Chapter Text
Chapter Nine - H[uman/ero]
Muscles tense but Izuku’s arms barely move, restrained behind his back.
Icy cold fear strikes his core.
No.
Izuku kicks out— Clang!— and bare feet meet smooth metal.
Tall, bipedal, thin creatures. Dark browns in color with bright red streaks that run down their spiked limbs.
A single yellow eye in the middle of their tall pointed head stares right at him.
NO.
He squirms, thrashing. The muzzle on his face smacks against the floor.
Mouths open and the three figures display crooked pointed teeth.
Strapped down, glinting knives raised.
“Please…!”
He begged for mercy that was never granted.
It builds. Emotions, thoughts, actions. His patience has thinned and breaking comes quick. Shattering and scarring.
His lungs stutter and tighten.
His vocal cords are pulled taught, painful, near burning.
Air can’t come fast enough.
Skin frys and smells like burned hair and meat.
Ice coats his fingers and toes, pain fades into nothing as he watches them turn blue then black.
Starvation. Emptiness in his gut.
Izuku jerks away from reaching hand, glinting metal, harsh light—
His words are spoken, cries, pleas, but they are not heard.
Izuku gets to his knees, opening his eyes— and he can’t see.
He screams. The sound is a wail of something else. He doesn’t even recognize his own voice.
But everything will be okay, right?
Because when things break.
A kick to the chest sends his body slamming into hard stone.
Ribs shatter and blood fills his throat.
They’re fixed up, good as new.
Bubbles cloud around him. Tickling. Cool liquid encompasses his limp form.
He wakes up and nothing hurts.
Izuku screams until— Light . Sparks dance and the boy’s scream cuts off with a gurgling choak.
Izuku crumbles into a wet coughing fit. He can just barely make out the crate he’s been forced into. There’s sound all around him. Past the darkness, the metal walls.
His body moves with each ragged breath. Spit drips down the side of his mouth.
Another fight? Taking him to…?
Thick fear flares and churns, changing into something bitter and hot.
He pushes himself up, leaning against the wall of the crate.
More sparks and— he stills. Green eyes glance down to the light show that dances from his collar.
They still bite.
But…
Brows furrow.
… Barely.
Green eyes stare at nothing, toxic with something far from kind.
When did he become…
…Less than Human?
The crate comes to a stop. The unstable jarring motion of the floor is the only reason he realizes the thing was moving at all. He catches himself with a knee, hunched over, and senses ringing.
His stomach rolls .
Light beams through the open slots at the top, bathing him in rectangular lines.
His body feels wrong.
There’s shouting. Clear through the open gaps above. But they are meaningless.
Beeeeeeep-!
The small lights on his color flash green, the light filling the crate for a split second.
His muzzle opens up and he takes in a deep breath.
Izuku swallows, feeling sick. Nothing is making sense. This isn’t normal. I’m not—
His hands turn to fists as he’s left to kneel and wait.
“---- — —!”
Metal groans and electrical beeping is coupled with the turn of gears and rake of chains clanging against metal.
The crate jerks in place, coming to live with the rest of the mechanical noise.
He doesn’t hear the faint roar of a waiting crowd.
Izuku tenses, heart hammering away.
The wall in front of him makes a loud clicking noise, pieces latching and unlatching. There’s the spring of heavy gears then, air releases with a sharp hiss.
He moves his legs, ready to lunge.
“---- —!”
The wall rises and he bolts forward.
Light blinds him but he’s already squeezing them shut, listening as he squints— Big, scary, stay away from me —!
A harsh drone sound rises like a wave before crashing—
Izuku is yanked back by the cuffs on his hands, skirting over the stone floor and—
The cuffs collide with something behind him—
“Gah!”
—his back nearly crushes his own arms.
Izuku drops to the floor— The padding of his suit protects his knees as they meet the floor first— and the sound rises around him as the ground shutters from the impact.
Izuku falls forward, his chest hitting the floor before he twists to avoid ramming his chin against the stone.
He doesn’t let himself wait.
Izuku pushes himself up with his legs; muscle burning, and his arms ache as he looks up.
