Chapter Text
The next time he woke, he didn't dare move.
Drugged and lethargic, the only thought playing through his head was to remain as still as possible. One hiccup in his breath, one out of place heartbeat, and they’d put him right back under.
As his thoughts slowly became more comprehensive, he listened to the room around him.
A heart monitor beeped numbingly slow. A white noise machine whaled through the room like a freight train. A.. a person breathed nearby, barely loud enough for the boy to hear.
At least they're smart enough to not leave him unattended.
He felt bitter. On one hand the security measures he’d once proposed for “high stakes prisoners” were quite effective. On the other hand, he didn't account that he would one day find himself in this very situation.
How annoying.
Feeling returned to his fingertips as he contemplated his escape. Taking down the guard would be easy. He managed to glimpse the room last time he woke up, but there's always the possibility they rearranged things after he was put under.
Even so, he was still tied to the table, meaning he needed to draw the guard closer somehow..
Sedation! If they think he’s awake they’ll have no choice but to approach.
He'll act like he's just woken. The guard will take approximately seven seconds to prepare and inject him. Hopefully they'll take their time, assuming that the boy was still woozy and weak.
Next is the lock securing his restraints.
The boy shifts his finger an unnoticeable incriminate, suppressing a smile as he feels a sharp pain shoot through his hand. It's still there .
A needle embedded within the side of his finger, easily torn out by the mere bend on his knuckle. Seems Mori still underestimates him. A pity on his part.
Four seconds. One for the needle to tear out, three to pick the lock holding his left hand.
Three seconds. Two for a guard to approach with the sedative, one for the boy to incapacitate him with his left hand.
Ten seconds. Five to unlock the remaining restraints and escape the room. Five to flee the hall.
The rest? Well.. he's just gonna have to improvise.
He's got one shot at this. Now or never.
Allowing his eyes to groggily flutter open, his plan is set into motion.
I'm coming Chibi. Just hang on a little longer.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Now in clean yet annoyingly oversized clothes, Chuuya allows himself to be handcuffed and led down the hall. He glanced through the obnoxiously large windows, gazing upon the vast expanse of greenery.
If he breaches the building, it would be easy to hide in the woods.
They walk through twisting corridors, turning to an even more obnoxiously large door. Seriously, he knew mutants were a thing but being that large seems impossible.
Chuuya eyed the room as they walked through. It was an empty classroom, curtains drawn creating a cramped and oppressive atmosphere. Some policemen crowded the corners while a very normal looking man sat in the middle.
The homeless looking pain in the ass gently pushed the teen forward, motioning for him to sit across from the man in the center. He growled a muddled complaint before reluctantly plopping on the plastic desk chair. No point in fighting. His head hurts too much to care.
“Hello.” The plain guy sat up, setting a small black device on the table. It blinks red, making a small beep noise before going silent. “My name is detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. You can call me detective Tsukauchi. I've been assigned to your-”
Chuuya shifted his wrists in the cuffs, Arahabaki’s whale wracking though his head. The pain is dull, like a train rumbling through to block the world around.
His body hurts. Despite the god granting him accelerated healing, it never seemed to weaken the crackling phantom pain. It was like the chaotic being was torturing him for its own pleasure, each scream a cackle at his suffering.
I won't let you die, but you will never feel peace.
Dazai brought him that peace..
Goddammit, what did Dazai say about the cuffs?!
“Kid? You listening?” Chuuya’s head snapped up, feral eyes again locking onto the man in front of him.
“What?”
The detective sighs, glancing at the blonde haired hero who was now somehow by his side. “I was explaining that I am the detective assigned to your case. This interrogation will be recorded. My quirk allows me to tell if you are lying or not so it's in your best interest to tell the truth. As your current legal guardians Hizashi and Aizawa are here to support you if you need help or have any questions. Understood?”
The redhead stares, annoyance aching through his spine. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to punch the man. Maybe collapse the building on them. Something, anything to slow the gnawing itch in his gut.
He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palm. He’ll get through this. One year, and then he can rest. Just one year. One more year.
“Understood.”
“Great.” The detective shifts under Chuuya's gaze, an animal of prey desperately trying to convince himself he's a wolf. “Please state your name for the record.”
“Nakahara Chuuya.” The detective nods, writing something down. He fiddles with his pen, tapping the metal exterior rhythmically.
“That's correct.. Nakahara-”
“Call me Chuuya”
The man poorly hides his flinch as his eyes flicker up to Chuuya's. “Ok then, Chuuya. You are an ability user. What is your ability?”
A beat of silence. The red head can't help but notice the surrounding police officers growing tense.
The itching intensifies. He needs to hit something. He needs to. He needs to-
Chuuya bounces his knee instead.
“I think the better question is why I can't use my ability.” The detective doesn't respond, instead looking over the teens head.
The man with the black rat’s nest and a shitty personality approaches, standing next to the blonde haired wuss. “We have found a means to disable your ability. That's all you need to know. Now answer the damn question.”
Chuuya glares up at the hobo before refocusing his attention to the detective. “I manipulate gravity.”