A/N: Contains graphic depictions of violence/torture, no character death (even if it is tempting)
Eijun received a solid kick to his abdomen, right across a nasty bruise that had already formed from the same action the previous day. He gritsted his teeth through the pain, refusing to give the man the satisfaction. Eijun has lost track of how many days have crawled by since the initial kidnapping, and virtually every inch of skin was a colorful array of bruising with the sporadic cut scoring his flesh. He lay on the damp, cement flooring of the basement he had been dragged into, the kidnapper towering above his form.
Out of everything life could have thrown at him, Eijin would have never considered the possibility of being kidnapped. That was something that he only heard about on the news, to people who had no association with him. And while he sympathized with them, it was accompanied by dissociation.
It had promptly become a depraved cycle. Eijun would be hauled out from the confines of the holding room and into a more open, dimly lit morgue-like area. Wherein, Eijun would struggle against whatever the kidnapper was endeavoring to achieve, which in turn, caused him to grow irate and physically vent his rage out on Eijun's body.
But as long as the others were unharmed.
Afterward, when the abductor was satisfied, he would return Eijun to the darkroom where everyone else remained. Kuramochi will yell about what an idiot Eijun was, all the while considerately ministering to his wounds the best he possibly can. Haruichi will engage Eijun in conversation, occupying his brain from the aches and pangs. Furuya has grown quiet -or more so- tending to withdraw in the corner of the room. Eijun had made it a purpose to rile him up whenever and wherever he can. He didn't like the look in Furuya's eyes lately. And Miyuki Kazuya. At first, he was all snark, egging Eijun on in a facade of normal; however, recently, he's been calm. Too calm. So much so, it was scarier than when he was scheming something and laughing that mischievous laugh.
Eijun was worried Miyuki was catching on. He had purposefully made himself out to be the scapegoat, which allowed the others to be left alone and - for the most part - unharmed. He was hoping no one would notice his tactic. He was worried they would tell him to stop or intervene whenever he purposefully mouthed off to induce the kidnapper's attention to himself. There was no sense in all of them having to suffer when only one needed to.
Another strike hit him in the gut, forcing oxygen out of his lungs with a grunt. He folded in on himself, hands resting protectively over his stomach. Eijun squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them begin to water. He refused to cry. Not in front of this man, and most certainly not in front of the others. At least, not where they can see. Eijun likes to believe he has mastered the art of crying silently. He has yet to be called out on it, so that must indicate no one caught him.
He needed to be brave, dammit!
He wanted to be brave, but he was terrified. How long will this go on before the kidnapper becomes bored and does something astonishingly more severe? What if Eijun pisses him off one too many times? Will he kill him? Will he move on to one of the others; to beat them black and blue in replace of Eijun? And the utmost important question, what does he even want from them?
He doesn't know. He doesn't know, and he's scared to know.
Eijun listened as the kidnapper shifted, footsteps rounded him nonchalantly. Eijun was so tense he ached. Joints locked; his body was anticipating an additional collision to his ribs, possibly even to feel a hand roughly grab him. Either way, his body was primed to spring into action. Whether that be to retaliate or flee; not that either decision would do him any good. It turned out their captor was a lot tougher than he appeared. He was older, with graying hair speckling his hairline and stubble. He was pale with gaunt cheeks and the most profound bags beneath his eyes that Eijun has ever beheld, causing his eyes to appear larger. Furthermore, it seemed the various layers of his attire had hidden muscle.
When Eijun first fought back, he wasn't expecting to be so effortlessly repelled and smacked around. While Eijun has his fair share of muscle, they were developed specifically with athletics in mind, and not for fighting. Eijun has never even physically attacked anyone before. He discovered the hard way that fighting the man with intents to win was ineffectual.
