Hitoshi wasn't entirely sure how long it had been since he'd been kidnapped, since he'd been taught how pointless disobedience was. Years, he knew based on how much he'd grown and matured, though he wasn't sure how many. He figured he was probably a teenager by now, at least. He just wasn't sure where exactly in that age range he was.

It was hard to believe how much of his life he'd spent locked up. At least a decade by now, he was almost certain of that. He had no idea what a normal teenager's life was like, but he desperately wished for it all the same.

He found himself on more than one occasion dreaming of making his escape on his own rather than waiting on someone to come rescue him. It wasn't something he ever expected to actually succeed, though.

A few years ago, he had tried testing the waters, to get a little glimpse of what might happen should he try and fail to get out, by using his quirk on Overhaul. It was something he immediately regretted. The lackeys with him had immediately taken it upon themselves to beat him for it, ensuring Overhaul was swiftly freed from his influence. After what felt like ages of being bloodied and beaten and bruised by people much bigger and stronger than him, who was of course still a child, Overhaul immediately came over to him with a gloveless hand, disassembling and reassembling Hitoshi over and over again. It had only been five minutes of that, he knew, but they were the most excruciating five minutes of his life. Each second felt like a century.

Needless to say, he never tried that again.

If that was what happened after using his quirk on Overhaul for a mere moment, he didn't want to even think about what would happen if he were caught escaping. It would be severe, that was for certain. Hitoshi dreaded the very thought of just what would happen to him if that were the case.

There was just no way he would ever try to escape. The consequences of getting caught weren't worth the potential reward of freedom. Especially not when he was all but certain he'd fail anyway.

He looked up as his cell door opened, a tray of food and water placed in front of him before the door was shut again. There was enough food to actually count as a meal for once, which he knew meant he'd be pulled for more quirk practice soon. That's how it always worked; they only fed him enough when they wanted him to use his quirk because of the energy and focus it required. He couldn't complain too much, though. At least he'd actually get to feel full for a while.

He ate as slowly as he knew he could get away with without frustrating Overhaul, doing his best to savor it. It was by no means the best food in the world - okay, it wasn't even good - but he was too happy to have an actual meal to care.

Not too long after he'd finished, Hitoshi was taken from his cell to see Overhaul. He swallowed nervously as he walked. The training and experiments were normal enough by now, but the routine wasn't enough to dispel his anxiety. There was no telling beforehand whether their little session would be completely unremarkable or a living hell. The uncertainty of it always made him apprehensive.

Fortunately for him, it seemed to be okay today. Overhaul wanted him to work on brainwashing multiple people at a time, better his control. That was fine. He could do that. That was nothing.

He found himself wondering once again what the hell Overhaul wanted with him in the first place. He'd questioned it many times over the years he'd been with the man. He seemed very intent on training Hitoshi as well as possible, though he wasn't sure what he could possibly get out of it. They'd been at it for so long now and Hitoshi didn't have the slightest clue why he even bothered in the first place. The question ate at his mind.

Still, he knew better than to look for answers. He wouldn't learn anything by asking, anyway. The only thing that would accomplish was making Overhaul angry. That was the last thing Hitoshi wanted to do. No, he wouldn't do anything that would risk the man's wrath. He just had to focus on the task at hand. That was easy enough, at least.

"What color is the sky?" he asked the first of the two he was meant to brainwash, taking control upon the answer before repeating the question to the second. He felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. Controlling more than one person at a time was still taxing, though he was getting better at it. It was taking far less out of him than usual.

"So far, you're able to hold two people under your quirk well enough, but we need to work on actually controlling multiple at the same time." Overhaul began. "I want you to try making them spar with each other under your command." Hitoshi nodded, beginning the fight.

It was exhausting, but he thought he was doing well. He couldn't exactly make them do anything complicated, but he had them both moving and swinging at the same time. Hitoshi could feel himself getting dizzier as the fight drew on, though. It was taking a lot out of him. Surely he'd done enough, right? Shouldn't he get to stop soon? He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

Unfortunately, Overhaul didn't seem to agree. Hitoshi saw his eyes narrow as the two brainwashed people began slowing down, their moves becoming sloppier. "The hell are you doing? I didn't say you could stop."

"I'm really sorry, sir. It's just really tiring."

Hitoshi could feel the air in the room suddenly go frigid and he knew he had made a mistake. Stupid. He was so stupid. By now he knew better than to speak so freely. What the hell was he thinking?

He felt a hand grab his wrist and was immediately filled with terror at the thought of being disassembled once again, even though logically he knew the man couldn't do that with his gloves still on. "That wasn't an invitation to reply." The hand squeezed tighter. Hitoshi could already tell it would leave a nasty bruise. Though for Overhaul, a simple bruise was merciful. "You will keep going." He let his wrist go. Hitoshi resisted the urge to rub at it, knowing it would only piss the man off more. He swallowed nervously and nodded, doubling down with his quirk.

The thing about quirks is that they're a lot like muscles. The more you use them and push yourself, the stronger they get. But just like muscles, you could easily overwork yourself, although the effects differed depending on the quirk. With Hitoshi's mental quirk, he often ended up with headaches and migraines. Overuse also made him dizzy and fatigued, and made it harder for him to focus or even think at all. He often wondered whether he'd end up doing permanent damage to himself like this.

He'd definitely overworked himself again, not that he'd had much of a choice in the matter. He gripped his head as a stabbing pain shot through his skull, unable to hold his quirk with how much it hurt. He felt his fingers pulling at his hair again, one of his usual responses to stress, as if that would somehow help. It probably was only making things worse. He stumbled slightly as dizziness overtook him, and he swallowed back bile as he fought the urge to puke.

