Chapter Four:
THE SIXTH DEATH:
The mansion had two dining rooms: a casual one and a fancy one for entertaining guests and special occasions. It very much bothered Yoichi that he'd been escorted to the more extravagant room, because he doubted his older brother wanted to celebrate his escape attempt. What was Hisashi up to? Yoichi squirmed in the blue cushioned chair.
The oak walls had woodwork imitating pillars and floor-to-ceiling windows. Landscapes in Ukiyo-e style hung on the wall. The chandelier was shaped like an octopus with electric candles poking out of glass tentacles pointing in all directions. The tarnished gold frame made the chandelier look like an antique, but Yoichi knew full well his big brother had commissioned it. Hisashi had added the black sunglasses as a tribute to Doc Ock, one of his favorite supervillains.
A bonsai tree sat on top of the marble fireplace. The albino redwood was one of Hisashi's most prized possessions, so he never missed a chance to show it off. Only a foot tall, its trunk curved around a supporting rock and the branches sprouted white needles. The total lack of color made it plain why they were called ghost trees. Yoichi suspected that Hisashi liked the bonsai tree so much because it was white like his hair. Big brother was vain enough. Albino redwoods couldn't photosynthesize, so they had to be fed nutrients and constantly monitored by a careful gardener. Actually, Yoichi had gotten his brother the original sprout as a birthday present after Hisashi had spoken a tad too wistfully about the good old days looking after his younger brother when he'd been sick. The memory gave Yoichi an uneasy feeling. He jerked his eyes away from the miniature tree.
The long chestnut table could seat a dozen people and it currently held enough food for all of them, too. The traditional Japanese feast contained pork cutlets, tempura, yakitori, and miso soup. It smelled delicious, but Yoichi's stomach had worked itself into too many knots for him to have an appetite. The paralyzation had worn off long ago. This was the first time he'd been allowed out of his room. He couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the door. But even leaving aside the men stationed outside, he'd never get past his superpowered brother.
"Eat up while it's still hot." Hisashi gestured at the katsudon.
Steam rose off the pork cutlet. Breakfast had been delivered to his bedroom, but Yoichi had felt too anxious to eat. Now his stomach growled. But he was suspicious that his brother would prepare his favorite food after what he'd done. He glanced up. Hisashi's face looked calm and impassive. Big brother hadn't seemed angry earlier, either. It was hard to believe.
Looking at his empty plate, Yoichi whispered, "What are you going to do to me?"
"That depends on whether we can reach an agreement." Hisashi placed a cutlet on Yoichi's plate. "Calm down. I would never hurt you. Even though you apparently can't say the same in return."
Yoichi glanced up. "I wouldn't have told them anything they could use to assassinate you. But your plans had to be stopped." He couldn't keep a wobble from his voice. His brother's disapproval and disappointment still had the power to hurt him.
"With my ability, the government would never have seen me as anything except a villain no matter what I did. Just how naïve are you? How could you do this to me, after everything I've done to protect you?"
"You're trying to overthrow the legitimate government of Japan. I don't think your metahuman power is the reason they think you're a villain." A bit of defiance leaked into Yoichi's voice. He recognized the theatrics lurking in his brother's guilt trip. "I'll accept your anger as deserved, but spare me the fake surprise. You knew full well I'd react like this. That's why you kept your criminal empire a secret."
"I'd noticed you getting more rebellious and reckless." Hisashi steepled his fingers. "I knew I couldn't trust you to be sensible about this."
"Be sensible?" A hysterical giggle escaped Yoichi's lips. "You're planning to conquer Japan like some sort of demon king from a comic book, but you think I'm not being sensible."
Hisashi leaned forward. His eyes blazed. "The Japanese government will inevitably fall. They don't have the power to stop the rising number of metahumans. It's just a matter of who will rule. Wouldn't it be better if it's someone smart and competent? The only way I can keep both of us safe is to make sure I come out on top in the coming chaos."
Yoichi didn't even know where to begin. He took a bite of food. His usual favorite tasted like ashes in his mouth. "You're not going to persuade me that you need to conquer Japan out of self-defense, big brother. You could never persuade me to accept such a thing at all. It's too insane."
"I'm willing to compromise. I'd only ever make such an offer to you, my dear little brother. I can guarantee that non-metahumans will retain full citizenship."
"Removing our human rights was on the table?" Yoichi whispered.
"Not to you, of course." Hisashi tried to rapidly backpedal. "That's what would happen if someone else took over. There are numerous metahuman superiority groups on the rise. Imagine what they'd do if one of them wins. I've brought them under my control in order to protect people."
