Chapter Text
Shinso Hitoshi is ready to knock some fucking heads together. Quite literally.
He’s been kidnapped by mother fucking aliens, caged like an animal, and faced borderline abuse. But that’s not all - no, of course that’s not all. On top of all that, he’s being forced to run on no fucking sleep for at least two and a half days. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he’s ready to go on a murder spree. He swears the moment he gets out of this tiny ass cage, he’s gonna punt the little yellow one like a football. Then he’s going straight for the big one that looks a little like a giant cat - a fact that he refuses to acknowledge due to his absolute adoration of cats. This demon could never live up to the legacy of such angels.
A glimpse of silver catches his eye, and he whips to the right to face the sole source of all his pain and suffering . Asshole saunters up to the cage warily, dark brown fur standing on end as their tails - which are still adorned with those stupid spiked metal cuffs - wave agitatedly through the air. Great, fantastic, Bitch is back for another round of pissing him off. Hitoshi sits up straight - or as straight as he can in his shoebox of a cage - and glares at Fuckface as they stop in front of him. The stupid energizer bunny tails after them, eyeing Hitoshi like he’s the asshole. He bares his teeth, one of the only sure-fire techniques he knows will unsettle the alien bastards.
He’s rewarded with the full body shiver from the ninety-nine cent joy buzzer.
Ass Kisser slams one of their tails against the top of the cage, the sound of metal striking metal leaving a persistent ringing in his ears. After being jolted awake by the noise all night, it sets off a pavlovian desire to go on a rampage. Knowing he can’t maneuver very well, he tries to settle for slamming his boot against the bars. The noise, much less annoying than Knock off Scar’s, leaves him unsatisfied and with no less of an urge to rip their head off.
He’s still fantasizing about all the ways he'll exact his revenge against Insecure Swamp Ferret - horrible, bloody fantasies because he’s hit the limit on his nice-meter - when footsteps reach his ears. Normally, this wouldn’t be surprising, as he knows that there are more aliens on the ship aside from the two currently harassing him. However, the purpose with which the nearing footsteps walk concerns him almost as much as the quantity. The beats are rhythmic, overlapping to form a dread-conjuring chorus. It’s different and unexpected, and the last time something was different and unexpected, he was kidnapped from a school exercise and shoved into this cramped, maddening hell.
God he hates it here.
The creatures that walk around the corner are no less terrifying than the aliens that have tormented him thus far, and he’s forced to resist the urge to laugh at the comfort he finds in the consistency. At least none of them are friend-shaped. Well, except for Eye-Watering Muppet Stain, but they’re the personification of an aneurysm , so they don’t count.
One of the new ones - the tall red monkey mother fucker - steps up next to the other two while the second nears the bars of his cage. The alien closest to him looks strangely similar to the illustrations of “extra-terrestrial beings” that have been circling the internet for decades. The extra set of arms is one of the only differences, and it throws him off. He watches them, letting the adrenaline rush into his veins and shoving down the anxiety that threatens to lodge in his throat. He has no way of knowing what’s about to happen, but they’re almost acting like they’re going to let him out. He’ll take whatever chance he can get; he doesn’t care why it’s granted.
I’m ready. Open the cage. Let me out, cowards. Hitoshi is ready to go apeshit.
Hitoshi shifts slowly, easing his legs underneath him so he can make a quick break for it the moment the cage is open. He already has a plan of action. He’s going to lunge out the cage like the wild animal they’ve been treating him as, shoulder check the weird ass ape, and take off towards freedom while the aliens are disoriented. Then all he’ll have to do is find some sort of escape pod, get the fuck out of here, and - well, he’s not sure what comes after that, but he’ll figure it out. He has to.
That’s what he tells himself over and over again, even mumbling it under his breath. The puny alien that approached him raises their arm above their head and reaches toward a black disc mounted on the bars of the cage. A click seems to echo in the silent room, and all is still. Until it isn’t.
The booming BANG that follows Hitoshi’s lunging escape from imprisonment is so loud an ache forms at his temples. He collides with the monkey, who yelps as they hit the floor. It’s satisfying, more satisfying than it should be considering that Hitoshi has never met this one before, except - oh, shit. That’s not the monkey.
Hitoshi rears back as Crack Obsessed… dammit he’s running out of insults - snaps their teeth in his face. He doesn’t have time for this, he needs to get rid of the monkey and run. One of the Muppet’s - God, is he reusing insults now? He can’t believe he’s fallen so far - tails smack against the floor, metal ringing out against metal, and Hitoshi allows the rage to consume him. Almost with a mind of its own, Hitoshi’s hand strikes out, his thumb digging into one of… Dim-Witted Hot Dog’s - there we go, at least he got one - eyes. Any and all reservation he might have had about causing permanent damage is long gone, and it’s shockingly easy to sink his finger deep into the socket. The alien pinned below him lets out an ear-piercing shriek, using their front paws to finally shove Hitoshi off of them and to the floor before curling up in a ball of agony. He tries to dive back toward… the demon - mother fucker , now is the perfect time for a perfect insult - finding himself to be less affected by the blood pouring from their face than he’s sure he should be.
However, arms lock around him from behind, pinning his limbs to his sides and holding him in place.
