Fic Post from the PAAAAAAST! [Kirijo Family]
((Four ficlets focused around the Kirijo family! Nearly all of which (except for "Mother") take place in the past, during the Kirijo experiments. Warning; it's a bit angsty, and a bit on the long side.))
Mother
Mitsuru couldn't remember her mother's face very well. The clearest memories she had were simply of someone hugging her, fussing with her hair...And then nothing else, other then occasional flashes of white rooms, and a figure draped in a pale, bleached hospital gown.
When she was younger, right when she was in the middle of visiting her grandfather at work, Mitsuru imagined that her mother outside the hospital looked a lot like one of those house wives in the magazines. One with an apron and perfectly arranged hair; probably dark brown or rich black, although she was never able to make up her mind. When her father told her that they met because of business, she mentally traded the apron for a suit and dress.
There hadn't been many photos of her mother in the house while she was growing up, and by the end of the experiments, even those pictures had been removed.
Mitsuru knew that her father still kept a few photos of her mother with him, but they were stored in his bedroom. And she knew better then to go in there alone, the same way that he never intruded on her room without an invitation. She wasn't in a hurry to remember how her mother looked, either. It was enough that she could remember being held, being loved.
And faintly, Mitsuru could remember catching a rare glimpse of a woman in a picture. For just a moment, she'd been convinced she was looking at herself, before she took another look; the hair was the same color, but much shorter.
But then she saw the differences. She'd never braided her hair over the shoulder like that, or worn those clothes in the picture. Her eyes had never looked that wise and experienced, as much as Mitsuru tried.
If her father did find the photo laying with its face pressed down, he never talked about it. And after that, even Mitsuru hadn't been able to work up the resolve to ask about her mother or the pictures of her again, for one simple reason.
She didn't like feeling like a ghost.
Grandparent
The waiting room is sterile, and lit almost too brightly; it makes her eyes hurt, and by the time the door to the main part of the labs swishes open, Mitsuru is almost ready to welcome what's about to come. At this point, the darkness sounds better then that stark, bright room.
She doesn't recognize any of the faces of the men who come for her; the Ergo team is getting larger by the week, it sometimes seems. But it doesn't matter that Mitsuru doesn't recognize them, because after walking down a few hallways, they bring her to someone she knows very well.
Her grandfather stands next to the isolation chamber, waiting, calmly consulting the latest notes, and ignoring the opening to the tank that yawns like a mouth at her. She can catch a faint whiff of moisture coming from it, and hears the water slosh against the walls of the industrial strength tank. Mitsuru has plenty of time to watch, smell, and listen to all those things before her grandfather finishes the notes and looks up at her.
"Ah, Mitsuru." His voice sounds almost warm today, like it used to sound the first times she was brought into the labs.
It's enough to make Mitsuru remember the other terms of endearment. How he called her 'ma petite-fille' and taught her that it met 'my granddaughter' and all those other fancy phrases. He even coached her on the right pronunciation, and helped her with the 'r' and 'l's that sometimes cropped up.
She's not certain when that stopped; maybe when she started to disappoint him.
Sometimes, there is still some warmth in his eyes, but it's rare. She's more likely to see him watching her sternly, waiting for her to fall short in some way. (Which she almost always does. Mitsuru doesn't know WHY, or what it is she's supposed to manage, but she never manages to achieve what it is he wants of her.) And there's times where she prefers that stern look to when he approves, or praises her. There's often a strange light behind his eyes, whenever she does hear kind or encouraging words from him.
Those glints have become more frequent, and also creep into his voice sometimes, making his tone sharp, with a deadly undercurrent even while he tells her what she did well. And along with that, Mitsuru thinks she can see something dangerous lurking behind her grandfather's eyes when he writes out or dictates the next set of directions, either to her or the scientists. There are times where that thing seems so very, dangerously close to cracking open her grandfather's face, and showing that there is something dark and horrible underneath it.