He was knocked off his feet as a fist met his face. He looked up, somehow shocked despite how he knew he should be used to it by now. Overhaul was glaring down at him, disgust clear in his eyes. "For fuck's sake, can't you do anything right?" he spat angrily. "What part of 'keep going' is so hard to understand?"

Hitoshi averted his eyes downward, filled with shame. Overhaul scoffed. "Teach him a lesson he'll remember. I'm tired of dealing with his shit." With that, the man took his leave.

Hitoshi brought his gaze back up to the two left in the room with him. He had barely laid his eyes on them for even a second before a hand was gripping him by the throat, slamming him into the wall behind him.

Hitoshi felt tears fill his eyes as he struggled for air, hands instinctively gripping at the one around his neck. There was no emotion on either face in front of him. No anger, no regret, nothing. Like it was a job as boring as cleaning or something.

What do any of them even do this for? Hitoshi found himself wondering. Do they get paid a lot for this? Are they being blackmailed? Threatened? Do they just enjoy hurting people?

His throat was let go of right before he was certain he would pass out. He gasped for air, gripping his throat where he was sure hand-shaped bruises would lay.

He didn't have much time to catch his breath. His eyes widened in horror as the second returned, having left at some point, pliers in hand. Before he could plead or do anything at all, he was bodily picked up and forced into a chair that the second had probably brought in while the first was strangling him. He cursed his small size, enabling them to pick him up with no struggle at all. His fighting wasn't able to faze them in the slightest.

The first tied him to the chair with practiced ease as the second stood over Hitoshi with pliers. Tears were threatening to spill over any minute now. "Please, don't do th-"

His words were cut off with a scream as the nail on his left thumb was ripped off, tears streaming freely down his face. He squirmed as much as he could in place, desperate to somehow break free, but it was no use. There wasn't much he could do with all his limbs bound.

Another scream tore from his throat as a second nail was ripped off, then a third, then a fourth. They kept going, one nail at a time. It was never ending. Hitoshi screamed and screamed till his throat was raw, then screamed some more. He wished he would pass out or something already. He didn't.

He thought it was finally over when they'd ripped off the nail on his right pinkie. He was out of fingers to mutilate. They had to stop now, right?

They did not. He grit his teeth as they crouched near his feet before beginning to repeat the process on his toenails. Tears and snot coated his face as he began screaming again. Hitoshi didn't know it was possible for someone to scream this much. He was beginning to wish Overhaul used his quirk on him after all. It hurt just as much, but at least he wouldn't have been left injured after he was done. Beneath the haze of pain, he wondered if they'd tend to his wounds at all or if he'd just have to hope he wouldn't get an infection.

As they tore the third toenail off, the sheer agony became too much. Not enough to let him pass out, though. No, that would be far too easy. He retched over and over again, continuing to dry heave once his stomach had run out of food to expel.

His tormentors didn't seem to notice or care in the slightest. They just kept going. Hitoshi kept opening his mouth, going through all the motions as if he were screaming, but no more sound came out. He couldn't even scream anymore. The inability to vocalize his pain made it all the worse.

After an eternity, they had finally finished, untying him and forcing him to his feet. They had to support him to keep him upright. Hitoshi had never felt so pathetic before.

He was sure he looked just as pathetic as he felt. His face was coated in tears and snot, and vomit painted his front. It wouldn't shock him if his neck was bruising already, and every single nail bed was empty except for the blood. There was no doubt in his mind that he looked awful; he didn't need a mirror to know that. He felt awful, too.

As they walked down the hall, Hitoshi's attention was caught by a sniffling sound that strangely didn't come from him. What the hell?

His eyes widened as they locked with red ones. A little girl in plain dress with white hair and a strange horn on her head was being escorted the opposite way. She looked close to the same age he was when he was first taken. Holy shit.

He wanted to speak, to say something to the little girl who was clearly a prisoner as well, but was quite literally thrown into his cell before he could, the door slamming shut.

He didn't know what to think. He figured there were probably other prisoners here - Overhaul had way too many "employees" for Hitoshi to be the only one here. Not to mention the fact that the hall his cell was in was filled with rooms closed by similarly heavy doors.

Still, he'd never actually seen any other prisoners with his own eyes. All four walls of his cell were concrete, with a solid metal door being the only way in or out. He was pretty sure they were soundproof, too. He never heard so much as a single footstep outside his door, even when he knew people were nearby, like when he was brought food. Anyone outside probably couldn't hear inside, either. So even when he was brought outside his cell, he'd never be able to hear anyone in theirs, either. But now he had definite proof. He wasn't alone here.

He wished he was. God, she was just a little kid. She was practically a baby. Did they torture her just like they did him? He hoped not, but was certain they did. God, she's so tiny.

When he looked at her, even though it was just for a moment, he saw his younger self looking back. A little Hitoshi, scared and hurting and desperately wanting someone to save him. No one ever did. He'd given up on someone coming for him and had never wanted to risk leaving himself, not with the pain that no doubt awaited him. He didn't know if he could do that anymore.

Just like he once did, she had probably hoped someone would come save her, free her from Overhaul's clutches. Did she still hold on to that hope, or had already she come to the same conclusion that he did, that no one was coming?

He couldn't let her stay here. Hitoshi himself was one thing, but the thought of that little girl being trapped here forever squeezed his heart like a vice grip. No one else was coming, but he was here. He could save her. He had to.

He couldn't bear the thought of that innocent little girl becoming like him.