Trigger warning: for verbal manipulation, graphic violence, and descriptions of what amounts to torture. Laxus gets his lacrima. Summary in the endnote if the chapter gets too much for you.

Chapter 10: Broken Ribs

Two days after Ivan split Laxus's face open, they were in the kitchen, Ivan cooking himself breakfast while Laxus ate cold rice. His father hadn't spoken to him the last two days except for basic commands: Get up. Do your chores. Stay out of my way. Since Laxus's wounds were visible, he had to avoid the guild, and had been wrapped in silence for two days.

"Want to make it up to me, Laxus?" Ivan asked.

Laxus jerked so hard he choked on his food.

"Yes," he said, pouncing. This was landmark. Ivan so rarely gave him chances.

Putting down his chopsticks, Ivan looked at him for a long moment.

"When you're done, go pack. We're taking a multi-day trip."

"A job?"

"No. Training."

Laxus gaped. Ivan had never taken him out for anything that didn't earn money before.

As Laxus shoveled rice into his mouth, another question startled him, this one so gentle he almost didn't hear it.

"How's your face?" Ivan asked.

Swallowing, his hand flew to his right eye. The split skin was healing, but it was deep. Laxus prayed it didn't scar: he didn't know how he'd hide that. He'd begun concocting stories to explain it away.

"I'll make sure it disappears," Laxus said quickly, wanting to head off this line of questioning.

"Does it hurt?" Ivan asked, still serious and calm.

Laxus eyed his father. "No."

"Good."

Ivan scraped food into his bowl, sat across from him, and began to eat.

"I haven't let anyone see," Laxus burst out.

"What?" Ivan frowned. "The scratch?"

"Yeah. I made sure nobody saw."

Ivan was still frowning, and Laxus's stomach rolled uncertainly.

"Why would that matter?"

"B-Because you said," Laxus stammered, "that you'd tell people I was…bad."

"I didn't say that."

That was true. He'd used another word.

"I just," Laxus muttered, becoming less and less sure, "you threatened. So I stayed home. Nobody's seen me."

"Threatened?" Ivan looked appalled. "I would never threaten you, Laxus. I'll tell you the truth, but I will never the weak resort to such cowardice to get what they want."

"Oh," was all Laxus could think to say.

Ivan's hand reached for him, making Laxus flinch, but the movement was soft, fingers pulling his chin up to look in his father's eyes.

"Is that what you think happened?" Ivan asked gently.

"N-No," Laxus murmured. A confusing mix of fear and relief spiraled through him. Fighting tears, he said, "I was scared."

"It's okay." A calloused thumb caressed Laxus's cheek, and he almost closed his eyes. "It's okay, son. You don't have to be afraid."

When Ivan pulled back to continue eating, Laxus let out the breath that had been trapped inside. Everything was okay.

"We're going to make you strong," Ivan said, piercing the yoke of his egg and letting it bleed into the rice. Glancing up, he smiled, the expression beaming uncertain sunlight through Laxus's body. "We'll make you strong and then you won't have to be afraid anymore."

"Okay," Laxus said.

Ivan understood. That was a relief and joy. And they would work on his problems together: Laxus's training with Ivan always improved his strength by leaps and bounds.

Rushing, Laxus cleaned his dishes and darted up to his room to pack. A multi-day trip. And Ivan was doing it all for him.

It turned out to be their hardest training yet.

Out in the woods far from any habitation, Ivan had his shikigami transform into snarling demons; possess animals; turn into walls and impediments hemming him in; transform into scared victims or precious research Laxus had to save. The violence was so real Laxus almost forgot the people were fake. The screams when he failed were haunting.

This was Ivan's magic at its finest: possessing creatures and transforming into the likeness of humans. He held a lacrima in his fist to enhance his power and keep the shikigami under control—that was the scariest thing of all. Laxus remembered what Ivan had told him about shikigami who got control of their master. The destruction would pale in comparison to this.

No wonder Ivan always stressed control.

When, at the end of Day One, Laxus ran out of magic power, the monsters swarmed him. It was one of the worst beatings he'd ever taken. But afterward Ivan showed him how to stop the cuts from bleeding and to wear tighter clothing to keep his limbs from swelling: that way he could continue to move and fight, and the bruises hurt less. If you could stave off the swelling, Ivan explained, they healed faster.

"Don't let me down," Ivan said, eyebrow raised, as they returned to the town where they were staying. "You need to be able to do this."

"Yes, Otousan."