"Stop lying to me. I saw your files. You've already hurt so many people. Those whose powers you stole. Those who you forced powers upon. People who you used and then discarded. Crimes you instigated. All I want is for you to stop hurting people!"
"I don't even have to compromise with you at all, yet I'm still trying to be reasonable." Hisashi sighed.
Belatedly, Yoichi realized that he would have been smarter to pretend compliance and try to obtain more freedom. But that probably wouldn't have worked. His big brother had always been good at telling when he was lying, just like the other way around. Hisashi knew Yoichi too well to believe he'd give up his moral principles under threat.
Fine, then, he'd try reason. "Big brother, have you truly thought about what it means to destroy Japan's government? Your organization may be large, but you don't have the infrastructure to replace the entire police force and bureaucracy. That means a long period of chaos. Haven't you read history articles about what happens in failed states? Japan is an island: refugees will drown by the thousands trying to escape. Innocents who never persecuted anyone and people with weak metapowers will be caught in the crossfire."
Hisashi said, "And then they'll turn to the only strong leader available—me. The brief period of chaos is a necessary evil, little brother, before I create a better society."
Yoichi gaped at his older brother, who had in the space of a day warped into a complete stranger. His brother bullshit detector had revealed an unfortunate truth: Hisashi didn't particular care about creating a better world, just one where he came out on top. He'd deliberately cause the deaths of innocents to further his plans.
When had Hisashi changed so much? He'd never been perfect, but he hadn't been this awful. Surely Yoichi would have noticed. Or had he refused to see? For how long had he existed in a state of denial? He'd read about horrors in his brother's files, but he hadn't been able to make himself completely believe it until he'd heard it from Hisashi's own lips.
How could Yoichi possibly reason with Hisashi if their basic frame of reference was so different? What Yoichi considered all-important didn't matter to Hisashi at all, and as a prisoner Yoichi had no ability to make his older brother care. This conversation had been futile from the very beginning.
Yoichi asked harshly, "What do you plan to do with me?"
"Japan is about to get increasingly turbulent—"
"Because of you," Yoichi muttered.
"It's no longer safe for you to attend school. I need you to stay inside. I'll apply for a leave of absence from Tokyo University on your behalf."
"In other words, just like before." Yoichi stabbed his katsudon with extra emphasis.
"Yes, exactly. See? I'm not punishing you." From Hisashi's smile, he'd completely missed the point.
Yoichi shrieked, "It hardly comforts me that my regular life is sufficiently close to house arrest as to be indistinguishable—"
The rest of the lunch dissolved into a shouting match.
After lunch, Yoichi collapsed sideways onto his bed, coughing and wheezing. Just the distance to the bathroom to get a drink of water felt unbearably far. His pride wouldn't allow him to call to the guards outside his room for help.
Red spots danced behind his eyes. His throat burned. Chills shook his body.
Hisashi rushed into the room. "Little brother, I'm here." He held up a cup of water to his lips.
Yoichi drank gratefully. His limbs felt numb. Hisashi placed a cold cloth over his forehead, then wrapped him up in blankets. "There, there," Hisashi murmured, wiping sweaty hair off his forehead.
Sleep beckoned. But Yoichi cracked an eye open. "How did you know I was sick?"
"I heard you coughing from the hallway, of course."
This sounded plausible. His brother was definitely creepy enough to be lurking around outside his bedroom. But the timing of this relapse was too coincidental. He'd been waiting all day for a punishment, and here it came. "Did you poison my lunch?"
"What? Of course not! Your stress must have brought back your illness. Is this the fever talking? Are you delirious?" Hisashi held out a thermometer. "Say 'ahhh.'"
The world spun and blurred. Yoichi could no longer hold onto consciousness. But his last thought was, Liar.
For several days, Hisashi remained close by Yoichi's side, pouring liquids and medicine down his throat, reading to him, even sometimes singing a lullaby. Every night, Hisashi lay down on the same bed to sleep holding him.
Yoichi endured. He acted even weaker than he felt in reality. At one point, Yoichi snapped and screamed at his brother to stop touching him, but Hisashi only took this as the fever talking. Afterward, Yoichi tried even harder to seem meek and grateful.
When several days of compliance had passed, Hisashi finally started leaving Yoichi alone for long periods. His work must be calling him back.
After dinner, Yoichi looked around and listened at his door for any noise. Then he staggered the toilet and stuck a finger down his throat, forcing himself to throw up.
His symptoms improved within the hour. By morning, he felt significantly better. Of course, he kept pretending to be too ill to even leave his bed.
This new truth might be the cruelest one of all. Because now he had to wonder precisely how long his brother had been poisoning him to make him sicker.