And it terrifies her, even though Mitsuru knows it shouldn't; this is her grandfather. He taught her how to order a dessert in French and English between reading the company and Ergo reports. He told her about Yakushima and how wonderful it would be to visit it as a reward, once she was able to do what he needed her to do. He was the person that held her hand when the first tests started...And he wouldn't willingly harm her.
...At least, that's what she hopes.
"We will be going for a bit longer today, but I'm certain you can handle that?" It isn't really a question, she knows; Grandfather only makes demands, and gives people the privilege of being able to treat them as a request. That's why he's the head of this experiment, and the Group itself.
So, Mitsuru doesn't hesitate to nod, and holds herself perfectly still as the men in white step forward. Then, it's back into the routine of getting ready for the next sixty minutes of blackness...Or however long this session is supposed to stretch out, this time.
The breathing mask goes on over her mouth, and she can hear the soft 'swish swoosh' as the airflow starts, right until another scientist pushes the plugs into her ears. Another ties the cloth over her eyes, and then she can't see her grandparent, or the vat waiting behind him.
Father
Takeheru decided that once he became head of the Group, his first policy change would be that no meeting would ever go past 8:30 in the evening.
That, or see if they couldn't petition a city law to raise the speed limit.
He forced his hands to stay relaxed. And then told his back and the muscles in his jaw to do the same. Any tension left over, he used as fuel to help him throttle the impulse to ask his chauffer to go faster. The city lights were already whirling past the car at a respectable clip, and he was not going to be any later then he already was by getting pulled over by an officer, all because of his impatience.
Despite saying that, it still felt like an eternity before the car pulled into the wide driveway that stretched across the Kirijo lawn. It took the last of his willpower to keep from opening the door and stepping out as his driver eased the car forward, into a parking space. By the time the engine had been turned off, he didn't have any patience left to keep him from rushing into the main house.
He still kept from throwing the door open, and managed to even shut it behind him without slamming it closed. One quick glance around the first floor foyer to make sure everything was in order, and then he made a straight line for the staircase. Since there was no one around to impress with proper decorum, he took them two steps at a time, until he reached the second floor. From there, it was a short, fast walk to the last room on the left.
The door never made a sound when it opened; the Kirijo family paid the staff too well to ever allow the hinges on any of the doors to squeak with rust or lack of care. And he was grateful for that, as he eased the door open and looked inside.
Behind him, the light from the hallway formed a rectangle that spilled into the room. A corner of it stretched across the floor, and just managed to reach the four poster bed. With that illuminating the room, he could pick out the pink print on the bed sheets, and the small form burrowed under the covers.
She was already curled up and sleeping, and didn't stir when he walked across the carpet to have a closer look.
His daughter was looking healthier tonight; and she even seemed to be sleeping easier. She was curled up against her favorite stuffed rabbit, but the grip on it wasn't white knuckled. Hopefully, that would mean they'd make it through night without any nightmares or terrors.
Takeharu turned when he heard the footsteps behind him, and found himself looking at one of the staff. 'Gina' his mind supplied the name, followed by the role she played in the household; Mitsuru's maid, sometimes tutor, occasional babysitter, and (all too often for his tastes) care taker for the evening.
"Welcome home, Kirijo, sir." She bowed her head, and with one eye on the Mitsuru's sleeping form, kept her voice hushed. "I heard the car pull in, and thought you might want to know how she was this tonight."
He barely needed to nod, before she launched into a quick, and still quiet, report. About how his daughter did her homework, (which were one level above her current grade, as usual) ate all her dinner, and finally went to bed without much fuss, as long as the hall light was left on-
He raised a hand to cut her off at that.
"And what about when she was ready to sleep? Did she let you read to her this evening?"
"Yes, but not from that." She gestured to the book on Mitsuru's night stand. "She always seems to have a stack of other things she wants...But she always turns down having that one read."
