LOG: Shirosaki & Ururu (Incomplete)
Title: Pain
Characters: Ururu, Shirosaki
Locale: Shiro's Cell
Timeframe: After this journal post, before this log.
What: Little Ururu comes to fix the big bad (white) wolf...
Rating/Warning: Medium (It's Shiro, after all)
There was still pain. But he was used to that. He was used to hours, to days, to years of endless pain and torture from the people who was supposed to take care of him. The years, the world that no longer existed.. But it was annoying him to no end.
Pain, to the nameless one, was normally associated with blood. There was no blood, no wound. Only a slightly twisted shoulder. Broken or dislocated, he didn’t know. He didn’t CARE. He just couldn’t use the damn arm and that was pissing him off.
So was the silence in the mansion, suffocating in its massiveness. The only human contact he had was the food delivered quickly trough a slot. For weeks now. It was grating on him, and the mid-night laughter and insane screams became more and more frequent as time pressed on.
No horse. No dragon. No princess.
Why?
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Ururu hopped back up to her feet, after her third break on her way up the stairs. The trip would have been easier if her little arms hadn’t been full of clean towels and bandages, with a small pail of warm water looped around one elbow. With a grunt, she made it up to the top of the stairs.
The job was fairly simple, even for her. The patient in the tower had been complaining of pain - if it was something she could patch up, she should do so. If she couldn’t, tell the nurse who sent her.
She wasn’t quite sure why the nurse had asked her to do his job. He’d looked very grey in the face when he mentioned the tower, and he’d been very adamant about her not telling anyone she had gone in his place. The coins he’d slipped her had jangled insistently against the keys in her pocket, until she’d had enough, and dropped the money into a flowerpot on the way.
Finally reaching her destination, Ururu set her supplies on the floor by the heavy door, pulled out her keys, and turned them in the lock.
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The sound of the key in the lock made the pale boy jerk, yellow-tainted gaze immediately turning to the door, all of his body tensing in anticipation. Fingers on the uninjured hand grasped the sheets of the bed and he stared at the door, waiting, almost holding his breath. Who was it? The steps had been far too light to be the dragon. Was it the princess? No, she said hello when visiting.
This person…. was unknown, moving as silently as the shadows.
Curious, impatient to see another human, his eyes narrowed and he spoke in a sing-song tone.
“Secret, secret. Who are you?”
----------
Taking hold of the large iron door handle with both hands, Ururu heaved back with what little strength she had, scraping her shoes on the floor. She was able to bring it open just enough for her to squeeze through with her supplies, and she awkwardly scooped them up to enter the room. She immediately appreciated the dim light of the cell; she wouldn’t have been able to do much of anything half-blinded
She shuffled over to the young man, unafraid, set the bucket on the floor, and the bandages on the bed, and peered at him. An image flashed through her mind; one of Kisuke’s patients...Kurosaki? But no, the set of his mouth was all wrong, as was the look in his eyes. No, Ururu decided, he didn’t look much at all like Kurosaki.
Brown eyes swept quickly over the huddled figure. She couldn’t tell much with him sitting the way he was, so she piped up, asking, “Pain?”
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A child. He stared at her eyes following her every movement as she steeped inside and put down her things. Stared at her as she looked at him, his face splitting into a wide, predatory smile. Who was this? What did she want?
When Ururu spoke, he understood. She was there instead of the medics, who always looked terribly panicked around him, sweated a lot when taking care of his ripped fingertips last time, and couldn’t look at him without gasping in fear. Even if he had never touched them or even spoken when they came to fix the countless wounds he had inflicted - few on himself, more on others - since he got here.
Still looking at her, he laughed slightly, shrill and sudden, before jumping off the bed, sitting down in front of her so that he was about her level.
“Yes. Pain. Pain but no blood.”
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“Ohhhhh,” she replied, as though he had explained everything, though he hadn’t. She wondered for a moment about the smile he was aiming at her. Until recently, Ururu had been under the impression that most people didn’t want to be patients in an asylum. Yet they all seemed to smile so pretty! Ururu thought maybe she liked this face as much as Noitra’s. And he could even smile when he was hurt! Which brought her back to why she had come here...
