Chapter Text
Shit…
“...Teacher…” Dante could hear Mr. 182’s voice faintly, calling for him “...Hairen… he’s… help him…” He could barely make out what they were saying, his brain felt fuzzy, far away.
The one thing he could focus on though, was the pain searing through his body with each breath he took. Like a strong, electric shock, making him tense and writhe in pure agony. He tried opening his eyes, to see what was happening, yet one of them were completely obscured by blood, and the vision in his other was blurry. Dante could faintly make out the figures of his two companions surrounding him, the worried and desperate sounds of their voices, trying to help him.
Even though his brain was foggy, he could remember most of what’d happened leading up to this moment. He’d been with Mr. 182 and Hairen, exploring some village and trying to find a place to rest for the night and regain their energy to keep traveling the next day. Yet, thanks to their incredible luck, that village just happened to be the territory of one of the shoulders from Dante's class. The other two had been so busy fighting the shoulder, that it was only until one of their little minions grabbed him and ran off did they notice he was gone.
What exactly had happened after he was kidnapped, he didn't fully remember. The shoulder had come back to the hideout Dante had been taken to, talking about how he was a fraud, how he couldn't make fog, and how he was going to pay for what he’d done to the other shoulders.
Over the next few hours, (or maybe even days, he hadn't exactly been keeping track of time), the shoulder had ordered his minions to make him feel just as much pain as he had inflicted on the previous shoulders. What, exactly, theyd done to him was forgotten, yet they’d made sure to go above and beyond in their torture, wanting to please their sadistic master and give him the so called “karma” he deserved.
At some point, Hairen and Mr. 182 must've found the hideout, and hopefully taken down the shoulder. Now they were here with him, looking at his mangled form, which was somehow still breathing yet probably unrecognizable.
“...Dante… Dante please…” Hairen's muffled, pleading voice spoke “...Stay… with us… it’ll be okay…” He knew the other man was lying, he could already feel the edges of his blurred vision darkening “...Do something… help… hi…m…” Mr. 182’s voice was fading now.
Dante could feel his senses dulling, his body slowly becoming numb.
Wow, he was really going to die here, huh? In this prison, miles and miles away from home. He was gonna die a failure, just as his brother had told him, just as he always knew he would. What a pathetic bastard he was. He hadn't accomplished anything significant, aside from being a useless waste of space. He felt like sobbing, but he knew nothing would come out, his body was probably already cold and lifeless by now. Limp in his friend's arms.
He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. For leaving Hairen and Mr. 182 in that hellish place all on their own. Dante had promised to get them all out, to stay with them, he’d promised to show Mr. 182 rainbows and puppies and the world outside this prison he’d spent his entire life in.
But he couldn't do any of that now, could he?
The man already missed them both. He’d grown fond of their company, even if they fought sometimes, and were a bit annoying. They were still his friends.
The three of them had been through so much pain and trauma, yet somehow found sanctuary in each other. Even in such a depressing and savage place like fog land they'd managed to find happiness, something they all hadn't truly felt in a long, long time. All the time they spent together felt so far away now, like a distant memory.
Y’know, if this was death, he was gonna be bored out of his mind. Of all the theories about what happened after death, this was probably the one he'd anticipated the least. Floating through darkness, thinking miserably about the life he’d left behind and having nothing else to do? What a bore. He wasn't a believer in heaven like his parents, but at this point he’d rather be there than whatever afterlife this was.
Dante didn't know how much time had passed, with him stuck in his thoughts, until he suddenly realized something. How was he even still thinking? He was dead, wasn't he? You can't think, or be bored, or do anything when you're dead. That just didn't make any sense. But there was no way he was still alive, he knew he’d been fucked up so bad that not even a doctor as good as Hairen could fix him up.
Dante tried to look around the black void he was in. Nothing, it was empty. Yet as he gazed deeper into the darkness, he could almost see something. A very, very faint light.
The man didn't hesitate to try moving towards that light, slowly getting brighter, and brighter, until his eyes opened up again.
He was laying on his back, looking at the bottom of an old, rusty bunk bed. The room was quiet, except for the sounds of a creaking fan, the rustling of items, and soft breathing coming from another person. Where was he? He immediately sat up, jerking his body so fast he smacked his head against the bottom of the bunk bed with a thud.
The light injury didn't matter though, as when he turned his head to the side he saw a familiar person, hunched over bags of trash, their masked head turned over their shoulder to look at him. “...M-Mr. 182…?” He stammered, his heart already starting to beat a bit faster in his chest.
Dante stared at Mr. 182, who was looking back at him, his pale blue eyes glowing faintly through the eye holes of his mask-hat thing.
“I-Im…” He breathed not even knowing what to say as his eyes stayed locked onto Mr. 182, who was now looking at him like he was crazy. He didn't know what was going on, why his body didn't hurt at all, nor where he was, but he knew one thing for sure. He was alive. And he wanted to hug Mr. 182, more than anything.
Before he could control himself, the man jumped off the lumpy mattress underneath him, rushing towards Mr. 182 and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He pressed his face into their back, hearing his beating heart, feeling the warmth of his body. He never would've done something like this before. Yet right now, he couldn't help it, especially not after that near-death experience. “Fuck.. Mr. 182, I… I missed you… I'm so sorry… I—” He was cut off as he was suddenly punched, a pained gasp escaping his lips as he fell back onto the hard concrete.
“Why did you attack me?” Dante heard Mr. 182 growl. He rubbed the side of his face where he’d been hit, looking up as the inmate was now standing over him. “Dont touch me."
“S-sorry, I couldn't help it…” He lowered his hand, looking around the room they were in. It looked familiar, yet he couldn't quite remember where he'd seen it before. “Mr. 182, where's Hairen?” Mr. 182 seemed really confused now, his eyes squinting as he looked at him like he’d just asked him something bizarre, like to strip naked and start dancing in front of him.
“Whos Hairen?” He asked, and Dante blinked a few times, puzzled “What do you mean ‘Whos Hairen’? Stop joking around and tell me where he is.”
“I don't know who Hairen is. Stop asking stupid questions, it's annoying” Mr. 182 huffed, turning his back to him as he went to grab something from his trash bags.
Dante had never been so lost before, why was Mr. 182 acting this way? He knew him and Hairen butted heads sometimes, but that didn't mean he had to act like he didn't know him! He thought they’d gotten over their differences a long time ago.
Looking down at himself, he realized he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the first day he came to fog land. There wasn't a single sign that he’d ever been hurt in the first place “W-what? Hold on what's going on? Why am I…?” He quickly stood back up again, looking around the room for a second time. The old, creaky fans against one wall, the toilet in the corner, the lumpy, stained mattresses on the bunk bed. No… he knew this place. In a panic, he scrambled towards the door of the room, accidentally knocking into Mr. 182 as he did so.
Yanking the metal door open, his eyes widened in disbelief at what he saw. “Theres… there's no way…” He stammered, his heart dropping to his stomach as he looked outside.
Now Dante realized why the room seemed so familiar. Why Mr. 182 had acted the way he had, why he didn't know who Hairen was, why there were no signs of injury on his body.
Somehow… some way… he’d woken up back up at the beginning of it all.
Back to his first day in fog land.