"You're still afraid to hurt others. That's part of your problem. You had a clear shot at me and you didn't take it. I'm sorry, but you need to get over yourself. Do what you have to do. You can't actually get to me; but this is an opportunity to learn. When someone tries to overpower you, you overpower them first, no matter who they are. Loved ones will stab you in the back if it benefits them."

Shivering, Laxus nodded.

He could feel the hints of what failure would mean, like gusts of wind over a cliff's edge still a distance away but looming. All it took was one slip-up. Even if Ivan weren't yelling now, his anger was a close memory Laxus didn't want to contemplate. It hounded him: a dark threat which kept him on his toes, always running.

Turn the fear into a weapon: that's what he needed to do. If he feared Ivan's wrath, feared making him blow up again, then Laxus just needed to get stronger so it wouldn't happen. He could turn fear into anger and anger into power.

Chest tight, he focused forced the adrenaline in his body to do his will, clearing the pain from his consciousness.

He would do this. Tomorrow was a new day to start over.

On day two, Laxus did better. He hardly took a beating. Each day he improved, fine-tuning his control, using new spells. By day four, he was actually getting the hang of things.

Ivan was proud—even grinned when Laxus's attacks got particularly close.

That was Laxus's undoing.

He was so eager to please Ivan that the sight of that smile distracted him from what he was doing—

It was just one tiny misstep. Amazing how much damage that could do…

Ivan's anger was the cold, deadly kind. He didn't look at Laxus. Didn't say a word as they returned to their ryokan. Just turned and walked away through the trees.

Laxus had to stop to throw up—his ethernano sickness had kicked in—and though his body protested, he ran as best as he could after his father. Ivan strode several paces ahead, not letting Laxus catch up.

When Ivan went into their room, he spun on the threshold and hissed, "Stay out. I don't want to look at you. Maybe my daughter can go find a boy to distract her. How does that sound, twink? Then at least you'd have an excuse for why you failed."

He slid the door shut with a snap.

Laxus was left standing in the hallway, exhausted and alone.

Laxus hunted down food, but when he returned the door was still shut. Laxus lay down in front of it and tried to make himself smaller; he hated sleeping in hallways, not just because he occasionally got stepped on, but because of the stares in the morning. He wished he knew how to be invisible.

Luckily the tatami was soft, and his side not too bruised. Curled in a ball, his aching limbs got to rest.

He was thankful for lying down.

Tomorrow would begin the process of amelioration: serving, fetching, aiding, trying to anticipate Ivan's needs. He never knew how much it would take to get Ivan to look at him again. When he'd be worth the attention. He just had to work hard.

Worn out by anxiety, he slipped into sleep.

A hand shook Laxus awake before dawn. He didn't know where he was, why he was on top of his comforter, when he'd fallen asleep… It was all a jumble, but that didn't matter: Ivan was motioning at him.

When Ivan waved for him to follow, Laxus grabbed his shoes and hurried.

His father led them up a path that looked out from the cliff above the small town. Copying Ivan, Laxus stood with back straight and stared across the misted valley, hugging himself against the cold.

"How much are you willing to sacrifice in order to become a mature wizard?" Ivan asked.

Laxus said instantly, "Anything."

"Think about it first, Laxus. What you're willing to surrender—don't take this lightly. Power requires sacrifice, so the amount you surrender is directly proportional to your strength. The world only becomes better when we sacrifice our selfishness. When we let go of attachments. That's when we're truly strong.

"Comfort feels nice, but it's still weakness: anything we hold onto becomes something that can be taken away, destroyed, used against us. Even people. True power comes when we let go of our identities and our crutches, and accept ourselves as we are. Are you willing to give it all up? Because that's what you'd have to do."

Laxus stared at him, Ivan's face a jagged etching of shadows and sunrise light.

"Is that what you do?" he asked.

Ivan sighed.

"I didn't always. I used to think I could hold onto things. When you're mother died, it made me realize some things. How the things we think we love are never permanent."

Laxus's heart was beating fast. They hadn't talked about Kaasan in years.

"We can never know how tomorrow will turn out," Ivan continued. "People will die. You will get hurt at some point. You can hold onto the things that hurt you, or you can let them go. Letting go is hard, but it frees you. When you no longer care and love and hold on, your actions can be deliberate. Not emotional and reactive. You can change the world around you for the better, because you aren't weighed down with cares and worries that could at any moment stop you in your crusade.