He throws his body weight forward to throw the alien behind him off balance, but it doesn’t work. When he glances down, he can see why. The arms around him are covered in a hard plating, layered over each other in such a way that no vulnerable skin peeks through. A snarl curls his lips upward as he raises his arms as much as he can, digging, digging, digging his nails into the plates but getting nowhere. His fingers catch on one of the plates’ edges, and he runs with it, yanking at it mercilessly, trying to pull it off to get to the soft skin below.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, buried beneath the rage and the desperation, horror at his own actions builds, stewing and simmering and ready to overflow, but he’s too far gone to care.
The monkey - who he has just realized is the one holding him hostage - releases a low, pained grunt, and some kind of tired success leaks into Hitoshi’s veins, renewing his determination. He struggles more desperately, intent on escaping this prison, intent on never going back to that tiny little hell in which he could barely move - when pain explodes across his forehead. Hitoshi cries out, releasing the plate and trying to cover the gash, blood dripping down over his eyes and effectively blinding him.
He wants to cry. He wants to scream.
He wants to go home.
But he can’t do any of those things. So, instead, he hates. He hates, he hates, he hates , because he saw those stupid fucking spikes dart across his vision, a smear of blood - his blood - on the end of one of the spikes, and he knows exactly whose fault this is. He hates that he knows he won’t get another chance at revenge. He tries to take morbid joy in the fact that he knows the fucker will, without a doubt, be blind in their right eye, a mark forever left on them by none other Shinso fucking Hitoshi. He fails.
Panic rises in his throat as he thrashes, desperate to be free from the arms locking him in. He won’t go back in the cage, he can’t , he won’t go back. He’d rather die fighting than return to the fucking kennel they shoved him into. Hitoshi thinks he would genuinely prefer old school torture over that. Anything but that.
Hitoshi is stopped dead in his tracks as his body seizes up, his throat closing up and his muscles spasming. It only lasts for a second - barely half a moment - but it’s more than enough to snap him out of his thoughts. His nightmares.
Hitoshi peels open his left eye, blinking several times to try to flick the already drying blood from his lashes. He glares at the bunny, jerking his leg forward to try and punt the little bastard like he promised himself, but they’re too far away, just outside of his reach. He clenches his jaw, his teeth snapping together. He just feels so… helpless. He hates everything about this: the hopelessness, the fear, the anger.
Movement catches his eye, and he does his best to turn his head to watch what he has elected to refer to as the stereotypical alien take a step towards him. They yank four circular metal pieces from their flowy pants, holding one in their top two hands and the other three in their lower hands. Hitoshi has no idea what those are, but he’s not about to find out.
Hitoshi swings his legs wildly, trying to keep the stereotypical alien at bay. “Stay the fuck away from me!” he screeches desperately, barely even ashamed of the voice crack that spikes at the end of his sentence. “I’ll gouge out your eyes, you hear me, you creepy mother fucker? Just like I did to that other guy! You really want - get your hands off of me,” he spits, breaths fast and panicked through clenched teeth.
He’s not entirely sure how he forgot about the extra arms, but two more wrap around his legs, holding him still even as he strains against the grip. The stereotypical alien quickly snaps on the first circular metal thing around his left wrist, backing away as Hitoshi lunges forward, snapping his teeth in their face in a mockery of what Drooling Sludge Toad did to him. It feels much less threatening than when Rotten Tofu Barnacle did it, but at least the stereotypical alien steps away from him.
The monkey’s arms tighten around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Hitoshi wheezes, twitching and losing some of his fight for a moment, long enough for the stereotypical alien to snap another cuff around his right wrist. The arms loosen and Hitoshi sucks in a desperate gasp of air, hacking and coughing as he renews his attempts to get free. Now that he knows the monkey can quite literally squeeze the life out of him, he refuses to allow the aliens to keep him prisoner for any longer.
Or that’s his thought process up until the moment his wrists are forced together by a strong magnet within the cuffs. They collide with a clang, the jolt so harsh it rattles his bones all the way up to his skull. He jinxes himself with a realization. Oh, I can just slip out. It’s innocent enough; the circular metal cuffs are too big to stay on his hands for long, but his rising hope is quickly squashed when they suddenly tighten to just before the point of discomfort.
His shock paired with his inability to move his wrists even an inch apart makes it easy for the stereotypical alien to dart forward, clasping the last two around his ankles. He realizes what they are doing a second too late, and the magnets activate. The effect is much less drastic, but it is there nonetheless and impossible to resist. His feet refuse to move more than two feet apart, and his arms are yanked down toward his legs, forced straight in an attempt to reach as far as possible without bending over. Thankfully, they don’t force him any lower, or he wouldn’t be able to move at all, which would be arguably worse than going back to the cage.
He… kind of wants to go back to the cage now. At least there, his arms could bend and lift; now, he can’t even muster enough strength to raise his hands. He’s effectively hogtied, without being forced into a ball. He finds himself mildly relieved at the fact that he can still stand up straight, but he presumes that the only reason is so that he can walk on his own. He releases a shaky sigh, inspecting the cuffs. They’re probably a dumb thing to find so fascinating, but really, how can he not be a little bit mesmerized by the advanced technology? Even if it means he’s rendered vulnerable and defenseless, it’s still kind of cool to see alien technology first hand.
It’d be better if he wasn’t being held prisoner by a bunch of cowardly space pirates.
Hitoshi allows some of the tension to melt from his body. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s at their mercy now, and he has a feeling they don’t have much mercy to spare. Besides… it’s not like he can do much right now. His mouth twists into a scowl, his tongue souring with disappointment. What did he honestly expect to get out of a struggle? He knows that maybe, just maybe , if he stuck to his original plan and just bolted, he could have gotten away. But, as the eye he can still see out of lands on Flimsy Pencil Stick - wow, his creativity is really running dry today - still curling up on the ground, whimpering and whining, he can’t bring himself to regret it.
