A/N
This is a three-part story dealing with Akon's relationship with Mayuri over time. Here is a quick synopsis of the three parts:
Night into Day (Dark PG): A young Akon meets Mayuri in the Maggot's Nest. While everyone else changes and perverts...one man stays the same.
Day into Night (Gory T): Mayuri grows into his captaincy; a teenage Akon grows into himself.
Michikake (Sexy M): All knowledge is worth knowing-yes, even that kind! Nothing lasts forever, but what is learned is immortal. Adult material will be included~!
Written as a much belated gift for rezh. I told you I'd get this done one day. :)
Akon was afraid of the dark.
The blackness gripped his neck with cold sweat slimy fingers. It whispered its hissing voice into his ears no matter how small of a ball he pulled himself into or how hard he pressed his hands to his head, trying to block out the sound. Instead, his heartbeat thundered louder and louder in his skull, his clothing plastered itself to his back. He dug his fingernails into his forearms, forming perfect little half-moon divots in the skin, then blood, then later, scars.
It was night; the lone high window revealed a narrow swath of sky.
Akon welcomed the light, but he did not welcome the fullness of the moon. This light was unclean, it cast illusions over everything it touched, raising monsters in its path. Only he was smart enough to not listen to the lies that came streaming through the glass.
The usual moaning of the Maggot's Nest was now distilled into words.
"Come here, child" a voice purred. "I'll give you comfort!"
"Have you come for me? Stop it! I'll kill you! In here, they'll never find the body!"
"But nii-san said we could go to the store! Don't you love me anymore?"
A few other people lay huddled up against the walls. They were normal for now, but Akon had studied them all. He saw the numbers written across their foreheads. The one in the corner had a year. The one under the table, he gave 6-weeks. The one by the door was already starting to rock back and forth on his heels, grinning like some perverse jack-o-lantern—he probably wouldn't last the night.
If there was one thing that Akon understood, it was nature. The biology of the body and the electricity of the mind were connected by the same ether, regardless of species. Here, he was little more than prey.
Akon melded to the shadows, back against the stone, as he made his way to his hiding place. There was a grate cover leading to a long forgotten pipe that was a bit loose. It was not large enough to provide for any type of escape, but still had a small, crawlspace-like opening that later narrowed into a tube just smaller than his fist. If he curled up into the fetal position, there was a generous enough amount of room on all sides, making it easy for him to pull the grate back over the entrance.
xXx
Once more, the moon was full. The chaos swirled and burbled out from the cracks in the walls with the advent of sundown. The hands reached for him, again and again. He could feel the rough fingers that had grasped the loose fabric between his shoulder blades. Desperately, Akon wriggled and fought, dropping to the ground, clawing at the floor.
"Where you going? Why so soon?" The eerie high pitched voice asked.
Akon gained his freedom after biting into the man's forearm. The world wheeled around him, and the most primitive parts of his brain took over, seeing not the people around him, but the spaces between them. It knew nothing of airy moralities and pride induced restrictions; instead it analyzed speeds, distances and probabilities of success. The widest path led between two tables and toward the mouth of a darkened hallway. Dark was danger, but dark was cover.
The frenzied slapping of the man's bare feet on the floor came to an abrupt stop. Akon placed a hand on the wall and turned around to face his pursuer. He, like all of the other inmates, did not dare to cross a certain invisible line burned seemingly in a 3 meter radius from the hallway entrance. Now that he had paused, he realized that he had never been to this area of the prison. It was always desolate, and Akon preferred to spend the daytime in a supervised group and the night holed away.
"Don't go in there!" The snaggletoothed man's face was stuck in an unbecoming mixture of crazed and concern. "He's dangerous."
Akon staggered backwards. Crazy though the man was, the sincerity behind the remark was palpable.
"Not normal, that one." He nervously crossed his arms over his chest. "Please?" He began to cry. "I won't do you no harm."
The hallway was even darker than the rest of the prison. Akon bit his lip. He tripped and stumbled and crawled anyway. He drew his strength from the stone itself. With each step forward, the moaning and the screaming blurred and softened until it died away completely.