Guards are around him, encircling him.
Pupils shrink as they flicker about.
He’s…the room is large, bare. Crude yellow paint creates a circle around him. The Aliens stay outside of that circle. Long bright lights illuminate the entire room, glaringly bright against the white walls and light gray floor.
He shifts and—
—He stills.
Chains rattle.
The group of guards make more noise and—
Izuku grits his teeth.
—They’re laughing . Cheering and jeering. Gesting towards him and talking amongst each other. Like guests at a zoo. Izuku is up for display.
Izuku turns. Sweat trickles down his neck. Chains sing—
Heavy, heavy chains are attached to the center of the yellow circle. Four large loops meet his cuffs.
Trapped.
His mouth is open, gasping . The sound is rushed and short. His body trembles and he tries to move away— get me out of here— escape—!
The chains pull taught and he strains, standing and pulling . The cuffs dig into his wrist.
He’s sure he’s making noise, saying something, or just yelling. But the ringing in his ears is too loud and he’s deaf to anything but the piercing sound.
Sparks fly.
But the pain is barely there. The sting of a sparklers ember. The light flickers and flutters about, the sound of a sizzling chirp.
Inhuman. He’s—!
‘ What did they do to me!? ’
Warmth trickles from his wrist and drips around metal cuffs. His chest feels like a cage, his heart beating against the bars, trying to flee and leave him behind.
The laughter stops.
Izuku looks up and takes in still frames. The aliens are all wearing some sort of armored vest, and they hold weapons out, pointing them right at him. Guns, batons of some sort, even weird futuristic poles. They’ve moved away from the circle, fur fluffed, quills raised, tense.
That’s right. Izuku grips onto fear and forces it into motion. Stay away.
He growls, snarling. Sweat drips down his face and his bushy hair is a mess. Wild, I’m wild. Stay away!
Voices grow, tones turn harsh—
“—---- — —- – —-- – —!?”
Izuku hisses, turning the sound deep and ending in a rolling growl. Green eyes land on the approaching, familiar, fish Alien.
Her sing-song voice grates against his mind.
Glowing white eyes meet his without fear.
Anger flares and he spits— Guards yell— but the fish alien simply moves out of the way, scales flashing blue before settling on ruby red.
A hush falls over the crowd.
It’s quiet, only Izuku’s heavy breathing fills the large room.
“----- — - Terranian.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, turning and speaking to the guards—
“Terranian.”
The crowd zeroes in on him. White eyes look over at him, but he can’t make out an expression. The fish alien looks devoid of emotion.
But he has their attention.
So Izuku grins, “Terranian.” His heart is now a dull thud. “Human.”
White eyes narrow, and jellyfish tentacles flash with glowing light running down to the ends. When they speak, that word, the word they call him, is said with calm fact, “-----------.”
He opens his mouth, trying to mimic her bubbly song language, but the first noise is a mess and he stops before the attempt continues. Jaw clenched with frustration he is left to stand and glower.
“Hue’mon.”
A’zawa stops at the open entrance to the wide room. Yellow eyes watch the scene with the caution of an experienced Hero. Alert, mind racing.
“g’O’ ah’w’A!”
The Terranian’s words echo in his head.
Before he had let fear rule him, the Deathworlder’s words were a bark, harsh and crude.
Words.
It shouldn’t surprise him.
Many other Space Faring species have ranked high on the Federations TA—Threat Assessment— chart. A calculation that rises with how dangerous a species is. Escalating and marking a Species' status under the Federation. In total, b’E [Four] factors contribute to that placement:
- Level of Aggression
- Sapience
- Sentience
- Planetary Classification System
Any species ranked above 90…have only brought war and tragedy to others. Wiping out whole planets. World Killers that don’t even come from Deathworlds.
Many of those species have their own languages, communities, and cultures. Yet their instinct for chaos has always won out.
The Deathworlder can speak .
It didn’t- shouldn’t matter.
It doesn’t- shouldn’t change anything.
Highly aggressive species could not be reasoned with, so why would the Terranian —a Deathworlder, the first spacefaring Deathworlder! —be different?