"Sacrifice gives you self-control. You shed the emotions you can't control and become a person with full power over themselves. Someone thoughtful, effective, strong. Without that self-control, you can't hope to have power over others and you can't hope to truly change anything. Everything starts in your own soul."

As Laxus watched the valley transform with light, he knew with absolute certainty he wanted to be one of those people: self-controlled, purposeful. He didn't want to get hurt anymore, that was true, but he discovered an even stronger urge to make the pain stop for everyone. He wanted to be the person he dreamt of when he was little, pretending he could save the world.

It was what Mayu always said life was for. Back when she painted the world in the colors of her happiness, she said the reason people were alive was for creating beauty and meaning and goodness.

He still believed that. He hated beautiful things sometimes, and the way they made him feel, but he still wanted to create that world. Even if he would never live in it.

"If you're willing to sacrifice yourself," Ivan said, "your desires, your comforts, your selfishness, the things you care about—then I can make you strong. But you have to make a choice. Today. I was thinking last night: I have a way to strengthen you more than any training could, but it'll be hard on you. I won't do it unless it's what you want. I want you to think about it and make a decision about how far you're willing to go. Whether you're ready to give up everything.

"I know it's a lot to ask of a child, but I believe you're mature enough. You know how to make wise decisions when you want to, and you're at least good at knowing what you want. I trust you to think about this deeply and decide."

Ivan straightened and let out his breath, giving the valley one last look as he shifted toward the trail behind them.

He had his back to Laxus, walking away—and that spurred something in Laxus. This was always Ivan's posture toward him. Leaving for jobs, or receding into his workshop, or simply looking through Laxus as if he weren't there. Or ignoring him on purpose because he wasn't enough.

Laxus knew he was supposed to carefully consider Ivan's question. But he also knew the answer already. That answer wouldn't change. What did he actually have? Magic—and his body's aversion to it. His father, his grandfather.

There was nothing worth holding onto.

Jiisan would say friendships were worth it. But having friends had never helped Laxus when Ivan's fury turned on him like a rabid beast: friends were sometimes the reason Laxus had to bear those beatings.

Laxus's entire self was something he could afford to sacrifice. He'd messed up too many times. He needed to change.

"Tousan," he said, halting Ivan's steps. "I already know. I'll give up anything."

Ivan stared into his eyes, serious and considering. Laxus had never felt so much like an adult, an equal.

"Your friendships?" Ivan asked.

"Yes."

"Your reputation?"

"Yes," Laxus said, making a face. He was desperate to get rid of that.

"You're sure?"

Laxus's heart surged: this was all he needed. This love, right here. And power.

"Yes," Laxus said.

"The procedure will hurt."

"I'll handle it," he growled. With Ivan, his answer was always yes.

Ivan nodded.

"Follow me."

Laxus rarely ventured down into the basement lab, not welcome unless called for; the place scared him with its spiderlike, metal apparatuses and dim lights. On occasion he heard sounds from below when Ivan wasn't home, as if small things were protesting their captivity.

Ivan led the way and carefully put his parcel on a counter. Inside were the objects they'd picked up in Crocus and then several remote towns. Barred from witnessing negotiations, Laxus had no idea what they were.

As Ivan moved around the space preparing things, Laxus stood at the edge of the blue-white light. Even though Ivan led him down here, he felt superfluous, the laboratory watching him with unkind eyes.

"Remove your shirt and lie on the table," Ivan ordered, motioning to a metal surface.

Carefully, Laxus crossed the workshop, hoisted himself up, and took the garment off. Breaking out in gooseflesh from the cold, he lay awkwardly on the hard slab.

Ivan came back into view, setting a tray nearby.

"This will be…bad pain," Ivan said, coming to stand over him. "You're still sure you can handle it?"

"Yes," Laxus repeated with quiet ferocity.

"Okay. I believe you."

Ivan's hand twitched as if to touch his cheek. He turned away and began to rummage.

"You know, Laxus," he murmured, "you are the kind of person for whom greatness is possible."

Voice failing at these words, Laxus smiled.

"First, straps." Ivan threaded a leather cuff around Laxus's arm and cinched it, immobilizing his arm against the table. At Laxus's sharp inhale, he said, "You must stay in place during the procedure. This is delicate work, and I need you perfectly still."

Slowly, Laxus nodded.

When he was thoroughly tied down, Ivan walked over to find another tool and a small wave of fear washed over Laxus. He felt vulnerable. Exposed. He trusted his father, but he didn't like this lab, and he wanted to get this over with. The sooner the pain, the sooner he could test the new strength his father was giving him.