He nodded at that, and Gina took that as her cue to leave, and let him have a quiet moment to himself. Takeharu watched his daughter for another moment, half wondering if it would be good to give her a pat on the head, or a peck on the cheek like his wife used to-
Better not to, he decided. She was asleep, and had a busy enough day tomorrow without getting woken up by some sentimental gesture.
But he did pause to pick the book up from the table, and took it back with him to his own room. Once out in the hallway, he started scanning the chapter they'd left off on as he walked back.
Tomorrow night, he promised himself.
Family
"Don't look at it." Her father had told her before she sat down. There hadn't been any trace of the kind man she knew at home, once they stepped out of the car and into the Ergo building. When he spoke to her, his face and voice were those of Takeharu Kirijo, the next in line for leadership of the Kirijo Group.
And her grandfather's best assistant, both for work and for the experiments.
"Look straight ahead." He's telling her again, and she wishes they'd let her hold his hand while they fill up the syringe. But they don't, so all she can do is listen to his voice and follow his directions. She breathes in deeply, in and out like her father had told her to do in front of her grandfather. She also tucks herself away, as far back in her mind as she can; her father had also told her to do that, and not in front of her grandfather.
And doing both of those things works, for a short while. She doesn't panic when the men in white hold her arm down. Or when they tighten the straps around her arms, her legs, and her body. She just looks straight ahead, at the white room, and the jars of black the scientists keep at the end of it. Those are secured even more tightly then she is; the glass the black substance is kept in is bullet proof, and is held in place by the strongest, best metal restraints her family can buy. And then to complete the safety measures, everything is behind an inch thick pane of glass, bolted and welded between the jars and the people.
Her own "precautions," as her grandfather puts it, don't feel like much in comparison. Just a chair with a semi-soft back that still manages to dig at her shoulders, and enough straps built into it to keep her in place. Those are getting pulled tight now, and Mitsuru wonders if the...Things her grandfather keeps in those jars aren't watching her now, as the needle (which she's not supposed to look at, she remembers. She needs to look straight ahead, just like her father told her to) gets filled to the brim, and she hears her father and grandfather both step back.
The needle enters her arm with a short stab of pain, that turns into a slow, prickling burn as it pumps whatever was in the chamber into her blood. The pain lasts for a moment, before it suddenly goes numb, and she finds herself shaking from the cold.
---
She wrapped the new coat around her a little more closely, but didn't complain. The hospital waiting room was better then the Ergo ones; they kept books on hand, and that more then made up for the fact that the air conditioner never seemed to be working right. Still, the hospital staff didn't keep her waiting for long.
The nurses were worried when they took her to see her mother. One of them asked Mitsuru if she wanted to hold her hand, but she politely refused, just the way her father and mother had both taught her. She may have been six, but she still knew how to be a true Kirijo, just like her parents. A Kirijo never faltered, never showed weakness when it counted.
That, and she didn't need assurances when she saw her mother. They were the same sort of animal, after all; stuck with needles and pipes in place of feathers and fur, even if Mitsuru had left hers behind in the Ergo labs during this visit. She still wasn't new to seeing IV cables, or where they were joined to skin.
That was why she didn't pause at the threshold when she saw the bed her mother was laying in. She did wonder for a moment if she could ask her grandfather for a place to lay down on, though, instead of those chairs in all the rooms; her mother seemed comfortable where she was laying, and she even smiled when she saw Mitsuru come closer.
The visit went well. Her mother patted her on the head when the visiting hours came to a close, even though Mitsuru couldn't help but wonder if her hand looked a bit more thin and pale then before. She knew better then to question it, though; the same way she learned not to ask when her mother would be better.
---
She doesn't know whether she's shaking from the glare scouring her eyes, or because it's so cold. Her breath feels like it's going to freeze inside her before she can ever exhale. She thinks that her fingers are curled into a fist, but it's hard to feel them now. Hard to tell.
