A/N
The perspective was not easy to write in this chapter. For those of you who tolerate my style, thanks for your continued feedback and support.
Froehliches Lesen~
-IgnisVulpes
.
"A dream is just a dream, but only if you want it to be." - Anonymous
._..._.
._.
Empty.
That's all it was. Void of thought. Void of feeling. Its sense of awareness stopped just at knowing it existed. And why did it exist? Because it did. Nothing more, nothing less.
And so it would have been, were it not capable of more.
A constant noise to the left. Vibrations. Pressure. A strange rhythm. A periodic touch.
It began to notice and in turn to wonder.
What were these things? What was this place? What was it?
Experiments began. A twitch here, a shiver there. These small interactions defined the limits of its existence.
It grew in awareness.
No longer satisfied with just knowing it existed, it began sorting through the space around it. Hot and cold, light and dark, soft and hard, dry and wet, loud and quiet. Opposites became distinguishable. Vibrations had patterns. Certain events became predictable. Light pitter patter meant something soft and wet. Rhythmic shuffling preceded odd sounds to the side. Smooth, quiet ticks...
When the ticks first came, it reacted the same as with everything else new: listened, made observations, drew on prior experience, compared.
The ticks stopped nearby.
How to categorize them? They were softer than the pitter patters, quicker than the—
A cold, sharp, hard edge interrupted its thoughts. Unpleasant sensations completely derailed them. A foggy, hidden instinct told it to avoid the object, but how? Something strong held it in place.
The edge dug deeper. The unpleasantness grew stronger. Unable to tolerate not knowing, its eyes opened for the first time.
The light became ten times stronger, the space one-hundred times more detailed, the world one-thousand times more confusing—
The edge vanished with a clang. Watering, lidded eyes landed on a blurry outline. Something stood there—tall, symmetrical, with two skinny masses to stand on and two shorter ones raised.
It squinted further and felt more than knew that this something was alive. The creature had pale features, a scrunched face and... wide, seeing orbs.
A hole appeared in the creature's face. From it came a sound that was new, foreign, and utterly fascinating. Different from the noises which had become a constant in the space. The creature snapped the hole shut and reached towards it.
Somewhere to the side, the beeping grew faster.
The sound had a bizarre effect. The creature stopped and studied the noise for a few moments. Then it picked strange objects off the floor. Upon straightening, the creature continued to stare at it.
Normally this would be the time to analyze and categorize the oddity, but a constant throb had turned on a different part of its mind. Now it concerned itself only with the creature's next move.
And move it did. The creature turned and disappeared from the space.
It waited. The unpleasant sensation settled to a dull ache. A trail of richly colored fluid stained the part of its being where the sharp object had touched.
Unwanted thoughts plagued its mind. Would the creature come back? Would it be touched again? What was this sensation plaguing it?
This was the first experience to introduce it to pain.
Time was a foreign concept. In a place where the light never changed, where movement came only in the arrival of the creatures, where there was nothing new in the routine, time passed in unseen quantities. Beeping was the only constant, becoming the second, minute and hour hand of an invisible clock.
It came to understand boredom.
The only relief came from the creatures. There were three of them in total. After their first encounter, it equated creatures with sharp objects and pain. It watched with bated breath as they moved about the space, fiddled with objects, carried things around. It recoiled whenever they drew near, endured as they touched and prodded, and took too long to relax after they left, but the encounters always finished as quickly as they began. No pain, no sharp edges.
Without a repeat of the first encounter, it grew accustomed to them. It even began to anticipate their arrival. Predicting their actions and learning how they communicated suddenly became a great way to pass time. They even seemed to go out of their way to help.
"Light," one would say, and the room would brighten.
Another would offer a pleasantly cold, clear liquid. "Water."
The third didn't talk, coming and going only with the quiet ticks.
Interacting like this, it learned quickly. The creatures had names and genders. The silent one was Aoi. The one that fiddled with the machines was Hiito. The one who brought water was Misaki.
Misaki was the one to teach it the most. She was smaller than the other two males and always brought something with her like the small, sliced red item called an apple.
The taste was ticklish but not unpleasant. Misaki explained it was sweet. Hopefully, she'd bring more. Instead, the next visit brought a curious smelling thing. Misaki snorted when it tried to eat it. Apparently, flowers were only meant to be looked at.
Once, during her visit, she said a peculiar word: scientist. People who study, she explained. Study things like Myō.
It mouthed the word study and tilted its head, an action that between them signaled a question.
She answered, "To watch and to learn."
Moving was hard with the straps, but it managed a small gesture between them.
