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"This wasn't supposed to happen."
Hayato doesn't answer. The eyes on his helmet glow a sickly green as he struggles. The restraints should hold, but Hongo knows how strong Hayato is. He's not about to turn his back on a man capable of escaping the worst situations.
"I'm sorry," Hongo says.
Hayato growls and jerks towards him. There's nothing left of the man Hongo once considered a part of himself. There's no response when Hongo tries their mental connection. All he hears is static, sharp and painful. Listening for more than a few seconds makes his head throb and his vision blur.
"It can be fixed," Hongo says to the restrained monster, "We always find a fix, don't we?"
The sickly green glow in Hayato's eyes makes Hongo doubt the statement.
"What did they do to you?" he asks, knowing he won't get an answer. All the evidence is back at the base, the base he'd left burning as he dragged his companion to safety.
His brain, they'd been messing with Hayato’s brain. That much had been obvious from the equipment, from the state of the... from Hayato's state. Brains, so delicate, so dangerous to experiment with. Replicating a brain is difficult. He's done it before, it's possible, but extremely difficult. If he's being honest, he doesn't know how it worked. But rebuilding a brain when the original is destroyed... Even if he "succeeds," Hayato will be a completely different person.
"I'm not good at this." Hongo closes his eyes. He can't look at the growling, scratching creature anymore. "Yes, I'm good at the science part, but I need someone to bounce ideas off. I need help. Hayato, I don't like being alone."
There's silence. No growls come from the chained man. Hongo cautiously opens his eyes. Hayato is staring at him, head cocked.
"I still regret saving you sometimes," Hongo says as his vision blurs with tears, "I know you tell me not to, but the thought sneaks in late at night. Whenever you're hurt or sad or tired, I think about how gentle your life could have been if not for me."
Hayato says nothing.
"If I hadn't saved you, you'd be dead, but is it better to live a life of pain or to die and be at peace?"
Hayato reaches a hand out, palm up. Hongo inches towards the man, hope building in his chest. He extends his hand, placing it gently on top of Hayato's.
The hand beneath his clenches tight, and Hongo's pulled forward into waiting arms.
Dull hands tear at Hongo. Skin tears and blood soaks through his clothes, but he doesn't retaliate. His skin will heal quickly and there's no danger to the metal underneath. Breaking through that would require techniques far too complicated for whatever is left of Hayato. At least, he assumes they're too complicated. He finds himself hoping for pain because that will prove his assumptions wrong. It’ll prove there’s something left of Hayato’s mind.
He lies on the ground as Hayato rips at him. "What's better, in the end?" he asks, "I might be able to fix it. I would scour the world for you, bring together a team of the brightest minds to put you back, but would it work? Would it be worth it?"
Nothing. Only more scratching and tearing.
Shoving the man on top of him away, Hongo drags himself back to safety. The wounds take a while to heal. His white clothes are soaked in red by the time his skin knits together again.
And he's still no closer to an answer.
"What would you do?" Hongo asks. Hayato growls. His red gloves are nearly brown as the blood on them dries. "If it was me in those restraints, and it was you alone in this cave, what would you do?"
There's no answer. Of course there isn't. Hongo buries his face in his hands.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he barely holds back sobs as he curls in on himself. "I wasn't supposed to outlive you."
Hayato tenses. His growl turns into a whine. When Hongo raises his eyes, he sees the man cowering. So it could understand him, if not his words, then his intent.
He stands, falling into position. Transformation is as natural as breathing. That's only because of Hayato's modifications. Before those, the process had been stressful, painful, and difficult in enclosed spaces. Something that Hongo lived with and Hayato worked to change and improve.
There won’t be any more of that stubborn innovation in the future, Hongo realizes as he steps towards Hayato.
"I'm sorry, Hayato. I don't know what else to do."