What she can still make out is what she can hear...and smell. There's smoke in the air. It chokes her, stings her nose and eyes. The lights overhead split into thousands of small suns as her eyes water. For a moment panic latches onto her, and makes her strain harder against the straps. There's smoke, there has to be a fire close by as well, and that thought feels her with dread. Then she wheezes, and can hear her grandfather saying…Something. Mitsuru can't pick out the words, only hears something buzz against her ears in her grandfather's voice, and remembers that he had his pipe with him and had just lit it before the needle went in.
The chair is now digging into her back so much that she thinks her lungs are going to bruise; or maybe that's just because of how fast they're sucking in and pushing out that foul, smoky air. Mitsuru remembers promising her father that she wouldn't cry, when he asked if she'd be okay with another test. She knows that she needs to keep that promise so he and Grandfather won't think any less of her, and tries to blink the tears out of her eyes. She tries to breath more deeply, and swallows the sobs before they can come out of her throat.
---
The screams started at 12:00 AM even, and lasted for exactly thirty seconds before breaking off into muffled, chocked sobs. Mitsuru didn't know that for herself; her maid told her the exact time the next morning, over breakfast, and commented that it was almost becoming a routine by then.
In some ways, Mitsuru still didn't believe her; it felt like it had lasted for much longer then just a few seconds.
What she remembered was only terror, starting with a cold dread that dug into her with sharp, black talons, and then whispered into her ear in that same, slimy sound the Shadows in the labs sometimes made. She knew by then that she shouldn't have opened her eyes, knowing what she'd see if she even blinked them open for a moment.
Mitsuru knew that, but it didn't keep that cold feeling from burrowing under her eyelids and making her do just that. She didn't get the chance to draw a breath, or pull the covers up over her head once that happened; they were waiting for her, in the dark corners of her room, inside the shadows cast by the furniture, and ALL of those dark spots had those deep piercing red eyes staring at her.
It all bled into screaming and crying from there, until the lights were flicked on and she saw her father standing in the doorway. The things in the room left once that happened, leaving her to shake, and try hard not to cry any longer when her father came closer.
Mitsuru remembered her grandfather's disapproval when she cried, and had screwed her eyes shut again as he sat down beside her. If he hit her, she didn't want to watch as it happened.
So it was a bit of a shock when he pulled her close, and gave her a tight hug. He didn't say anything when she apologized, and promised that she wouldn't scream like that again, even if the black monsters came back. Instead, he stroked her hair, and kept her close. She kept her head pressed into his chest, after that, staying quiet and promising herself that it wouldn't happen again; tomorrow wouldn't be the same as tonight, or like the night before tonight.
She never saw how sad her father looked just then.
---
She can't see for all the light. The bulbs overhead burn into her eyes and leave a phantom trail behind whenever she moves her head. It hurts too much to look at them, and she wants to leave her eyes shut tight, except that they won't listen to her, and keep staring.
She wonders if the needle is still in her arm, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead. Don't look at the needle, don't watch the needle she hears in her head over and over again. Sometimes she hears that in her grandfather or father's voice. Usually, it's from one of other adults. Rarely, it's in her own.
There's plenty to look at, behind the glass. The jars have turned into blenders as her grandfather's strange half-experiments, half-precious pets churn and throw themselves against the walls of the glass. And she can feel something in her head getting pulled toward them, and resisting all the way. Her skin goes cold and shivering in one moment, and then sweats under the lights and the suddenly-too-hot room temperature in the next.
Whatever her grandfather was saying, or what her father said in return, is drowned out by the blood hammering in her ears, and the steady thought that she needs to keep looking ahead. Just keep her eyes forward and focused, and hope that her family will be done with the test soon.
She's still staring ahead when she feels the straps loosen around her arms and feet. Her eyes have blurred without noticing, and there's something wrong with the glass dividing the room.
Mitsuru doesn't focus on it. She's more concerned with reaching for her father's hand, and slowly getting down from the examination chair.
"Mitsuru. I think it would be best if you stepped outside for a while."
