Chapter Text
As his eyes fluttered open, he realized that he couldn’t move. Akira shifted, the hard metal of the backrest digging into his arms, and flinched as the handcuffs chafed against his raw wrists. He could feel the mild ache of bruises across his body, though it wasn’t yet bad enough to warrant his immediate attention. It took a long moment to remember where he was around the sharp pain in his head, to remember why he hurt, and his breath froze in his chest as it came rushing back.
Sae’s Palace. Akechi. Police station. Interrogation room-
The door clicked open, and he instinctively tensed.
Taking a deep, slow breath, he forced himself to relax as men in police uniforms and suits stepped in, careful to keep his face blank. They’d jump on any signs of weakness, and he wasn’t giving them that satisfaction. That potential opening.
“Ready to talk yet?”
He kept his mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together as he watched the men warily. He hadn’t given them anything yet, and he wasn’t going to.
The man in a suit scoffed, walking swiftly forward to grab the front of his shirt and yank him forward. The handcuffs caught on the back of the chair and stopped the motion abruptly, making his shoulders twinge and wrists burn. He clenched his jaw and fought to keep his face blank.
The man sneered.
“You can try and keep that act up- but don’t expect it to last long. You’ll talk, one way or another. Even if we have to get the information out through your screaming.”
It took more effort than Akira would like to admit to keep from reacting. He’d known, he’d suspected, it wasn’t a surprise, and he didn’t doubt them, but-
He swallowed briefly as he was shoved back into the chair, shifting his arms to ease the ache.
“Now then, talk. Who and where are your teammates?”
He didn’t answer, and tried not to clench his teeth as pain spiked in his cheek and his head snapped to the side.
“I asked you a question!”
They knew he wouldn’t answer; he’d made that clear. It was clear they didn’t care. They asked question after question, and the more he refused to answer the harder the blows became. Each one shook him, yanking against the chair as the cuffs caught him again and again and again.
The constant contact of them against his burning skin quickly became the only thing grounding him as he found himself drifting out of reality. The constant stream of questions blurred together, the blows came and went and felt less real as they built up against his bitten-off cries, time seemed to slow and blur like syrup, but the drag of metal ridges against broken skin never faded.
“Tch, are you even listening?” The man stood in front of him with crossed arms.
Akira forced his head up to stare at him with blurry vision, and still said nothing.
The man considered for a moment, then nodded. “Alright then.” He turned and walked past the officers. “Keep questioning him, see if he cracks before I get back. If not, I’ll have something to loosen his lips when I return.”
Dread settled hazily in his stomach, but the man was already leaving, the officers already moving forward.
Time seemed to lose meaning as it began again, with no way to keep track of the questions, some calm and some shouted and all accompanied by pain and accusations and yanking against the cuffs as he gasped and bit back noises. He wouldn’t- he couldn’t- give them that satisfaction. Couldn’t risk giving himself any leeway to crack.
Finally, the door opened and the man stepped back in- accompanied by several people in white coats.
Takemi pulls it off better. He thought hazily as they set a tray full of syringes on the table.
“Last chance to talk,” the man said as the- doctors? scientists?- prepped the needles.
That wasn’t an option, had never been an option, would never be an option, but Akira didn’t want those syringes anywhere near him. He pulled his wrists apart, pressing them against the cuffs as pain sparked. The cold, sharp metal grounded him, and he didn’t answer.
“Alright, have it your way.” He jerked his chin, and one of the officers grabbed Akira’s shoulders to keep him in place as the other tangled his hand in Akira’s hair and yanked his head back with a sharp sting of his scalp. His back arched uncomfortably as his neck strained against the grip, and he let out a hiss of pain.
One of the coated men stepped next to him, needle held aloft, and Akira jerked in sudden panic as it sank in what they were doing, what they were trying to do. Truth serum, or some variant, something to make him talk or more susceptible to their questions. But the hands and cuffs held him still, no matter how much he thrashed. One officer settled a knee across Akira’s thighs as his hands bore his weight down on Akira’s shoulders so that he couldn’t move, could only grit his teeth and try not to cry out as the needle bit into his neck.
It was searing ice and liquid fire spreading through his veins, and he choked out a sob at the sensation. It wasn’t- he hadn’t expected this. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt-
The coated man stepped back, moved away, and the officers let him go as he shook and slumped forward, chest hitching as he tried to bite back tears at the pain as the handcuffs caught the chair and left him dangling. He was distantly aware of the men talking, but focused on steadying out his breathing for the moment.
“Now then-” the suited man was in front of him once more, and he hazily craned his neck to glare up at him, “-let’s see if we can’t get you to talk now, hmm?”
His smile was dark as he stepped forward and reached towards Akira’s head, and Akira tried to twist away with a gasp and-
-fell to the wooden floor with a thud , flailing as something tangled around him, preventing him from moving.
Pain scattered though him, and he let out a low, sobbing gasp and fell still. Everything hurt- aches in his head, thorns in his chest and throat, a scalpel beneath the deep throbbing in his leg.
A burning behind his eyes.
He closed them and allowed the tears to fall through his hitching breaths as he registered where he was. The floor of Leblanc’s attic, tangled in a blanket after a nightmare. It had been almost a week since the interrogation room.