“Hmm,” she mused, trying to look him up and down once more. She still couldn’t see anything obviously wrong with him. “Pain? Where?”
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This girl was very interesting. She was not afraid, not even a bit. Just like the princess. The nameless one still did not quite understand why the children here didn’t fear him - his appearance, his laughter, the way he was. It both intrigued him an annoyed him. But that meant they could be used…and he did like that.
He pointed with his uninjured hand to the slightly twisted shoulder, pulling the white material of his clothes slightly.
“Here.”
The pale boy said shortly, studying her intensely - following the movements of her eyes with his own, muscles still tensed as if he was about to pounce at any moment.
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“Um. Move. Hand? Can you?” she asked him, eyes following his gesture. She stepped even closer to him, until her nose was mere inches away from his shoulder. Slowly and gently - as though she didn’t want to startle him - she pulled his collar just a little farther so she could get a better look. She started making “shush” noises under her breath. This close, she could practically feel his tension, and she’d heard the handlers make that noise with the carriage horse when it was skittish. The knot in his shoulder looked similar to an injury she’d received just before she’d been taken to the orphanage, and she knew how much it must hurt, so she was very careful with the fingers she touched to the area around the bad spot.
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He still looked at her, not moving as she came closer, not moving as she touched his shoulders or pulled on the collar to see better. He was quiet for a while, simply listening to the girl, watching her examine him. The ‘shush’ sound made him twitch slightly at first, though, but oddly enough it did slowly calm him eventually and eased the ‘compressed-spring’-like tension in his muscles.
“Not much.”
He finally replied, wiggling his fingers on the injured hand very slowly. There was tingling, jolting pain, but he didn’t register that as much as the general inability to make it move as he wanted it to. Injuries healed, but this had not gotten any better and that was exasperating to the king of the tower.
One needed both hands when strangling people.
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Had he voiced his last thoughts out loud, Ururu likely would have agreed. As it was, she only hummed in reply, and crouched down to take a look at his hand. The nun who had fixed her shoulder had been more than a little unnerved by Ururu’s blank expression in the face of such obvious pain, and had taken the time to explain - very slowly - what she was doing, likely in an effort to remove her own jitters. Now Ururu examined his purplish fingertips, experimentally wiggling his thumb to see if he felt anything.
----------
He did feel her wiggle his finger, even if it felt a little numb and strange, and he looked down at his hands, fingertips a bit scarred from clawing them against the walls - nails slowly growing out again after being broken off. He carefully wiggled back, but it didn’t want to do as he wanted and he gritted his teeth a bit.
“Is it broken?”
He asked, the words leaving him sounding oddly normal for once.
No teasing, no word games. Just a question.
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Bobbing her head in thought, she left his side to move the bucket out of the way. She wouldn’t be needing it after all, though she was glad she had the bandages.
“Hm. Bro-ken?” She couldn’t quite remember the word the nun had given her for it, just that it had been long and strange, but she knew it wasn’t ‘broken.’ So, “No. I can. Fix.” Ururu returned to him and started tugging on his good shoulder, motioning for him to lie on the floor. “Mostly,” she added. Her own shoulder hadn’t been completely better, not for a while.
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He wondered what she was doing as she moved the bucket and then tugged on him. What did she want? It took the pale boy a moment to realize he was supposed to lie down. He didn’t quite like that, it made his warning signs go up and his body tensing again.
Almost like an animal, being on the back, on the floor made him feel submissive and inferior. He had to force control to not strike out - because, contrary to popular belief, he was not stupid and realized that if he hurt her or killed her now, there would be no help.
Gritting his teeth again, he finally did lie down, yellow eyes meeting hers, narrowed and untrusting.
What was she going to do now?
----------
Ururu chirped in satisfaction, then resumed her ‘shushing’ sounds, as they seemed to have helped earlier. Kneeling beside him, she pulled back his shirt again to bare the shoulder. As gently as she could, she lifted his arm and twisted it, placing it to where it could slide back into the right position when the pressure was applied. She couldn’t do this exactly the way the nun had - she simply didn’t have the physical strength - but she was used to finding her own way of doing things.