Only Misaki seemed to understand these small movements. "You study us?"
It nodded. Then mouthed the word Myō with another head tilt.
Her lips quirked up. "You," she pointed. "A name. Do you like?"
Another head tilt.
She didn't explain, only continued that strange upturn of her mouth. Their ritual resumed. Misaki began untying the cloth covering it. Then she did something odd.
She turned to the person at the back of the room—a guard—and asked them to leave.
Even with dark clothes and dark hair, the guard's demeanor darkened. A fast-paced, back-and-forth exchange began between the two, too quick and with too many new words for it to catch anything besides girls, privacy, and danger.
The guard turned around. Based on the resigned sigh and the way Misaki resumed the task with a sour face, it reasoned her request was denied.
Why this mattered, it did not know. Was it important enough to cause the downturn of her face? She was more appealing with an up-turn. Whenever asked a question, her lips would curl upwards, and since it always asked questions, things worked out on their own.
Privacy? it mouthed, tilting its head.
The up-turn revived. Pleased, it waited while Misaki paused in thought.
"To have time and space to yourself, with no one else around. For us girls, it is important."
Us?
Her lips spread wide, teeth now showing, face angled in a way that the contraption above her nose fell lower than usual and gave a clear view of her eyes' strange color.
"Girls. Like you and I."
The beeping skipped without warning, and Misaki glanced away questioningly.
It was a she.
The sound of the lock pulled her from sleep. Drowsy and disorientated, it took a moment to find her bearings. It felt too soon for another visit, but it wouldn't be the first time Misaki came early with another—
The door opened. Her thoughts froze.
It wasn't Misaki. Or the other scientists.
The unfamiliarity wore a light-colored outfit, had slanted green eyes above an upturned mouth and was by far the strangest creature to visit.
Mephisto, he introduced, pointing to himself. He stayed on the far side of the room and spoke slowly, but the more he talked, the less she understood. He used too many new terms, too many sweeping gestures for her to tell what was important, and left too much distance between them for her to see his eyes.
Perhaps he noticed how her gaze never settled long in one place on him. He sighed and fell silent, perusing her over instead. The skin prickled wherever his eyes fell, the hairs rising when they stalled on her arms.
She stiffened as he approached. Now close, she could see a familiar glow in his eyes, the same as the one the scientists wore around her. Her nose twitched. Foreign scents lingered on him. Some were acrid and unappealing. Others beckoned her closer, invited her with delectable and tantalizing odors and she could only guess what lay beyond that door.
Slow fingers traced the dark lines on her arm.
She hadn't felt them at first, distracted as she was. His touch was gentle, but that tenderness did not reach his eyes.
"Humans and their insatiable curiosity."
The words clicked easily. She snapped up to his face in understanding.
He took note of this. "So you know the old tongue?"
She hesitated, but that was enough. His lips curled and he looked so very different from the scientists then that she felt he belonged in an entirely different category.
He pulled off a glove and regained her focus. His fingers were long and pale, the tips dark and cold as they skimmed over the exposed part of her chest. She ignored the odd caress, focusing instead on the man's face. More than any other part of these creatures, it was their eyes that gave them away.
Yet once again, this one was different. His eyes were clear, held no shadows or intense glow, and it left her confused and uncertain.
The smooth pads paused at her pulse point. "Interesting."
He could feel the effect he had on her through the pads of his fingers, in case the errant beeping to the side wasn't enough.
"That's quite a glare you have."
Yet the silent demand went unheeded and he remained too close.
"Do you not speak because you are mute or because you have not spoken for so long? Centuries, perhaps?"
Banging from the other side of the door interrupted their one-sided conversation. Loud voices shortly followed.
He sighed and replaced his glove without looking away. She did not disappoint and met him all the way through. "Time's up already, it seems."
His lips stretched into an up-turn somehow different from Misaki's. "If you find yourself tired of being their pet, find me. I guarantee a much better use for you than a lab rat."
Keys jingled and the door opened. Three guards and two scientists rushed inside, the stranger immediately throwing his hands up. A quick conversation ensued in the tongue she didn't understand and he was escorted out.
Misaki asked her if the man did anything.
She thought for a moment. Despite the uneasiness about him, the man hadn't actually done anything.
Misaki breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head.
Or had he done something? Even after Misaki said not to worry, even after her pulse returned to normal, even after the door closed and she was alone once more, the words lab rat did not leave her thoughts.
The first time she dreamed was the first time she thought something was wrong.
She expected to wake before the scientists' next visit as per usual. Yet when her eyes opened, it was not to the bright lights of the empty room.
