Collaboration with Glorifiedscapegoat.
Shion's mind couldn't stop whirring.
His nightmares had returned with a vengeance. Violent images of Nezumi being ripped away from him by shapeless black and orange figures, the fogged look of horror spreading across Nezumi's face as Shion fell backward onto the porch, exhaustion bursting through his bloodstream as Nezumi's voice drifted around him before the darkness cut him down.
It was one thing to be locked in a cell. Shion had become accustomed to that rather quickly. Nezumi's many stories about Horizon Labs had painted a terrifying image in his head; now that he'd been captured, Shion realized how much truth sat behind those words.
It was another thing to be incapable of escaping the Lab even in his dreams. When sleep overtook his frazzled mind, Shion's memories replayed the horrors of Hawk's death, the jagged edges of the Yoshidas' fence piercing his throat.
What had happened to the Yoshidas? Shion never asked Nezumi. He never cared to ask. When he'd woken up in the backseat of a sedan he didn't recognize, panic flooded through him—followed immediately by a crushing wave of self-loathing and horror.
Shion had committed an atrocity, had murdered someone all for the sake of escaping—but he'd loved every moment of it. He'd liked scaring the agents. He'd liked hurting Hawk and impaling him on the broken fence…until the reality of the situation crashed into him like a truck.
After that, Shion drowned in his own misery. He was a monster. All the control he'd practiced with Nezumi in the warehouse—all their busy days training—hadn't meant a thing. When push came to shove, Shion lost control.
His memories of the incident were hazy, filled with red clouds and the stench of blood and burning grass.
When they arrived at the cabin, Shion thought about dying.
He didn't know how he could face Nezumi, knowing what he'd done. He'd hurt people—hurt Nezumi—and there was no chance he could make up for what he'd done. The only way he could ever make up for it was to remove himself as a potential threat. There were countless ways that could happen, and if Nezumi would never forgive him for what he'd done, then Shion couldn't find the strength to keep going.
But miraculously, Nezumi had forgiven him.
Nezumi had held him and wept with him and loved him when the world fell apart. He was warm and soft and he smelled like leather and the remnants of green apple soap from the Yoshidas' house. He'd cuddled with Shion beneath the blankets in the tiny cabin, chasing his nightmares and worries away with soft kisses and whispered words of love and assurance.
Nezumi. God, I miss you so much.
Shion realized with sudden, gut-wrenching clarity, that he didn't know if Nezumi knew where he was. If what Aki and Rin had said were true, then everyone down in the basement had been officially marked as deceased.
Had Lab Coat told Nezumi that Shion was dead? Or had he told Nezumi about his secret survival, intending to use it as leverage? Shion's mind reeled at the thought of Nezumi thinking he was gone. His whole world had been shredded by the Lab years ago. To lose Shion, too—Shion's heart ached at the thought of Nezumi's misery.
He closed his eyes and prayed that Nezumi would realize he was all right. Trapped in a strange cell and completely at the mercy of a deranged doctor, but otherwise all right.
Shion couldn't stand thinking about it anymore. His companions had snuffled to sleep hours ago. Shion was beginning to understand the passing of time, as their meals arrived on a set schedule. Rikiga delivered them in the mornings, then again in the evening. Shion's stomach began to growl shortly before mealtimes. He wasn't even remotely hungry now, so it must have been late in the evening.
He buried his face in his knees, letting the fabric of his jumpsuit soak up the moisture even as the cool air circulating from the vent above dried it from his cheeks. He'd spent his whole life oblivious of the reality lurking in the shadows.
His fingers twitched, searching for the charms to his bracelet. It was no longer there, but Shion still reached for it, an impulse ingrained so deep in his core that he felt a small wave of comfort surge in his veins as his fingertips brushed his wrist.
If—when—he found Nezumi and escaped from the Lab, Shion would come back at the Lab full-throttle. He'd wrench it from the foundations, freeing every superhuman he could and let them wreak as much havoc on the agents in their miserable black and orange uniforms as their hearts desired.
It was a sad, slow realization. Shion disliked violence and the thought of causing harm, but Horizon Labs needed to fall. His memories of the agents were all negative. The men and women who worked for this organization understood what went into it. They acknowledged and accepted the cruelty heaped on the superhumans trapped within these crisp, white walls. They'd made their choices and sold their souls.
Shion didn't have it in him to feel sorry anymore.
Eventually he flopped onto his side, buried his face in the pillow, and tried to sleep.
⁂
His dream quickly turned into another nightmare. Shion sat in a chair in Lab Coat's workroom. His arms were bound with tight bandages, but there wasn't any pain. The bright LED lights bore down around him, and Shion squinted to see through it.
On a table in front of him lay a body concealed by a crisp white sheet.
Shion's heart raced as he slowly unclenched himself from the chair. His legs trembled as he staggered to the table. Lab Coat wasn't anywhere to be seen—but something pulled Shion to the table, urged his shaking fingers to grasp the corner of the sheet and pull it aside.