When she had the right placement, she held it there with one hand, reaching over to his good hand to place it on his arm. “Hold. There. Tight.” She looked him in the eyes as she said this, as though trying to impart the importance of her words, especially the last one.
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He gave a slight hiss as she moved his arm, tongue quickly sliding over his teeth afterwards, as if to wash away the taste of the pain. Hearing her serious look, he understood that this was going to hurt, so he did as she told, holding on tightly. Since he had little restrain when it came to things, he almost held too tightly instead, fingers digging into the skin.
The pale boy eased the grip slightly and then waited, looking perfectly calm, but the look in his yellow eyes was hunted and stressed, since he didn’t like to be told what to do - or kept down.
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Sitting back, little hands held out in front of her, she waited a moment to make sure he was keeping the arm in the right place. With a quick ‘hmph,’ she stood and stepped away from him so she could slip out of her shoes. When she had resumed her place by his shoulder, she leaaaaned over his face, eyes wide and serious. “This. Hurt,” she hissed at him. She wanted that to be clear from the start.
What she didn’t want was to give him too much time for second thoughts. From his attitude, she had a vague idea that he was no stranger to pain, but if he reacted without thinking, this could go bad.
Quickly as she could, Ururu braced herself with both hands on the metal bed frame, placed her stockinged heel over the twisted bulge in his shoulder, and shoved.
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Meeting her staring gaze with his own, he found himself a bit fascinated at the way this girl was behaving. When she told him it was going to hurt, he just nodded slightly. He had understood that by now.
He had not expected her to be so damn quick about it, though.
As she shoved, he growled in pain, eyes widening and all of his defenses going amok. Snarling, he ripped himself loose from her, got on his feet and backed up against the cell wall.
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The foot she had placed on his shoulder flew out from under her as he did, and with a squeak, she found herself lying on her back with a fuzzy view of the stained ceiling. Gathering her bearings, she sat up, smoothing down her skirt and petticoat, which had bunched up around her when she’d landed. She pulled herself to her knees, unbothered by having been flung halfway across the room, and crawled to the pile of bandages, choosing some that were wide enough and long enough to finish up her work. From there, she turned to look at where he was pressing himself against the wall. “Go~od, go~od,” she hummed, soothingly, raising one hand, palm-out, as though to steady him. “Almost.” He looked almost ready to bite her, and Ururu would much prefer not to have to jab one of her keys through his eye just to get the bandages on. With luck, he’d come to her.
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He glared at her, the intense pain having messed up his previously somewhat calm state, the instable mind tipping over in the wrong direction. He grinned at her, yellow eyes widening as he laughed, that bone-chilling, shrill and completely insane laughter that scared the nurses, orderlies and patients, and gave people nightmares. Deathly pale skin, demon eyes and that laughter still haunted some of the inhabitants at the Karakura Institute - and at the moment, there was not much human too him, adrenaline from the pain and the madness making him seem completely snapped.
The nameless one was used to pain. He didn’t care much about pain, it was normal to him, but this much, without being in a fight triggered the wrong reaction.
Still laughing, he looked at Ururu as she spoke, and then snapped out, trying to grab her.
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Squeaking once more, Ururu reached forward and flipped the pile of towels and bandages into his face as she tumbled out of the way. She may not be strong, but she could be plenty quick, and she put that to good advantage now, bringing her feet up under her and skittering to the far side of the room. If she had been the type to roll her eyes in exasperation, she would be doing so now.
The idea of pulling out her keys occurred to her again, but she remembered the stray dogs that used to come around the orphanage. The boys claimed they’d never hit the little things, but they always got so riled up and barky when they saw anyone carrying a stick...
She decided to leave the keys in her pocket (he was riled up enough already), instead crossing her arms over her chest and sighing. “Hurt arm. Again.” She narrowed her eyes at him, disapprovingly. “Worse.” If she had to pop it back into place twice in one day, she was going to be very put out.
