No one saw my nice haiku
So I made one more
'Cause poetry I adore.
-Alchemyfreak42
This really only came around because so many people asked for another chapter- it was intended to be a one-shot, but everyone was so excited I managed to drag this from the pits of my mind. I kind of have an idea for a third chapter too, but unless I can improve it drastically I probably won't be posting it- I refuse to add sub-par material onto one of my stories, particularly ones as good as this one (even I admit this is one of my better creations).
For those of you who wanted an extra chapter to 'For the Sake of His Life,' there won't be another chapter coming for the same reason I might not add the third chapter on this one- I couldn't get anything good out, and I'm not going to add anything bad. For when the muses are silent, what can we do but weep?
Carry on, my wayward sons.
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Where was he?
He'd been in the Arena just a moment ago, crying out as the Naberius apologized, as they always did (Forgive me, Young Master, I only do as my Summoner commands). Sometimes they even called him by a human name, Rin. To all others he was simply monster or Son of Satan or demon. The 'Son of Satan' was relatively new. He wasn't sure what it meant, but They'd only started calling him that after someone had burst into flames, after They'd pushed him too far.
He wasn't sure why They were amazed at the sight of blue flames, though. It was the only color of flame he'd ever seen, except maybe Before; but he couldn't really remember that time well, anyway.
His mind was drifting.
That meant it'd been too long without food, again, that he was probably going to-
Sure enough, the floor was slamming against his chin, his teeth clacking together. He curled to protect his stomach- he'd learned over the years that coughing blood was worse than an aching back- from the abuse that was sure to come, and couldn't help the quiet groan.
He still didn't know where he was, did he? Damn hunger- it stole away what little focus he could muster on even the best of days, leaving his mind a wandering mess.
Someone was walking toward him- an exorcist with black hair and glasses, his face serious.
Monster flinched when he reached out, then silently cursed himself for showing that weakness and forced himself not to resist when the exorcist turned him on his back.
The questions he asked made no sense- How much demon is in you? and Who?
Why would the exorcist be asking these questions? They knew the answers, even if he didn't. He responded as well as he could, though- he was in no mood to suffer the effects of Their Water again so soon.
They gave him Water anyway- They were making him drink it again, and he fought with the last of his strength to resist. The exorcist looked pissed.
They decided to put it on his skin instead, and-
And it was just water.
He was out of strength anyway, knew that even if They were swapping it out, he'd die if he didn't drink, so he forced himself to accept it even as he prepared himself for the feeling of acid running down his throat.
Damnit, this was going to be one of those games, was it? Where They pretended sympathy and escape, healed him a bit and then tricked him somehow. He would take the physical reprieve- he couldn't deny he needed it- but he resented the mind games more than anything else.
When the exorcist returned with another who claimed they were, all three, family, he knew it was only going to get worse. This was a new mind game, one They'd never played before, and it was going to be the worst one yet.
He couldn't even say no.
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He watched as Yukio and Shiro left the house every day in their exorcists' garb, their holy guns full of silver bullets and grenades with holy water.
He shuddered each time he saw them.
He knew it wasn't going to last- They'd let him out, on occasion, to prove to him that They would always be able to drag him back again, that They would always know his face no matter how far he ran or how long he was out. The longest he'd ever been out was four months, and this stretch had already lasted two and a half.
There was a good chance They just wanted to show him that They could summon him back at any time. If Yukio could do it, why not Them? And what was to say that Yukio wouldn't be the one summoning him back into his cell?
The worst part of it was not knowing. He couldn't prepare himself, because all it would take was for the little piece of paper to be torn, or smudged.
He couldn't know how or when They would take him back. He couldn't prepare himself.
It meant he would have no warning, not even enough time to cry out in surprise or rage, to demand to know why they would play out this farce for so long.
But then, They might decide to take him back by force just to prove the point. Maybe Yukio and Shiro would help- they were exorcists, after all, and that was what exorcists did.
Would Yukio or Shiro bring the others to him, watch as They dragged him back? Would They storm the place while the people who called themselves family pretended to cower or fight back? Or would he simply blink in the cozy little church one moment only to find himself back in that cold, white cell the next?
