One Shots

21. [Inmate 1804: The Boy Named Blaize]

The boy with blond hair was standing in the middle of the experimentation room. It may not have entirely a strange thing, except for the fact that the people around him were on the ground, unconscious, and that the room itself was in disrepair.

His light green eyes were blank, his expression set in a poker face. His clothes, just a plain white hospital shirt and pants. His hair was disheveled and uncut, brushing along his shoulders. Blood ran down the side of his face from where he was struck in the temple, but the boy paid no heed to it.

"Well done, Inmate 1804," a voice from a speaker in the corner said, the audio crackling. "Tell me once more, what is your name?"

A simple question with a simple answer.

"...I do not have a name," the boy answered in a monotone, his head now hanging low. "I am nameless. I am just a survivor. A toy. Toys and survivors do not have names. I am no one."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the voice over the speaker crackled to life again.

"Well done. As a reward for your hard work and diligence for your experiment, I shall bestow you a name that you so desperately wanted to know," the voice over the speaker said. "Well done, Blaize."

Blaize. The name felt strange to hear. But as the boy with blond hair mouthed the word to himself, he felt himself slowly smiling at it. Although the boy himself couldn't see it, the person behind the speaker could. The boy now named Blaize looked deranged. With the blood running down his face and the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, he looked just as he was before he had gotten captured. His smile was brought along with wide eyes, his brows scrunched together.

A maniac.

"Blaize, it is time for you to sleep," the voice said again. "Sweet dreams, inmate 1804."

A hissing sound enveloped the room. Within minutes, the boy named Blaize had fallen to his knees, then on his face, asleep. The blood from the wound on his head began to drip onto the floor, his blond hair slowly staining itself in the same color.

"Oh, how stupid he is, but can I truly blame him?" The man behind the speaker said to himself as he watched through a camera. "Goodnight, Blaize. When the time is right, you'll be fighting for the Black Claw."

----

"Hey __________, want to go out to eat?"

A girl with black hair was standing in front of him, her hand outstretched to take his. However, everytime that she even slightly moved, her face blurred, as if she was only a shadow.

"She's right, _________! You haven't eaten in hours! Let's have some fun for a change."

Another boy, with dark brown hair. His image also shifted, making it hard to pinpoint his exact features.

Were they saying his name? Why couldn't he hear them say it? His name was Blaize, wasn't it? Why couldn't they say it?

He didn't hear himself answer.

"Ne, mister, didn't I say that I would protect you?"

A different voice that didn't belong to either person rung out. However the voice seemed...familiar.

"Mister, you really like getting into trouble, don't you? They're coming to save you, just wait a little longer."