“— ōrō! ”
His breathing shallows. A tight cord chaffs and pulls around his chest.
“[—Deathworlder.]”
A’zawa swallows and watches as R’za stands before the Terranian, safe behind the yellow circle. The Deathworlder easily towers over the small A’qua’Syc.
The being’s face scrunches up in hostility, their mouth opens and—
“R…Row…ld’z…”
The Terranian stops, huffing a growl before turning away.
A’zawa blinks.
What…?
“[ Hero. ]”
This brings the room’s attention solely to A’zawa, including the Terranian, whose face scrunches up. Those vivid green eyes are like beams that threaten to burn him up.
“[Here.]”
A small remote is handed to him, two buttons take up the surface, one yellow, another red. Neither tells him what they do.
A’zawa looks down at the small A’qua’Syc.
R’za waves her translucent tentacles, lights glowing, “[This will administer a shock as a form of discipline or a deterrent if need be. Won’t do much with keeping it down though. Not that you should worry about that.]”
She gestures to the Terranian who's still watching him, “[Those chains were made by Y’uul’Xs and the guy knows what he’s doing. Should keep them restrained.]”
A’zawa looks over, studying the cuffs. “[Can you have it attached to their harness? Free their hands?]”
R’za waves a fin, “[Sure, they just click the yellow button and you can switch between restraining with hands since they come together at the cuff.]”
A sharp Beep and a warping low whirring before the Terranina hands fall to their sides— then that sound goes up a pitch and the heavy chains pull taught, the end piece latching onto the back of the Deathworlder’s harness at the waist.
The creature snarls before looking over and locking onto the remote in A’zawa’s paws.
“[Thank you.]”
The small Alien flashes rows of serrated teeth, “[Don’t thank me, you either comply, or you die.]”
A’zawa lowers his head before turning over to the chained Deathworlder.
Despite everything inside of him telling him to do the opposite, the Hero walks over to the Terranian.
The Deathworlder bares their teeth, and a hand lifts, “ Hero.”
Ice condenses around both sets of lungs. The creature says the word with ease compared to struggling with R’za’s language. Like it’s natural like it knows that word. Knows it, and say’s it mockingly .
With the way the other Aliens in the room react— skittering back, tense, focused on the Deathworlder— he’s not the only one reacting with unease.
A’zawa clears his throat, looking between the Terranian's nose, not making eye contact, “[ Terranian .]”
A short growl answers back.
A’zawa’s round ears lay flat for a second.
“[I think he’s telling you to throw yourself into a Blackhole.]”
The surrounding guards make sounds of amusement.
The last few words are spoken quickly, and more robotic without that personalized tone from the speaker. A’zawa winces before looking over to the other Alien. A species he’s not familiar with.
Seeing the Hero’s ear rise, questioning, the tangle of vines speaks again, “[It’s slang. Throzon, from my species the Vantrazoit. We aren’t part of the Federation, not that we’re interested.]”
A’zawa feels the tension in the last statement and simply raises a paw to the translator around his neck, “[Again, please.]”
“[Calibrating…]”
The Vantrazoit shuffles in place, “[Slang, Ludge’Zot]”
“[Slang… “ Ludge’Zot ”]”
“[It’s for calling out others’ nonsense or telling them to leave.]”
“[Define… “ ...calling out others’ nonsense or telling them to leave.” ]”
“[Literal Translation… “Throw yourself into a Blackhole.”]”
“[Confirm?]”
Their vines lift the drop, “[That’s right.]”
“[Confirm?]”
The Vantrazoit’s thorns shake, their tone turning flat, “[Yes.]”
A clear beep comes from A’zawa’s translator. He lowers his eyes to the floor, “[Thank you.]”
He hears the other Alien shuffle again, “[...Ludge’zot.]”
Laughter rises from the guards, but A’zawa’s dealt with young lifeforms in his teaching career, he ignores them.
“[Enough.]” R’za’s voice cuts through the room, “[You’re here to observe and act if anything dangerous happens. ]”
She moves back, watching the room, watching the Deathworlder. “[Alright, Hero , get to work.]”