THE SEVENTH DEATH:
Yoichi ran down the dark street. His empty stomach felt like it was eating a hole through his spine. Nearly two weeks of pretending to be sicker than he actually was and secretly throwing up his food had finally paid off. He'd successfully coaxed his brother to let him take short walks outside. The first couple times, he'd played weak and passive. He'd waited for his ever-busy brother to inevitably receive an important phone call during one of their walks and return to the mansion. Then he'd beaten two guards unconscious with his cane and made his escape.
The guards clearly had been ordered not to bruise him, and he'd taken shameless advantage of that. Maybe he ought to feel guilty for attacking one from behind and smacking the other across the skull while the man had been trying to reason with him, but he felt more annoyed at being so badly underestimated.
A wave of dizziness swamped Yoichi. He grabbed a sidewalk bench before he fell down. He hadn't been able to purge all the drugs from his system.
Where to go? After last time he'd tried the authorities, Yoichi was afraid to risk the police station. Hisashi's corrupt minions had infiltrated too deeply. His college friends were all ordinary people, so he would never put them in danger.
He saw two paths before him: try contact a higher-level politician or try to escape Japan.
Leaning on the bench, Yoichi hesitated. For his own safety, it would be better to get as far away from Hisashi as possible. But he still wanted to stop his brother. He remembered at least the rough outline of All for One's plans. He couldn't just run away when he might be able to make a difference.
Perhaps a homeless shelter first. If he could only obtain internet access long enough to look up the location of a political rival to his brother—
"You shouldn't be running around, in your condition."
Yoichi whirled around. His brother sauntered down the sidewalk toward him.
"How?" One syllable was all he could manage.
Hisashi smiled. "I have many means of tracking your location."
Yoichi's stomach plummeted. He might be able to do something about a bug, but if his brother had a metahuman ability that could be used to find him, then he had no idea how to counter that. Tears blurred his vision, but he was determined not to cry. He wanted to say something snarky or defiant, but only a cough emerged.
Hisashi leapt forward to grab him as he swayed. "Sit down. I'll bring a car around. Does it hurt? Try to breathe deeply."
"Stop!" Yoichi yanked his arm free. "Stop sounding so concerned! I know you did this to me! You made me sick!"
"This again?" Hisashi frowned. "You've always been sick, ever since childhood—"
"I'm perfectly healthy when I'm not living with you! Stop treating me like I'm stupid! You enjoy it, looking after me, but not because you care. You like to feel superior to me. You want to force me to depend on you."
"Of all the ingratitude—"
"Who the hell would be grateful to you for locking me up and poisoning me? I hate you!"
The words echoed down the darkened, deserted street. Yoichi panted. Hisashi looked stunned. Yoichi had never gone so far before, not even after he'd found out about his brother's identity as All for One. But he meant the words. He loved his big brother, but he also hated him. When had this dark feeling started? He didn't know. He hadn't even realized it until he'd spoken it out loud. The sincerity of his fury had shocked both of them.
"Shut up!" Hisashi lunged forward, a snarl twisting his face. He grabbed his little brother's head in an iron grip.
For the first time in his life, Yoichi feared his brother would beat him. Instead, a metahuman power forced him into unconsciousness.
Yoichi woke up resting on a hard surface. It was too small and narrow to be his usual bed. He sat up. He'd been lying on a mattress on the floor. Three walls and the ceiling were made of concrete. The room had a desk, a bookshelf, a television, and a curtain likely hiding a toilet. The front wall was made of silver bars.
For a moment, Yoichi believed he was in a prison cell, and he felt relieved, because his brother wouldn't be able to get to him there.
But then he recognized the back of a man guarding the barred door as a member of Hisashi's security team. He even recognized the picture hanging on the hallway beyond. This was the mansion's basement.
He squeezed his eyes shut. But this time, he couldn't stop himself from crying.
THE EIGHTH DEATH:
The cell door opened with a rattle.
Yoichi lifted his head just enough to see that Hisashi had entered the basement room. Then he let his hair fall back over his face and lay still. There was no point in moving. He had no illusions that he could beat his big brother in a fight.
The guards remained standing rigidly in front of the cell with their backs turned. They weren't allowed to speak to him. It had been weeks since he'd been permitted conversation with anyone except his older brother. Machia never came down here, probably because no amount of orders would be able to stop the gregarious bodyguard from talking.
Hisashi's black dress shoes clacked as he walked across the tiles. Over the last two weeks, the cell had been stripped of everything except the mattress and the toilet.
The television had been removed after he'd broken off a piece of glass and used it to stab the guard bringing him food. He'd gotten out the mansion that time and even partway climbed the wall. That had been the closest he'd gotten to escaping. Afterward, the number of guards had tripled, and they'd started carrying nets and tasers instead of guns they weren't allowed to use on him.
