Chapter Text
It’s so peaceful. In the game room of the most secret prison “Nanba,” representatives from several Buildings were gathered: the fifth, the third, and the fourth. And, of course, you couldn’t have it without the thirteenth. There, Liang and Upa were giving Qi a hard time, berating him for being useless. Honey and Uno were arguing about something again, while Musashi and Trois were discussing something. Surprisingly, they’d found some common ground. The guards stood off to the side somewhere, sighing about their tough lot in life. All in all, it was bliss! It would’ve been even better if they had more than just a measly hour.
Rock, as usual, was sitting there shoveling food into his mouth, enjoying every bite, when a sneeze from where Nico was sitting pulled him out of his food-induced euphoria. Rock glanced over at Nico with a slightly questioning look, not saying anything because he was too busy chewing. Nico responded to his friend’s inquiring gaze with a smile: “It’s my allergy season, so everything’s fine!” When Uno heard that, he perked up and turned toward his friends and cellmates with a sly grin, no longer paying any attention to the furious shouts of number 82.
Gently grabbing Number 25 by the shoulders, Uno led him over to Jyugo, who was standing by the arcade machine, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Calling out his friend’s name to get his attention, the gambling enthusiast didn’t hesitate for a second and, without giving Number 15 a chance to figure out what was going on, shoved Nico toward the dark-haired guy. And literally a second later, a loud “poof” sounded, catching everyone’s attention in the game room. The guards immediately moved, while Hajime muttered something about tearing the heads off everyone in cell 13. The inmates, equally intrigued, gathered around Uno and Rock, standing next to a little cloud of dust.
The haze quickly cleared, and a rather strange sight met everyone’s eyes: Nico was lying on top of Jyugo, who seemed to have changed in size. Many’s first thought was that Number 15 had simply shrunk, but when Nico got up, everyone was, to put it mildly, stunned. A small figure rose, and before them stood Jyugo — or rather, a much younger version of him. His hair was black as coal, slightly tangled. His eyes matched his hair in color, but they had iridescent flecks in them, as if someone painted pitch black over colorful page and then scrubbed paint in some places. The only thing is that those eyes were completely empty, glassy, lifeless. The uniform he’d just been wearing was now several sizes too big for him. And the thing that caught most people’s attention was the absence of the shackles — the very ones he’d always wanted so desperately to get rid of, now disappeared as if they never existed.
The boy’s gaze was fixed on a single point, completely ignoring the people around him. For a couple of moments, the room was dead quiet, but that silence didn’t last long. Someone started chattering in surprise, others began discussing what had happened with confused looks on their faces. Uno, Nico, and Rock, their faces a mix of confusion and shock, knelt down around their little friend and started calling out to him, trying to get his attention.
“Jyugooo, say something! Are you with us?” Nico said anxiously, shaking him by the shoulders. You could tell he was worried and looked like he might burst into tears any second. Uno waved his hand in front of Number 15’s face, trying to snap him out of it. Rock sat nearby, trying to grab his attention with his loud voice.
“Nico, maybe you need to do something again?” Honey said, sounding surprised but more relaxed than the trio of friends. He clearly didn’t see it as a big deal, having heard enough stories about Nico’s antics and how they usually blew over. But Number 25 seemed unable to do anything and was starting to whimper, on the verge of tears and blaming himself for what had happened. Well, that was understandable — previous incidents had mostly been harmless and kind of funny, with no real change to anyone’s mind or state. But this time, it seems, things were different.
Everyone in the room had been trying for ten minutes to get the kid’s attention, but it was all in vain. No reaction at all, even when Kiji, out of sympathy, crouched down in front of him to carefully roll up the boy's sleeves to his elbows, which hung all the way to the floor and even lay on it, the sleeves lay on it, collecting dirt, retreating with annoyance on his face and clicking his tongue, looking at the pants, with which he did not have time to do anything, because all this All the time, Cell 13 was furiously expressing displeasure that he, oh gods, dared to help their friend, and he was not going to listen to these claims because of simple kindness. Hajime, who’d had just about enough of this, grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him, intending to take him to the infirmary. But the moment he did, the sense of weight — which had been slight to begin with — vanished completely. Turning to see what had happened, the man felt his heart drop into his stomach, a feeling he probably only got when he had to submit reports to the warden. The boy’s arm was still in his hand, now hanging in his grip limply, but the boy himself stood there with zero reaction as his hand was ripped off, though there was no blood or bone sticking out. The sleeve that the supervisor of the building 3 had rolled up for aesthetic reasons, and maybe some sympathy, hid the worst, dangling in the air after Hajime's sharp jerk. But even so, those in the room were silent, pale with horror, and from further contemplation of a child's hand, motionless hanging in a man's grip. A thud echoed through the room — oh, that was Kiji faiting. A heavy, oppressive silence hung in the air, broken only by a single word uttered by the guard of Building 13.
“Damn it,” a rough male voice cut through the deathly quiet.
After standing there in a daze for a few more minutes, Hajime hesitantly picked Jyugo up, so careful that boy could be a bomb, holding him by the sides — and still with the hand in his hand, as ironic as that sounded. Then, it seemed as if a gentle gust of wind carried the man away with number 15 in his arms. Without a second thought, the remaining inmates from cell 13 ran after their guard, which was highly unusual, since things almost always went the other way around. It was pretty clear they were heading for the infirmary…
The Otori family’s shouting could probably be heard throughout the entire prison. After taking Jyugo in for examination, they chased the guys away with a few choice words that left the inmates of cell 13 sitting quietly and not making a peep. Hajime stepped out to the smoking room and chain-smoked three cigarettes one after another.
Time seemed to drag on forever, each second feeling like an hour. Uno, Rock, and Nico were practically camped out right under the door. Suddenly, Nico started to break down.
“Ughh, this is all my fault… Jyugo…” The boy pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them.
“Come on, Nico, it’ll be okay! Our doctors always figure something out, and things get back to normal. This time will be the same,” Uno said, patting his friend on the shoulder, while Rock nodded in agreement. Suddenly, angry voices burst out from the office, and something seemed to fly through the air, hit the wall, and crash to the floor, making the three guys jump. Time dragged on; even Hajime had time to come back and was now standing by the door, leaning against the wall. He looked even more tired and irritated than usual. All they could do was wait…