A’zawa looks over to the Deathworlder and—
Green eyes stare, heavy as if trying to convey many thoughts. Probably ways to kill him.
He looks past it, unchallenging as he forces himself to walk closer to the yellow circle painted on the ground. It’s quiet now, a training about to start, a show to perform. He only hopes the Terranian knows their cues.
A’zawa reaches into his vest, paw closing around the small bundle of berries he managed to grab from the cafeteria.
“[Terranian!]”
The creature looks right at him.
A’zawa throws out a small Ow’Brry. It lands, bounces, and rolls; But it stays within the Terranian’s yellow Circle.
“[Treats? Just cause it looked at you?]”
“[A reward for answering when called. Good for before a command.]”
“[ Right .]”
The Deathworlder looks down, over to the small fruit.
“[Wouldn't fresh meat be better?]”
Probably, they’re a dangerous Deathworlder. A taste for a fresh kill might be a better idea but— “[They’re an Omnivore.]”
The group watches as the Deathworlder crouches down, picking up the glowing berry. It holds it with obvious curiosity, fingers surprisingly delicate with how it even squeezes but not popping the fruit.
A’zawa ducks as it flies right at, then over him.
It splatters against the far wall.
One of the guards, a Tor’zidain, clicks their mandibles, “[See? I doubt it’d want your little fruit.]”
“Hero.”
Izuku has to do a double-take. Hero! In English ! It sounds so similar!
Does it have the same meaning?
He shakes his head, almost scoffing at the thought. Well, whatever it truly means, this Cat-Aliens is not a ‘Hero’.
He glares at the Cat-Alien. A Hero wouldn’t trap him in the situation, they would save him.
Izuku looks over the gathered crowd of armed Aliens. Looking over one holding a spear, the tip sharp and cut like a blade on one side.
Spears raised towards him.
Pink eyes.
“-----------.”
He looks away, looking down at the yellow circle painted on the floor.
What is this? Back to that ‘ training’?
His chest tightens. He’s not a pet. He fights to survive, but he still fights. They’re changing him.
“[Terranian!]”
Izuku snaps to attention, almost thankful as he’s pulled away from his own thoughts.
Then a small round thing is thrown over to him and he braces himself for what’s to come.
The ball(?) bounces beside him, then rolls past.
Coming to a stop it has stayed in his yellow circle, within reach.
Izuku waits….but nothing else happens.
Crouching down he picks up the small thing and… its skin reminds him of a grape. The center glows a gentle white light.
A berry? Food?
A treat for a pet. An Animal .
With a flick of the wrist, Izuku throws it right at the Cat-Alien.
Splat!
Sweet goop paints the back wall.
Missed. Izuku eyes the Cat-Alien, ‘Cat-like reflexes.’ A bubbly feeling blossoms in his chest.
He grins and it’s full of amusement instead of anger and fear.
But like every other time, the group around him stiffen. Weapons shuffle and Izuku can’t help but observe the glinting metal and its sharp ends.
“[Terranian.]”
They want to hurt him.
They always h u r t —
“[—Terranian.]”
Izuku looks into yellow cat eyes. When was the last time he saw human eyes? How long has he been trapped here? How much longer will he —?
The panther-like Alien is holding up another small berry. The white glow reflects off their shiny black nose and four yellow eyes.
It eats the berry. Is that safe? Cat’s back home can eat some plants but… This is a cat-Alien. Things are different here. This isn’t home.
“[Terranian.]”
Izuku looks at the Aliens face, the berry’s juice glows and the luminescent substance now coats the Aliens maw.
They throw another berry towards him, and this time Izuku nabs it straight from the air.
The cat-Alien's yellow eyes widen, slit pupils expanding for a second. Some of the armed aliens say things, hushed exclamations; clicks, chitters, and sharp or low sounds.
Izuku ignores them, just like he ignores the guards that come by his cell to drop off food; or the audience when he fights in the arena. They’re all noise. Just noise.
This time Izuku squeezes until he breaks the skin. Juice drips down and stains his fingers a white glow.
He sniffs and smells…a faint sugary, like marshmallows? He tilts his head and brings the small fruit(?) to his mouth.