The dim sound of electric power cut through the air and faint blue lights flickered twice before turning on completely. Akon sighed with relief.
"Who's there?" A sharp tenor voice called out.
Akon froze.
"Well, come here. Let me look at you. I haven't got all night." The faint sound of a foot tapping echoed off the walls.
Akon knit his brows together. I haven't got all night? As far as Akon could remember, the Maggot's nest was a life sentence. Technically the man at the end of the hall did have all night as well as all day, all week, all month, and all year, from now until the day his corpse was carried out in a body bag.
"You know I can see your shadow. These lights are triggered by the presence of soul power and weight. You have already disturbed my time for solitary thinking, and if I didn't know better, I would think that you were insulting my intelligence by huddling in plain sight."
There was no anger in the words, only annoyance. But still, there was something dangerous underneath the words. The threat was both real and empty.
Akon stepped forward. He made his best effort to stand as tall as his tiny body would allow him, but he still quivered around the edges.
A pair of yellow eyes stared back at him from behind soul-iron bars. The man had pale features, with a black eye mask stretching from one absent ear to another. As far as he could tell, the shinigami on the other side was displaying no emotion other than pure boredom. Akon took one step closer, but then staggered half a step back. He knew that boredom was the most dangerous emotion of all.
"Oh," the figure said. "You're just a child." He sighed.
"At least you don't appear to speak much. Much better than that insufferable guard who just will not shut his gob and mind his own business."
He rubbed one of the metal knobs that covered the area where an ear should have been. It echoed when he tapped it. Akon's eyes widened a little. It truly was hollow.
The strange shinigami sighed and reached for a stack of papers that had been stuffed under a corner of his mattress and then produced a pencil. He began to scratch heavily written letters over the paper, the vertical strokes much more pronounced than the horizontal ones. Akon could even hear the man's rhythmic breathing echo from the walls of the small, acoustically reflective chamber, and it sounded in time with the rest of him. It was as if he was a perfectly tuned machine, with a perfect flow of output and a perfect influx of fuel. And of course, this was in perfect rhythm with the eyes that appeared to flash at the culmination of each saccade.
Akon had seen many men write; he had even watched a few calligraphers as they created their wares…but it was nothing like this.
Crack!
The tip of the pencil shattered and then the writing utensil was subsequently hurled against the wall behind Akon's head. Akon flinched as he was now staring into a face that simultaneously displayed anger, exasperation, and disbelief. The man's upper lip twitched, but only slightly.
"Though I am pleased that you do not fill the air with pointless conversation, the staring is very, very annoying." The tone of his voice was tightly focused. "I am not a zoo animal, so do not treat me as such."
Akon looked away, down at the far corner of the cell. He felt embarrassed; he should have known better. But still, as his mind had always been trained, a subject worthy of study attended from the background—leaping for his attention like night from day. Akon wasn't at all something worthy of holding this man's attention; he could feel it. But still, he couldn't stay away from the things he wanted to know, even when they were dangerous. Especially when they were dangerous… After all, that was why he was here.
After the sound of paper rustling, the scribbling noise returned and Akon closed his eyes. His body leaned back, searching for a wall, and it landed noiselessly. There were no more screams; he couldn't hear his heart. It was only a deep peace that flooded him.
"Let me stay here." Akon was surprised at forcefulness behind his voice, but he was even more surprised that he had said anything at all.
The scribbling stopped.
"What?"
Akon looked up at him. He wasn't staring into an angry face at all. In fact, he had no words to describe the expression on the man's face. If he had to define it, it would be…shock.
"Please?" Akon wrung his hands.
The corners of Mayuri's already naturally downturned mouth plunged lower. "Do you always go barging into the personal space of people you don't even know? I've already told you, I am not here to amuse you."
"It's quiet," said Akon. His throat tightened at the remembrance of the common area.
Mayuri's features softened slightly, but were still twisted into a definite scowl. He raised a hand, let it hang in the air for a second and then set it down. He turned away. "As long as you keep it quiet, you may stay."
"Thank you." The man waved the comment away.
"Your name?"