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Watching her bolt off, he wanted to chase her, but the thrown equipment in his face stopped him. Glaring over at her, he grinned again, eyes still wide and crazy. He was not quite listening right now, but Ururu’s short, down-to-the-point manners did get trough to him, her never-changing features not revealing any reactions that might trigger more of his violent behavior. The more scared you were, the more aggressive the dog got, after all. Strangely, Ururu seemed to understand his basic reactions far better then most others, really. The mindfuckery, however, was more difficult.
Still staring at her, the grin finally toned down and he sat down on the floor, looking at her.
“That hurt.”
He hissed slightly to her, as if to explain. Still not quite calmed down, he was still balancing on the thin edge of his mind, able to fall over at any moment.
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“Yes. Hurt,” she agreed, her tone conveying not so much apology as understanding. She’d had the same thing done to her, or something very similar, and she knew quite well how it felt. And hadn’t she said it would hurt? Ah, well, she knew she was in no place to be frustrated with someone who didn’t understand things the first time.
On the other hand, she did have to finish the job. A little more effort on her part, and a little more patience on his, and he would be much more comfortable, and not so likely to hurt his shoulder again any time soon. But how to say that?
“I. Wind?” She snuffled in annoyance, that wasn’t right. “Um...wrap! I wrap,” she corrected herself, and motioned to the pile of bandages she’d thrown at him. “and.” Another pause, then she patted her own shoulder soundly. “Feel better!” She watched him, waiting to see if he would agree to just a little more help.
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The white king looked at her suspiciously, but she made sense. Wrapping things usually made it heal. As long as she didn’t have to shove his shoulder again, he was fine. Still tensed as a piano thread, however, he was not going to relax any time soon after that shock of pain.
“Okay, secret one. Wrap as you see fit.”
He said, giving a slight nod.
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Ururu waited a bit longer, wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything again. It would be very inconvenient to have to limp out of here, injured herself. She already had enough work to be getting on with. Eventually, she granted him a not-unpleasant ‘hmph,’ and moved to untangle the bandage she had originally picked out for him. Either he would let her finish or he wouldn’t, either she would walk out of here unscathed or she wouldn’t; worrying about his rigid posture right now could only make her appear uselessly agitated herself.
Concerned only with her duties, she approached him again. Small as she was, she had to reach to get her arms around his neck. She wrapped the bandages firmly around his chest and shoulder for support, pleased she had enough left over to loop some of it around as a sling. A few tugs here and there to make sure everything were snug and secure, and in short order she was finished.
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As she waited, it gave him a moment to relax just a little bit more, avoiding the borderline of ‘snap, kill time’. Watching her untangle the bandage and bring it, he sat perfectly still as she started to wrap him. When Ururu had finished, he felt a little constrained but that couldn’t be helped. The injury had to heal. Quickly. So he could kill the horse, make him suffer.
It was still hard to kill a person with one hand. At least it did feel just a little better - even if the pain still burned in his shoulder.
Turning his yellow gaze to her, he watched her silently. Strange, strange girl.
Could she be used?
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Ururu had one more bit of assistance to offer the boy. He seemed fairly relaxed at the moment as he sat considering her, and she hoped to keep him that way. That in mind, she backed well out of arms reach before she stuck her hand into her apron and pulled out the small glass vial with the rubber stopper. The nurse had (rightly) said the boy was probably in pain, and the dose of analgesic he’d given her would help with that greatly. If he wanted to take it. He’d already allowed her to do quite a lot to him, and she wasn’t about to push her luck with someone who probably twist her little head off, even with one arm out of commission.
She crouched down, free hand resting lightly on her knees, making herself look that much smaller. Holding the vial up where he could see, she told him clearly, “Make, um, pain not... Not hurt?” She waited to see his response. “Want?”
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He stared at the vial the second she took it up, and shook his head. The nameless one had seen his share of drugs - pumped full of it the days when he was completely out of hand. He hated, hated, hated them and he glared at her now, baring his teeth in a grin.
“No drugs. Ever.”
The pale boy said, eyes narrowing as he looked at her.
“I don’t care about the pain. Take it away. No fucking drugs.”
He protested, a bit more verbal now, anger seething in him - but not at her. At the drugs. At the times down in the labs. At everything.