The desk had vanished after he'd broken off the leg to club a guard unconscious, then reached through the bars to steal his keys. The curtain had been stripped from the toilet after he'd looped it through the bars and strangled a guard. During that incident, he'd found out the guards no longer carried keys when they went near him and his brother didn't care enough for them to have value as hostages. That showed how much All for One valued his people. Yoichi felt sorry for traumatizing the man even though he'd been bluffing about killing him.
Sheets and blankets had been stripped from his bed after similar attempts to use them as noose weapons. The books had been taken from his room as punishment after his fifth escape attempt. The bookshelf had quickly followed, after he'd dismantled it late at night and used a screw as a lockpick.
Ten escape attempts so far, and to his profound frustration, he'd yet to get as close as the first time. He'd replayed that first attempt in his mind a million times, thinking about what he could have done differently while security had been lighter.
He'd left scratches on the cement wall to record each day. Since that fateful lunch in the guest dining room, he'd been imprisoned for a month. Longer if he counted when the so-called lockdown had first started—and he ought to count that, given what he knew now.
Over the last week, he'd heard the sound of construction in the basement. He'd seen metal carried down the stairs. He feared if he didn't escape soon, he would end up in an even worse prison.
The door creaked open. Hisashi crouched down next to the mattress. He held a bowl of miso soup. His voice was gentle. "You have to eat something. You've gotten so skinny." He waved the bowl, scattering a tantalizing scent.
Yoichi's stomach growled. He placed a hand over his nose to muffle the smell. He'd become so hungry that he could barely think. His head spun and his stomach cramped. Whenever he tried to plan an escape, his thoughts kept drifting back to visions of katsudons and cakes. His whole body trembled with longing. The miso scent leaked through his fingers, reigniting his hunger. But he knew that all the food was drugged. It would steal the strength from his limbs and the thoughts from his mind. If he was to have any hope of escape, he had to maintain his resolve.
As he did every time his brother visited, Yoichi tried yet again. "Please listen to me, Hisashi. There has to be a way for you to get the power you think you need to protect yourself without hurting—"
Hisashi shoved a spoon at his mouth.
Yoichi slammed his lips closed in time. The spoon bounced off, sloshing soup down his chin. They'd played this game enough times that he'd been ready. Fury and frustration twisted in his gut. He didn't know why he kept trying when he'd concluded on the very first day that he couldn't reason with his brother. Masochism, probably.
Today in particular, he couldn't afford to swallow any tainted food. He had a plan. Based on the count he'd laboriously recorded on his wall, tomorrow Japan's greatest master bonsai artist would visit the mansion to checkup on Hisashi's prized albino tree. The elderly gardener was the only person who didn't get searched when she left the mansion, because she knew nothing about All for One and she was too famous to be under his thumb. The guards even kept their weapons out of sight around her.
Yoichi had stolen a pen and two paperclips during his last escape attempt and hidden them inside his flat pillow. Late at night, he'd worked them into a homemade lockpick. Despite a desperate need to run itching under his skin, he'd bided his time. He refused to be drugged now, on the day he planned to escape.
Hisashi pushed Yoichi's bangs off his sweaty forehead. He held up a spoon. "I'll feed you. All you have to do is open your mouth." Desperation filled his voice. His eyes ran over Yoichi's emancipated form and sunken cheeks.
At least his older brother wasn't enjoying the caretaking game any longer. It gave Yoichi a small measure of spiteful satisfaction. He pressed his lips tightly together.
Hisashi pinched his nose shut.
Yoichi held on as long as he could, until his body screamed for oxygen and his mouth snapped open. Then he braced himself to resist the tempting soup and spit it back into his brother's face. They'd done this before, too. Last time, Yoichi had barely swallowed anything despite his older brother's repeated efforts. He took great pride in how he'd left Hisashi's expensive silk suit covered in spilled soup.
But this time, Hisashi forced a tube down his throat.
It hurt. And that was before Hisashi poured the soup down the funnel. The liquid felt hot and slimy. Yoichi gagged so hard he couldn't breathe. Spots danced across his vision. He strained his muscles, but once again, he'd been frozen by a metahuman ability. He couldn't hit or punch his tormentor. His throat muscles could barely swallow. Yet swallow they did, against his will, driven by primal instinct not to suffocate.
Yoichi was choking. His body kept trying to be sick, but the tube down his throat wouldn't let him. Tears formed around the corners of his eyes.
Hisashi stroked his hair. He said something. It might have been "I'm sorry."
The drugs hit Yoichi's empty stomach and he passed out immediately.