Somehow, he knew it would be a long time before he really escaped its grasp.
“Akira?” A quiet, concerned voice called from above him.
“Give-” the words came out dry and cracked, and he coughed, swallowed, tried again. “Give me a minute.”
Morgana didn’t listen, instead leaping lightly to the floor and searching until he found the edge of the blanket. He crawled beneath it and made his way up to Akira’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” His voice was unusually quiet, concerned.
Akira let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t… know how to answer that. Not without lying.
Instead, he just reached up to run his fingers through Morgana’s fur. Morgana leaned into the touch, but his ears were tilted back. Akira was sure that if he could see them in the dark, his blue eyes would be wide with worry.
Morgana nudged against his hand. “Come on, you should at least get back in bed. Laying on the floor like this will probably only aggravate your injuries, and Takemi and Boss will lecture you.”
Akira closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather the willpower to move, but blinked them open again as the cloth shifted around him. He squinted in the dim light beneath the blanket, and realized that Morgana was trying to drag it off of him to make it easier. His ears were pinned back stubbornly as he struggled to get the edge untangled, almost overbalancing as it finally came free.
He snorted out a quiet laugh at the sight, falling into snickers at the offended look Morgana sent him, and they pulled themselves from his chest helplessly as the not-cat straightened with pinned ears.
“Sorry, sorry-” he gasped out around the laughs, “It’s not you- It-It’s not- I’m not-” His chest was heaving, aching from the spasms around his wounded ribs, and his eyes were watering from the physical strain.
Morgana’s ears raised a bit, and the offense shifted to concern as he stood to step closer to Akira. “Wait are you- crying? Akira?”
Akira shook his head, unable to speak as the laughter gave way to pitching sobs, and rolled to his side to reach out to Morgana. For once the not-cat allowed him to pull him closer without protest, and Akira curled his arms around him and buried his face in his fur, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs as he gave in to the swirling emotions in his chest. His body ached, the position on the floor jostling his ribs and putting pressure on his injured leg, pain spiking with every shudder. But Morgana was warm against him, soft fur a comfort against his raw nerves, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Morgana leaned against him as he cried, not complaining about Akira’s tight grip, or even his fur getting wet, instead pressing his head to Akira’s in a silent attempt at comfort.
As his breathing finally steadied and Akira slowly came back to reality, he curled in on himself and loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s fine,” Morgana said, nudging him gently again. “Think you can get up to the bed, or do I need to run down and yell for Futaba?”
Akira receded and wiped at his eyes as he murmured, “I can make it. Besides, my phone’s closer anyway.”
“Your lock screen is annoying- sometimes it’ll let me press buttons and sometimes it won’t. I’d rather just run downstairs and yell.”
His disgruntled tone made Akira huff out another weak laugh, more subdued this time. The motion sent sharp aches in his chest, and he flinched as he finally pushed himself up and the blanket off. Blinking in the early morning moonlight, Akira idly scanning the various knick-knacks around the room. Reaffirming where he was. Reassuring himself that he was safe.
Here, at least.
Morgana was next to him, still looking so concerned, and he sent him a small smile before gingerly pushing himself to his feet. He snagged the blanket on the way up, and tossed it beside him as he carefully settled back on the bed. Morgana leapt up next to him.
“Hey…” he trailed off, suddenly looking uncertain. “Are you…”
Akira knew what he meant. He reached over and ran his fingers through his fur again. “I’m okay, Mona. I’m not…” He looked away for a moment before continuing. “I’m better. And I’ll be fine, even if it takes a while to get there. Besides, I- I have you guys, right?”
“Of course!” Morgana perked up determinedly. “We’ll support you no matter what! You can count on us, leader!”
Akira’s eyes softened. “I know. It’s- It’s thanks to you guys. All of it.” His voice was thick, and he reached up to scrub at his eyes again. “It’s thanks to you I made it this far. So- as long as you guys are here, I’ll be okay.”
“Akira…” Morgana stared up at him with wide eyes, then sniffled and buried his head against him. “Yeah. We’ve come this far together, so we’ll see this through to the end. We’ll be okay, no matter what.”
It was cheesy as hell as far as pep talks went, and Akira couldn’t convey how much it meant to him. So instead he lay back down and pulled Morgana close, the not-cat still uncharacteristically patient, curling around him as he allowed the tears to fall again- quietly this time, rather than the desperate sobs of before.
After he’d finally fallen asleep again, Morgana tugged the blanket back over him. The November chill permeated everything, especially those prone to nightmares.
Akira was strong, had led them this far despite the odds, but he was still only human. Only a teenager. Morgana didn’t know anything about himself, didn’t remember where he came from or who he was, but he knew he wanted to keep this. Wanted to stay here.
Wanted to protect the boy who sacrificed everything he was to make the lives of others just a little bit easier.
Akira stirred slightly, unsettled even now, and Morgana nosed his way back into his arms. Akira relaxed again, curling around him unconsciously.
It made his chest ache, and Morgana vowed to do everything in his power to help Akira from here on. They’d see this through, no matter what, and he’d be here.