Licking the berry…
It…!
Green eyes brighten and Izuku chomps and chews soft flesh. The berry breaks apart easily and he savors the taste of cotton candy. The texture isn’t at all right, but the taste!
.
Izuku can feel tears build and he blinks them back as he swallows.
“[Terranian.]”
He looks up and another is tossed to him.
He grins and eats it.
Someone laughs. It’s a warbling chitter. But it’s unmistakable.
Izuku stops and looks over, the glowing juice drips down his hands and mouth.
Another, this time coupled with words he doesn’t understand.
It’s like a punch to the gut.
Being laughed at like… some dumb animal. Lesser. The ugly feelings are back. The feeling is like sludge on his bones, forming hands and pulling. They multiply with every watchful look, every judging stare, every laugh.
And they tighten and yank as he meets the Panther-Alien’s wide eyes.
No.
They don’t get to look at him like that.
Not when they trapped him here and…and treat him like this!
Guards hold up with weapons— and the Deathworlder roars.
Hands turn into claws and they stomp their feet— the floor shutters— those closest to the creature fall to the floor.
R’za’s voice calls out, over the exclamation of guards and their sounds of fear, “[Get up! Weapons down .]”
A’zawa finds himself in a fighting stance, legs spread and posed to move quickly. His Tails are unwound from his neck and raised behind him.
The Deathworlder stands in place, a head taller than A’zawa’s own quadrupedal form. Their eyes are wild. Pupils shrunk as they watch the crowd. They look paler , changing color. Another threat display?
A’zawa’s hearts beat with the rhythm of a starting engine but only the Terranian’s heavy breathing fills the room. It’s shallow, and fast. Most oxygen to the brain? Optimal rate for fighting?
“[Hero!]”
A’zawa’s ears turn towards R’za, but he keeps facing the Deathworlder, “[Yes?]”
Her sing-song voice turns a tad shrill, “[You’re the expert , what do you want to do?]”
“[I—]” The words clutter his mind, blanking.
A’zawa takes in the scene.
The room is a Hair's Breadth away from turning into something deadly .
The guards are rigid. Their weapons are grasped tightly but lowered.
The Terranian is raised to attack. But it hasn’t moved since stomping on the ground. It isn’t out of control.
…waiting?
A’zawa lets out a wave of low purring, only for a second, to calm his mind.
Green eyes glance over to him, before refocusing on the surrounding guards.
Glowing juice covers the lower part of their face. Their held-up hands are still stained.
They had, strangely, looked so calm, enjoying(?) the berry. Still flashing their teeth before consuming the sweet Ow’Brry. A territorial sign? But it hadn’t reacted until—
His tails come back, winding around his neck.
He steps back from the Deathworlder and its eyes glance over to him. When A’zawa speaks, his voice is clear, “[Stand down.]”
Voices— Translators— go off, a mummer that grows, but he tunes them out, “[...And leave.]”
He hears the A’qua’Syc draw closer, “[Giving up already, Hero?]”
“[I’m staying.]”
“[You—!]” She’s behind him, to his right, her singing voice falls like tumbling notes, “[You want to die? ]”
“[No.]” He sighs, tails sway, “[I…we’ve practically cornered the Deathworlder. It’s probably anticipating a fight.]”
A’zawa looks down, to the floor, “[We aren’t getting anywhere if this keeps up.]”
A pause.
“[Fine, but if you get yourself killed ? You’ll never see your crew again.]”
His claws extend and only the clench of his paws keeps them hidden. Nails dig into his paw pads. “[Don’t plan on it.]”
R’za’s glowing gaze keeps it from feeling like a threat, it’s hard to make out her pupils, and where exactly she’s looking. But he can feel its weight.
“[You heard him, out. Everyone out! Get back to your normal routine.]”
The guards follow without saying anything. Following orders and into their roles. R’za doesn’t say anything more as she leaves with the rest of them. He doesn’t expect her to.
When the door slides shut behind them the quiet is almost suffocating. A blanket of snowfall over delicate plant life. Blocking out the sun and encompassing the two occupants.