When Yoichi woke up, he felt stuffed and warm, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets.
Only flashes of the previous day remained with him. Maybe it had all been a fever dream. Hisashi apologizing? That part definitely couldn't have been real.
His throat hurt. But he couldn't remember why.
He almost closed his eyes and went back to sleep. But a voice in the back of his head screamed at him. Something is wrong.
A motor roared in the distance. Something…something about that sound was important. He'd been counting days for…some reason. His gaze fastened on the tally marks on the bottom of the wall. Then his heavy lids slid shut.
Yoichi bit his lip and dug his nails until his own wrist until he bled. The pain snapped him back to awareness.
He was locked in a cell in the basement. His brother had broken his hunger strike. Already, a fog covered his mind. His limbs felt heavy. He strained to remember through his drugged haze.
The famous bonsai artist. Her monthly visit. His plan came rushing back to him. How much of the day had passed? He couldn't see sunlight in here, so for all he knew it might already be too late.
Yoichi reached for the hole in his pillow hiding his latest handmade lockpick. He found nothing. This pillow was much plusher than his last one. It had been changed along with his new bedsheets.
Oh, the bitter irony of it. His plan hadn't even been uncovered, yet his lockpick was still gone, taken the day of his long-awaited escape by total coincidence.
It wasn't fair. A strange thing for a prisoner stuffed into a hole underground to think: nothing about this situation was fair. A hysterical giggle bubbled up in his throat. It was all over.
No. He couldn't give up on his big once-a-month chance. Especially when he doubted he'd still be able to walk after another month of starvation. But if he consumed too much more drugged food, he'd completely lose both the will and the physical capacity to fight back. He needed to escape, right here and right now, or all hope would be lost.
Yoichi's eyes scanned his empty cell. A mattress had little value as a weapon, and he'd already tried to break the toilet. Even his new blankets had been staked to the floor, and he couldn't tear off a piece without the guard noticing. He had no resources left but his brain.
A single guard with a crewcut and a black suit stood with his back facing Yoichi. The keys hung on the other wall, out of reach. No matter what, he had to make this man open the door.
Ironically, what finally came to mind was an old trick he'd used as a child whenever Hisashi proved particularly annoying.
Yoichi started singing, "One hundred and one bottles of beer on the wall."
The first dozen repetitions of the song remained the same, in order to establish a pattern. The guard was already started to twitch in annoyance at the repetitive, obnoxious tune. Yet he remained professional, keeping his back turned from the prisoner he'd been ordered to give an illusion of privacy.
Then Yoichi started changing up his singing. He would stretch out his words longer, then skip part of the song. This technique forced the listener to wait and wait for the predicable next part of the verse, only to be jolted when it never came. By using a commonly known song but deviating from the expected pattern, he made his horrible music impossible to tune out or ignore.
Yoichi was a naturally talented singer. He'd been soloist at the school choir throughout high school. Now he turned his skill to deliberately singing in the perfect opposite of the correct pitch. The most unholy possible anti-key screeched through the air like the unified scream of a thousand damned souls falling into Hell.
The guard was covering his ears now. Yoichi sang even louder. His throat hurt. He'd continued this torturous singing for two straight hours without once pausing for a break.
It was a battle of wills. The guard broke first. He fled down the hallway.
Yoichi stopped singing. He waited and prayed.
As he'd hoped, the senior guard standing at the stairwell shouted, "What do you mean, the prisoner is singing annoying songs at you? Are you a professional or a child? Get back to your post!"
The guard slunk back, his eyes downcast. He returned to blessed silence. His spine straightened and his face perked up.
Yoichi started singing again.
With an insane growl, the guard grabbed the keys and opened the door. His eyes held nothing but madness. He hissed, "Shut up or I'll make you—"
Yoichi lunged. He was a starving, sickly youth with no weapon or combat training. All that sustained him was his fury and desperation.
The guard finally understood the seriousness of his situation as Yoichi grabbed his shoulders. The man punched, but he didn't have the leverage to hit hard enough. Yoichi used all his body weight to slam the guard into the wall. His skull cracked.
Yoichi slammed the guard's head into the wall again. The man slumped down, unconscious.
He could hear the other guards coming down the stairs. He grabbed the taser off the limp body. His heart hammered and his head spun.
Unfortunately, the guards could kick his ass, and he had the bruises to prove it. Time to use his brain again. A woman's voice came from among the three approaching, and there were few enough female guards for him to know her identity—and her metapower. That gave him a plan.
Yoichi dropped face-first to the floor and lay still. He kept even his breathing small and motionless.
Above him, a male voice said, "How did he possibly get out of his cell again—oh, no."