She only nods when he says that, (although all she really wants is to go home, but she knows that won't happen for another hour or more) and turns her back on the lab. She doesn't ever register that her grandfather and all the lab coats are still staring at the glass, which is fractured and frosted over like so many snowflakes.
Mother
Mitsuru couldn't remember her mother's face very well. The clearest memories she had were simply of someone hugging her, fussing with her hair...And then nothing else, other then occasional flashes of white rooms, and a figure draped in a pale, bleached hospital gown.
When she was younger, right when she was in the middle of visiting her grandfather at work, Mitsuru imagined that her mother outside the hospital looked a lot like one of those house wives in the magazines. One with an apron and perfectly arranged hair; probably dark brown or rich black, although she was never able to make up her mind. When her father told her that they met because of business, she mentally traded the apron for a suit and dress.
There hadn't been many photos of her mother in the house while she was growing up, and by the end of the experiments, even those pictures had been removed.
Mitsuru knew that her father still kept a few photos of her mother with him, but they were stored in his bedroom. And she knew better then to go in there alone, the same way that he never intruded on her room without an invitation. She wasn't in a hurry to remember how her mother looked, either. It was enough that she could remember being held, being loved.
And faintly, Mitsuru could remember catching a rare glimpse of a woman in a picture. For just a moment, she'd been convinced she was looking at herself, before she took another look; the hair was the same color, but much shorter.
But then she saw the differences. She'd never braided her hair over the shoulder like that, or worn those clothes in the picture. Her eyes had never looked that wise and experienced, as much as Mitsuru tried.
If her father did find the photo laying with its face pressed down, he never talked about it. And after that, even Mitsuru hadn't been able to work up the resolve to ask about her mother or the pictures of her again, for one simple reason.
She didn't like feeling like a ghost.
Grandparent
The waiting room is sterile, and lit almost too brightly; it makes her eyes hurt, and by the time the door to the main part of the labs swishes open, Mitsuru is almost ready to welcome what's about to come. At this point, the darkness sounds better then that stark, bright room.
She doesn't recognize any of the faces of the men who come for her; the Ergo team is getting larger by the week, it sometimes seems. But it doesn't matter that Mitsuru doesn't recognize them, because after walking down a few hallways, they bring her to someone she knows very well.
Her grandfather stands next to the isolation chamber, waiting, calmly consulting the latest notes, and ignoring the opening to the tank that yawns like a mouth at her. She can catch a faint whiff of moisture coming from it, and hears the water slosh against the walls of the industrial strength tank. Mitsuru has plenty of time to watch, smell, and listen to all those things before her grandfather finishes the notes and looks up at her.
"Ah, Mitsuru." His voice sounds almost warm today, like it used to sound the first times she was brought into the labs.
It's enough to make Mitsuru remember the other terms of endearment. How he called her 'ma petite-fille' and taught her that it met 'my granddaughter' and all those other fancy phrases. He even coached her on the right pronunciation, and helped her with the 'r' and 'l's that sometimes cropped up.
She's not certain when that stopped; maybe when she started to disappoint him.
Sometimes, there is still some warmth in his eyes, but it's rare. She's more likely to see him watching her sternly, waiting for her to fall short in some way. (Which she almost always does. Mitsuru doesn't know WHY, or what it is she's supposed to manage, but she never manages to achieve what it is he wants of her.) And there's times where she prefers that stern look to when he approves, or praises her. There's often a strange light behind his eyes, whenever she does hear kind or encouraging words from him.
Those glints have become more frequent, and also creep into his voice sometimes, making his tone sharp, with a deadly undercurrent even while he tells her what she did well. And along with that, Mitsuru thinks she can see something dangerous lurking behind her grandfather's eyes when he writes out or dictates the next set of directions, either to her or the scientists. There are times where that thing seems so very, dangerously close to cracking open her grandfather's face, and showing that there is something dark and horrible underneath it.
And it terrifies her, even though Mitsuru knows it shouldn't; this is her grandfather. He taught her how to order a dessert in French and English between reading the company and Ergo reports. He told her about Yakushima and how wonderful it would be to visit it as a reward, once she was able to do what he needed her to do. He was the person that held her hand when the first tests started...And he wouldn't willingly harm her.
