"Help!"
The panicked outcry shocked Hajime out of a deep sleep. He jerked up out of bed and seized the baseball bat beside his bed, the one with rusty nails half-embedded in the length of it, charging out into the living area with both hands gripping it tightly. Nobody was in sight. Another shout came from Seitarou's room, and he charged in, calling his lieutenant's name. The young man was thrashing in bed, but he was alone. With a sigh, Hajime tossed the bat into the corner and approached the bed.
"Seitarou, wake up!" Hajime reached out and grabbed Seitarou's forearms to stop him from hitting his wrist repeatedly against the bed frame as he attempted to fight it. "Wake up!"
Seitarou's eyes flew open with a gasp, already wet with tears as he blinked and squeezed his eyes shut again. He shook his head as if in denial and continued to struggle.
"No, no!" Seitarou screamed between gasps, writhing on the bed away from Hajime, who never loosened his grip. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"
"Nobody's trying to hurt you." Hajime was still shouting just to be heard. He wracked his brain trying to remember what the psychologist had told him he should do in this situation.
Make him comfortable.
Well fuck. He was already screwing that up. He released Seitarou's wrists and knelt on the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around the leaner man's shoulders and hugging him to his chest. Seitarou was still crying, struggling to breathe as he voiced his protests.
"Stop! Make it stop! It hurts… It hurts, make him stop…" His voice sank into a quivering whisper, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room.
Make sure he's breathing properly.
Hajime removed one arm from his shoulders and took a gentler hold of Seitarou's left wrist, measuring his pulse as he spoke low reminders of reality.
"You're safe, Seitarou. Breathe. No one is trying to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Just breathe. You're safe here. You're safe. Take a deep breath. You're okay."
Seitarou was shaking now as he had been five days ago, his breathing nothing short of hysterical as his tears wet Hajime's chest. He'd stopped struggling, so Hajime loosened his hold to rub Seitarou's back. That was a soothing gesture, right?
"Please… hold me…"
His words were barely audible, but they were enough. Hajime clamped his arms around Seitarou's shoulders and upper arms once more.
"I-I can still feel his hands on me," the young guard whispered, much to Hajime's dismay. "I just want it to stop…" Seitarou's eyes were closed, his face hidden against the toned planes of Hajime's chest. Concerned, Hajime shifted one hand to press a finger to the side of his neck for a moment, relieved to feel that his pulse had gone down. He seemed to be breathing better, too, but that was about to change.
"He who?"
Hajime didn't need to look up to know that Hitoshi was standing in the doorway in his pajama pants and t-shirt, his sleeping mask sitting atop his forehead, the elastic straps crinkling his short hair—because it was short, the long locks he sported during the day were only a wig, hence his fascination with Seitarou's hair.
"Not now, Hitoshi," Hajime growled, but his little brother ignored him, instead entering and perching on the edge of the bed. He lay a hand on Seitarou's shoulder as magenta eyes blinked away tears.
"Who touched you, Sei-chan?" Hitoshi asked coolly, a fierce glint in his eye, expressly ignoring his brother.
"This isn't the time," Hajime hissed. "You're going to make him panic again, and I only just got him to calm down."
"I'm sorry…" The guilt-ridden words slipping out of Seitarou's lips before he could stop himself.
"Don't apologize," Hajime snapped, attention returning to his lieutenant. "You've done nothing wrong." He blinked, the air perfectly still between them. Then he repeated, because he felt like it needed to be said, "You've done nothing wrong."
Seitarou's eyes filled with tears again, and as he started to weep, Hitoshi murmured, "Hold on." He hopped off the bed and left the room, leaving the two alone together. Hajime shifted his legs so he was no longer kneeling, stretching them out on either side of Seitarou so he was more comfortable. Hajime hugged him more tightly, pulling him closer as he leaned his head back against the wall, anticipating a long night.
"This should help," Hitoshi murmured as he returned, holding up a hair brush. He seated himself behind Seitarou and started dutifully unbraiding his hair. He gently raked the boar bristle brush through the wiry blue strands, and the soothing effect was almost immediate.