This place was bright, yes, but not the uniform whiteness she had grown used to. It stretched on and on in a gradient scale of many different colors, some of which she did not know the name of. The sheer extent to which the land stretched seemed impossible. She marveled at what it meant for something to be so massive that walls didn't exist.
The confusion only deepened when she looked down. Furs and strange shiny pieces replaced her thin garbs. Two curved devices rested bilaterally on her hip. She traced the smooth contours and found a deep peace in doing so. The outfit hugged all the right places, felt familiar and comforting and warm even with her arms and legs exposed to the elements—or rather, element.
She looked around. Trees crowded behind and below her, spiraling down a vicious slope until they were reduced to nothing more than dots against the whiteness. A layer of white covered their rich greens, the same as the small objects falling from above.
She held out a hand. One of the objects fell into her palm, its unique shape melting to water. Snow, she recognized. It was cold. Cold like the air, the wind, the ground, and yet it all made her feel warm.
The warmth remained when she woke, but the sense of peace did not when she saw the white-washed walls around her once again.
"Blood. Do you know what it is?"
She made to shake her head but the scientist didn't even look.
They were in a new room. Myō didn't know when the move happened, but the heaviness behind her eyes meant she had been out a while. Did Misaki know? Would she be able to find her?
Aoi, the scientist that had never spoken to her, showed no sign of his prior disinterest towards her. She never felt at ease in his presence, a testament to their first encounter, but being alone in a different room with him intensified this feeling until it was barely containable beneath the surface.
And there was a good reason to be on edge. Aoi grabbed a scalpel and dragged it across his arm in one smooth motion. The skin split easily. Red liquid trickled out.
There was no flinch, no sound of protest. Even Myō shifted a little in discomfort, but Aoi just held his arm to the light and examined it with his usual seriousness. "This is blood. Everything that lives has it. Everything that lives needs a — of it. There are — with —, and it holds many —."
She didn't understand everything, but when he looked at her, she understood that whatever was coming would be unpleasant. Those emotionless grey eyes shone. Her gaze flicked briefly to the scalpel.
"The — body takes — from one to three — to — a cut. Your body — eleven, — twelve —. — but is —, — it is not a — but a — one. Either way, it is nothing short of a —."
He was quite talkative while pulling on those gloves.
"Hn. I don't — in —. Those who do are —, — on — power to — their problems."
He made a trilling noise. Rubbery fingers exposed her upper body to air. The cold didn't bother her, but the unnatural smelling dark liquid* he rubbed onto her abdomen did.
"I have a —," he explained. "I — need to see it in —."
He picked up the only tool whose sharp edge and metallic shine she recognized.
The beeping quickened.
"Forgive me. I'm not — to be —, but — and pain — your body's —. I cannot — for — comfort."
She didn't understand, would never fully understand, but when his hand came down and pain threatened to drown her sanity, she found herself clinging to the strange man's words.
"What — your blood holds… I will find out."
Misaki hadn't come back.
She breathed slowly, ignoring the heat and dryness in her throat.
Misaki was gone but she wasn't alone. Three figures stood at the back of the room, never moving or speaking.
Guards.
They had been there ever since Aoi—the thought of him made her shudder—finished with the scalpel.
She controlled her shivering and tried to swallow. Her throat ached for moisture. Why wasn't Misaki bringing water?
She licked her split lips, the thought only making her thirst worse. Her body felt awful: hot, aching, weak. She didn't know what dehydration was, but she knew what her body craved. "W…ah...tur…"
Her voice cracked, sounded gruff and laden with dust from disuse, but it was there.
And based on how the guards shifted, they had heard.
"Wah...tur—"
"You are not to talk. Be quiet."
They responded. Did that mean they understood? Listening and understanding was one thing, but speaking and being understood? A thrill shot through her, momentarily masking the pain.
"Whai?" she asked. "Whai no tauk?"
Perhaps a trick of the lighting, but their grips seemed to tighten on their devices.
She tried again. "Whai no t—"
"It's an order."
"Oi, don't talk to it."
It, not she.
"Horder?"
The middle-guard ignored the other man and responded. "Order." His voice was sharp and punctuated but… he answered. "From — above. Now quiet."
She followed his words and glanced up to see this order. "Whai no tauk?"
The wall did not provide an answer. "Why no wauter?"
"You can't have any," middle-guard said.
"Cal," warned the other.
"Why no?"
"Orders."
She paused to alleviate the tension pulling on her stomach. The skin stretched in an unplanned manner and she hissed quietly as the wound cracked open.