He wanted out of here. He wanted what was rightfully his.
Characters: Ururu, Shirosaki
Locale: Shiro's Cell
Timeframe: After this journal post, before this log.
What: Little Ururu comes to fix the big bad (white) wolf...
Rating/Warning: Medium (It's Shiro, after all)
There was still pain. But he was used to that. He was used to hours, to days, to years of endless pain and torture from the people who was supposed to take care of him. The years, the world that no longer existed.. But it was annoying him to no end.
Pain, to the nameless one, was normally associated with blood. There was no blood, no wound. Only a slightly twisted shoulder. Broken or dislocated, he didn’t know. He didn’t CARE. He just couldn’t use the damn arm and that was pissing him off.
So was the silence in the mansion, suffocating in its massiveness. The only human contact he had was the food delivered quickly trough a slot. For weeks now. It was grating on him, and the mid-night laughter and insane screams became more and more frequent as time pressed on.
No horse. No dragon. No princess.
Why?
----------
Ururu hopped back up to her feet, after her third break on her way up the stairs. The trip would have been easier if her little arms hadn’t been full of clean towels and bandages, with a small pail of warm water looped around one elbow. With a grunt, she made it up to the top of the stairs.
The job was fairly simple, even for her. The patient in the tower had been complaining of pain - if it was something she could patch up, she should do so. If she couldn’t, tell the nurse who sent her.
She wasn’t quite sure why the nurse had asked her to do his job. He’d looked very grey in the face when he mentioned the tower, and he’d been very adamant about her not telling anyone she had gone in his place. The coins he’d slipped her had jangled insistently against the keys in her pocket, until she’d had enough, and dropped the money into a flowerpot on the way.
Finally reaching her destination, Ururu set her supplies on the floor by the heavy door, pulled out her keys, and turned them in the lock.
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The sound of the key in the lock made the pale boy jerk, yellow-tainted gaze immediately turning to the door, all of his body tensing in anticipation. Fingers on the uninjured hand grasped the sheets of the bed and he stared at the door, waiting, almost holding his breath. Who was it? The steps had been far too light to be the dragon. Was it the princess? No, she said hello when visiting.
This person…. was unknown, moving as silently as the shadows.
Curious, impatient to see another human, his eyes narrowed and he spoke in a sing-song tone.
“Secret, secret. Who are you?”
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Taking hold of the large iron door handle with both hands, Ururu heaved back with what little strength she had, scraping her shoes on the floor. She was able to bring it open just enough for her to squeeze through with her supplies, and she awkwardly scooped them up to enter the room. She immediately appreciated the dim light of the cell; she wouldn’t have been able to do much of anything half-blinded
She shuffled over to the young man, unafraid, set the bucket on the floor, and the bandages on the bed, and peered at him. An image flashed through her mind; one of Kisuke’s patients...Kurosaki? But no, the set of his mouth was all wrong, as was the look in his eyes. No, Ururu decided, he didn’t look much at all like Kurosaki.
Brown eyes swept quickly over the huddled figure. She couldn’t tell much with him sitting the way he was, so she piped up, asking, “Pain?”
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A child. He stared at her eyes following her every movement as she steeped inside and put down her things. Stared at her as she looked at him, his face splitting into a wide, predatory smile. Who was this? What did she want?
When Ururu spoke, he understood. She was there instead of the medics, who always looked terribly panicked around him, sweated a lot when taking care of his ripped fingertips last time, and couldn’t look at him without gasping in fear. Even if he had never touched them or even spoken when they came to fix the countless wounds he had inflicted - few on himself, more on others - since he got here.
Still looking at her, he laughed slightly, shrill and sudden, before jumping off the bed, sitting down in front of her so that he was about her level.
“Yes. Pain. Pain but no blood.”
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“Ohhhhh,” she replied, as though he had explained everything, though he hadn’t. She wondered for a moment about the smile he was aiming at her. Until recently, Ururu had been under the impression that most people didn’t want to be patients in an asylum. Yet they all seemed to smile so pretty! Ururu thought maybe she liked this face as much as Noitra’s. And he could even smile when he was hurt! Which brought her back to why she had come here...