"Huh?"
"Your name, you have one, don't you? Though I have few problems with calling you "child", most people appear to get aggravated by this."
"Oh. Akon."
"Just Akon?"
The boy nodded.
"Fine. Good enough. "The man straightened up. "I am Kurotsuchi Mayuri. I suppose you could say that I'm the most dangerous one here."
The man shuffled to a new place in the stack of papers, this page already heavily notated in blue. He muttered a hearty "What on earth has this dandy been smoking?" and continued to work.
xXx
After the first night, Akon spent the night huddled up in the farthest corner.
The third time, he lay sprawled out in a corner a little bit closer.
If he angled his head right, he could see the Mayuri's hands as they scribbled things down on sheets of paper. The scratch of the pen on the parchment both lulled him to sleep and kept the twisted, screaming dreams away.
In a week, Akon dared to rest a mere five feet from the bars. Gazing up at him from the floor, he didn't understand what was so dangerous about that man. The aura that emanated from him was unbelievably dark, but it pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat. It never wavered, and it had a constant, controlled rhythm of energy. While the other people entered and vanished outside of this little, forgotten wing, he always stayed the same. Dare he say that it was comforting?
It occurred to Akon that he had no idea how long Mayuri had been in here. In the mornings, when he emerged from the hall to join the daily activities, everybody kept their distance. They all knew where he had been, and they were wary. Perhaps that was the part that was truly scary to everyone in Maggot's Nest. He was one of two people who had entered through those accursed doors who had refused to lose their minds. He welcomed the space—the ambient touch of a crowd had never appealed to him. He needed room to think, room to breathe.
On the 3rd morning of the second week, Akon woke up to find a blanket that had been tossed on top of him. Surprised, he sat up. Two patient, yet impatient eyes stared back at him. He gulped.
"When you're cold, your teeth chatter," he spat. "The rattling is so annoying that it thoroughly destroys any hope I had of sleeping."
Mayuri sighed and put a hand on his hip.
"Really, if you're going to stay here every night, you should bring your own stuff. You're lucky I don't just make you leave."
Akon smiled. Somehow the words made him warm inside. Yes Akon was very lucky. He nodded.
"Now would you please get out of here? It's morning. I have work to do. I don't play with children."
Akon nodded and skittered down the hallway into the commons.
xXx
Akon squinted up at the high, tiny window, where the sunlight had already turned red, purple and blue, like a great celestial bruise. Already, he could see it in the sky, waiting for the chance to work its craft. He had already moved in his blanket and futon. Today, he had bundled up the remaining things that he had stored in his little cubby—an old leather-bound qualitative methods book that smelled of latex-gloved hands, a light jacket, and a small wrench that he had found shoved deep down the vent pipe.
Today would mark the 29.54 day anniversary of that meeting, one full lunar month. To Akon, that was a much more natural way to count the time that passed than day by day. Counting days was as arbitrary as measuring the temperature of human blood Celsius or Kelvins—but one was infinitely more accurate and useful. Counting the days gave a false sense of one was to move forward, on to something brighter. But really, here was like the doldrums, waxing and waning, but always returning to the same place to repeat the same eternal cycle, much like the people and the ever changing staff.
The lights were on all the way down at the end of the hall, making the entrance glow almost a faint blue.
Akon stiffened. Who the hell was down there? Who was in his place, stealing his peace? He gripped the wrench. The tips were dull, but all that would matter was a well placed hit… If he missed, a bone would be broken and then he could go in to rip out the soft skin. Right on the inside of the thigh, where the blood beat shallow yet strong, he could rip…
The wrench clattered to the floor. A few bystanders glanced over to see what the noise was, but then quickly turned away. Panting, he stepped back, away from the wrench. What was he thinking? Was this place finally going to eat swallow him too?
No. He wouldn't let it.
Akon tucked it away into his obi. He wouldn't let it be held in his hands…not when they had a mind of their own. He crept softly, rolling heel and toe, heel and toe down to the source.
Laughter.
He froze. Now he could hear a voice coming from the end of the hallway.