Hell, (hah), maybe They would even start playing with his mind while he was still here. Slip some holy water in a bottle, maybe even color it to look like what Shiro had started to get him so he didn't panic as much. Bless one of the spoons and watch him try to eat with it. All They had to do was put some silver dust on his pillow or blanket, even, and he'd be writhing in agony the moment he lay down to sleep.
This game could go on indefinitely, but he wasn't going to be the one to end it. He'd take the break from physical torture even if it meant he was constantly checking his surroundings. He did that, anyway. He always had, since the day he'd woken up in a strange place with people asking 'what are your powers?' and 'how strong are you, really?'
Shiro said he'd lived here before that, but he didn't believe it. They were exorcists. Hunting, studying, destroying demons was what They did.
He was getting better at hiding his reactions from Yukio, at least. The guy- boy? Man?- always looked at him with that complicated expression when he flinched, and he was sure They were just waiting for him to let his guard down.
It wasn't going to happen.
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How long was this going to go on?
How long would the charade last, he wondered? He knew his guard was beginning to drop, and it was like watching from afar as disaster came. He could do nothing.
He couldn't leave- all they had to do was summon him again, or even just tear the paper. It was, perhaps, the nightmares that Yukio hadn't told him about that were eroding his suspicion. Yukio thought he didn't know, but how could he not? Whenever Yukio was home for the weekend or a 'holiday,' It was impossible not to hear his name whimpered from the other bed or ignore the way Yukio always checked to make sure he was still there afterwards.
It was hard not to believe the urgent whispers to stay quiet, they can't know you're here as they hid him in the room beneath the altar once more.
He never missed the relief when Yukio ran, panting, into the living room on weekend mornings or after a week at school and caught sight of him, his body relaxing as though a burden had been lifted.
He couldn't forget the gentleness in Shiro's eyes whenever he saw Monst -Rin- in the kitchen, or the inexplicable joy so visible as the older man shoveled down the barely-edible food he kept making.
They even stocked the kitchen with colored knives and as many cookbooks as he could convince Yukio to read to him.
He hated himself for letting down his guard, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't help but think maybe this is real as Shiro explained what a birthday was and helped him learn to read.
Even the other members of the little church seemed to accept him, would stiffen and shift in front of him at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.
He hated how easy it was to believe that they were serious.
He hated the knowledge that it wasn't going to last even more.
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Sure enough, it wasn't permanent.
It didn't last.
He wanted to curse himself for ever letting himself think otherwise, even if he'd never fully trusted it. He wanted to swear and scream, but he didn't have time or breath for that because that was a pack of Ghouls in dogs' bodies running at him as he stood in the bottom of the Arena trying to gain his bearings.
They were on him before he could think, before he could run, and it was all he could do to rely on his instincts and protect his face and stomach even as the ghouls bit into his arms, his sides, his legs. His shirt had fallen to the ground and he could only be grateful he hadn't been farther along in his nightly routine.
There were voices now, some of them familiar from years of experiments, and then the ghouls were gone and he was being splashed with holy water as They demanded to know where he'd been, how he'd gotten out.
All he could think was make it stop and whywhywhy and they lied to me as he struggled to breathe despite the agony of his already-broken ribs.
He had no way of knowing how long he'd been back, only knew that They were coming at him with staffs and bats and shouting that he was too dangerous to let live any longer as the bats swung down-
He was engulfed in steam, flinching in anticipation of the burns he would be getting from both the heat and the blessed water. There were no more voices or barking ghouls, no more sand beneath his feet or the stench of blood.
He looked up slowly, jerking back when someone rushed at him, only recognizing it was Yukio when he froze and held his hands spread out low, unthreatening, and spoke softly.
"Why did you send me back?"
He couldn't help it. He'd finally been starting to trust them, and then he'd been back in the Arena. He'd known it was going to happen, but it still felt like betrayal.
He was trembling, and he flinched at Yukio's gentle touch as his brother guided him carefully down the hall to treat his wounds.
