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Dec. 21st, 2008 04:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaThe first thing Ken learns about Chikusa is that Chikusa can bleed. Intellectually Ken knows that everyone can bleed, but he has never noticed Chikusa before that day. Chikusa had bashed his head open on the floor tiles, his body spasming from being shot with the possession bullet. There is a white bandage wrapped around Chikusa's head now, and a spot of it is slowly growing more red. The adults will not change it until it becomes a problem, and if Chikusa dies of infection… well good riddance to bad trash.
"Hey." Ken crouches down in front of Chikusa, who has his knees folded up in front of him and has wrapped bandaged arms around them. "Hey." It takes a third 'hey' and a poke to Chikusa's forehead before Chikusa looks at him. Chikusa's got the type of look a lot of the kid's get, the kind of look Ken remembers seeing on the dogs his mother told him to stay away from, strays. It's a look that says 'kick me again, I'm dying anyway'. "Here."
Ken pushes a yoyo into Chikusa's hands. It takes a little more effort to curl Chikusa's hands around the yoyo and then Ken pushes Chikusa's hands back into his lap. Chikusa barely fights him.
It's not Ken's yoyo. It belonged to Jou, and before him, to Shima. Ken thinks he will die soon, because he's shown no aptitude for the possession bullet, not even the violent convulsions Chikusa has, and Ken has noticed the looks the scientists have been sending him. He will be going to the labs soon, to be cut open and experimented on. "It's yours now."
Ken walks away from Chikusa to sit on the other side of the room. The scientists ignore them when they're not needed, but it's not a good idea to talk together for too long. Ken rests his chin on his knees and fidgets, his hands feeling strangely empty without the yoyo.
He's had it for two weeks.
Five minutes later Ken hears the soft whiz of a yoyo rolling down a string, and the soft sound of it hitting someone's palm. Ken buries his face against his knees, smiling against the scabbed skin.
"Hey." Ken crouches down in front of Chikusa, who has his knees folded up in front of him and has wrapped bandaged arms around them. "Hey." It takes a third 'hey' and a poke to Chikusa's forehead before Chikusa looks at him. Chikusa's got the type of look a lot of the kid's get, the kind of look Ken remembers seeing on the dogs his mother told him to stay away from, strays. It's a look that says 'kick me again, I'm dying anyway'. "Here."
Ken pushes a yoyo into Chikusa's hands. It takes a little more effort to curl Chikusa's hands around the yoyo and then Ken pushes Chikusa's hands back into his lap. Chikusa barely fights him.
It's not Ken's yoyo. It belonged to Jou, and before him, to Shima. Ken thinks he will die soon, because he's shown no aptitude for the possession bullet, not even the violent convulsions Chikusa has, and Ken has noticed the looks the scientists have been sending him. He will be going to the labs soon, to be cut open and experimented on. "It's yours now."
Ken walks away from Chikusa to sit on the other side of the room. The scientists ignore them when they're not needed, but it's not a good idea to talk together for too long. Ken rests his chin on his knees and fidgets, his hands feeling strangely empty without the yoyo.
He's had it for two weeks.
Five minutes later Ken hears the soft whiz of a yoyo rolling down a string, and the soft sound of it hitting someone's palm. Ken buries his face against his knees, smiling against the scabbed skin.