...At least, that's what she hopes.
"We will be going for a bit longer today, but I'm certain you can handle that?" It isn't really a question, she knows; Grandfather only makes demands, and gives people the privilege of being able to treat them as a request. That's why he's the head of this experiment, and the Group itself.
So, Mitsuru doesn't hesitate to nod, and holds herself perfectly still as the men in white step forward. Then, it's back into the routine of getting ready for the next sixty minutes of blackness...Or however long this session is supposed to stretch out, this time.
The breathing mask goes on over her mouth, and she can hear the soft 'swish swoosh' as the airflow starts, right until another scientist pushes the plugs into her ears. Another ties the cloth over her eyes, and then she can't see her grandparent, or the vat waiting behind him.
Father
Takeheru decided that once he became head of the Group, his first policy change would be that no meeting would ever go past 8:30 in the evening.
That, or see if they couldn't petition a city law to raise the speed limit.
He forced his hands to stay relaxed. And then told his back and the muscles in his jaw to do the same. Any tension left over, he used as fuel to help him throttle the impulse to ask his chauffer to go faster. The city lights were already whirling past the car at a respectable clip, and he was not going to be any later then he already was by getting pulled over by an officer, all because of his impatience.
Despite saying that, it still felt like an eternity before the car pulled into the wide driveway that stretched across the Kirijo lawn. It took the last of his willpower to keep from opening the door and stepping out as his driver eased the car forward, into a parking space. By the time the engine had been turned off, he didn't have any patience left to keep him from rushing into the main house.
He still kept from throwing the door open, and managed to even shut it behind him without slamming it closed. One quick glance around the first floor foyer to make sure everything was in order, and then he made a straight line for the staircase. Since there was no one around to impress with proper decorum, he took them two steps at a time, until he reached the second floor. From there, it was a short, fast walk to the last room on the left.
The door never made a sound when it opened; the Kirijo family paid the staff too well to ever allow the hinges on any of the doors to squeak with rust or lack of care. And he was grateful for that, as he eased the door open and looked inside.
Behind him, the light from the hallway formed a rectangle that spilled into the room. A corner of it stretched across the floor, and just managed to reach the four poster bed. With that illuminating the room, he could pick out the pink print on the bed sheets, and the small form burrowed under the covers.
She was already curled up and sleeping, and didn't stir when he walked across the carpet to have a closer look.
His daughter was looking healthier tonight; and she even seemed to be sleeping easier. She was curled up against her favorite stuffed rabbit, but the grip on it wasn't white knuckled. Hopefully, that would mean they'd make it through night without any nightmares or terrors.
Takeharu turned when he heard the footsteps behind him, and found himself looking at one of the staff. 'Gina' his mind supplied the name, followed by the role she played in the household; Mitsuru's maid, sometimes tutor, occasional babysitter, and (all too often for his tastes) care taker for the evening.
"Welcome home, Kirijo, sir." She bowed her head, and with one eye on the Mitsuru's sleeping form, kept her voice hushed. "I heard the car pull in, and thought you might want to know how she was this tonight."
He barely needed to nod, before she launched into a quick, and still quiet, report. About how his daughter did her homework, (which were one level above her current grade, as usual) ate all her dinner, and finally went to bed without much fuss, as long as the hall light was left on-
He raised a hand to cut her off at that.
"And what about when she was ready to sleep? Did she let you read to her this evening?"
"Yes, but not from that." She gestured to the book on Mitsuru's night stand. "She always seems to have a stack of other things she wants...But she always turns down having that one read."
He nodded at that, and Gina took that as her cue to leave, and let him have a quiet moment to himself. Takeharu watched his daughter for another moment, half wondering if it would be good to give her a pat on the head, or a peck on the cheek like his wife used to-
Better not to, he decided. She was asleep, and had a busy enough day tomorrow without getting woken up by some sentimental gesture.