That night he screamed himself awake, fell off the bed when he realized there was someone standing over him, and cried when he realized it was only Yukio.
He spent another several months unable to walk outside because the ground was covered in sandy dirt, longer flinching whenever he heard the sound of a dog barking across the street.
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"Rin, are you ready?"
He nodded, stiffly. He had to do this. He didn't want to. He needed to. This was important. He couldn't spend his life afraid of going outside, had to be able to take care of himself. Hadn't he once considered running away from this little church, living in the world he was so terrified of now?
He put on the shoes Yukio was letting him borrow, grabbed the crutch he used because his leg had never healed quite right after that last trip Back, when a demon had been waiting for him and shattered his knee before Yukio could get a circle right.
He was still wary of the world, of exorcists in general except the ones he lived with. He was still twitchy, caught between fear and fury when something caught him by surprise.
Sometimes he was all glares, threatening and willing to fight to the death- others, he was fleeing before he could think about what the danger even was.
He touched the pendant around his neck to make sure it was still there, hadn't shattered. Yukio had come up with the idea of a titanium charm in the shape of a summoning circle after that last one, while they'd both still been panicking in the hospital. Now, he wouldn't go Back unless something managed to destroy his pendant or they physically dragged him away.
That would be tough now, with a church full of monks watching his back, on top of Rin's developing power of setting things on fire- he was still working on controlling it, but it was going to be very useful next time there was an incident- and Shi-his father's cat Sidhe that seemed to have adopted him watching constantly.
The cat- Kuro- was an enormous sense of comfort, he thought as he scratched the creature's head. He was a constant reminder that M-Rin- was free.
Yukio was going to take him to the market to get supplies for dinner after they got a couple of learners' books. He was still struggling with letters, and knew next to nothing about history, math- anything scholarly, really. He could figure his way around a kitchen, but that was pretty straightforward, even if he did keep using the wrong spices because he couldn't figure out the labels.
He shuffled toward the door, breathing quickly and forcing himself not to sprint back into his room. He needed to get out. He had to be able to. He pulled his hat low over his eyes, tucked his tail in tight. Sunglasses were in place.
His hands were shaking, his eyes darting in both directions as he searched for Them- surely They were there, watching, but They wouldn't have been so angry if they knew where he was.
"Do you need to stay here?"
Yukio was watching him quietly from the entryway, the door held open to show the painful brightness beyond.
He shook his head frantically- he had to be able to manage this, could surely do it… it was just going to take some work.
His chest still shuddering, he clenched his eyes and stepped out into the light.
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-BY THE WAY: MOST (not all- everyone makes mistakes) grammatical errors in this story are intentional, and a result of the character's frame of mind. It's meant to be read as stream-of-consciousness type thing, so it might take a little getting used to.
-In this chapter, I'm using capital-T-Them to indicate the Vatican and Rin's captors- that's how he thinks of 'Them.'
Last chapter FlightfootKeyseeker asked why Rin was being tortured, because "I understand experimenting on him, but it seems like cold-blooded torture wouldn't get them anything." I explained in a PM, but I expect a couple other readers will also like to know the answer:
First, a lot of the experiments would also qualify as torture- testing new weapons, his pain tolerance, capabilities, etc. Second, the Vatican views Rin as a monster, not a person, and there are a lot of people (like Neuhaus) who would want to inflict the same pain on Rin that Satan inflicted on them. There would be people who wouldn't participate, but not many people would actually say something and risk being seen as a sympathizer.
Also, starvation works as a method to keep him weak, since once he unlocks his demonic abilities he'll be crazy strong. Spraying him with Holy Water also keeps him weak and restricts his healing abilities (starvation also limits his healing), while letting him go puts it into his head that they always know where he is, they're strong enough to bring him back every time. If he thinks it's always intentional, he'll never trust his escape, and could eventually give up.
I always enjoy getting feedback, though nowadays I don't hold my stories hostage. Feel free to review or not, or check out my other stories- I've got one more Blue Exorcist fic already posted ('For the Sake of His Life'), and I may be publishing a short Blue Ex/Harry Potter in the near future.