Carefully, the monkey lowers him to the ground. When his feet hit the floor, he resists the urge to spring away, hyper aware of the vice-like grip they still have on his arm. He’s out of tricks, and the best musicians know when it’s time to end their acts.
The air is calm for the first time in several minutes, and the silence makes way for quiet whimpering to cut into their minds. Hitoshi doesn’t watch Slimy Fish Face, but he can see them out of the corner of his eye as Hitoshi stares down the stereotypical alien. They are still curled up on the floor, their paws drawn up to rest on their face. The blurry view doesn’t give him the ability to make out many details, but there’s enough red to tell him more than enough. He bites his tongue to prevent a satisfied smirk from hijacking his lips.
Hitoshi focuses back on the stereotypical alien, who is now barking orders at the others. They are clearly the highest in command at the moment, a fact which just serves to make him hate them that much more. If he gets another shot, they’re getting punted first. The bunny won’t be far behind, and then he’s going after the monkey.
When he makes no move to attack again, the stereotypical alien pulls out something small, flat, and in the shape of a square. It reminds him of an old school cell phone, except much smaller. They press a few times on the screen before speaking into it, rapidfire Common flowing from their mouth.
Hitoshi stares down the stereotypical alien, not even letting himself blink, delighting in their discomfort as they shift from foot to foot.
No one moves for a few excruciatingly long minutes while Hitoshi continues to stare the stereotypical alien down, hyper aware of the tight grip the monkey has on his arm. He watches as the aliens’ anxiety begins to reach its peak by his unnerving stillness, broken only by footsteps coming down the hallway reaching their ears. Hitoshi resists the urge to back away from the corner that he knows the newcomer - or, worse, newcomers - will emerge from, instead electing to continue remaining perfectly still. The only visible change presents itself in his eyes, which he flicks to the right to keep an eye on the corner. The footsteps echo off the metal walls, slowly getting louder as whoever and whatever they are gets closer.
The stereotypical alien keeps checking their little black device, getting increasingly agitated as the seconds tick by. When the newcomer finally rounds the corner, the stereotypical alien huffs in frustration and puts the device away. He only has a few seconds to revel in their disappointment before his eyes are drawn to the newcomer. They look very frost-bitten, is the first thought that pops into his head. He precedes to note, with a twitch of his lips, That can’t be pleasant.
They walk on two feet, akin to a human, with small, pure white scales across their body. They look like an overgrown lizard. Their… nose? Snout? - extends from their face, long sharp teeth peeking out from their mouth. The stereotypical alien spits out harsh words, the language flowing oddly and almost stilted at times, and the lizard merely snarls in response before walking towards Hitoshi. Hitoshi shifts his feet involuntarily at the approach, the first movement he’s made since the end of their little scuffle.
In response, the monkey’s grip tightens further, and if Hitoshi wasn’t sure it was going to bruise before, he certainly is now. The bones in his upper arm creak, and he winces, barely noticing the - what seem to be either long nails or short claws - digging into his skin. This has to be a record for the amount of people he wants to beat the shit out of in one place.
Hitoshi’s jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together. He bites back the urge to flinch away as the lizard draws close enough to reach forward, grabbing Hitoshi’s free - well, ‘free’ - arm. Their fingers are freezing to the touch, and this time, Hitoshi can’t resist a sharp inhale. His eyes widen as he looks down at their grip, registering the frost that has spread almost an inch from the lizard’s hand.
His attention snaps away from the sting of the cold across his bicep when the stereotypical alien starts snapping commands again, this time at Adolf Titler. They stumble to their feet - uh, paws? - slowly, keeping their head low as they limp past Hitoshi, glaring at him with their one good eye. Hitoshi allows a predatory smile to stretch across his lips, and he doesn’t lunge, but he does clack his teeth together in mockery of a bite. They scurry faster around the corner and away from Hitoshi, and honestly, he’ll take it. He has no idea what these aliens want but at least one of them is scared of him now.
He grunts as he is yanked forward by the monkey and the lizard, who have suddenly decided that now is a good time to start moving. With zero warning whatsoever. He hears the stereotypical alien and the bunny fall into step behind them, but when he tries to glance back, he is jerked hard enough to nearly throw him off of his feet. He huffs quietly, shuffling forward with steps just short of his normal stride, unable to step any further because of these stupid fucking restraints .
The walk through the halls is winding and long, and he quickly loses any sense of direction that he tried to cling to when they started. He can’t tell if they are purposefully trying to confuse him or if the ship is just that weirdly structured on its own. He assumes the latter. He doesn’t think they’re smart enough to try to do anything that requires more than a basic level of intellectual prowess.
Hitoshi’s arms throb and eyes ache with the brightness of the walls by the time the sound of more people reaches his ears. Unable to rub away the blurriness in his vision, Hitoshi almost doesn’t notice the group of aliens coming in their direction. They seem to be escorting another prisoner, their bright green coloring peeking out from in between another monkey motherfucker and an absolute behemoth of an alien. As they approach, the prisoner stumbles, barely stopping themself from face planting. They pause, and it’s only for a moment, but it’s apparently a moment too long. The monkey shoves them hard enough to send them to the floor, their knees cracking against the floor and their restrained arms just barely managing to catch them.