"Is he dead?" an even more panicky man asked. "Oh, god, he looks like a corpse. We're all going to die!"
"Stop panicking," the lone woman snapped. "But, uh, maybe don't call in the escape attempt until I've checked for a pulse."
They hadn't yet sounded the alarm? This was even better than Yoichi had hoped for. How nice of his brother to have terrorized his minions into stupidity.
The woman leaned down and grabbed Yoichi's wrist.
In a flash, he leapt to his feet and fastened his other hand on top of hers. He timed it perfectly, waiting until her cheeks puffed up, then spinning her to face her two comrades.
A pinkish poison gas emerged from her mouth, sending the other two guards unconscious to the floor.
"Thank you," Yoichi whispered before he pressed the taser into her side. She collapsed to the ground.
A feral grin peeled back Yoichi's lips as he skipped up the stairs. In his darkest hour, his little brother skills at annoyance and faking injuries hadn't failed him. Yoichi had a good feeling that today would be a victory for younger siblings.
Yoichi crouched under a tarp covering the back of a small green truck. Gardening equipment pressed close and dug into his hip. He curled up his body to be not-person-shaped.
It only took minutes for the front gate to open, but it felt like hours. Even after the truck turned right at the end of the driveway onto the road, he couldn't relax. He had no idea how long it would take before the guards' unconscious bodies would be found. Carefully, he counted off five minutes, then peered out from under the tarp. The mansion was no longer in eyesight.
The truck had no roof. Yoichi squirmed over the back and landed in the passenger seat.
Japan's greatest bonsai artist screamed and slammed the brakes. "A ghost!" Whoa, just how terrible did he look? She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and recited a prayer.
Yoichi could never bring himself to attack an elderly woman. He'd planned to beg for a ride, but for her sake, it would be better if Hisashi didn't blame her for helping him. Yoichi leaned over to open the truck door, then he picked up the chanting old lady and gently placed her on the ground.
When he'd been healthier—before his brother had poisoned him—this wouldn't have been too hard. But right now, he probably weighed even less than her. His head spun. Pain pierced between his temples. Red stars danced behind his vision, and he nearly passed out.
The truck started to roll off the road. Yoichi barely got his foot on the brakes in time. Then he closed the door and slammed on the gas.
As he drove off, the old lady shouted, "That's right, you'd better run away, ghost! I have more sutras!"
He felt horribly guilty about stealing her truck, but he told himself it would only be temporary. He would need to ditch this vehicle soon, because Hisashi's people would shortly be looking for it. For now, he focused on putting distance between himself and his brother's mansion as fast as possible.
The roofless truck roared down the road. The sunlight beating down on Yoichi nearly blinded him. It had been so long since he'd been outside. The drugs made his head spin and his arms wobble. Dots and squiggly lines filled his vision.
Legally, he shouldn't be driving in this state. He ran a real risk of nodding off at the wheel and killing himself, or worse, some innocent bystander. He needed a destination and a plan.
Who could he go to? The government had been infiltrated by All for One. He had little faith in them regardless, after their treatment of metahumans.
He thought of the metahuman vigilantes. Based on his brother's words, he'd scorned them as a bunch of reckless lawbreakers. He'd never given them enough regard to understand their goals and methods. But from the information he'd stolen from his brother, he remembered that their group had been the biggest thorn in All for One's side. The only metahumans he'd never been able to turn to his side or even infiltrate with spies.
The enemy of his enemy was his friend, any port in a storm, and all that jazz. Yoichi was desperate.
He drove to the public library. Trying to look normal and sane, he staggered to a computer.
Yoichi found the webpage where the vigilantes advertised their services. They had a form where people could submit requests for help. He gave them as much as he could remember about his older brother's plans, including All for One's civilian identity and home address.
Funny how much he'd changed from when he'd tried to censor his information to protect his brother. Or rather, not funny at all. His head hurt so much that he knew he was leaving out important details. He did not admit the source of his information. He doubted being All for One's younger brother would help his case.
Now all he could do was pray they wouldn't simply ignore an anonymous message.
Looking up, Yoichi spotted a librarian talking into the phone. Her eyes widened at his gaze, and she lowered her head guiltily.
His brother had even corrupted little old ladies to his service? Yoichi wanted to laugh hysterically. Giving up all subtlety, he tossed her the truck keys. "Tell him to make sure the rightful owner gets her vehicle back." Then he ran for the door.
A group of metahumans fell upon him in the parking lot. He didn't even manage to use his taser. His body had completely shut down. He barely struggled as they bustled him into their vehicle. The drive passed in a blur.
The minions threw him at his brother's feet.
