out from under cover and took stock of where he was.
‘Alley’ he said to himself, having long ago learned to never speak aloud unless given express permission to do so. ‘I’m in an alley so, start walking I guess.’ Following his own advice, he headed in the direction of the most light - very little but some was better than none - feeling how damp he was, how chilled. Rubbing at the slimy stickiness on his face, he hissed as he jostled his arm.
Exiting the alley he saw an empty street, a few street lamps, more of them broken than lit up. He picked a direction at random and started walking, keeping to the shadows, making no noise and making himself dizzy from scanning in all directions, even looking up. Well, big cats struck from above, didn't they? So keeping an eye up was only good sense.
With no way to tell time he didn't know how long it took him to work his way to slightly busier streets but, once he did, he found what he was actually looking for, an all-night Combini, deserted at this time of night except for its one attendant.
Perfect!
Walking to the door - after making sure no one was approaching from any direction - he went in like he was a regular customer, moving with assumed ease to the counter, speaking through the quirk-resistant glass between him and the attendant. “Hey kid, you okay? You look like you've been fighting with some kind of slime monster or something!” and laughed as Hitoshi caught his mind. Holding it gently like the precious thing it was, saying “ Act naturally for the next ten minutes, do not see or notice me as I move about the store and forget I was ever here when I leave.”
This was why he was so valuable to the ones he had been held captive by for so long, his voice could slip through quirk-resistant glass, working its magic to make easy robberies a thing. Yeah, he was valuable and they would be looking for him, he had to move.
As soon as he gave the directions he headed to the first aid section, grabbing what he thought he needed for his arm, then moved to the chiller cabinet to where five different kinds of Bento were sitting stacked in neat rows ready for the morning rush. Hurriedly grabbing the top one of each pile and a bottle of water, he cradled it all in his arms and, trying to keep calm, he exited the building.
And then he walked.
For hours, taking every twist and turn he could find, fear pushing his legs onwards when all that the rest of him wanted to do was fall down until, finally, he crawled into the burnt-out skeleton of a car, half-buried under a collapsed brick wall. Huddling on the floor and stacking his thefted items beside him, he breathed a sigh of relief at last.
Hunger cramped and burned, bending him almost double when the smell of a freshly opened bento hit his nose, he was shoving food into his mouth with both hands before he even realized he was moving, and, when he finished the first, he attacked the second and then a third, never even noticing when hunger pains became over-full warning cramps until…
‘You are so stupid !!!’ he thought as he finished sicking up his stolen food, ‘Eat too much too fast and this is what happens!’ Shame burned hotter than his throat did as he looked at the wasted food, food that was so hard come by, and now, ‘Shit shit shit can’t you do anything fucking right? Do you actually need people to knock sense into you? And now the smell? Someone will smell it, get up, get your stuff, move, move, move!’
Tears trickling down his face unnoticed he moved on, finally coming to rest a second time, miles away, behind a row of half-fallen office buildings.
Squeezed between a mound of broken wall and a pile of rotting timbers, Hitoshi tried again, eating as slowly as he could make himself go, firmly stopping himself when the first one was finished. Blearily watching as dawn stained the darkness with light, he finally looked at his arm to distract himself from the continuing hunger, realizing it needed to be cleaned and how much it was going to hurt.
Waiting for the light to get stronger he looked at the greenish dried slime that streaked across both arms as well as the gash in one of them, dried blood crusted all down his arm and between his fingers. Seeing in the better light that the Combini attendant was right, he did look like he had been fighting with a slime monster, he could even feel muck in his hair. Maybe hiding in a pile of rotting couches hadn’t been as smart as he thought.
Sighing as he opened the disinfectant wipes and, bracing against the pain, swiped it gingerly across the cut.
He was grateful to be alone as a cry burst from him unbidden. Twisting his head he bit at his shoulder. Catching a mouthful of fabric he clamped down on it as he rubbed the wipe across the cut, again and again, muffling his cries into his shirt as he kept going, rubbing the wipe back and forth, trying to get the entire area clean.
When he thought it might be clean enough he opened a tube of cream, hoping it was the right stuff to use, and slathered it over the now freely bleeding cut and gave a small sigh of relief as the fire started to dim a tiny bit, finally wrapping the entire thing with a stretchy bandage.
Leaning back he examined it with a feeling of pride, ‘Looks neat enough but I wish it didn't hurt so much, fucksake it’s beating in time with my heart!’ and, despite the pain, he sagged back against the shifting rubble and let his eyes close.