Hold on. Knees? Arms?
The prisoner raises their head to glare at the guards, climbing to their feet, and Hitoshi’s heart stutters because that’s a human. That is a whole ass human. A human! And they look about Hitoshi’s age, wearing the same uniform the rest of his grade had to wear aboard the Anchor. The jacket’s missing, the clothes are a bit rumpled, and they’re covered in what look like injuries from a fight, but Hitoshi is sure he doesn’t look any better.
The other human looks forward and locks eyes with Hitoshi, vaguely familiar green eyes widening in shock. Breathlessly, Hitoshi mutters in the suddenly too quiet hallway, “Holy shit, you’re human.”
“Holy shit, you’re from Kuip-” Greenie is cut off by a smack to the back of his head, and red floods Hitoshi’s vision all over again.
The guards start shouting - at Hitoshi, at Greenie, or at each other, it’s hard to tell - as Hitoshi thrashes in the aliens’ grasp. Twisting his body towards the monkey holding him, he slams his elbow into their gut, as hard as he possibly can in his minimal range. He does everything he can possibly think of, just to break free and reach familiar language and human interaction. Hitoshi raises a foot as high as his restraints allow it to slam into the lizard’s foot, barely loosening their grip in the process.
He realizes too late that while Hitoshi was struggling against his own guards, Greenie’s guards have been trying to drag them past him. Greenie hasn’t been putting up much of a fight, simply staring at Hitoshi, shock evident in their eyes. Hitoshi lunges toward them as they pass, trying to reach them, but the bunny takes advantage of his distraction. His body locks up with the electric charge that courses through his body, and the monkey utilizes the opening made for them, tackling him from the side. He lands harshly, a wheezing breath forced out from his lungs, and he gasps desperately for air.
The attack finally snaps Greenie out of their stupor and they twist their arm suddenly, yanking it out of the behemoth’s hold. The monkey near them - monkey 2.0, if you will - doesn’t let go, but, for whatever reason, their plates aren’t covering their body, and they stumble when Greenie takes a few desperate steps in Hitoshi’s direction. Greenie turns back to face them, just as the armored plates begin to slide out from under their skin - which, gross - and stomps on their foot seconds before it can be protected. With a sharp gasp, their grip loosens, and Greenie rips away from them.
Motion to the right catches Hitoshi’s attention, and he watches, a bit helplessly, as the other bunny darts forward. He tries to shout a warning, but he still can’t breathe , and his throat feels locked up. It’s over in seconds, and Greenie hits the ground with a pained groan, taken down in a manner nearly identical to Hitoshi. He isn’t sure what he was thinking, really. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do much, not with eight guards concentrated in one area, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He hisses as he’s suddenly pulled up, his breath having finally come back to him as his arm is nearly yanked out of its socket.
On instinct, he starts trying to pull away again, but he’s stopped by the breathless sound of Greenie’s voice. “Stop! Stop, you’ll only injure yourself more.”
“What do you want me to do? They could be taking us to our deaths-”
“They aren’t! At least, not you. There’s only one place that this hallway leads to, and I was just there. It’s safe, I promise!”
“I can’t just leave-” Hitoshi is cut off when the lizard grabs the back of his neck, a choked sound escaping his throat at the cold that radiates from the area.
“Yes, you can. You have to.” He meets Greenie’s eyes, sees the command woven into the glare. This time, when the monkey grabs him to lead him away, he doesn’t resist.
“If you die, I won’t forgive you!” he calls over his shoulder.
He barely catches the huffed “You don’t even know me” that echoes through the hallway in response before they turn the corner, effectively cutting him off from contact with Greenie.
Hitoshi’s mind instantly begins racing. When they escape, if they escape, they will need some supplies. Not to mention the fact that the fight ended with both of them even more scraped up than before, and even minor injuries can be detrimental. He isn’t about to lose the only human he might see for - God knows how long - to an infection. He’ll need bandages, some disinfectant, possibly stitches for his head wound? That won’t be pleasant to deal with later.
Wait a minute. His head wound. His head wound, which almost certainly looks way worse than it actually is right now. His head wound, from which blood is still dripping into his eyes. The lizard pushes him forward to start walking, and Hitoshi takes the opportunity to fake a stumble. Well, sort of faked, given these bindings are limiting his range.
He makes an aborted motion with his hands to his head, even curling forward as he stumbles once more before allowing his legs to give out on him. His knees clang! on the metal floor, causing him to wince as sharp pains run up his thighs from the impact. Probably more dramatic than he needs to be, Hitoshi rolls his eyes up into the back of his head and falls forward, twisting his head to the side to avoid a broken nose. Although, after how loud the impact was, he’s a little worried about his cheekbone.
The aliens begin shouting as Hitoshi lays ‘unconscious’ on the floor. He makes sure to stay completely relaxed, his body dead weight, as hands grab under his arms and around his ankles. It’s hard to stay completely immobile as he’s lifted off the ground, his head falling backwards. He assumes it’s the monkey who hauls him over their shoulder because their skin isn’t cold against his, and the other two are too small to carry him like this. Imagining those two tiny aliens dragging him across the floor as they struggled to carry him is almost too much to keep from reacting to. The aliens walk briskly, a constant argument bouncing off the walls and into his skull.