"There it is, Mayuri-san!" It sounded familiar, but Akon simply couldn't place it.
A voice answered that could only belong to Mayuri. "But that's preposterous."
"No, no! It's completely true! I tested it out myself and wrote it all down!"
"Rubbish."
The voice that did not belong to Mayuri had a slight lilt to it. It was warm, inviting almost, yet there was a strained quality—like the thoughts behind it were being processed at the same time as he was speaking. Where had he heard it? He slunk closer down the hall, pressing himself against the wall as he reached the corner.
"Awww. Don't be that way, Mayuri-san!" The blond man gesticulated wildly before taking a seat on Mayuri's cot.
Mayuri's cot? That was right! The bars had been raised and the two of them were only inches from each other.
It was a second division uniform. With that sun bleached hair, it could only be…the leader of the punishment squad, Urahara Kisuke! What was he doing here?
Mayuri grumbled. "There's something wrong with this entire abstract. It is so poorly conceived. And the wording is so terrible that the 11th squad could have created it, that is if any of them know how to write!"
"Aha! My bad. That night was a bit wild." Urahara laughed and hid his mouth behind a hand. "Just say the word, and I'll bring the party in here to you!"
"No." Mayuri crossed his arms. "Absolutely not". Under his breath he whispered. "Who am I kidding…most of the time, you do it anyway. It's like you live in a constant Bacchanalia."
"No, no, look! I put the proofs on the back, you know? Unless you change the concentration of the enzymes after you stabilize the catabolic rates, it doesn't work! See?" Urahara pushed the pages into Mayuri's arm, who promptly snatched it away and frowned even harder than normal.
Akon watched as the paper was flipped over to reveal several equations written in that blue ink he had seen before.
So that was what Mayuri had been doing for all of that time…
Akon's eyes widened.
All of that time…all of that time. To be worthy of all of that time—not just any time, but Mayuri's time. The feeling burned in him, his chest and cheeks prickled beneath the skin. How dare he!
He had always seen the jovial officer in the mess hall. The man was never without a smile, but could deflect the fist of any man who dared to point it at him. There was no way that one could have that grace, have that countenance, and still have more to give. This was why Akon had never given him much thought, even when he tried to bring in gifts. Didn't he know that these gifts only served to remind him of the world outside, the world he was ripped from, an alien world that could never contain anything of his magnitude?
Akon clenched his fists. It was not the 2nd squad underlings, who assisted in the cleanings and whispered the cruel jokes. It wasn't those visitors from the families of the incarcerated, who seemed to gawk at the wasted souls more than they seemed to socialize. This man was the cruelest one of them all!
He couldn't believe it. This demon was standing in his room, with his bag of books flung haphazardly in the corner that contained his futon, stealing his peace, reaching into the mind that he had found so curious. His eyes stung and he bit his bottom lip to keep focused. Why? Just why?
"Oh. Who do we have here?" Urahara leapt to his feet. "It looks like you have a visitor."
Mayuri regarded him with the same sterile gaze that he had always given him. "He just showed up one night, and I've seen him here ever since."
"Poor child." A gentle finger smeared something wet across a cheek. Tears! When had those gotten there?
Akon felt a hand in his hair, and then the same hand pulled him closer, so that his face was now smooshed against the man's torso. He could hear the heartbeat further up in the cavity. It was low-thumping and strong, spaced far apart, the pacing only found in those at an athletic prime. He tried to push away, but the hand pulled him in harder. Urahara got to his knees and took the boy's face between hands, the rough calluses of a swordsman's palm scraping against his cheeks. He looked up into the warm grey-green eyes that smiled back at him.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" Urahara asked. Akon shrugged and tried to pull back. He was seething. Urahara finally let go, but he didn't stand back up. He remained disturbingly at eye-level.
"To be honest, I never cared much for this place at night either. Back when I was a night guard, I used to stay back here too, until Mayuri-san was assigned this cell. He's not too fond of sharing, I'm afraid." He laughed nervously.
Finally the man stood back up. "Akon, is it?" Urahara smiled and turned to face Mayuri. "I'm pleased to see you're making friends."
