For a few moments, Chikusa does just that. He stays right there with Ken, monitoring his condition, making sure that his leg is set properly and that he won’t bother his wrists, either. And…. Mostly, he just watches him sleep.
He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’ll recover. There’s even a chance, maybe, that his other leg is something Chikusa can fix himself. Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s something to keep him going. And if nothing else, there’s always Mukuro-sama. Mukuro-sama will fix this, one way or another.
But soon the sounds of alarmed hisses and whispers from the hallway gets his attention, and he straightens up, hands going back into his pockets to find his needles and yoyos. Right…
The Corvi have a lot to answer for in regards to taking his partner.
Finding the perfect balance of poison to put into his needles is something that takes considerable effort. It’s why he tends to stick to a limited but proven selection in his needles, as much as he’s loathe to be so predictable. It’s a rare occasion that he can experiment so easily, finding that perfect balance. In that way, if there’s any silver lining to this, it’s that.
As he stands there, ignoring the vicious curses and desperate pleadings from the remaining Corvi as he patiently inflicts his needles through them… He can’t help but think of another place, below the earth, where torture and pain were a regular.
When he was young, he went back to the Estraneo Labs. Very young- he’d only had the briefest taste of freedom and fresh air before he’d snuck away from Mukuro and Ken (only numbers, then, not names, not yet). Even as a child, he’d seen the difference between him and the two other survivors of the massacre. He’d listened even before then, to the talk between the scientists of Mukuro’s eye, of Ken’s channels. It had been his one saving grace back then in the labs: so quiet, the scientists sometimes never noticed him at all when he listened to them talk, puzzling out their words.
He hadn’t been noticed when he went back, either, if only because the dull eyes of the dead could see nothing anymore. He’d picked through the discarded rotting corpses, searched tirelessly through the remnants of the labs, all for anything that could help him stay with the only two things in the world that he still knew. The only people that were familiar and who held his then tentative trust. Books, drugs, first aid- he’d gathered all he could in bags after bags, desperate.
When he’d left the smell of death and chemicals, he’d crumpled in a bush somewhere and vomited what little food he’d ever had since their escape.
Chikusa doesn’t do that now, for all the familiarity as he slowly and methodically goes through the Corvi, noting the effects of his poison and how much of it. Periodically, he checks the dummy phone he’d been given before coming to the mansion, and, hours later, it finally lights up with a message. It’s time to leave.
A snap of his wrist takes care of what few mafia are left behind, and Chikusa goes back into the room to search for a stretcher. It’ll be difficult to get Ken up the stairs, but a stretcher will make it easier. Then all he has to do is strap him in, get him up the stairs, into an escape vehicle…. And they can leave this place. They can go back to how things should be.
no subject
He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’ll recover. There’s even a chance, maybe, that his other leg is something Chikusa can fix himself. Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s something to keep him going. And if nothing else, there’s always Mukuro-sama. Mukuro-sama will fix this, one way or another.
But soon the sounds of alarmed hisses and whispers from the hallway gets his attention, and he straightens up, hands going back into his pockets to find his needles and yoyos. Right…
The Corvi have a lot to answer for in regards to taking his partner.
Finding the perfect balance of poison to put into his needles is something that takes considerable effort. It’s why he tends to stick to a limited but proven selection in his needles, as much as he’s loathe to be so predictable. It’s a rare occasion that he can experiment so easily, finding that perfect balance. In that way, if there’s any silver lining to this, it’s that.
As he stands there, ignoring the vicious curses and desperate pleadings from the remaining Corvi as he patiently inflicts his needles through them… He can’t help but think of another place, below the earth, where torture and pain were a regular.
When he was young, he went back to the Estraneo Labs. Very young- he’d only had the briefest taste of freedom and fresh air before he’d snuck away from Mukuro and Ken (only numbers, then, not names, not yet). Even as a child, he’d seen the difference between him and the two other survivors of the massacre. He’d listened even before then, to the talk between the scientists of Mukuro’s eye, of Ken’s channels. It had been his one saving grace back then in the labs: so quiet, the scientists sometimes never noticed him at all when he listened to them talk, puzzling out their words.
He hadn’t been noticed when he went back, either, if only because the dull eyes of the dead could see nothing anymore. He’d picked through the discarded rotting corpses, searched tirelessly through the remnants of the labs, all for anything that could help him stay with the only two things in the world that he still knew. The only people that were familiar and who held his then tentative trust. Books, drugs, first aid- he’d gathered all he could in bags after bags, desperate.
When he’d left the smell of death and chemicals, he’d crumpled in a bush somewhere and vomited what little food he’d ever had since their escape.
Chikusa doesn’t do that now, for all the familiarity as he slowly and methodically goes through the Corvi, noting the effects of his poison and how much of it. Periodically, he checks the dummy phone he’d been given before coming to the mansion, and, hours later, it finally lights up with a message.
It’s time to leave.
A snap of his wrist takes care of what few mafia are left behind, and Chikusa goes back into the room to search for a stretcher. It’ll be difficult to get Ken up the stairs, but a stretcher will make it easier. Then all he has to do is strap him in, get him up the stairs, into an escape vehicle…. And they can leave this place. They can go back to how things should be.