Carefully, slowly, Hitoshi risks peeking open an eye to watch their progress. He manages to discern the hallway, as they pass, that they came from and that Greenie disappeared into.After that however, the identical closed doors blur together, becoming inconveniently disorienting. One door has a lot of conversation - or at least he assumes so - coming from it, so his best guess is that it's some type of common room, or maybe a sleeping quarters. He would wager that it’s something with high foot traffic. Whatever it is, it’ll be good to note for future reference.
The aliens come to a stop, and Hitoshi closes his eyes again as a door is opened with a long beep that is followed by some clicking noises. The monkey walks through the door, and Hitoshi has to bite his tongue when they smack his side into the doorframe. Hands hold the back of his head as he’s lowered surprisingly gently - especially considering his now tender hip - onto what seems like a metal slab. A few more words are exchanged between the aliens before the footsteps retreat and the door slams shut. The sound of clicking and a beep, a sound that Hitoshi has come to hate, reverberates through the room, and Hitoshi is left in silence.
Without warning, his cuffs suddenly seem to deactivate, a fact that he revels in, wondering if it is a technological error, until he realizes that the metal themselves are still as tight around his wrists and ankles as ever. He knows that this likely means that all of the guards have left the room, but he still elects to count to sixty in his head to be sure the coast is clear. Then, he slowly peels his eyes open.
The first thing he notices is that he’s completely alone in a very empty room. The only furniture in the room is the large metal table that he’s laying on, as well as a few locked cabinets on the far side of the room. Slowly, as to avoid making any unintentional noise, Hitoshi rolls off the table and gently stands on the balls of his feet. It’s a little more uncomfortable with the regulation combat boots the school requires them to wear at the station, but he has to make do. He has no idea when the aliens will come back, and he needs to be back on the table the way they laid him down in the first place.
There are a few innocuous… boxes or crates or whatever they actually are lined up on the floor in front of the cabinets, seemingly welded to the floor to prevent someone like him from using it as a weapon. That’s a bummer, but he’s not here to fight his way out. At least not yet. Not without Greenie. Walking as silently and quickly as he can, he kneels down in front of the boxes.
The same black disc that everything seems to have in this god forsaken ship keeps the boxes inaccessible, but they aren’t as tightly sealed as the cabinets seem to be. He slides his fingers along the edge of the box, feeling for a catch or a crack; something, anything he can use to his advantage. His eyes snag on a hinge as his hands glide past them, and he’s about to move on, before he notices something strange. They don’t look like any of the hinges he’s used to, but that’s expected. What isn’t expected is the little divot in the side of the hinge that almost looks like a button.
He holds his breath as he reaches for it, pressing his nail into it. His jaw drops when the two halves of the hinge, previously interlocked, slide apart with a soft click . A smile grows on his lips when he realizes what just happened. He yanks the lid of the box open, but his excitement vanishes quickly. It’s empty, and, if the thin layer of dust indicates anything, it has been for a long time. He pushes the two halves of the hinges back together, watching as it locks back in place.
Glancing at the door as his urgency grows, Hitoshi quickly cycles through all four of the boxes, stifling his agitated cursing with his fist as he finds nothing else but dust. What kind of med bay is this place!? Not a single bandage or even a needle? Seriously?
Hitoshi sits back on his heels and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. If he’s going to accomplish anything with his waste of a performance, he needs to think clearly. Logically. If the boxes have nothing, maybe the cabinets will. Surely it’s not just an empty room with no use, that’s a waste of space! At the very least, they would have remodeled the room into an isolation cell or something.
Hitoshi stands up quickly, looking closely at the cabinet hinges. Unlike the boxes, they’re all covered by a sheathe of metal, which makes sense given that there is nothing in the boxes and probably, hopefully, something useful in the cabinets. The covering means that he has no direct access to the little button on the hinge, which means he’s unable to access the cabinets. Desperately, Hitoshi runs his fingers around the hinge covers, trying to find a way to pry it off. He freezes as his skin catches on something, and slowly runs his finger back over it. It’s hard to tell what it is he’s feeling, maybe a dent from previous prisoners trying the same trick?
Hitoshi listens for the door for a moment and, when he can’t hear any movement, carefully steps up onto the first box. When guards don’t come rushing in, Hitoshi stands as tall as possible to see the top of the hinge cover, only removing his finger when his footing is stable.
Lo and behold, Hitoshi’s salvation comes in the form of a very small hole in the top of the cover.
Hitoshi steps back down from the box, racking his brain to find a way to get to that button. He needs a - a paper clip or a needle, something small and thin and straight. Something he can press into the hole and use to unlock the hinge. He gently pats himself down, hoping somehow whatever god or deity is watching him right now magically poofed! what he needs into existence.
Unfortunately, nothing happens to spawn in any of his many pockets, so that’s a bust.
Fortunately , Hitoshi happens to feel the boning in his jacket. His mom used to love watching fashion and design shows before she- anyway, the point is, he knows that there’s probably going to be a little metal wire in the boning to keep some shape in the jacket. Feeling an invisible timer slowly ticking down, closer and closer to zero, Hitoshi uses his teeth to rip open the cuff of his jacket sleeve. His anxiety spikes with every slight riiiip of the stitching. Without fanfare, Hitoshi pries out a thin, flat wire from the fabric encircling his wrist. The tip is rounded - to avoid any poking, he presumes.
Stepping back up onto the box, he carefully forces the wire into the tiny little hole, moving his wrist around randomly to try and get to the button. As the seconds tick by too fast to be comfortable, he frowns nervously. He can’t even be sure this will work; is he wasting his time? Hitoshi is just about to give up when - click - the hinge comes undone and he hurriedly catches the falling cover.