But he did pause to pick the book up from the table, and took it back with him to his own room. Once out in the hallway, he started scanning the chapter they'd left off on as he walked back.
Tomorrow night, he promised himself.
Family
"Don't look at it." Her father had told her before she sat down. There hadn't been any trace of the kind man she knew at home, once they stepped out of the car and into the Ergo building. When he spoke to her, his face and voice were those of Takeharu Kirijo, the next in line for leadership of the Kirijo Group.
And her grandfather's best assistant, both for work and for the experiments.
"Look straight ahead." He's telling her again, and she wishes they'd let her hold his hand while they fill up the syringe. But they don't, so all she can do is listen to his voice and follow his directions. She breathes in deeply, in and out like her father had told her to do in front of her grandfather. She also tucks herself away, as far back in her mind as she can; her father had also told her to do that, and not in front of her grandfather.
And doing both of those things works, for a short while. She doesn't panic when the men in white hold her arm down. Or when they tighten the straps around her arms, her legs, and her body. She just looks straight ahead, at the white room, and the jars of black the scientists keep at the end of it. Those are secured even more tightly then she is; the glass the black substance is kept in is bullet proof, and is held in place by the strongest, best metal restraints her family can buy. And then to complete the safety measures, everything is behind an inch thick pane of glass, bolted and welded between the jars and the people.
Her own "precautions," as her grandfather puts it, don't feel like much in comparison. Just a chair with a semi-soft back that still manages to dig at her shoulders, and enough straps built into it to keep her in place. Those are getting pulled tight now, and Mitsuru wonders if the...Things her grandfather keeps in those jars aren't watching her now, as the needle (which she's not supposed to look at, she remembers. She needs to look straight ahead, just like her father told her to) gets filled to the brim, and she hears her father and grandfather both step back.
The needle enters her arm with a short stab of pain, that turns into a slow, prickling burn as it pumps whatever was in the chamber into her blood. The pain lasts for a moment, before it suddenly goes numb, and she finds herself shaking from the cold.
---
She wrapped the new coat around her a little more closely, but didn't complain. The hospital waiting room was better then the Ergo ones; they kept books on hand, and that more then made up for the fact that the air conditioner never seemed to be working right. Still, the hospital staff didn't keep her waiting for long.
The nurses were worried when they took her to see her mother. One of them asked Mitsuru if she wanted to hold her hand, but she politely refused, just the way her father and mother had both taught her. She may have been six, but she still knew how to be a true Kirijo, just like her parents. A Kirijo never faltered, never showed weakness when it counted.
That, and she didn't need assurances when she saw her mother. They were the same sort of animal, after all; stuck with needles and pipes in place of feathers and fur, even if Mitsuru had left hers behind in the Ergo labs during this visit. She still wasn't new to seeing IV cables, or where they were joined to skin.
That was why she didn't pause at the threshold when she saw the bed her mother was laying in. She did wonder for a moment if she could ask her grandfather for a place to lay down on, though, instead of those chairs in all the rooms; her mother seemed comfortable where she was laying, and she even smiled when she saw Mitsuru come closer.
The visit went well. Her mother patted her on the head when the visiting hours came to a close, even though Mitsuru couldn't help but wonder if her hand looked a bit more thin and pale then before. She knew better then to question it, though; the same way she learned not to ask when her mother would be better.
---
She doesn't know whether she's shaking from the glare scouring her eyes, or because it's so cold. Her breath feels like it's going to freeze inside her before she can ever exhale. She thinks that her fingers are curled into a fist, but it's hard to feel them now. Hard to tell.
What she can still make out is what she can hear...and smell. There's smoke in the air. It chokes her, stings her nose and eyes. The lights overhead split into thousands of small suns as her eyes water. For a moment panic latches onto her, and makes her strain harder against the straps. There's smoke, there has to be a fire close by as well, and that thought feels her with dread. Then she wheezes, and can hear her grandfather saying…Something. Mitsuru can't pick out the words, only hears something buzz against her ears in her grandfather's voice, and remembers that he had his pipe with him and had just lit it before the needle went in.