"Good morning."
The voice and sound of the door closing had her immediate attention. Aoi entered. He wore the usual: a gown—surprisingly white despite his bloody fascinations—with black clothes underneath and glasses that rested crookedly no matter how many times readjusted.
The scientist approached without pause. "Let's see the progress."
He snapped on a pair of gloves and began peeling, poking, and prodding, talking to himself as he did so. The words were unfamiliar but considering where his attention lay, they were likely about her wounds. As she watched his face light up and his eyes sparkle, she realized it wasn't cutting he enjoyed, but what happened after.
He glanced up as if feeling her gaze. After adjusting his glasses only for them to fall crooked the moment his hand came away, he continued, "—, pulse good. No sign of —." He scratched something down on the table beside her.
She took the opportunity. "Wahtur?"
The scratching stopped. Cool grey eyes turned on her, their intensity making her think twice about speaking.
"When did it — talking?" he asked at last.
"A — ago. Sir," the guard added as the scientist turned to him.
"And why was I not —?"
"It — since—"
"—?"
The guard paused. Thought the words were a mystery, the scientist's tone was not. Myō knew he was not in a good mood.
"Yes, — you were — to come —."
"Really? And — I was here, when did you — on telling me? When did you — you knew — to — its — or not?"
"I..."
The scientist made a weird rattling in his throat. "Don't be so —! I'm just curious, Cal-kun." He moved to the table beside her and began sifting through the contents on top.
Myō watched him cautiously.
"You know, I'm — looking for more — scientists. If you think you have the —, might I — a —?"
"Sir, it was not my — to—"
"—. Intent or not, you made a — on — and no — knowledge. I'm only asking you to do it again." He beckoned Cal-kun over.
"Sir, I really don't—"
"Get over here."
The underlying threat was enough to move the guard. An unpleasant feeling put Myō on edge.
There was another brief exchange. Then the guard was standing above her, his unease palpable.
"I don't want to do this."
"It's —!" A hand clapped the guard's shoulder. Now both of them were looking down at her. "I was — too when I — my first —."
The scientist opened a bottle with a familiar scent. Her body instinctively pulled inwards.
"Put these on. You can — with the —. Make a — from here to here."
The guard looked at him stupidly. "With a —?"
"With a scalpel," the scientist corrected. The word made her hairs rise on end. The beeping quickened. "Don't worry about cutting —, but don't hit the —. It's about a —. You need to put those on."
The guard balked. "Sir, I—I will not do this."
She waited for their next move, paying special attention to their hands.
The scientist sighed. "Do you know why I've — the three of you here?"
The guard's jaw worked on itself. "Yes."
They exchanged a few words and the guard's posture loosened. What did that mean? Was that good? The air between the two seemed to diffuse, but the tension did not leave her body. The guard looked more at ease, so why didn't she feel the same?
In a smooth and unaltered motion, the scientist pressed and dragged the scalpel down her arm. Myō jerked skin split, as the fire registered. She was too weak to pull away, her throat too dry to allow anything more than a few agonized and errant breaths.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt. Her body shook, her face contorted, but she made herself watch his torturously slow progress.
Why wasn't it ending? Why was this happening? Why was the guard shouting? Why wasn't the scientist listening? Why was there no water? Why was there so much blood? Why was she a lab rat?
The edge left and the blazing fire settled into a low burn, but that didn't stop the shaking.
"There. See, Cal-kun?"
No response.
"This is my —. And your — is to stand there. Not shout. Not talk. Not even think. To watch and —. That's it."
Without the strength to hold it, her head rolled. The guard's face seemed pale. The scientist ignored him and began cleaning the blood away, his touch and attention gentle almost as if he wasn't the source of the wound.
She wanted Misaki. She opened her mouth but only hot air rushed out. The room was spinning. Darkness called out, promising relief. Her mind began slipping.
In the last moments of wakefulness, she remembered the snow-covered land. Did such a place exist? Without walls, without straps, without scalpels?
Was it possible to find?
The light was excruciating. Her face scrunched against the unforgiving rawness of her eyes. As the bright dots faded from her vision, she noticed a blurry outline in a nearby chair. An unusual response flooded her senses, causing her heart to speed and her mind to whirl.
"Someone had a rough night."
Her mind was in such a frenzy that she barely understood the words, but then she realized that she could understand them. She forced herself to calm down and examine the creature again.
The man fiddled with a colorful cube, his posture relaxed and unhurried. He glanced up and she recognized him as the strange man from before. One side of his lips curled.
She wanted to ask a question, but a dry wheeze came out instead.