As Ivan settled at his side again, Laxus forced himself to take even breaths. Calm. Anxious adrenaline could be redirected into hyper-focus, like in a fight; this time he was memorizing the lines of his father's face, the tinkles and clanks of what Ivan was doing.

Leaning over him, Ivan inhaled.

"Are you ready?"

Laxus gave him a short nod. Ivan touched the blade to his chest.

Laxus made his mind jump anywhere, focus on anything, whatever it took to not wait for that incision. Pain was always worse when you tensed up. So he thought of his grandfather, of the guild, of the few people he called friends—and relaxed.

The first feeling was a sense of wrongness. He couldn't feel the blade actually sliding through his flesh, but he could feel pain blooming in its wake, blossoming a second later and making him take a sharp breath. Laxus grit his teeth.

After a few minutes, Ivan put the blade down—Laxus saw a flash of red—and picked up a different tool.

The pain exploded ten-fold. Pressure, pulling—it felt like he was being pried open. Laxus fought the reaction, but his mouth opened and noise came out, the desperate sounds of pain slipping past his throat.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

When he heard several cracks, nausea swirled around his head, tempting him to vomit. But he couldn't flip onto his side. Swallowing, he tried not to choke as another scream found its way out, and another.

It made him dizzy for air. All he existed of was the gaping hole where his chest should be and wasn't. Wasn't. He could feel himself opening in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Ivan didn't stop. Didn't look at him.

As his thoughts shattered over the pain, the gash down his cheek split again. Wetness accumulated along the jagged edge, above and below his eye, obscuring his vision. Still, it meant nothing compared to what was happening with his chest. Even though screaming hurt, he couldn't stop.

He heard his voice form words begging his father to stop. He needed a moment to collect himself. Or maybe he didn't need to be conscious. Maybe they could…

Despite his pleas, the pressure didn't let up.

"You can do this, Laxus," Ivan growled. "You must stay conscious. You wanted this, remember? I cannot save you."

When Ivan shifted, drops of blood landed on Laxus's face and liquid began to fill his lungs. His screams bubbled into silence.

His eyes flew so wide it hurt. Air. Needed air. He was dying.

Ivan seemed to notice—down the tunnel of his vision Laxus saw a raised eyebrow and prayed, begged that he hadn't disappointed Ivan already.

Muttering, Ivan touched something to his skin.

Electricity exploded through Laxus's chest. For one infinite second, all his muscles contracted from the overpowering charge, like he'd been hit by a lightning storm, like he'd become the lightning itself. In its wake, he could breathe again.

There were several more cracks as Ivan opened his ribcage further.

This was so, so wrong.

But on the other side of this pain lay power. Not having to be beaten anymore.

As pain beyond his ability to understand went on and on and on, his terror transformed into certainty: this was nothing more than a dream. It wasn't possible for real life to hurt this much. His father would never do this to him. This was simply a nightmare.

Laxus swam in and out of consciousness. The pain kept him on the edge: hurting too much to sleep, but too overwhelmed to stay awake.

Whenever his awareness cleared, Laxus became sure Ivan was torturing him. On purpose, for research, like the squirrel years ago.

Maybe Laxus deserved it.

He could feel each nerve in his chest like a thread, delicate, naked: ripped slowly out of him. He felt Ivan grating his veins open with sandpaper. It seemed every cell in his body was being tortured in sick and unfathomable ways into something unrecognizable.

He lived moment to moment. It was the only way to survive.

Through the fog, pounding and thuds that weren't Ivan's tools took shape. A crash and shouting and light. Shouting, screaming. Laxus was shrieking, pain along every nerve, strapped down and vulnerable, unable to defend himself, terrified.

He couldn't escape. He couldn't even die.

He saw a face like his grandfather's, but Laxus was in so much pain, strung out beyond his limits, that thoughts ceased.

Though he continued to scream, he did not remember.

Summary: Ivan takes Laxus out to train. Laxus gets stronger, but when he messes up, Ivan makes him sleep in the corridor of the ryokan, locked out of their room. The next morning, Ivan is contemplative and tells Laxus that the way to power is sacrifice, and asks him if he's willing to give up everything. When Laxus says yes, Ivan takes him home for a 'procedure,' cuts open his chest, and inserts the Dragon Slayer lacrima. At first Laxus is brave, but pain and fear overwhelm him. Barely conscious, he sees what he thinks is Makarov's face.

A/N: Jfc I swear that's as intense as this fic will get. Everything gets better from here.