“Hmm,” she mused, trying to look him up and down once more. She still couldn’t see anything obviously wrong with him. “Pain? Where?”
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This girl was very interesting. She was not afraid, not even a bit. Just like the princess. The nameless one still did not quite understand why the children here didn’t fear him - his appearance, his laughter, the way he was. It both intrigued him an annoyed him. But that meant they could be used…and he did like that.
He pointed with his uninjured hand to the slightly twisted shoulder, pulling the white material of his clothes slightly.
“Here.”
The pale boy said shortly, studying her intensely - following the movements of her eyes with his own, muscles still tensed as if he was about to pounce at any moment.
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“Um. Move. Hand? Can you?” she asked him, eyes following his gesture. She stepped even closer to him, until her nose was mere inches away from his shoulder. Slowly and gently - as though she didn’t want to startle him - she pulled his collar just a little farther so she could get a better look. She started making “shush” noises under her breath. This close, she could practically feel his tension, and she’d heard the handlers make that noise with the carriage horse when it was skittish. The knot in his shoulder looked similar to an injury she’d received just before she’d been taken to the orphanage, and she knew how much it must hurt, so she was very careful with the fingers she touched to the area around the bad spot.
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He still looked at her, not moving as she came closer, not moving as she touched his shoulders or pulled on the collar to see better. He was quiet for a while, simply listening to the girl, watching her examine him. The ‘shush’ sound made him twitch slightly at first, though, but oddly enough it did slowly calm him eventually and eased the ‘compressed-spring’-like tension in his muscles.
“Not much.”
He finally replied, wiggling his fingers on the injured hand very slowly. There was tingling, jolting pain, but he didn’t register that as much as the general inability to make it move as he wanted it to. Injuries healed, but this had not gotten any better and that was exasperating to the king of the tower.
One needed both hands when strangling people.
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Had he voiced his last thoughts out loud, Ururu likely would have agreed. As it was, she only hummed in reply, and crouched down to take a look at his hand. The nun who had fixed her shoulder had been more than a little unnerved by Ururu’s blank expression in the face of such obvious pain, and had taken the time to explain - very slowly - what she was doing, likely in an effort to remove her own jitters. Now Ururu examined his purplish fingertips, experimentally wiggling his thumb to see if he felt anything.
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He did feel her wiggle his finger, even if it felt a little numb and strange, and he looked down at his hands, fingertips a bit scarred from clawing them against the walls - nails slowly growing out again after being broken off. He carefully wiggled back, but it didn’t want to do as he wanted and he gritted his teeth a bit.
“Is it broken?”
He asked, the words leaving him sounding oddly normal for once.
No teasing, no word games. Just a question.
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Bobbing her head in thought, she left his side to move the bucket out of the way. She wouldn’t be needing it after all, though she was glad she had the bandages.
“Hm. Bro-ken?” She couldn’t quite remember the word the nun had given her for it, just that it had been long and strange, but she knew it wasn’t ‘broken.’ So, “No. I can. Fix.” Ururu returned to him and started tugging on his good shoulder, motioning for him to lie on the floor. “Mostly,” she added. Her own shoulder hadn’t been completely better, not for a while.
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He wondered what she was doing as she moved the bucket and then tugged on him. What did she want? It took the pale boy a moment to realize he was supposed to lie down. He didn’t quite like that, it made his warning signs go up and his body tensing again.
Almost like an animal, being on the back, on the floor made him feel submissive and inferior. He had to force control to not strike out - because, contrary to popular belief, he was not stupid and realized that if he hurt her or killed her now, there would be no help.
Gritting his teeth again, he finally did lie down, yellow eyes meeting hers, narrowed and untrusting.
What was she going to do now?
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Ururu chirped in satisfaction, then resumed her ‘shushing’ sounds, as they seemed to have helped earlier. Kneeling beside him, she pulled back his shirt again to bare the shoulder. As gently as she could, she lifted his arm and twisted it, placing it to where it could slide back into the right position when the pressure was applied. She couldn’t do this exactly the way the nun had - she simply didn’t have the physical strength - but she was used to finding her own way of doing things.