Hajime and Hitoshi stayed with him for an hour or two, wary of leaving him alone while he was this distraught. Neither of them left until Seitarou had fallen asleep again, arms around his supervisor and head resting on his shoulder.
"Hey, wake up." Hajime nudged Seitarou awake as the train came to a full halt. "It's our stop."
Seitarou rubbed his eyes and sat up straight, lifting his head from Hajime's shoulder and nodding in acknowledgement. He was still profoundly embarrassed about last night, but when he'd tried to apologize again that morning, Hajime had shut him down again.
"You have nothing to apologize for. You can't control when that happens, so you're not to blame for anything."
Seitarou was learning to accept this, though he was reluctant to let it alleviate his sense of guilt. It didn't feel right to not feel guilty. Was that strange? Probably. He made a mental note to bring it up in therapy at his next session the day after tomorrow—he was doing poorly enough to necessitate biweekly sessions for the time being.
He adjusted his hat as he followed Hajime off the train and into their building.
"The building is still here, so I guess that's a good sign, considering we left Yamato in charge last night," Hajime intoned with his usual morning grouch.
"I suppose so." Seitarou tried to appreciate the humor in that sentence, but he honestly couldn't. This was his first day back at work in two weeks, and his stomach was so twisted up he was sure he'd feel nauseous right now if Hitoshi hadn't forced him to eat that morning.
"I need you to do morning rounds," Hajime remarked as they neared the guard's office. "Make sure Yamato didn't let any of the troublemakers slip through his fingers."
"Yes, sir." Seitarou slightly swung the giftbox he'd been carrying this whole time with his fingers hooked under the string of the ribbon tied around it. It was just as well that he did morning rounds; he had a promise to fulfill.
The inmates in cells one through twelve were all present and accounted for without incident.
Cell thirteen.
"Good morning!" he called out as he stood before the door, his cheerful voice belying his true emotional state. "It's time for roll-call! Number Eleven?"
A muffled groan came from a pink and blonde pile of hair.
"Number Sixty-Nine?"
"Wha-?" Rock blinked at him quite sleepily. "Seitarou, is that you?"
"Number Fifteen?" He had to ignore Rock's real question; he didn't trust himself to answer it properly.
"Yeah, I'm here," Jyugo answered from the corner of the room, his expression inscrutable as ever.
"Number Twenty-Five?"
Rock had already shaken Nico awake, and he'd been too stunned with happiness to speak until now.
"You're back! You're back!" the sixteen-year-old exclaimed, hopping out of bed and leaping to the door, standing quite close to it as his red eyes lit up. "Hajime wouldn't tell us when you were coming back! How are you? Where have you been? Was something wrong? Did you get sick?"
Nico immediately bombarded Seitarou with rapidfire questions, asking everything that came to mind. Seitarou smiled, genuinely pleased by the teen's enthusiasm. He only stopped speaking when the young guard held up the boxed present, and Nico gasped, interrupting himself mid-sentence.
"Is that what I think it is?!" He was practically bouncing on his feet as he eyed the package greedily. Seitarou just chuckled, not trusting himself with words, and opened the cell door.
"Here you go, as promised!" He smiled and held out the package to Nico, but before he took it, he did something Seitarou hadn't expected: the teen threw himself at Seitarou and squeezed him in a momentary hug before snatching the package and plopping on the floor to open it.
"A Korosensei plushie!" he exclaimed gleefully, squishing the clothed yellow octopus in his arms. "So cool so cool so cool so cool so cool!"
To see such an innocent expression of simple, unabashed joy lifted Seitarou's spirits.
I can do this.
I'm going to be okay.
Just take life one moment at a time.
"Remember to thank him, Nico," Rock remarked, looking amused.
"Thank you, Seitarou!" Nico chimed instantly.
"And thank you for your present." Seitarou smiled honestly, unconsciously making that sweet expression that had literally caused some women to swoon in the past. "I'll return in an hour to take you to Dr. Otogi for your daily dose."
"Okay. See you later!" Nico waved at him so enthusiastically that Seitarou couldn't help but wave back.
Today would be a good day. He'd make sure of it.