"Ne, Mayuri-san. This one is cute, and smart too. I knew you'd meet eventually. I'm sure you have much to talk about!" The massive hand was back on Akon's shoulder. This man had no concept of personal space! Again, he tried to brush it off…but the man's fingerprints seemed to be made from Velcro.
"He got thrown in here for many of the same things that you were. They just caught him earlier. It's a shame really. He has a lot of potential." Urahara yawned. Akon could feel the power of Mayuri's gaze boring into him as Urahara continued.
The same things as Mayuri? Was this true?
Mayuri cocked his head to the side. "Oh really?"
Urahara pat Akon twice on the left center of his back. It made hollow sound and resonated even louder in the room. "Poor thing seems to have a bit of trouble getting adjusted to it here. I bring him gigai supplies every once and a while, but he doesn't take them."
That strange light returned to Mayuri's eyes. "You are skilled at gigai construction?" Akon's heart swelled as it absorbed the deep interest that radiated towards him.
Then all too quickly, Mayuri's face when calm. "Then why didn't you say something? If you are of any worth, the only logical thing is to make use of yourself." His thin lips tightened. "I have no time for games," he hissed.
"And yet you play them unendingly." Urahara mused.
Mayuri flinched visibly.
Urahara laughed and turned back to Akon. "Don't worry about this guy. He'll amuse you for hours if you keep pressing the right buttons. There is no need to be—"
"Urahara Kisuke!" The voice was almost on the edge of shouting, but Mayuri had reined it in at the last moment. "Don't you have to feed your cat or something?" He sneered.
The sharp, knowing look disappeared from Urahara's face, melting into something that resembled what happened when you put cotton candy, unicorns and starshine into a blender. "Ah, I guess it is getting late, isn't it." He bowed politely as he met the threshold. "I'll see you later Mayuri-san. I'll let you know how the tests run."
"Yes. And you better write the results and discussion while sober this time…"
Urahara sighed. "I really wish you'd have more fun! All work and no play, makes Mayu-chan a dull boy."
"Do not call me that ever again."
"It will never happen again, Mayu-chan!" Akon stood agape as the man smacked the wall with the flat of his hand, causing the bars to reform themselves, separating him from Mayuri. Was this man absolutely mad?
"You too, Akon-kun." He smiled sweetly. "Take care of each other while I'm gone, ok? I'll bring you something nice to play with, tomorrow. Be sure to share it with him. No sense in stopping your education, is there?"
Urahara grabbed his bag, gave a final wave, and the clattering of the sandals trailed off into nothing.
Mayuri's rigid posture went slack, and he let out an audible sigh. The silence passed like a brick being scraped against concrete.
"I despise that man," he said after a while.
"Why?" The question escaped too fast. After all, he had seemed so interested in what Urahara had worked with him on. All the nights of endless writing…if not for a genuine wish to collaborate, why?
"Why?" Mayuri stared past him, in an almost dreamy way. "Hmmm…why indeed." He rested his chin over his folded hands. "He's hiding something. Or he wants something. Perhaps he just intends to gain my trust and then turn on me like an ill-bred cur. Perhaps he has sicker hobbies."
His hand pounded on the desk beside him along with each syllable as he began to speak. "I just can't figure him out!"
Mayuri sighed. He got the docket of papers back out and laid them in an array on the desk.
"Come here, child," he said.
Akon jumped.
"Don't just stand there. I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm not like those barbarians out there."
Akon came up to the bars, wrapping his little hands around them.
"How many times must I say it? You're small enough. Just squeeze through sideways. If you can't even figure out simple spatial relations, I fail to see how you could have any potential at all."
"Come show me what you know." Mayuri's eyes were hungry. "It's been a while since I've met anyone useful. I hope you're not a complete waste."
Akon nodded. Now was his chance. He shimmied through the bars and took the pencil that Mayuri held out.
He stared at the sea of diagrams. The models flowed one into the other, overlapping, the strengths and constraints on each node corresponding to a different major nerve plexus. He had never seen any schematics quite like this before, but then again, nothing could stray too far from the basic design. He jotted down the calculations of the potentials, immersing himself in the harmonic poetry of mathematics. After all, everything on Earth was a system, governed by rules that could be manipulated, exploited or cracked by the sheer force of mind.