Removing the wire quickly, he opens the cabinet to an absolute goldmine . Dozens of prepackaged squares of gauze-like material, packaged in a clear film square, fill the cabinet from bottom to top. Hitoshi wastes no time grabbing a decent stack, but when he goes to shove them all in his pocket, a dawning realization crashes over him. They might pat him down or check his pockets before he leaves - especially if they catch him up and moving around when he’s supposed to be unconscious.
If he’s going to pocket these prepacked squares of gold, he needs to be strategic in his placement.
In stacks of three, he lines the inside jacket pockets, keeping them as flat as possible. Once those two pockets are full, he shoves four into each of his boots. He keeps his pants pockets empty for more supplies, and in the end, he manages a total of 14 packages of gauze. Not a bad haul - but he needs to keep moving, and fast.
Clicking the cabinet door back into place and the cover back on top, he dashes to the next cabinet and repeats the process. There, he finds several sets of small suture needles in packages of four. He starts gathering a few into his arms before noting that if there is anything that they will notice to be missing the most, it is suture needles. Hitoshi tosses all but one of the small packets back into the cabinet and slips the last into the pocket on the outside of his right leg. He also finds a few rolls of what look like tape, two of which he crushes into a more folded, flatter pattern to keep them from sticking up before tucking them into the pockets on the front of each of his thighs.
The third cabinet goes by quickly; at this point, he has the wire-to-hinge method pretty much locked down. At the very least, he has a new skill set that will come in handy in their eventual attempt - and success; he’s staying positive - at escape. The third cabinet is pretty barren save for a few bottles of what might be a sterilizer or might be water. He’ll find out later. Along with how to open them because the caps are… weird as fuck. He tucks a bottle into each of the pockets on the sides of his thighs, patting them down as much as possible to lessen the bulging in his pockets.
Satisfied with his collection, he wastes no time as he shoves the last cabinet back in place. He surveys the room one last time, ensuring that everything is as it was when he first arrived, before rushing back over to the table. As he sits down, he brings his hand up to swipe his fingers across his forehead. The cut is still tender, but the bleeding has stopped and is starting to dry. A soft sigh of relief escapes Hitoshi’s lips. He was most certainly not looking forward to the prospect of stitches in his forehead.
His breath, however, freezes in his throat when a familiar beeeeep rings out from the door. Hitoshi barely manages to prevent his head from slamming against the table in his haste to lay back down, racking his brain to remember what exact position he was laying in. The clicking begins, and Hitoshi makes the last adjustment barely a second before the door slides open.
His eyes are closed, but the footsteps that enter the room are familiar. That is, until he clocks the last - extra - pair of feet tapping against the floor. That leaves the group with one too many, and the thought that another alien, likely one he has never before seen, is observing him while his eyes are closed unnerves him.
The aliens begin speaking in low voices, one of them moving around the room. He hears the beeeep-click of one of the cabinets opening up and some ruffling around. If he had to guess, he would say it was the gauze cabinet, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was wrong. The one that seems to be up and about approaches, and Hitoshi struggles to remain relaxed with them so close.
That struggle is instantly tossed out the window, though, when something settles on his face. The performance was doomed from the start, anyway. He snaps his eyes open as he recoils from what seems to be another stereotypical alien, although the coloring is different. He half falls, half rolls off the table and lands on his feet in a cat-like manner. He backs away warily, only for his wrists and ankles to be jerked back to their previous positions, tripping him. He lands with a hard thud . He tries to stand, but the monkey is grabbing him before he can, wrapping those plated arms around his body and thighs to trap him in place. They must have learned their lesson the first time, this time pinning his arms flat against his stomach.
Hitoshi’s thrashes are a fight in futility, and the stereotypical alien 2.0 closes in. With an almost bored disposition, they reach up to his face, and Hitoshi leans as far back as possible, squeezing his eyes shut. Where he was expecting a punishment for fighting back, he receives gentle touches, careful and meticulous as they place a piece of thin cloth over the throbbing scab on his forehead. Hitoshi blinks his eyes open and looks down at the alien before him, mouth falling open when their fingers begin to faintly glow green. At least it doesn’t hurt, he tells himself, watching the mostly pink alien wave their fingers in front of his forehead. They don’t touch him, but a sudden itchiness surrounds the scabbing cut, and the green glow fades from their fingers. They crumple up the thin film of a gauze pack, turning away from him and muttering something to the other aliens.
The monkey lets him back down on his feet, and Hitoshi can only stand there dumbly until he’s urged forward.
He wasn’t expecting any compassion from his kidnappers - as minimal as it might be - but, nonetheless, he finds himself grateful that the excursion didn’t end in another useless showdown. The monkey and the lizard resume their positions at his sides, holding his arms at the elbow as they lead him back down the halls, retracing their steps and making their way back to where they were originally heading.
The way back is just as confusing as it was the first time, and Hitoshi quickly accepts that memorizing the route is impossible. Instead, he allows himself to be pulled along, trusting that Greenie knew what they were talking about.
Eventually, the group turns a corner, and Hitoshi spots a door at the end of the hallway. The rest of the hallway is barren, with no other rooms nearby, just as Greenie promised. Hitoshi’s apprehension grows as they near the door. It looks more enforced than the other doors Hitoshi has seen, and it has that same black circle - probably the locks - that the cabinets had. He resists the urge to drag his feet, knowing that the effort would only end badly for him. As they approach the end of the hall, they stop abruptly, and Hitoshi holds his breath while the stereotypical alien swipes one of their wrists, and the wristband on it, over the disc. After yet another beep, followed by a series of clicks, the door slides open with a whoosh .