A glass of water appeared with a snap. She stared at it then glanced back at the man who fiddled with the cube as though nothing had happened. Nevermind how it got there, at that moment it was the most incredible object in existence. Her thirst intensified ten-fold as she struggled thoughtlessly forward. An arc of fire traveled up her arm and she fell back with a sharp inhale.
"Allow me."
Once the fire settled to a tolerable burn, she noticed the glass situated before her. Cold, blissfully tasteless fluid touched her lips and she forgot all about the pain.
He dropped the cube and looked on with his head in hand. "And they call us demons."
She didn't respond, too concerned with finding out how much she could drink without choking. Apparently, it was more than the glass could hold. As though summoned by her desires, the empty glass was replaced by a larger full one. She slowed down with this one, relishing the feel of the liquid hydrating her body. Vaguely, she recalled someone sitting next to her.
"Why... are you here?" she asked weakly between swallows.
"Why am I here? Aren't you the one who wanted to see me again?"
How had he known? Could he read minds? She saved this detail under the title Mephisto.
As if reading her train of thought, he explained, "It was only a matter of time. I figured I would check on you since I have a free moment." He glanced at his arm. "Although not that long of a free moment. Of course, if I'm wrong—"
Her voice was stronger now. "No. I want to leave."
She hadn't even finished before he stood and clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I'm more than happy to provide the means. There are a few stipulations, but I'm sure you'll have no trouble accepting."
"Stipulations?"
His lips widened. "Conditions. As in, things you must do in order for me to get you out of here."
Images of scalpels and blood flashed through her mind, but her features remained neutral. Though he might have seen the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
He . "Do you know who you are?"
She stared into the empty glass. "The scientists call me Myō."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's what they call you. What do you call yourself?"
The bottom of the glass was smooth and clear and if she looked hard enough, had the outline of a face, one she didn't recognize. She narrowed her eyes. The figure's eyes narrowed too.
"Myō is fine."
The strength of his gaze was tangible.
"Is that so. I was hoping for something more—" he waved his hand "—exotic. Well, you'll get some looks but… hmm, you'll get looks no matter what."
"You mentioned stipulations."
It was strange how far this man's lips could stretch, how the expression didn't match his eyes. "Three of them."
He walked away a little, hands clasping behind him. "One. Your location will be kept track of 24/7. That means at all times. Similarly, you may not leave the confines of the city. The moment you do, the Order will be notified and a team sent to retrieve you. Whatever happens then will be out of my hands."
He stopped. "Two. You will cooperate with the Order and continue their tests at their discretion. This is to remain secret. That means you can't tell anyone."
"I know what secret means."
He threw a lazy look over his shoulder for some reason but didn't comment. "Three. You will shadow a student with the intention of enrolling in school, my school."
Student? Enrolling? She saved these foreign words for later.
"If you are not deemed a threat by then, the Order shall reassess your status."
"And if I follow these… stipulations?" she asked.
He rotated on his heels. "Then I can get you out of here."
"And if I don't?"
His lips pinched. Slowly, he returned to her side. A gentle but meaningful finger trailed down her arm, close to the raw flesh. "That, I wouldn't recommend."
Her eyes hardened.
"I don't think there's much to think over here, but if you want me to come back—"
"No," she interrupted. "I want to leave."
He blinked. "Though I said that, I wasn't expecting such a quick decision. There must be a reason beyond the scientists driving you to leave?"
The snow-covered mountains. The sense of wrongness. Maybe he knew about them? She looked at him,
"There is none,"
The man's eyes gleamed. It was a long moment before he said, "You'll need to learn Japanese."
Japanese? Misaki mentioned it before. It was… was the language of the people.
"I know little," she informed in said language. "Scientist speak."
He made an odd noise in his throat, one Misaki made all the time, and pressed a finger to her forehead. "Not enough."
Her nose crinkled. "I will learn enough."
"You'll have to if you want to survive." A heaviness entered his words, one that had her paying special attention to them. "Many things have changed. You were asleep for a long time."
It didn't feel like it. Her arm still ached and they were still in the strange room. Was time measured differently between them? She saved this thought for later.
"When can I leave?" she asked.
"Ah, there's one more thing. An extra, you could say."
"Which is?"
He sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. "I want to make a bet—as my incentive for helping."
Again, a sense of apprehension took hold. Going by the eager air around him, this bet seemed not to be in her favor. The man had power. He was the only means of getting out and by the sound of these stipulations, would continue to play a large role when and if she did. Now he sought more?
Would it be worse than being a lab rat?
"What bet?"