Mortem ad Wrens

Chapter 22: Is This Worth Our Lives

Summary:

tw: child abuse, scarring, graphic depictions of violence, blood, wrong pronouns, child abuse, near-death experience

Nightmares, secrets, and sparring oh my!

Notes:

the end of the violence will be marked by [VIOLENCE START] and [VIOLENCE END] centered on the page. If you need to skip it, there's a flashback summary after the second marker.

'text' JSL
Text thoughts

[VIOLENCE START]

"That's it! You're going to the Carpenter."

Akira let out a choked gasp, neon purple eyes blown wide as they tried to crawl forward through a haze of red. They screamed as a foot slammed into their side, sharp claws digging into their skin as another rib cracked. Akira collapsed onto their stomach and narrowly stopped themself from curling inwards, knowing it would just make it worse.

Coarse hands grabbed their red and silver hair and dragged Akira across the blood-stained floor. Their brother's clawed hand grasped the back of their neck, red-hot pain coursed through them as they were ripped to their feet, breaths coming shallow and fast as Akira desperately searched for an escape.

The maze of hallways only ever led back to where they were told to go, and suddenly they were at the soundproof door intricately carved with a tree. Hiroki roughly threw them into the room as the Carpenter lifted their hands from a block of wood, the intricate carvings stopping without his touch.

"This one needs more specialized attention. Use her back and remember to keep this one alive."

The Carpenter grinned, sending a shudder down Akira's spine as he set his current piece aside. "I can always make time for your failures, cousin."

On the table, Akira tried to keep still. It was always easier when- they gasped as the Carpenter placed a hand on their back. Five bloody tracks slowly made their way out from his hand, dully scooping out millimeters of flesh at a time as Akira tried to hold back a scream. Screaming always made things worse. As the Carpenter's quirk subsided, they thought he was done. The chisels started a second pass just as Akira took a breath, only to scream as the raw skin flared and burned.

[VIOLENCE END]

(flashback summary: after a torture session from one of their brothers didn't result in forced quirk manifestation, Akira got their back scar from a cousin)

Akira jolted awake with a silent scream, throat raw as they scrambled out from their blanket pile, tripping over the weighted blanket. Frantically, they searched the room for anything familiar, only to find everything foreign. Trembling against the wall, Akira tried to ask a question, but only air came out. World pulsing in and out of focus, they ripped their shirt off, hands reaching back to touch their shoulder blades.

It's not bleeding. This isn't our room. This is... Akira flinched into themself as the door flung open, stammering apologies they couldn't hear as feet hesitantly approached. A callused hand gently pulled their right from their back, which they now realized had been scratching at the scars. Wait, scars? Akira peered up from behind their knees and tensed as they saw Eraser Head kneeling in front of them, mouth moving as he gently thumbed circles in the back of their right hand.

After a moment, the rushing Akira hadn't noticed in their ears subsided, and they heard him murmuring reassurances that they were safe, were in he and Zashi's house, and had nothing to be sorry about. When Aizawa noticed they were coming to, he loosened his grip on their hand a little. Akira immediately grasped his, flushing as they registered the motion but not letting go.