FAILURE. | rui x reader

iii.

a/n: double update :D

chapter includes: violence, child abuse, abuse (if any of these topics are triggering, u're welcome to move the next chapter after the border)

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The world seems silent when you came to. The kind of hushed clarity in the wake of the first rays of sunrise. Muddled toned colors welcomed your eyes. That's right. You were still in the deep of the cursed mountains. Your right arm now felt numb, you forced your head into another direction, knowing the state of your right arm would probably made you faint again.

You didn't know waiting for death would take this long.

You never knew what family actually meant in your whole life. Living as an orphan made you realize that love would never be attained with the life you were living. You are a war orphan. 1917, and the unforgettable destruction that takes place in Siberia caused countless orphans flocking to the sea, the Russian Revolution followed soon after. You were one of them, crying in the arms of a figureless woman, who held you in the storm and rage of the sea. You were just a few months old, a miracle to cross-islands, finding yourself arriving in the Tsuruga port, Japan. However, the woman who sheltered you from the rough ocean did not survive, leaving the crying infant to the care of an orphanage, and a letter bearing the name of the child she was holding and words saying that she wanted her child to be taken care by the Japanese government. Some children were deported back to their country, but as per your mother's wish, you were taken to the care of the Japanese government, having your nationality changed.

You never even knew your father. He may perhaps be a soldier, fighting for the sake of his country. Or a nobleman, catching the first train to flee the battleground of a home. It won't matter, it's impossible to meet him, and much so useless to linger on the past. A soldier that was a part of the group that secured the war orphans had told you your story in his monthly visit to the orphanage, and read the letter for you. A record of 700 orphans was documented, marking a historical event in Japan. He did not visit that frequently in following years, it would seem that he may be preoccupied with his own family and retired a few years after.

It was a shitty orphanage though, the place you were taken to. The building, eaten through by time and termites was not the best place to live in. Cold nights, lonely days, and a life full of taking abuse from the temperamental caretakers. The orphanage was a small organization funded by the government and the adults there were greedy, keeping the monthly fee to themselves. It wasn't like they cared about the war orphans anyways. There was no love, children who saw the death of their parents, dead bodies and their war-ridden origin, with no home to go back to, and nowhere else to run to. The caretakers were the worst part, they serve punishments daily, by not giving food, locking the children in dark rooms, even going as far as letting them die from starvation, diseases and bruises that are not tended to. In short, your childhood was unpleasant.

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One particular memory, which even still haunted your mind after all the years, serves as a remainder of the dark childhood you had. It burns through you like hot iron, brandishing you a mark of sin.

It was the day of winter solstice. You still remember how you looked out from your windows to see the pedestrians in their overcoats rushing to get to their families. The influence of modern culture had reached Japan, marking a new historical period after the Meiji Era. Your orphanage was located in a desolate street on a big, modernized city. Foreign, rich aristocrats or traders used to use it for their homes yet it wasn't taken care of properly and now is in bad condition. You overheard the caretakers one day, saying that someone kept funding the orphanage in a ridiculous amount of money, yet it all went to the caretaker's pockets and not the children.

You are in the pantry, rummaging through the shelves, it was supposed to be exclusive to the caretakers, the place where they store all the foods. No children are supposed to go there, yet you cannot hold your hunger anymore, and decided to steal some food. Your already-bruised knee scraped the uneven counter, making you wince in pain. You finally found a loaf of bread. It seems that the caretakers did not bother to cook or buy anything for the past few weeks, and the bread already had a slight mold to it. Canned foods are in the top shelves, making it impossible for you to reach with your height as a kid. You couldn't care less as you bit into the bread, relishing in the sandpapery texture of it, the first thing you had eaten in 2 days.

As you finished the last bite of the bread, the door to the kitchen swung open to reveal the head caretaker along with two other. Her face was murderous, rage painted her aflame, an ugly shade of crimson in her saggy cheeks, and with her limping left foot trudged towards you. Your eyes widened as she pulled your hair, dragging you from the counter to the floor, it made you fall, sharp pinprick of pain in your arms and legs, signaling that your bones were fractured. "How dare you! You... Insolent child!" A slap echoes in the small, filthy room. It was then a blur of motions, and you felt overwhelming searing on your leg. As the caretaker looms over you, a kettle in hand. You cried out in pain. They poured boiling water on your leg, blisters starting to form, as you sobbed uncontrollably. How could someone do that to a mere child? They indeed are not human beings. They are monsters of this cursed orphanage, abusing tormenting the never endless nightmare of the children. Despite it all, you did not regret your decision to steal the bread.

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a/n: hee hee