Hisashi wasn't as angry as Yoichi had expected. Instead, he seemed smug and triumphant. Yoichi had a bad feeling that his brother had realized the same thing as him—that this would probably be the last escape. A steady supply of drugs would ensure it. Yoichi had hit his limits physically and mentally.
Two unfamiliar men came forward. Hisashi switched a metahuman power from one man to the other and they fell all over themselves thanking him and promising to serve him.
Yoichi knew this was wrong. It was a trick, a trap. His brother would leverage this debt to entangle these two men who only wanted to live peaceful lives into his national domination plans. Based on the records of his experiments, Hisashi might even be able to influence the thoughts of the man with the new power. Yoichi tried to warn them, but the drugs fogged his mind and nothing coherent came out of his mouth. Sweat dripped down his face. When he lunged forward to stop his brother, he fell over coughing up blood.
Hisashi spoke, at his most persuasive as he spun lies and justifications. Yoichi argued against him, but he kept tripping over his numb tongue. His thoughts refused to articulate themselves. He was lowered to shouting insults at his older brother.
An unfamiliar man claiming to be Hisashi's bodyguard knocked him to the ground and chastised him for insulting "the great All for One."
Hisashi told his minion to be careful with his fragile younger brother, and Yoichi clearly heard both the mockery and the victory in his voice. When his older brother claimed to love him, Yoichi wanted to curse him. But his world faded into blackness first.
It all felt like a fever dream. When he returned to consciousness, he lay inside a metal box. It was completely dark. He tried not to feel afraid, all alone in a small space and unable to see.
The air hummed. Feeling around, Yoichi found a ventilator on the wall. Panic started to set in. Exactly what sort of prison doesn't even let air escape?
The walls felt tighter around him. He forced himself to breathe steadily. Continuing his search, he found nothing else in the room but a portable toilet. The door had no knob.
Yoichi recoiled in horror from the touch of cold steel. He was locked inside a bank vault.
Even using his greatest skill and cleverness, he could never escape this place. And he finally despaired.
THE FINAL DEATH:
Hisashi hummed as he pushed open the metal door. Yoichi, huddled on the floor, didn't even move as a sliver of light fell across him. The poor thing must be utterly exhausted by his pointless struggles. As Hisashi knelt down and picked Yoichi up, he barely even stirred from his drug-induced slumber.
What a relief, to finally have his younger brother back in his arms. Yoichi felt too light and bony, but at least that made him easier to carry. It felt immensely emotionally satisfying to have his little brother limp like this, no longer able to shout hurtful words or offer futile resistance, entirely under his control.
After several days locked in the vault, Yoichi had picked up an unpleasant sweaty smell. He still refused to eat. It had taken the feeding tube again to put him to sleep so Hisashi could give him a bath.
A guard had already carried in a tub. Hisashi tested the water's temperature, finding it warm. Then he stripped off Yoichi's clothes.
Hisashi lifted his younger brother up and placed him in the bathtub. Yoichi mumbled upon being submerged, but his limbs remained limp and helpless. Steam rose off the water. Hisashi scrubbed off the dirt with a sponge, then washed the greasy hair. The scent of lavender shampoo drifted upward as he massaged the suds into his little brother's scalp. When he worked out a knot on the skull with his fingers, he got a contented moan in response. Hisashi was careful not to not to tug too hard or let any shampoo get into Yoichi's eyes. His little brother looked so small and breakable. Hisashi felt proud of himself for his gentleness.
He could have ordered a minion to handle this menial task. But he didn't like the idea of someone else touching his brother like this. It wasn't any trouble to do it himself. In fact, he enjoyed reliving the old days when he'd given his infant brother baths because no one else in the household could remember to do so on a regular basis. Their father had been often absent, and their mother had dark moods where she forgot her children even existed. So Hisashi had stepped up to make sure feeding and other caretaking happened. Yoichi had been even tinier back then. Even more helpless. A dark longing twisted inside Hisashi's chest.
Yoichi would never have permitted this if he'd been awake. He'd stopped all shared baths the instant he'd been old enough to clean himself. He'd always been squirrely and squirmy about touching. Since his early teenage years, he'd completely rejected cuddling, to Hisashi's frustration. For a long time, he hadn't been able to get anything except quick hugs and head pats.
Now Yoichi had no control in the matter. It brought Hisashi an inordinate amount of satisfaction.
Not that he was doing this for self-gratification. No, it was all part of the plan. Step one: strip Yoichi of all control over his body.
Hisashi had done extensive research into brainwashing. He'd even hired an expert consultant from North Korea. He needed to get this right. After all, his only family member was the most important treasure in the world to him. When he was done, Yoichi would finally join him willingly.