Lost in his work, Akon was no longer in the Maggot's Nest. His destination was far, far, greater and even though he had been away too long, his kingdom of cogitation awaited him with open arms. He didn't notice the smile that flickered across Mayuri's lips. He was oblivious to the even more ravenous gaze that grew wild and still more feral over his shoulder, lusting after the formulae that flicked from the pencil point. He didn't even feel the steady pulse of Mayuri's breathing, which came harder and harder on the back of his neck, as the efflux of adrenaline frayed the man's over-practiced calm demeanor.
His soundproof focus was only broken towards the very end, by a low-pitched breathy utterance.
"Oh…well then. I see."
Mayuri took the pencil from Akon's slackened hand and finished the side of the box that had been left open in mid sketch. Akon flushed with embarrassment, but to his surprise, Mayuri wasn't scowling at him. Instead, he was rapt with frightening concentration, his fingers trembling so much that the last line drawn on the paper appeared to be electrified.
"How very, very interesting!"
The words of praise hazed Akon's mind, like warm honey being poured down the back of his neck. These words he would strive for, as long as he had left to live.
xXx
There had been 13 moons now, a blue moon, in the year since they had met. This time, it hung large in the sky, red-orange like it was painted in blood. The voices whirled around him in a maelstrom of dissonance. Akon slunk against the walls, carefully avoiding people. He was a shadow. He was the dark. He broke into a run at the threshold of the hallway. Just a bit farther. A bit farther.
The cell yawned open. The blood rushing through Akon's ears quickened. The manacle lay open on the ground and even though the bedding was unmade, it was merely turned open rather than balled up. A white Maggot's nest uniform rested neatly folded and put on the ground.
The hands gripped Akon's throat tighter. He swam in the sea of darkness, swirling, down, down. The stabbing pains ripped through his ribs, piercing his heart, his lungs, his gut. He grasped his upper arms but he could no longer feel his own fingers, they now belonged to a stranger.
Akon dove under the sheet, wrapping himself in the mediocre quality cotton. He cocooned in it until he could only see out a tiny window between folds. Somehow he felt instantly warmer. His heart rate slowed. The tingling in his extremities quieted. The grip on his throat released.
He was cloaked in the scent of him. Akon stared out into the dark. Strangely it was no longer around him. Instead it writhed at the outside of the open bars. He wrapped himself tighter and tighter until his mind went black as he slept.
In the morning Akon groggily opened his eyes. Light filtered down the hallway. The bones in his spine cracked as he moved them; he had fallen asleep against the wall. He slid down the stone blocks into…bump.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty."
Akon's eyes flew wide open. "Sorry," he stammered.
Urahara Kisuke was sitting right next to him. "No problem." He patted the boy's head.
"I'm sure you are fairly confused. To tell you the truth, I don't work here anymore. It may be problematic if I came back here a second time," he continued.
Kisuke unfolded his hands before folding them yet again. Akon knew it wasn't nervous energy, though to a less perceptive eye, it would appear that the man was trying to crawl out of his own skin.
"I have come to take you from this place in return for your services in my laboratory."
Was this legal? Akon had his doubts, but this man could stand on par with Mayuri; this man was magic.
"If you don't wish to go, I understand. I can sometimes be hard to get along with." Kisuke laughed. "But if you'd come, I'd be glad to have you."
Akon nodded.
"All right then," said Kisuke. "Follow me and you can meet everyone who's coming along."
Everyone? He planned to take out more?
He followed Kisuke to the top of the stairs where a varied group of people milled between two confused guards.
The blond man bent over to his level. "I'm glad you decided to come with us," he whispered behind a hand. "I think there's somebody already doing work in my lab who'd never admit how sad he'd be to never see your face again."
Akon grinned.
He followed behind the motley crew: a woman with chains in her hair, a man with a face like a panda, a walking skeleton, and a huge heaping hulk.
For the first time in a year, he felt the sun.
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