Disclaimer: Okay, obviously I'm not a doctor. All medical faqz come from Pete Hautman's Sweetblood, which I love. If any of the symptoms are out of order or come too fast, blame him. Also, I'm not sure if they would- and if they would, how they could- bandage his gums. Let's say they do and leave the image to your brilliant imagination.
-Oh, and I don't own ES21.
Hiruma didn't always look like something out of those Tibetan pictures of Hell that give toddlers nightmares. He'd always had the ears, yes, and he'd always liked the fact that they weren't normal- big and pointy, like an elf or a demon, depending on what phase he was in. The blonde hair could also have been one or the other- angelic or demonic, either one depending on his mood.
His teeth, however, were only recently the inhuman fangs that made little kids cry and subordinates cringe. When he was a kid, he'd had normal teeth- the little stubby ones fell out when he was seven and the adult ones grew in normally. His wisdom teeth looked normal, albeit a little long from growing through his receded gums, stopping where they would have barely poked through if his gums weren't near his jawbone.
What had happened with his teeth was when he was eight, he started having problems sleeping. He'd wake up in the middle of the night starving or thirsty, eat everything in the fridge, go back to bed, then wake up again when he wet the bed. Not exactly the picture of future dictator of Deimon High. His mom would drag herself out of bed at three am, grumbling about how much older he was than this. Then she'd remind herself to yell at him in the morning, fall asleep, and forget about it. His father stayed out of it.
He went through a couple gallons worth of juices and chocolate milks and other sugary drinks in days, and it went through him immediately. He wet the bed a couple more times and finally his mom got around to telling him not to drink so much right before he went to bed. Nobody made a connection for weeks that he was cleaning out the fridge and drastically losing weight at the same. Then finally, Mrs. Hiruma came into his room after he'd slept past noon once, flipped on all the lights and yanked the curtain open and then jumped away from the bed when Youichi started clawing at his eyes, screaming about going blind.
They took him to the hospital. He had to be in intensive care for a couple days hooked up to intravenous insulin and bandages on his drawn, bloody gums. Untreated type 1 diabetes. He'd had a near-death experience before his twelfth birthday. Not bad.
He was eight years old and had to figure out on his own why he had a team of doctors checking his eyesight, teeth, and the soles of his feet. One doctor sat down with him and a bunch of needles, pumps and vials and tried explaining diabetes to him. Hiruma borrowed one of his textbooks for a clearer medical explanation of what was wrong with him, and the doctor showed him how to check his blood sugar, how much insulin he should fill the needles with and what to do if he had an insulin reaction. He ended up keeping the textbook.
He was, essentially, fine. Nothing that couldn't be handled by a kid who paid close enough attention to details that he could tell if he was sick or not. No signs of retinopathy or neuropathy, no long-term effects. Just a mouthful of teeth with all the gums pulled against his skull.
He'd get them filed when he was thirteen. That was when he stopped feeling angelic.
A/N: Okay, if you liked my story, raise your hand.
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