A.N: Exams done (and aced, might I add)! I've got the score to get into the writing course I wanted! And I got back from my 2 week trip to Tokyo just under a week ago – needless to say, it was amazing, and I've got an even better taste for the atmosphere there now. So back to steady updating, hopefully!
Sorry about the overall average-ness of this chapter, it's mostly describing the process of turning Ichigo into a MEW. Yeah, okay, so it's entirely unrealistic, but considering that I'm working with Tokyo Mew Mew (DNA + human girl = magical girl with animal features) I think I'm doing alright ;)
My eyes fluttered open as I begrudgingly dragged myself into a conscious state. I'd had an awful night's sleep. Images of surgical instruments, cold white lights and the burning scent of antiseptic had haunted my dreams and caused me to wake frequently. I didn't even have the moment's peace that comes with waking, before you remember all the horrible things which the coming day promised. I knew from the moment my eyes opened fully that today was the day, the true beginning of the MEW Project.
I couldn't force myself to lay in bed any longer. I sprung up with far more energy than I usually have this early in the morning and wandered out to the kitchen to find food. The other four were already gathered there. Zakuro was standing silently, Mint was staring down blankly at a full cup of tea, Lettuce was fidgeting and playing with her hair and Pudding lay on the kitchen floor staring up at the roof.
"Morning, everyone," I greeted in a falsely cheerful voice. Everyone mumbled a greeting and I found my appetite had suddenly disappeared. If the girls who'd been training for this for longer than I have were nervous, then I didn't stand a chance. I felt the warning signs of panic start up – hot body, sweaty palms, slight dizziness… I sat down on the floor and leant back against the wall, taking in deep breaths and trying to think about anything else.
I was thankful to the girls for not commenting. We were each dealing with the nerves in our own ways. None of us really had the heart to talk about it, so the room was silent when Shirogane arrived from the elevator and made us all jump.
He quickly assessed the mood in the room and made the wise decision not to say anything. I was glad, because that means I didn't have cover up the sudden urge I had to punch him in the face. I still wasn't sure about going through with this and I hated that we were being pushed into making a decision. He beckoned us towards the elevator and we dutifully filed in.
We returned to the third floor, where I'd first woken up in MEW HQ. I hadn't been back there since that first day. When we stepped back out into the foyer I felt the fear and confusion – and yes, anger – from the first day, and I wanted to punch a wall. Five people in lab coats who I didn't recognise approached us, and then we were each led down a different corridor.
Once I was away from the other girls, I felt the nerves melt away and the fury come boiling up again.
"Excuse me," I said politely to the woman leading me away. I think my gritted teeth gave away what I was really thinking though.
"Yes?" she asked, turning to face me. She had cropped black hair and was about the same age as my mother, and I couldn't bring myself to take out my anger and frustration on her. She was only one person in an organisation.
"Oh, nothing, sorry." I clenched my fists to try and smother the urge to hit her. We entered a room identical to the one I'd woken up in and I dreaded the thought of once again waking in a plain room resembling a hospital. She made me lay down on the bed and I realised that I was still in my pyjamas. Damn it, I don't want to wear my pyjamas for all this dramatic life-changing stuff, it doesn't seem right.
The woman bustled around the room. I ignored her and closed my eyes until I felt a prick in my arm and the pain of a needle sliding under my skin. I shouted but didn't try to pull away – that would only make it worse.
"I hate needles," I growled through gritted teeth. I felt a chilling sensation as the woman pulled the plunger and icy-cold liquid entered my bloodstream.
"Well, it's a lucky thing this one will knock you out, then," she smiled ironically.
I muttered a string of curses as my vision went blurry and then entirely black.
I don't know how long it took. It could have been minutes or months. My world was nothing but black, with moments of conscious thought and brief images flashing across my field of vision. A steady beeping was always present, the one constant in the twilight I'd slipped in to. When I realised it was my heart rate, monitored with technology, the beeping had sped up and I'd suddenly lapsed back into the dark.