Running wasn't a possibility either. For starters, there was nowhere to escape. Their captor locked the doors behind himself. If anything, Eijun could sprint to the opposite side of the room. That would achieve nothing but buy him time before the inevitable were to happen. He tried it once already anyway. The consequence of his struggle was a threat to destroy his legs, accompanied by a demonstration, methodically detailing how he would go about it. His selection had been a mallet. He pinned Eijun down, hammer wavering over his kneecap. He would begin with the knee, he said. Fragment the bone into such a condition it would never mend correctly. Following that, he would slice open his legs to sever the ligaments, rendering his legs useless. He punctuated it by slicing a shallow groove into his calf with a scalpel, right where the incision would be. By the completion of the explanation, Eijun was trembling in horror, tears involuntarily spilling down his cheeks. He had to bite his tongue to restrain himself from pleading. The man had taken a single glance at Eijun's face and laughed. And laughed and laughed. The man had a particularly shrill voice, and his laughter was grating. He laughed so long that when he came to an unexpected halt, Eijun physically startled. His gaze hardened on Eijun. All he could do was gawk back.
When he finally returned to the others, Eijun had been an emotional wreck. His disposition prompted them to quarrel; over what they were going to do and how they were going to escape their imprisonment. Kuramochi wanted to employ brute force, and Miyuki countered his argument with needing a decisive method alternately. Haruichi had sought to be the mediator, with minimal effect. When his attempts achieved nothing, even Haruichi participated, though his ire aimed at their seniors. Furuya had huddled further into himself, and even now, Eijun is uncertain whether or not he saw tears silently roll down his cheeks. Even Eijun, of all people, knew this wouldn't improve their situation. Everyone was so psychologically strained, that the most trivial trigger; would cause them to lash out. Eijun witnessed it and swore to himself to never show them weakness again. He needed to be brave for them, if not for himself.
When a follow-up kick never occurred, Eijun resisted the urge to glance around. He overheard the man walk away. Catches him scouring through his bin-of-pain - as Eijun mentally chose to call it -, as it contained a majority of his obscure devices. Eijun had witnessed him pull the mallet out of it. Curiosity and concern got the best of him. He cracked his eyes open and rolled just enough to scan over his shoulder. The man was mumbling to himself as he filtered through the items. He made a noise of delight as he hauled out something long. Eijun couldn't entirely make heads or tails out of what it was before the man was twisting around, and Eijun had to immediately turn over.
The footfalls approached at a steady rate, causing Eijun's anxiety to rise as the distance between them diminished. Not desiring to be caught quietly laying in the fetal position, he forced his hands and knees underneath himself and pushed up onto all fours, just in time for something to snap tortuously across his exposed back. Eijun gasped out in surprise, eyes widening in shock. The stinging sensation intensified immensely compared to the first impact. Before Eijun could even begin to wonder what happened, another strike struck his back, undeviatingly on top of the first wound. The pain flared, expanding across his spine, leaving him breathless. The third hit him excruciatingly along his flesh with a reverberating whack. This time, the force felt much more aggressive. Eijun had unquestionably felt the skin split. His arms gave out underneath him, barely catching himself on his forearms before he went face-first onto concrete. The velocity and strength behind each blow increased, scarcely allotting any reprieve in between for Eijun to catch his breath.
Eijun turned his head, only able to see the man from the knees down; however, he caught sight of the long, slender object. It was dark brown leather, roughly three feet in length. Broader at the hilt and gradually grew thinner toward the end. Blood speckled its surface. Eijun watched as the whip lifted, disappearing from his view. It came slamming down across his shoulder blades with an echoing whack. Eijun yelped, accompanied by a drawn-out groan as he rested his forehead on the chilled concrete, a welcome contradiction to the blazing pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. The sharp sting of his teeth digging into the soft skin was not nearly enough to distract from the agony that radiated off his back. The tears he had been so carefully trying to contain, began to spill over. Eijun inhaled a shuddering breath just in time for the whip to come crashing back down and knocking it straight out with a hiss.