The chair is now digging into her back so much that she thinks her lungs are going to bruise; or maybe that's just because of how fast they're sucking in and pushing out that foul, smoky air. Mitsuru remembers promising her father that she wouldn't cry, when he asked if she'd be okay with another test. She knows that she needs to keep that promise so he and Grandfather won't think any less of her, and tries to blink the tears out of her eyes. She tries to breath more deeply, and swallows the sobs before they can come out of her throat.
---
The screams started at 12:00 AM even, and lasted for exactly thirty seconds before breaking off into muffled, chocked sobs. Mitsuru didn't know that for herself; her maid told her the exact time the next morning, over breakfast, and commented that it was almost becoming a routine by then.
In some ways, Mitsuru still didn't believe her; it felt like it had lasted for much longer then just a few seconds.
What she remembered was only terror, starting with a cold dread that dug into her with sharp, black talons, and then whispered into her ear in that same, slimy sound the Shadows in the labs sometimes made. She knew by then that she shouldn't have opened her eyes, knowing what she'd see if she even blinked them open for a moment.
Mitsuru knew that, but it didn't keep that cold feeling from burrowing under her eyelids and making her do just that. She didn't get the chance to draw a breath, or pull the covers up over her head once that happened; they were waiting for her, in the dark corners of her room, inside the shadows cast by the furniture, and ALL of those dark spots had those deep piercing red eyes staring at her.
It all bled into screaming and crying from there, until the lights were flicked on and she saw her father standing in the doorway. The things in the room left once that happened, leaving her to shake, and try hard not to cry any longer when her father came closer.
Mitsuru remembered her grandfather's disapproval when she cried, and had screwed her eyes shut again as he sat down beside her. If he hit her, she didn't want to watch as it happened.
So it was a bit of a shock when he pulled her close, and gave her a tight hug. He didn't say anything when she apologized, and promised that she wouldn't scream like that again, even if the black monsters came back. Instead, he stroked her hair, and kept her close. She kept her head pressed into his chest, after that, staying quiet and promising herself that it wouldn't happen again; tomorrow wouldn't be the same as tonight, or like the night before tonight.
She never saw how sad her father looked just then.
---
She can't see for all the light. The bulbs overhead burn into her eyes and leave a phantom trail behind whenever she moves her head. It hurts too much to look at them, and she wants to leave her eyes shut tight, except that they won't listen to her, and keep staring.
She wonders if the needle is still in her arm, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead. Don't look at the needle, don't watch the needle she hears in her head over and over again. Sometimes she hears that in her grandfather or father's voice. Usually, it's from one of other adults. Rarely, it's in her own.
There's plenty to look at, behind the glass. The jars have turned into blenders as her grandfather's strange half-experiments, half-precious pets churn and throw themselves against the walls of the glass. And she can feel something in her head getting pulled toward them, and resisting all the way. Her skin goes cold and shivering in one moment, and then sweats under the lights and the suddenly-too-hot room temperature in the next.
Whatever her grandfather was saying, or what her father said in return, is drowned out by the blood hammering in her ears, and the steady thought that she needs to keep looking ahead. Just keep her eyes forward and focused, and hope that her family will be done with the test soon.
She's still staring ahead when she feels the straps loosen around her arms and feet. Her eyes have blurred without noticing, and there's something wrong with the glass dividing the room.
Mitsuru doesn't focus on it. She's more concerned with reaching for her father's hand, and slowly getting down from the examination chair.
"Mitsuru. I think it would be best if you stepped outside for a while."
She only nods when he says that, (although all she really wants is to go home, but she knows that won't happen for another hour or more) and turns her back on the lab. She doesn't ever register that her grandfather and all the lab coats are still staring at the glass, which is fractured and frosted over like so many snowflakes.