Stole the Show

The Voices in my Head

Chapter 3

What is this?

Narrowing my eyes I grudgingly allowed a moment of curiosity, cautiously approaching this humanoid... Thing.

Who, come to think of it, had features a lot like Ren from RWBY.

So far it looked human, a boy about the age I was when I first came here

He had black hair tied in a low ponytail, and the top of his kimono was shredded and fell around the obi sash at his waist.

I could see his every rib and his skin was as pale as mine; albeit marred by a rather large and furrowed half-moon shaped scar leading from his left shoulder, curving across his chest and belly, and then ending back at his left hip.

I knew that I'd have to get closer to see where he bled from; and so, slowly and cautiously I approached, gently reaching out and prodding the new Subject's shoulder, ready to fight or flee at a split second's notice.

He didn't move, but an up-close look in the low torch light allowed me to see him bleeding from a deep gash on his right thigh and a jagged slice on his right side where his neck met his shoulder.

When the Subject did not wake up, I crouched by his side and turned his right arm until the inside of his wrist was facing me.

The tattoo 6183 was inked across the delicate skin in bold letters, and I frowned deeply.

Do they already have over 6,000 other Subjects?

I felt a bitter rage stir within me and I frowned heavily while I tried to suppress the urge to kill; against a facility armed with seastone and more Marine forces than I could shake a stick at...

The chances are abysmal and the punishments...

I shivered bodily at the memory of Sadi-chan's phantom touch at my last escape attempt.

However, I couldn't help but feel some amount of pity for the young man they tossed in with me in hopes that I'd tear him apart.

I can heal him for now. If he attacks me I'll kill him, if not then I'll see what happens. Even if I'm sleeping I can sense his intent to kill before he even thinks about pulling something.

I decided, bringing my palm to my lips and baring my sharper-than-normal teeth.

At the sting of a puncture I remained silent and stoic as black, slimy ichor oozed from the rapidly closing wound but, moving quickly, I smeared the black slime over the strange boy's wounds and sat back to watch.

Muscle and skin began to knit together and close up, healing into jagged red scars and then disappearing altogether.

I leaned back against the wall with another sigh.

There's nothing to do but wait until he wakes up, and I don't want to go to the Holy Plane with a variable lying around, even if I can react in time.

I raised my eyebrow as I heard a sinister chuckle from inside my head, but Kirito didn't elaborate; instead, I followed his subtle impressions and let him guide my gaze over to the pot of semi-clean drinking water.

I suppose you can wake him up now, if you're that worried.

Face in a deadpan while the Angel Angel Devil fruit voiced his opinion, I reached for the pot of semi-clean drinking water, and when I stood above the Subject with the pot in hand, I couldn't help but feel somewhat childish; something I hadn't felt in a long time.

I decided I liked being childish.

Here goes.

I tossed a good portion of the questionable water on the boy's face and quickly let the pot drop.