It was Nezumi.
Shion dropped to his knees with a miserable sob. Nezumi lay above him, cold and dead, and Shion was still here, trapped with nowhere to go and nothing to keep him going.
Lab Coat had lied.
Nezumi wasn't fine at all.
Nezumi was—
No!
Shion woke up screaming.
He thrashed around on the cot. The paper-thin blanket tangled around his legs; Shion twisted, unable to escape them. Panic spiked through his blood; his fingers curled into his hair and pulled, as if he could rip the horrible images away from his memory.
Nezumi…
Nezumi!
Shion buried his face into the pillow, his screams quickly fading away to sobs.
In the depth of his soul, Shion knew it was nothing but a nightmare. Nezumi couldn't be dead. The Lab would never allow it. But the image of Nezumi's corpse on Lab Coat's work table had branded itself into his mind. It wouldn't vanish even as Shion pressed his face into the pillow and tried to think of something else.
A soft sound came from somewhere closeby.
Shion lifted his face.
Rin and Hitomi had crawled over to the glass separating them from Shion's cell. Rin's dark hair was twisted and tangled from sleep, but their eyes were wide and nervous as they flicked around in search of what had sent Shion into such a panic.
Hitomi's mirrored mask reflected Shion's red-rimmed eyes and pale face. "Bad dream?"
Shion nodded.
Hitomi pressed her palm against the glass; there was plenty of distance separating them, but Shion could feel her concern for him radiating in the air between them.
He turned to look at them both. Aki had slowly unfurled from his cot, turning to face the three of them. His wrinkled face was calm and soft.
Shion inhaled and swung his legs over the side of the cot. The stone floor was cool beneath his bare feet, but Shion crossed the room quickly and sat down in front of the wall.
He pressed the palm of his hand against the glass. No one spoke, but they didn't need to. Their silent presence was comfort enough.
He closed his eyes and let the cold rattle away from him. He let the nightmares drift away, chased by the quiet warmth radiating from his companions. He'd woken them from a sound sleep with his dark nightmares, but they'd flocked to him in hopes of smoothing those terrors. Shion would do the same for them in a heartbeat; it was a strange loveliness, how quickly sadness connected people.
He was going to escape from Horizon Labs. He was going to free Nezumi, rip this horrid place to the ground, and breathe the fresh air again.
And his friends would be coming with him.
Heavy thumping came from the staircase, but Shion was too shaken from his nightmares to worry about Lab Coat. He turned his head and quietly stared into the hallway as the doctor in white trudged down the stairs and rounded the corner.
Except it wasn't Lab Coat.
Rikiga shuffled awkwardly into the hall, his clothes rumpled and unkept as if he'd been yanked out of a dead sleep. His crimson cheeks and glassy eyes clicked around the room—the way he swayed as he walked confirmed what Shion had suspected: he was drunk.
Rikiga's dark eyes flickered nervously to Aki, anxious even though he was protected by a thick wall of shatterproof glass. He didn't relax until Aki rolled away, facing the wall opposite them.
Neither Hitomi nor Rin spoke as Rikiga carefully approached Shion's cell. Anxiety surged through Shion's blood at the thought of another test. Rikiga had assisted Lab Coat in bringing him to that strange room, where Lab Coat had traded information about Nezumi's well-being for samples of Shion's blood and answers about his biology.
But Rikiga didn't try to open the cell. He wavered on his feet, staring down at Shion with his glassy eyes. He looked as if he wanted to ask something, but the words wouldn't come. He held a hand out and braced himself against the glass separating Shion from the world beyond.
"Uh," Rikiga said, and Shion flinched because his voice was too loud in the comfortable silence of the basement. "Um, are… Are you good?"
Shion's eyebrows shot up.
"You screamed. Just… just wanted to check if you needed meds or anything."
Rin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Guy never offered me meds," they muttered under their breath.
Shion was too focused to really process the comment. Rikiga probably meant medical attention. If he'd heard Shion scream from whatever room he'd been drinking in, then perhaps he thought something had happened to him.
It might have only been because Lab Coat would berate him if anything happened to his test subject, but Shion felt…grateful that Rikiga had come down to check on him.
"I'm fine," Shion said softly.
Rikiga nodded. He turned slowly, using the glass wall to keep himself from falling over his own two feet. He slowly started to make his way back down the hall, toward the stairs where he'd descended.
Shion watched him go.
He didn't know how to feel about Rikiga. He was a drunkard and he helped Lab Coat transport him and his companions into experiments they wanted no part with, but he wasn't the worst person the Lab had to offer.
Rikiga brought their meals and a bottle of water at some point, but Shion didn't move as he placed them down in the designated space. He knew that, if he moved, Rikiga would panic—he seemed anxious around them, especially when he walked by Aki's cell.
"Thank you," Shion whispered. "For checking on me."
Rikiga froze, and then he turned and gave Shion an uncertain look. After a moment, he mumbled, "You're welcome."