He lost count at ten. Over and over and over again, the whip came down, breaking skin and muscle. By now, he was positive his back must be shredded. It felt like it, at least. Blood steadily trickled down his sides, splashing in puddles around his crumpled form. The intervals between the strikes grew in length. Each blow lacked the force from the prior. The last few hits felt and sounded wet on impact, an indication of the amount of damage dealt. Fortunately, it appeared the torture was coming to an end, as the kidnapper had begun to pant from the exertion.
"Maybe now you'll stop fighting me." The man rasped out between breaths. Eijun heard as well as felt the man's presence grow distant. The lock on the bin-of-pain clicked apart, with a clatter, he deposited the whip, blood coating, and all.
Physically and mentally depleted, Eijun gently flopped himself onto his side, heedless of the blood. The man exited the room soon after, securing Eijun inside. Mind numbed, he lay there stationary, except for the involuntary full-body shivers that had his teeth chattering together. It was weird, he didn't necessarily feel chilled, if anything, he was overheated. Sweat dripped from his hairline and down his face. His palms felt clammy, and the creases of his elbows were damp. Slowly and oh so gingerly, Eijun drew his limbs in, clutching his arms around his torso in hopes of containing his body heat. The only clothing he wore was the thin shorts he had on the day of the kidnapping, and his shirt did not survive the second day. The tremors promptly became irritating. Each time his body shivered violently, it caused his back to flare up in agony, and he needed them to stop. He couldn't think; his mind wouldn't focus on one thought for more than a split second each.
Abruptly, he noticed his eyes began to burn. Ah, he forgot to blink. How long has he been staring unblinking into space?
He blinked slowly and deliberately. Eijun's eyes felt swollen and were probably red-rimmed as all hell. But he wasn't crying anymore, at least; there are most likely no more tears left to cry. His body shook with another chill, forcing a groan out of him in response. He closed his eyes against the discomfort, allowing himself to lay there and simply breathe. His chest twinged painfully at the expansion, but the ache remained overshadowed by his back.
By some miracle, Eijun drifted off, awarding him a short reprieve from the pain. Lamentably, he startled frantically awake from the slam of the door.
He was back.
Eijun desperately wanted to scramble up; yet, his body refused to respond. Joints stiff, and in agony, he could do nothing but lay there, helpless, heart pounding away in his ribcage. His eyes tracked the man the best he could from his position, needing to know where he was at all times. The man scoured through the clutter accumulated on the only table in the room. It rested against the wall furthest from the door, and next to the bin-of-pain. Eijun had to tilt his head up to be able to follow him out of his peripherals. He must have located what he was looking for as he made his way to where Eijun lied. He came to a standstill right in front of Eijun's face and squatted down.
The man was holding a syringe. Eijun's eyes abruptly developed tunnel vision, the needle held loosely in the man's hand the only thing he could see. The sight gave Eijun's brain a jumpstart, as he immediately tried to push himself away; he made little to no progress in his escape with his hands slipping in the blood congealing around him. Not that he would have gotten far anyway. A large hand came down onto the side of his head, pinning his skull to the ground.
"Uh-uh," the man replied in a sing-song tone. "I've let you try to prevent this long enough." He held the syringe up as if to make a point. "It was entertaining for a while, but it's about time we get to the real reason I brought you here." He concluded with a toothy grin. Regardless of the hand holding his head in place, Eijun tried to wriggle away with every last ounce of energy he could muster. He didn't know what was in the syringe; everything inside of Eijun was screaming, telling him to - at all cost - not allow the man to inject him with that. He coiled his hands around the wrist, holding him in place, in a feeble attempt to dislodge the offending limb. The endeavor was futile as the needle pierced into the side of his neck. Eijun instantly froze. He feared that movement would cause the needle to puncture or damage any of the blood vessels and arteries coursing through his throat.
A cold sensation began to spread around the needle's entry point as the plunger forced the unknown liquid into his veins. Eijun stared wide-eyed up at the man.
"What is that?" He found himself asking in a strained, on-the-verge-of-panic voice. The man's smile only grew in size, as laughter danced in his eyes with morbid amusement.
"Guess we'll just have to find out, now won't we?" He laughed.