At first, it looks just like any of the other hallways he’s been led through. That is, until he realizes that the walls aren’t walls at all. There are three prison-like cells on each side of the room, with no walls separating the cells from each other. The last cell on the right holds a group of aliens, all huddled into a corner. He doesn’t get a chance to really look at them as he’s shoved forward, nearly tripping over his feet. Hitoshi bares his teeth at the monkey while the stereotypical alien moves ahead to the cell beside the aliens. They open the door with another annoying beeeep-click, the monkey and the lizard forcing him forward. It doesn’t take a genius to understand what’s about to happen, and Hitoshi doesn’t plan on laying down and taking it.
Despite Greenie’s assurances, Hitoshi struggles away from the door to the best of his ability. Digging his heels into the floor, Hitoshi lurches from side to side, trying to dislodge the grips on his arms enough to get away. He manages to get free of the lizard, whose hands have just begun to freeze, but the monkey holds fast, using their extra arms to grab his wrist as well. They yank him forward, hoping to knock him off balance. Hitoshi, knowing he has no chance if he tries to resist, decides to instead step forward with it. The monkey is taken by surprise, and Hitoshi uses the moment of confusion to wrench his arm away.
He doesn’t even manage two steps before his body locks up on him, sharp pain radiating from his wrists and ankles. Hitoshi’s knees hit the floor hard, again , when he finds himself unable to stay standing, the pain fading away as the electricity stops. Mind racing, he weakly attempts to get his arms under himself in an effort to get up, but the monkey picks him up and literally tosses him through the cell door. He yanks his hands, which instinctively shot out to catch him, out of the way at the last second, barely managing to avoid a sprained wrist and instead landing on his shoulder before rolling to his back.
He groans in both pain and frustration when he hears that stupid fucking clicking sound again, indicating the activation of the locking mechanism on the cell door. In the same moment, the magnets in his cuffs shut off, and his unrestrained limbs fall apart. Hitoshi briefly considers mustering the strength to face his captors one last time before they leave, but, after the last few days, what’s the point? He’s tried everything he could to get free of them, and his one actual opportunity of surprise was wasted with revenge against a giant space cat alien douchebag.
He’s just so tired.
Hitoshi doesn’t bother reacting to the sound of the room door opening and closing, leaving him in silence, trapped in yet another cage. Alone once again, he tells himself. Although, that’s not quite true, is it? He sighs, going back and forth between facing his apparent roommates now and ignoring them forever.
With a disappointed frown, he surmises that ignoring them forever will likely be impossible, so he rolls over onto his stomach and slowly adjusts himself until he is sitting comfortably - or, at least, as comfortably as he can. His shoulder throbs from the rough landing, and he rolls it out, noting the lack of internal pain with no small amount of relief. It’s probably going to bruise, which won’t be fun, but a fractured or broken bone would be much more inconvenient.
Finally, Hitoshi raises his eyes to inspect the new aliens, but after barely a second, his eyes are drawn to one in particular. His heart, which had finally started to slow to a normal rate, begins to pound in his chest again.
“You,” he growls, shoving himself up from the ground and taking several rapid steps toward the bars that separate him from the others. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, asshole!” he screeches. Hitoshi isn’t sure what Airheaded Chicken did to get themself put in a cell, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. All he cares about is revenge. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You deserve every horrible tragedy or trauma that has ever happened to you!”
All of the occupants of the cell are now pressed against the wall, seemingly trying to get as far away from him as possible. Dirt Eating Maggot stands in front of them, fur standing on end and fangs exposed. He almost wants to laugh at the apparent threat. It isn’t nearly as intimidating as it would be if the thing had two eyes - hold on.
Hitoshi narrows his eyes as he inspects the giant cat alien. Whoever they are, they clearly aren’t Peabrained Twit. For one, they have two uninjured eyes, and for two, their fur is a sleek black from head to toe, excluding the gray appendage wrapped around their neck. There are also no spiked metal… whatever they were, on any of their tails. Deciding that the black cat isn’t worth his time or what little remaining energy he has left after today, he spins on his heel abruptly. If he weren’t feeling so done with… well, everything, he might have found the fact that his sudden choice to sit down against the wall likely gave them whiplash quite hilarious.
Hitoshi leans his head back, attempting to try to get some sleep, but every noise makes his heart race. Hitoshi pulls his knees up to his chest and crosses his arms over them before resting his head on top. He focuses on his breathing, attempting, to the best of his ability, to avoid thinking about anything that has happened over the last few days. He is mostly unsuccessful, but he continues trying nonetheless.
He isn’t sure how long he sits there, lower back pressed against the wall, face tucked into his arms, and heart nearly beating out of his chest, before he hears footsteps.
Hitoshi sits up so quickly that his eyes take several seconds to focus, black spots dotting his vision for a moment before fading away. He glances at the others, noting that they are also watching the door with apprehension. The cat alien hisses something at the others, and most of them crowd into the corner. The bird-like one stays a little farther forward than the others, but not by much.
The usual beeeeep-click sounds through the room. When the door whoosh es open, the first thing Hitoshi sees is the head of curly green hair. Hitoshi forces himself to his feet, “Greenie!” falling from his lips before he can stop himself. Greenie’s head snaps up, the crease in their forehead easing with relief as they’re marched towards the cell door. Hitoshi takes a step forward, but when he does, Greenie is yanked harshly to a stumbling halt.