*************************
Somewhere in the passage of time he woke to eat the rest of the bentos and slept again, only waking to full darkness, to hunger and pain and confusion that took several long moments to resolve itself into ‘Oh yeah, free, I’m free.’
‘Need more food, need a safe place to hide, need a plan, all in that order! And I’m thirsty too, wonder where in the list to put that? With the food maybe?’
Climbing to his throbbing feet he staggered off again, moving slowly and carefully through a shifting maze of rubble until he finally emerged into a street that had clear signs of actual city life going on around him. ‘Wonder what time it is? Feels really cooold,’ he shuddered at the damp air hugging his thinly clad shoulders, ‘and late. Need to find another Combini.’ He kept on, pushing himself to turn in directions that had more, rather than less, light, finally repeating the exact scenario from the first convenience store, exiting with a stack of bento boxes and a packet of pain relief, and a bottle of water.
After finding a new place to hide, several hours later, the water was quickly drunk, the painkillers didn't seem to make any difference at all and he only managed to choke down half of his first bento, raging thirst preventing him from eating properly.
And it was so hard to breathe!
‘Fuck, this freedom shit sucks!’ he thought as he watched little blue people materialize from thin air as he took shallow gasping breaths, cradling his throbbing arm against his chest, wondering blankly what the fuck was wrong with him to be seeing… ‘Little blue warriors?’ he wondered muzzily to himself as they all started fighting, rolling across the filth of the alleyway in cheerful abandon until one of them seemed to call some kind of order - Hitoshi couldn't hear it through the pounding waves in his ears - and they all scrambled away, disappearing around the corner.
‘Huh, that was a thing, wasn’t it! Am I sick?’ he wondered with a faint stirring of fear, as the first of many deep wracking coughs tore through him leaving him limp and spent on the ground, ‘maybe I need more medicine?’
Looking confusedly around himself he couldn't spot what he had stolen earlier so, with a heartfelt groan, he climbed back to his feet, following after the hallucination. ‘I wonder when it got light?’ he asked himself as he followed the little blue figures, ignoring the actual people he was moving between, not noticing the strange looks he was getting, dodging the odd hand thrust in his direction purely on instinct. ‘Can’t anyone see them? Look, that one just jumped onto that woman's foot, didn't she feel him? And they keep looking back at me but they aren’t running and fucksake, how come no one sees them? ’
Staggering and weaving his way through the thickening morning crowds Hitoshi followed the small army until he literally fell into line, someone grabbed him saying “Right here, just stand here and someone’ll get to you in a little while okay? Just stay right here!”
Hitoshi was so far gone in fever that following the order was as much as he could manage so he stood in line, moving with it as, step by step, he made his way to the white tent set up in an empty lot, wondering what it was all about.
Smiling as he watched his odd friends - ‘Are they friends? They didn't run and they haven't hurt me, is that enough to qualify as friends?’ - disappear into the tent ahead of him, the seeming leader again looking back at him, weighted gaze catching his own for a moment until he too was gone, leaving Hitoshi sad that his friends had all gone on without him until, “Right in here, it's your turn now, what seems to be the problem?” and he was pulled into the same tent they had all disappeared into.
Standing in the all white space, he could smell disinfectant and someone fussed near him as, eyes focusing on the crowd of blue people, Hitoshi ignored the random words coming to him from the person taller than he was, “Quick, over here, listen to him breathe, crackling and wheezing….dehydrated….unresponsive…'' What did any of that even matter when he was finally able to look at the crowd, all of them with red hair caught up in braids and dreadlocks and tangled knots holding bits of bone, feathers, beads…
And were they blue or just tattooed? He was tending to the tattoo end of the spectrum now, just lots and lots of them and, he shrugged off the hand that was on his shoulder as he tried to follow the motions of the crowd of tiny men around the room and across the tables and cabinets because now he could hear them and the one that seemed to be their leader was looking at him again, arms crossed against his chest, gaze heavy and considering but kind!
It felt strange to have any kind of kindness aimed at him, even from someone so tiny and so well-armed, if the sword hilt peeking over his shoulder was anything to go by.
“Here Rob, are ye gonna keep starin’ at the bairn or help uz search for this t’ing we’re lookin’ for?
“Hmmmm, oh aye, look over in the glass frrronted shelf things, it should be there.” Rob replied idly to the question, still fixing Hitoshi with a considering gaze, “Eh Rob? How come FUCKIN HELL, Lads, Lads, Lads, look at that one! She Brrright PINK!!! Rob, Rob Anybody! Look’it that lassie there ROB!!!”