Isolation sped up the conditioning. Hisashi had removed everything from the room and left his younger brother in darkness in order to soften him up. The force-feeding and bathing would create a sense of dependency. Yoichi hadn't been sleeping well on the hard floor, and Hisashi made a point to stop by and wake him up whenever he did doze off. The sleep deprivation would also make his younger brother more susceptible to influence. Hisashi used his visits to berate and criticize his brother, the next step in the brainwashing. His demonstration with the two men had been staged for the same purpose.
Hisashi didn't enjoy causing his brother pain. He felt guilty every time he opened the vault door to find Yoichi curled up in a bundle of thin limbs. But the two of them couldn't continue like this, with Yoichi constantly hurting himself trying to escape. Hisashi would do whatever he had to do in order to protect his baby brother from himself.
Torture was an ugly word. Hisashi's mind shied away from it. He hadn't laid a finger on Yoichi. It didn't count.
The third stage would begin after Yoichi had collapsed into a state of adequate compliance: the love bombing. Hisashi very much looked forward to that step, when he'd be able to shower his little brother with affection and attention.
The bathwater had started to chill by the time Yoichi was clean and scrubbed to shininess. Hisashi lifted his little brother out and dressed him in a fresh set of clothes: fuzzy light blue cotton pajamas. He'd like to put his brother in a nice silk suit, but the floor was too dirty.
Water dripped between Hisashi's fingers as he combed his brother's shoulder-length hair. He gently worked out each knot. It would be faster if he'd cut Yoichi's hair short, but he knew his little brother preferred long hair, so he'd left it. That just went to prove what a generous older brother he was.
Yoichi shivered in his sleep as Hisashi set him down on the hard floor. The room was kept constantly a little too cold. Part of the softening up process.
At this point, Hisashi ought to leave and start the isolation again. But he couldn't quite bring himself to walk away from the small, fragile bundle lying on the floor.
Probably it wouldn't hurt to start the positive reinforcement stage a little early. Yoichi wouldn't even remember this. But he always slept so much better when his older brother held him. Hisashi's heart panged with longing as he remembered all the times during their childhood when he'd graciously slept together with his little brother so Yoichi wouldn't have nightmares.
Nostalgia made Hisashi sit down, his back leaning against the wall, and tug Yoichi's head into his lap. "I'm here to keep you safe," he whispered as he smoothed his brother's damp hair. "Everything will be okay. I'll protect you. Even if I have to rewrite reality, I'll keep you by my side."
Hisashi pulled Yoichi even closer, nestling his brother's head against his chest. This felt just right, cushioning Yoichi from the metal floor and using his body heat to ward off the chill of the room. It was his role as older brother to look after the younger one. Hisashi hummed an old childhood lullaby as he hugged his little brother.
The only shadow over his happiness was Yoichi's thinness and pallor. Dark bags made his eyes look like a raccoon's. In his unconsciousness, he barely moved, disturbingly close to a corpse. Perhaps he should adjust the drugs. Hisashi preferred Yoichi weak enough to stay out of trouble, but no permanent damage.
The two of them would eventually get past this rough patch. After all, they were each other's only family. At the end of the day, Yoichi didn't have anyone except his older brother (Hisashi had made certain of that), and Hisashi would always be there for him.
OMAKE TIME!
Hisashi: I miss looking after my brother when he's sick. I'm going to poison him.
Yoichi: Have you considered babying a high-maintenance bonsai tree instead?
Hisashi: The tree won't thank me.
Yoichi: Neither will I.
Author's Note: We've finally gotten to the vault scene portrayed in the beautiful cover art by tunafishprincess. Delete the spaces to get the link to the larger picture:
tunafishprincess.
tumblr.
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post/663163594770464768/art-commission-i-did-for-katydids-fic-kill-what
The last conversation between All for One and his brother repeats the exact same dialogue and actions they had in canon (Chapter 193 / Episode 90) right before Yoichi got thrown in the vault. I glossed over it because I didn't want to repeat the scene word for word. This story is intended to be compliant with what little canon we know about All for One and his younger brother's past, while of course adding my own inferences and world-building.
As much though I loved that scene, I noticed that the First's arguments were somewhat incoherent and All for One spends the whole time nonstop criticizing his brother despite claiming to want to recruit him. Insults are not very good persuasive technique, especially coming from a villain who's supposed to be incredibly charismatic. The brainwashing theory explains both issues: the First was muddled because he'd been drugged and All for One tore down his ego as part of a ploy to break him. Stuffing someone in a dark bank vault is not a good way to get them to join you willingly, but the solitary confinement and sensory deprivation could very well be brainwashing techniques.
As a fair warning, the next two chapters will keep getting creepier.