“Wait! Don’t come closer, or they might not put me with you,” Greenie pleads.
Hitoshi scowls, but silently agrees nonetheless. He takes a step away so that his back is pressed against the wall, never taking his eyes off of Greenie for fear that the aliens might perceive it as a threat. There’s a long moment of stillness before the stereotypical alien finally unlocks the cell door. Every instinct in Hitoshi’s body demands that he take the shot at freedom, but he knows he would be rewarded with nothing but an empty cell. Not only is it a long shot right now, but he refuses to leave without Greenie.
God, he doesn’t even know the kid’s name and he’s already attached.
Back home, he was never like this. He was always the type to keep others at an arm's length, living under the philosophy that the less people he cared about, the less people he could lose. It wasn’t lonely, though. He still had his dad, and he didn’t have many friends, but he did have some.
He met Honoka when they were both six. She found him sitting alone at the playground after his dad decided that he didn’t have enough friends and forced him to go outside. He’d been keeping to himself, but once she found him, she wouldn’t leave him alone. Now, he couldn’t be more grateful. Hitoshi and Honoka met Naoki a few years later, when they were in their early teens. Naoki wasn’t as reserved as he was, but he wasn’t as extroverted as Honoka, either. He saved his energy for his crazy “projects,” as he called them. Every other week, he’d come to school with a new plan or adventure for the three of them to try out together. Half the time they worked and half the time they ended in disaster, but they always left Hitoshi with new memories that he would cherish forever.
The three of them were inseparable. At least, they were until they graduated from middle school. They didn’t grow apart, but they were interested in different things. Hitoshi wanted to go to space, for one, and they… didn’t. It wasn’t an issue at the time; they never would have let something like a little distance truly separate them. But now, all Hitoshi can think about is the last time they got together, when he told them about the field trip.
“It’s just for two weeks, I’ll be back soon, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“You better! Not that we’ll understand any of your nerd rants, but we’ll certainly pretend to.”
“Asshole.”
“She’s right, Hito. We may not understand, but we’ll love listening nonetheless.”
They all left smiling, laughing, and promising to get together on the fifth. A day after he was supposed to get back. Now, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever go home at all. Distance wasn’t supposed to be able to separate them, but Hitoshi thinks this kind of distance might. And after the last few days, he thinks he just wants to feel a little less alone.
Greenie being pushed into the cell is anticlimactic after the neverending day he’s had, and neither of them bother to move until their captors leave the room. It’s a long moment of staring at each other when Hitoshi decides to break the silence. “Uh, hey-”
Hitoshi is cut off by the force of Greenie slamming into him, knocking him back a few steps with an oomph. It takes his brain a moment to understand what is happening, but, when he registers the arms wrapped around him, it becomes clear. Hesitantly, Hitoshi raises his own arms to rest - a little awkwardly - around Greenie, returning the hug. With every breath, Hitoshi can feel both himself and Greenie relax a little more.
Just as Hitoshi begins to truly lean into the hug, Greenie pulls away, holding Hitoshi away from themself so that they can make eye contact. Then, they just start - just start talking, speaking so fast that Hitoshi barely manages to keep up. “Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d ever see another human again, at least not here, and you’re from the academy too, and it’s so crazy right? Like, we were actually kidnapped by aliens!”
Greenie squeezes his biceps, which they are now grasping, and shakes him softly back and forth. “Not that that’s a good thing, it’s actually very bad and very scary but it’s better knowing I’m not alone - not that I’m glad they kidnapped you, of course, but I just mean I finally have someone who can understand me without a game of charades. God, I’ve just been so lost recently. I didn’t realize how much I missed understanding simple gestures and expressions until just now. And when I saw you back there, I was so happy, but then I kept thinking that I promised you’d be okay, but what if you weren’t? What if I wasn’t? After all that, and both of us getting hurt, what if we never saw each other again-”
Immediately overwhelmed, Hitoshi finally manages to shake himself out of his stunned silence, cutting them off, “Woah- slow down! Holy fuck, please just stop talking for one second.” Greenie’s teeth snap together with a clack , but they keep beaming, bouncing on their toes like a toddler waiting to open their Christmas presents.
Hitoshi takes a deep breath to calm down, stepping out of their grasp. Calmly, Hitoshi introduces himself. “I’m Shinso Hitoshi, he/him. What about you?”
Greenie’s cheeks flush a bright red, but their smile doesn’t falter. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I’m Midoriya Izuku, he/him as well. Sorry, I know I talk a lot, I didn’t mean to bombard you all of a sudden. Are you okay? You looked pretty injured back there. I know some basic first aid! Maybe you should sit down, or- hold on. How’d you get that?” Midoriya’s gaze has landed on his forehead, where the gauze hides what he now assumes to be a scab.
“Oh, that. It’s a little complicated. I figured we’d need medical supplies, especially because…” Hitoshi takes a second to pointedly look Midoriya up and down. “You aren’t looking too hot either. So-”
A new voice, deeper and obscured by a heavy accent he’s never heard before, cuts in. “Mi'oria?”
Hitoshi snaps his head to the side so fast his neck pops, eyes locking on to the giant cat alien. They stop in the middle of taking a step closer to the bars, their ears falling flat against their head, one paw lifted from the ground. “I’m sorry, did that alien just say your name?”