“Eee Hamish, stop yellin in me ear, I can see the pink lassie just fine, and the ald un there with the green wings and the young lad wi’ t’fluffy purple hair still a starrrin’ at me. Tis a weird world oor Kelda’s sent us to but focus” - he turned on the others as he barked “ FOCUS!” again - “get t’ job done fast enough lads and we’ll see what this worllld has for a wee drrrink, eh?”
With a wild cheer, they were off, climbing to the cupboards, one even going so far as to climb a person walking past while Rob kept looking at Hitoshi who was still trying to understand how no one else was seeing any of them!!!
Pushing free of even more hands he moved closer as someone else joined Rob, asking “Is na' one gonna help the bairn Rob, he seems in a bad enough way, ye ken?” “Aye, I ken well enough, tis why I led him here,” he glanced 'round the tent, “seems to be an apothecary shop of some kind an’ the people he keeps shrrruggin’ off are healers or such like, tis the best I could do for the wee thing but I’m a thinkin he might start putting up a fight in a moment, he seems to be getting a bit fashed by the helpin’ hands, he does.”
And it was true, Hitoshi was starting to fight harder against whatever it was that was stopping him from getting close enough to ask the leader what was going on, the weight of his gaze was comforting in a way Hitoshi had never felt and in a world filled with confusion, he just wanted to understand one single thing.
More words cracked through his haze - hallucinations….pneumonia….injury on right forearm….infection - and someone took him by the wrist, twisting and pulling and Hitoshi, mind crazed with fever, was under attack and struck back, fighting with everything he had to escape, biting, kicking, clawing and now he was on the ground and hands and arms were holding him down and he bit and screamed and fought and now he couldn't move for people pinning him and the little man was sauntering his way, finally standing only a foot or so from Hitoshi’s staring eyes and spoke.
“Aye, fiiight like a mad thing ye do, I ken understand that, but laddie, ye have to know what’cher fightin before ye go off like that. Only when ye know wha’ ta fight can ye giv it a prrroper face full a heid, d'ye ken?”
Trying to shake his head, ‘No,' he didn't ken, didn’t understand, 'please,’ he tried to say to the kind eyes, ‘please don't go!’ - he never felt the needle in his arm, the anesthetic take effect - ‘help me please,’ and the world greyed out, one last glimpse of bright hair and it was gone to darkness.
“Hey, Rob?” Hamish asked, “Is the bairn a witch eh? He was seein what's rrreally there at t’ end of it but this place seems to have mostly weirdlies, no’ witches so the lads and I was wonderin, and shoullld we give ‘em a hand, ‘e was fightin pretty good there an we aven't ‘ad a prrroper fight in ages, eh Rob?”
Rob gave a sigh,” Nay, he’ll ave help from another source soon enough so off yez get, ave t’ lads found t'stuff yet?”
“Aye, tat they have, Daft Wullie has it in ‘is bag, hear, ye never answered, is the bairn a witch?”
“A witch? Nay, t’ laddie’s just sick, that rag on ‘is arm is coverin’ a wound gone bad.” Watching men in uniforms come as the unconscious lad was bound to a table with wheels and pushed out of sight, ‘Tha’ worst part of moving from world to world,’ he thought with sadness, ‘is seein someone needing help, needing something so badly and never knowing if they get it or no.’
Being a Pictsie though, he could get in anywhere, and now, he got himself into the probability strings surrounding the lad, giving a firm twist and pulling the grim future away that surrounded the bairn, shoving it sideways into nothingness and letting a better one fall into place. Giving it a firm kick to lock it firm he thought he might have pushed the lines of force guiding this world enough so the wee lad got the help he needed but he would never really know, the job was done so it was time to move on.
“Common lads, let's see what this worllld has for drrrink eh?” At the cheers from his brothers he smiled, wanting his Kelda’s arms but, still, he brightened, now they sorted the thievin', some drrrinkin an’ fightin’ would cheer him up and, even though guards seemed to have the lad for now he had a feeling in his bones that the end of the story wasna gonna be as grrrim as the bit he’d walked in on.
******************
And if a local pub suddenly had the strangest of quirk effects hit it, evaporating all the alcohol incredibly quickly, one bottle at a time, and anything breakable smashing? Then the mist-covered bartender who was the only witness had a very hard time convincing their companions that it was a quirk and not he himself that had gone on a crazed bender.
The bartender really hated his friends sometimes!