Mute

Chapter 8

Hizashi snapped his head forward as the door to the room opened. He had an unrealistic and desperate hope about it being someone to rescue him, but his dream was quickly slapped down by the view of his captor. The man had a sickening look of entertainment in his eye.

What the hell do you have planned now... 

The guy had some sort of bag in his hands, but Hizashi couldn't tell what it was from this distance. All he could see was that it was black, maybe dark blue. 

"What do y-" He began coughing again, the words making his throat spasm. It stung so bad, it was nearly unbearable. "Want with me-" His voice was quiet, sounding crustier than Hizashi could ever imagine anyone's voice sounding, much less his own. 

"Isn't it obvious, voice hero?" The man laughed, stepping closer to Hizashi, looking at his face. "I thought we already had this conversation, or are you delusional?" 

Hizashi said nothing, glaring at the man with a scowl. 

Do what you want, man. I'm getting out of here, Shou is coming. Once he's here, it's over, you're dead.

"You have a concerning look in your eye, hero. What dark little thoughts are you having, eh?"

"None of your busi-" He got cut off by more coughing, blood coming up this time. 

His captor rolled his eyes, walking even closer to him, messing around in the bag. It was close enough to be seen now, a cloth sack. He couldn't tell what was in it, surely it was too small for any kind of weapon. 

"You know, heroes shouldn't think what you probably have swimming through your mind right now, Mic. I know vengeance when I see it and you, my... pal, are a wonderful exhibit of it!"

You're one to talk.

He pulled an object out, grabbing Hizashi's hair with his other hand and pulling him forward. 

"Let's get that look out of your eye, huh? That isn't the face a hero should be making!"

"What are you doing!?" Hizashi forced out as loud as he could, shoving himself off the floor and attempting to get the man's death grip off his hair. It only resulted in being kicked in the back, slamming him down to the floor again with a yelp. 

"Just having a little fun while I have the chance, Mic! Someone's bound to come soon, I'm no fool."

Sadist.

He felt a prick on the back of his neck, and a few seconds later the man backed off. Hizashi pushed himself up, rubbing his neck. 

What the hell was that?

He faced the man who was holding a syringe, standing up shakily and slightly hunched over, now realising what just happened. 

"Did you just-" He hacked up more blood, fear trickling down his spine. A cold feeling went through his body as his heart dropped. Hizashi backed up into the corner of the wall again, doing his best to stand up. He felt like crying again, giving the man another hateful glare. 

Fuckin' drugs? What the hell, man!

It didn't take long for Hizashi to feel the effect of it. It was growing harder for him to keep himself balanced on the wall, the dizziness making his whole world spin. It was almost like he was drunk again. Hizashi had to constantly reposition his hands on the wall to keep himself from falling, before eventually sliding down the wall to the floor. 

He heard the man laughing at this, but eventually anything that happened became nothing but a blur. It was as if any words that were spoken were simultaneously dragged out and sped through, leaving him confused. He attempted getting up a few times but his limbs were heavy and uncoordinated, leaving him to stumble to the ground. 

The pain he had was nearly gone now, but so was basically everything. Hizashi gave up on trying to comprehend what the man was saying, repeatedly forgetting that he was in the room with him.

Or was he?

Was this guy still here?

Where was he again?

Whenever he felt anything touch him, he did his best to flee, shoving it whatever it was off of him. It only wanted to hurt him. 

At some point, he realised that someone had entered the room again. His escape was quickly shut down, there was contact on his throat again, and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the floor. 

A strong smell radiated from somewhere. He couldn't tell. Something burning, maybe? The putrid scent made him even more nauseous than whatever drug he was on. Hizashi couldn't seem to make noise at all anymore, even when he attempted to. Did he just not hear himself? 

 Something ran from the room, then something came back. It was probably just the guy. He had done stuff to Hizashi throughout the rest of the day, but none of it was remembered, nothing but the utter terror of what would be inflicted next. Each time he came, Hizashi fought for his life.

_________________________________________

Shouta and Nemuri sped down the road to the location that Hizashi's phone tracker said he was. It was a long distance away, every second counted. Hizashi could be dead at any moment. Nemuri suggested calling or texting him again but Shouta advised against it. He wasn't safe to do anything, contacting him could cost him his life. 

Nemuri yelled at Shouta to slow down multiple times, but he ignored her. He was getting to his friend. He was going to save him. The guilt he felt for leaving Hizashi like that wasn't something he was going to just let go. He was going to make it right. He ran red lights, ignoring the flashes of cameras taking pictures of his licence. None of that mattered. 

They rolled up to a shady looking building, Nemuri clearly carsick after that experience. It was likely abandoned, as no lights were visible. They split up, scouring the rooms. Shouta took the role of looking for Hizashi, while Nemuri was searching for the white haired villain who had taken him. Using the tracking device that Nezu had handed him, he traced Hizashi's phone to multiple rooms, until he was directly on top of the marker. He did this on every floor until he reached a room with a locked door on one of the higher floors. 

He didn't bother to message Nemuri. Shouta unlocked the door, peering cautiously into the room. He tensed up as he saw Hizashi laying on the floor by the wall, curled up with his long hair covering as much of himself as he could. It was dirtied and visibly oily, caked with blood and other materials that could qualify it as a biohazard. 

He didn't seem to notice as he entered the room completely, still shaking and shivering. It looked like he was crying, but he wasn't making any noise. Shouta noticed a burnt smell, concealing a cough. It was enough of a sound to make Hizashi notice him, pure terror in his eyes as he used his arms to shield his face and neck. 

"Zashi, it's me, it's alright."

It was obvious that he didn't recognise him in the slightest. Hizashi was completely frozen as Shouta came closer to him, hoping for some sort of realisation. Still nothing. He looked over his friend, scanning for injuries.  He had scrapes and bruises, but nothing too bad.

At least, that's what he thought until Hizashi bolted past him to get to the door. His uncoordinated legs fell out from under him and he crashed back to the ground. Shouta put a hand to his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but he clawed desperately and flipped over, thrashing around to get Shouta off of him. 

Shouta held on. He looked into Hizashi's eyes, then down his neck. It was the source of the burning smell, and looking at it made him sick. A huge black electrical burn covered the entirety of his neck, cracked and bloody.