When she had the right placement, she held it there with one hand, reaching over to his good hand to place it on his arm. “Hold. There. Tight.” She looked him in the eyes as she said this, as though trying to impart the importance of her words, especially the last one.
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He gave a slight hiss as she moved his arm, tongue quickly sliding over his teeth afterwards, as if to wash away the taste of the pain. Hearing her serious look, he understood that this was going to hurt, so he did as she told, holding on tightly. Since he had little restrain when it came to things, he almost held too tightly instead, fingers digging into the skin.
The pale boy eased the grip slightly and then waited, looking perfectly calm, but the look in his yellow eyes was hunted and stressed, since he didn’t like to be told what to do - or kept down.
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Sitting back, little hands held out in front of her, she waited a moment to make sure he was keeping the arm in the right place. With a quick ‘hmph,’ she stood and stepped away from him so she could slip out of her shoes. When she had resumed her place by his shoulder, she leaaaaned over his face, eyes wide and serious. “This. Hurt,” she hissed at him. She wanted that to be clear from the start.
What she didn’t want was to give him too much time for second thoughts. From his attitude, she had a vague idea that he was no stranger to pain, but if he reacted without thinking, this could go bad.
Quickly as she could, Ururu braced herself with both hands on the metal bed frame, placed her stockinged heel over the twisted bulge in his shoulder, and shoved.
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Meeting her staring gaze with his own, he found himself a bit fascinated at the way this girl was behaving. When she told him it was going to hurt, he just nodded slightly. He had understood that by now.
He had not expected her to be so damn quick about it, though.
As she shoved, he growled in pain, eyes widening and all of his defenses going amok. Snarling, he ripped himself loose from her, got on his feet and backed up against the cell wall.
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The foot she had placed on his shoulder flew out from under her as he did, and with a squeak, she found herself lying on her back with a fuzzy view of the stained ceiling. Gathering her bearings, she sat up, smoothing down her skirt and petticoat, which had bunched up around her when she’d landed. She pulled herself to her knees, unbothered by having been flung halfway across the room, and crawled to the pile of bandages, choosing some that were wide enough and long enough to finish up her work. From there, she turned to look at where he was pressing himself against the wall. “Go~od, go~od,” she hummed, soothingly, raising one hand, palm-out, as though to steady him. “Almost.” He looked almost ready to bite her, and Ururu would much prefer not to have to jab one of her keys through his eye just to get the bandages on. With luck, he’d come to her.
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He glared at her, the intense pain having messed up his previously somewhat calm state, the instable mind tipping over in the wrong direction. He grinned at her, yellow eyes widening as he laughed, that bone-chilling, shrill and completely insane laughter that scared the nurses, orderlies and patients, and gave people nightmares. Deathly pale skin, demon eyes and that laughter still haunted some of the inhabitants at the Karakura Institute - and at the moment, there was not much human too him, adrenaline from the pain and the madness making him seem completely snapped.
The nameless one was used to pain. He didn’t care much about pain, it was normal to him, but this much, without being in a fight triggered the wrong reaction.
Still laughing, he looked at Ururu as she spoke, and then snapped out, trying to grab her.
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Squeaking once more, Ururu reached forward and flipped the pile of towels and bandages into his face as she tumbled out of the way. She may not be strong, but she could be plenty quick, and she put that to good advantage now, bringing her feet up under her and skittering to the far side of the room. If she had been the type to roll her eyes in exasperation, she would be doing so now.
The idea of pulling out her keys occurred to her again, but she remembered the stray dogs that used to come around the orphanage. The boys claimed they’d never hit the little things, but they always got so riled up and barky when they saw anyone carrying a stick...
She decided to leave the keys in her pocket (he was riled up enough already), instead crossing her arms over her chest and sighing. “Hurt arm. Again.” She narrowed her eyes at him, disapprovingly. “Worse.” If she had to pop it back into place twice in one day, she was going to be very put out.
