One More Step (Would It Make Me Free?)

Freedom's End

Hitoshi couldn't remember the last time he'd felt free. He couldn't remember feeling anything but hopeless for a long time.

What did the sun on his skin feel like? The wind in his hair? The grass beneath his feet? He knew he'd felt those sensations before, enjoyed them, but he couldn't remember what they were like. He couldn't remember what being happy was like.

He supposed that wasn't really a shock, though. His last memory of the outside world was him as a little four year old, watching his mother bleed out in front of him before being knocked out and waking up in a cell, where he'd spent his life since. What was there to be happy about? He'd been here for a long time - years, though he wasn't sure how many - and no one had come for him yet, despite how much he'd yearned and hoped a hero would. It had been nothing more than a hopeless fantasy. He'd be trapped in his tiny little cell till the day he died.

He just hoped that day would come soon.

Hitoshi was four years old and coming home from a playdate with his best friend, Mei. Well, his only friend. Ever since his quirk appeared, she was the only one his age who stuck around. That was okay, though. Mei was the only person his age he cared about, anyway.

It's not like it hurt watching other kids refuse to let him play with them or anything. Not at all. Stinging tears at the back of his eyes definitely weren't a regular occurrence every time he thought about it. It didn't matter to him at all. It was fine.

He was fine.

One of Mei's moms dropped him off in front of his house, asking if he wanted to be walked to the door, which he refused. He was four now. He wasn't some little kid who needed his hand held wherever he walked! The woman chuckled at his indignance before wishing him goodbye and driving away.

He practically skipped as he made his way to the door, eager to tell his mother about his playdate with Mei. She always loved hearing about her antics - Mei was definitely the wilder of the two of them. He opened the door, walking in, grinning so widely he feared his face might split open. "Mama! I'm ho-"

He froze as his mother's bloody body met his eyes, a strange man standing over her. A kitchen knife lay on the floor beside her and a gun resided in the stranger's hand. He wanted to run, to scream, to cry for help, but he couldn't. His body refused to move and his voice died in his throat. He couldn't even cry, as much as he desperately wanted to.

"Did she have a kid?" the man asked seemingly no one, sounding confused. Hitoshi's initial assumption turned out be wrong, however, as a woman's voice answered, the person it belonged to rounding the corner.

"Looks that way. They're definitely related, at least. Lucky for you, since you're the one who fucked this up in the first place. Let's just hope he's got a quirk like his mother's. The boss'll be pissed if he doesn't."

It was too much for Hitoshi to process. What were they talking about? Why did they care about his and Mama's quirk? What did their boss, whoever they were, even want with her in the first place?

Before he could even begin to figure any of his questions out, the man stepped towards him. Hitoshi began trembling in fear, but he was still stuck in place. He still couldn't get his body to move no matter how much he wanted it to. He was, however, able to cry now, and was doing so profusely.

He opened his mouth, though he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Should he demand answers? Plead to not be hurt? Beg them to let him go? He didn't know what he should do.

He didn't have the chance to figure it out. The man lifted the gun above Hitoshi's head, bringing it down sharply. A stabbing pain shot through his skull before his world went dark.

Hitoshi woke up in a small cell, head pounding. Tears brimmed in his eyes once more. He wiped his face roughly as they began spilling over. He didn't know what happened or where he was. He wanted Mama. She made everything better. He'd be okay if only she were here.

His breath hitched. She'd never be with him again. Death wasn't something he could quite wrap his head around yet, but he understood enough to know Mama would never be with him again. His only family was gone forever.

He crawled to the corner of his cell, unable to bring himself to stand, and curled up in a tiny ball. He began sobbing loudly, previously silent tears turning into piercing wails. He cried and cried his little heart out till his eyes were red-rimmed and stinging. Even as his tear ducts seemed unable to keep up with his grief any longer, his body continued to tremble, wracked with dry sobs.

Eventually - he wasn't sure how long it had been - the two who'd taken him showed up to his cell, unlocking it and grabbing him by the arms.

"C'mon, kid, we don't have all day," the man grunted as Hitoshi tried to resist. "The boss wants to see you and he won't do it till you're spotless. He'll be upset if you take too long, and trust me, you don't want that. Best just to get this over with."

The warning was enough to still Hitoshi. Those two were scary enough. He really didn't want to make whoever was in charge of them angry. So even though the thought of going with them made him shake uncontrollably, he complied.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but a bath wasn't it. Was that what they meant by their boss wanting him spotless? He protested as they began undressing him, but quieted at a warning glare from the woman. He was thankful they at least let him keep his underwear on.

"Can't I at least wash myself?" Hitoshi protested as they began scrubbing him down. The whole situation was making him very uncomfortable.

"No can do. He'll be furious if there's even a speck of dirt on you, and I don't trust a kid to get clean enough for his standards," the woman replied, not stopping her cleaning for even a moment as she replied. He wanted to insist that he could do just fine on his own, but held his tongue. The more he heard about their boss, the more frightened he became.

He was given new clothes afterward, a simple black tank top with matching shorts. He wasn't given any shoes, his old or new ones, but they didn't answer when he questioned why. They did at least let him dress himself, though not without sternly telling him to do it as fast as possible. He did it as fast as he could, though he was still reprimanded for taking too long. It felt unfair to him, but it seemed unwise to say so, so he elected to keep his mouth shut.

They escorted him to a room much larger than the other two he'd been in. In it, a stoic-looking man sat in a chair. He wore the strangest mask Hitoshi had ever seen. It reminded him of a bird's beak.

"This is the kid, then?" the man questioned.

"Yes, sir," the two responded.

The man's eyes scanned over him, as if taking in every possible detail he could. Hitoshi shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. It seemed to go on forever, and the sheer discomfort of the situation made Hitoshi take a risk he otherwise wouldn't have. Before he could think better of it, he found himself asking, "Who are you?"

The two at his side stiffened at his question, which instantly had him worried. The man before him raised an eyebrow at the question. Hitoshi tensed under his unwavering scrutiny. After a moment, the man simply chuckled, leaving Hitoshi incredibly confused.

"You're a brave one, aren't you? Or perhaps just stupid. Most people would think twice before asking a question like that." That had Hitoshi downright terrified at the implications, but the man simply continued speaking. "Fortunately for you, I'm in a fairly good mood today, so I'll let it slide." The two beside him visibly relaxed at that. He eyed Hitoshi again. "I might as well answer, then, hmm?"

Hitoshi found himself feeling more anxious than ever awaiting the answer. He wanted, needed to know who the man responsible for kidnapping him and doing...that to Mama was.

"You can call me Overhaul."