Sometimes I'd think that it was over; that I would be allowed to wake up soon. The hatred directed at these people grew stronger each time I neared wakefulness and was pushed back into sleep. I wanted to get up and run, away from these people, away from all people.
I heard snippets of conversation, adults speaking in clinically detached voices about something which sounded important. My brain was too frazzled with drugs to understand a word of it.
Finally the day came where I fully opened my eyes. Not half-lidded with blurred vision, but awake and conscious. I would have let out a cheer if I wasn't afraid that there'd been a mistake and I'd be put back into that comatose state at any moment.
I quickly observed the situation. Aside from an IV drip in my arm, everything seemed normal. The heart rate monitor was gone and there was no shiny silver 'tools' (more like weapons) around the room. However, I appeared to be on an operating table rather than in the small room where I'd passed out. I was actually slightly relieved by that, even though the fact that I was still in here was probably bad news.
There was a long mirror along one side of the room and straight away I guessed that it was one of those 'we can see you but you can't see us' type of thing. I'd heard that you could test mirrors by placing a fingernail on them, but if I got out of bed it would be damn obvious that I was awake if it was one of those mirrors. Nonetheless I was getting sick of lying down, so I pulled my IV along with me as I approached the mirror.
When I saw my reflection I nearly fell over in shock. I didn't even think it was me!
I had cat ears. Well, they were some sort of fluffy white animal ears. What was even weirder was that my human ears had vanished – I rubbed the smooth skin where they used to be but there was no sign of them. They'd replaced my ears with cat ears. The room was so quiet that I couldn't even tell if it had made a difference to my hearing. I clicked my fingers beside one of the new ears – I couldn't think of them as mine, really – and the sound seemed unnaturally loud. Well, I suppose that makes sense. I felt my ears twitch in response to the loudness. I was consciously aware of their movements…
As I realised this, I discovered I could feel another new set of nerves. I turned my head to see, and sure enough, there was a matching tail protruding from my lower back.
"No," I whispered in a scandalised tone. I couldn't muster any control over it, but I could feel it swaying behind me. At a stretch, I could understand the ears, but a tail? I know animals have them for balance, but when you're standing upright on two legs, it hardly seems necessary…
I wondered what other things they'd done to me. The alterations were done to make us stronger and faster, superior to an average human. How much of that would show on the outside? Totally forgetting my initial plan to test the mirror, I got closer and stared at my reflection.
Up close, my eyes looked different. I mean, my eyes are – were – a sort of plain green-grey which reflected my surroundings more than anything, and so I was used to looking in the mirror and seeing my eyes in different shades of colour. But now they were a vibrant amber with flecks of green, far more predatory than my previous eye colour. Strangely, I actually liked this. My eyes made me feel fierce and dangerous now. Eyes are the window to the soul.
My scars were also gone. White lines on my hands from cuts, patches of dark skin on my knees where grazes had healed, and even the lumpy scars left behind after getting stitches, all vanished. While this pleased my vanity, I actually didn't like it. I was proud of my scars. Scars show all the times you've fallen or hurt yourself and carried on anyway. They must have done something weird to me that healed me… Or maybe sped up the healing of my cells, that would make sense.
Science hurts my brain.
Finally satisfied with my self-inspection, I continued with my original goal of testing the mirror. I placed my fingernail on the cool surface and found that it appeared as if my reflection was touching me. So it was a fake – real mirrors always left a gap between reflection and reality.
"Hey, turds, I know you're in there," I growled. "Come on out and say hello. Bring some food, I'm goddamn hungry. And get this stupid needle out of me!" I figured that perhaps showing them attitude wasn't the smartest way to go about this, but I was pissed off, hungry, and far more dangerous than any of the people on the other side of that mirror.
To my surprise, I actually received a response; albeit from a speaker hidden somewhere in the room. A man's cool voice told me, "Medically Engineered Weapon Unit 01, we acknowledge your request. Please wait a few moments while the necessary preparations are made."
I grumbled at sat on the edge of my bed, waiting to see what would happen next.