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Watching her bolt off, he wanted to chase her, but the thrown equipment in his face stopped him. Glaring over at her, he grinned again, eyes still wide and crazy. He was not quite listening right now, but Ururu’s short, down-to-the-point manners did get trough to him, her never-changing features not revealing any reactions that might trigger more of his violent behavior. The more scared you were, the more aggressive the dog got, after all. Strangely, Ururu seemed to understand his basic reactions far better then most others, really. The mindfuckery, however, was more difficult.
Still staring at her, the grin finally toned down and he sat down on the floor, looking at her.
“That hurt.”
He hissed slightly to her, as if to explain. Still not quite calmed down, he was still balancing on the thin edge of his mind, able to fall over at any moment.
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“Yes. Hurt,” she agreed, her tone conveying not so much apology as understanding. She’d had the same thing done to her, or something very similar, and she knew quite well how it felt. And hadn’t she said it would hurt? Ah, well, she knew she was in no place to be frustrated with someone who didn’t understand things the first time.
On the other hand, she did have to finish the job. A little more effort on her part, and a little more patience on his, and he would be much more comfortable, and not so likely to hurt his shoulder again any time soon. But how to say that?
“I. Wind?” She snuffled in annoyance, that wasn’t right. “Um...wrap! I wrap,” she corrected herself, and motioned to the pile of bandages she’d thrown at him. “and.” Another pause, then she patted her own shoulder soundly. “Feel better!” She watched him, waiting to see if he would agree to just a little more help.
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The white king looked at her suspiciously, but she made sense. Wrapping things usually made it heal. As long as she didn’t have to shove his shoulder again, he was fine. Still tensed as a piano thread, however, he was not going to relax any time soon after that shock of pain.
“Okay, secret one. Wrap as you see fit.”
He said, giving a slight nod.
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Ururu waited a bit longer, wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything again. It would be very inconvenient to have to limp out of here, injured herself. She already had enough work to be getting on with. Eventually, she granted him a not-unpleasant ‘hmph,’ and moved to untangle the bandage she had originally picked out for him. Either he would let her finish or he wouldn’t, either she would walk out of here unscathed or she wouldn’t; worrying about his rigid posture right now could only make her appear uselessly agitated herself.
Concerned only with her duties, she approached him again. Small as she was, she had to reach to get her arms around his neck. She wrapped the bandages firmly around his chest and shoulder for support, pleased she had enough left over to loop some of it around as a sling. A few tugs here and there to make sure everything were snug and secure, and in short order she was finished.
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As she waited, it gave him a moment to relax just a little bit more, avoiding the borderline of ‘snap, kill time’. Watching her untangle the bandage and bring it, he sat perfectly still as she started to wrap him. When Ururu had finished, he felt a little constrained but that couldn’t be helped. The injury had to heal. Quickly. So he could kill the horse, make him suffer.
It was still hard to kill a person with one hand. At least it did feel just a little better - even if the pain still burned in his shoulder.
Turning his yellow gaze to her, he watched her silently. Strange, strange girl.
Could she be used?
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Ururu had one more bit of assistance to offer the boy. He seemed fairly relaxed at the moment as he sat considering her, and she hoped to keep him that way. That in mind, she backed well out of arms reach before she stuck her hand into her apron and pulled out the small glass vial with the rubber stopper. The nurse had (rightly) said the boy was probably in pain, and the dose of analgesic he’d given her would help with that greatly. If he wanted to take it. He’d already allowed her to do quite a lot to him, and she wasn’t about to push her luck with someone who probably twist her little head off, even with one arm out of commission.
She crouched down, free hand resting lightly on her knees, making herself look that much smaller. Holding the vial up where he could see, she told him clearly, “Make, um, pain not... Not hurt?” She waited to see his response. “Want?”
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He stared at the vial the second she took it up, and shook his head. The nameless one had seen his share of drugs - pumped full of it the days when he was completely out of hand. He hated, hated, hated them and he glared at her now, baring his teeth in a grin.
“No drugs. Ever.”
The pale boy said, eyes narrowing as he looked at her.
“I don’t care about the pain. Take it away. No fucking drugs.”
He protested, a bit more verbal now, anger seething in him - but not at her. At the drugs. At the times down in the labs. At everything.
He wanted out of here. He wanted what was rightfully his.