A’zawa finally faces the Deathworlder.
They’re looking down to him, their breathing has slowed with the guards— and R’za’s leave.
For a moment, A’awa wonders what life they had led on their homeworld. A species from such a brutal upbringing and lifestyle… Are all combatants? Able to fight, living a life of fighting? Even the intelligent ones that are able to reach their moon? At what age do they become warriors? Or are even their young just as vicious?
They— a highly aggressive, from a Deathworld, species— have never been reasoned with. Not without appealing to their base instincts… But, even the most difficult students deserve respect, even if they don’t return it.
“Hue…” The sound feels clunky in his maw, the spines on his tongue almost want to scrape against the word. “… Hue’mon?”
Bright green eyes flash to him, and A’zawa tenses, muscles coiled to spring. But he keeps in place, waiting, fighting instincts that tell him he’ll die—
Those green eyes narrow, “Hero.”
Now that they’re alone, A’zawa picks up the way the word is spoken. Past the heat, the sound of the Terranian’s— Hue’mon’s voice… They sound unused to speech. It is rough but legible.
They watch each other.
A’zawa keeps away from their face, not wanting to disrupt this strange calmness(?) between them. It is not completely free of tension. But neither move to break it.
The Deathworlder stands before him, the contrast between last night and this moment is nearly black and white. Before they had been crouched, a third of their size! Now? The Deathworlder towers over him a head taller!
A stone hits the bottom of his stomach. This is the creature he is supposed to train.
The room is wide, but he feels so small.
Chains rattle.
Movement, digits twitch— and A’zawa flinches back.
There’s a huff of warm air and the Hue’mon makes a low, short growl.
The I-line Thera stares at the Deathworlder as they take a seat, back towards him. Obviously, they don’t feel like A’zawa is a threat.
What are they thinking?
Sit, Stay, Down, Come, etc. These commands are given to trained pets.
Does this Leader really think the Terranian— Hue’mon will obey? Pain had always been a defining factor in training dangerous life forms. But Terranians are the first highly aggressive Life form from a Deathwrold. And from what the Doctor, Luxsin, had been saying…
They can’t be reasoned with.
What is he doing here? Why would they think this whole training thing would ever work?
He’s just doomed to fail.
No.
The faces of his friends—
10-C-A, Neh’muur’ii, H’za’shii.
—flash through his mind.
A’zawa reaches into his vest, pulling out the small bundle of Ow’brry’s. .
How to earn a Deathworlder’s Trust? No one has done this. Do they even understand kindness? There’s so much he doesn’t know. But… Prickly students ready to lash out, stray Mw’z with their stinger’s raised… A’zawa is a teacher. Kindness? He’ll teach them. He’ll show them.
A’zawa looks up to the Hue’mon’s back. This is just a very large, very dangerous M’wz.
If only he could believe that…
The air that leaves his lungs does little in easing the ever-present urge to run.
Square one…and he’ll take the first step. Even if it’ll take time.
A’zawa hutches over, making himself smaller. The tightness in both his ribcages is almost physically painful.
He takes a step forward and the Hue’mon doesn’t move. A’zawa doesn’t even see them breathing.
They take another step— and the Deathworlder’s head snaps to the side, green eyes locking onto him. The snarl on their face feels like a warning before death— The Hero freezes.
But he doesn’t quit.
Yellow eyes look to the ground, and the paw holding the berries is raised, held out… Past the edge of the yellow circle.
When neither moves— The Hue’mon quiet and A’zawa’s breathing comes tight and quick— A’zawa brings the fruit to the ground and places them down and gives them a gentle push toward the huge creature.
Done. Now he can leave. The Hue’mon will feel less territorial if no one is around—
A furless hand grabs onto his wrist, yanking him close to the Deathworlder.
Regret feels like falling from a great height without anticipation. The ground blinks from existence, a hole appears, and he’s left to drop. His hearts leap into his throat and his mind scrambles.
The fur on his arm spikes out and he can’t stop the hiss that burst from his maw, coupled with bared fangs as his ears fall flat.
The hand on his arm only tightens as the Deathworlder looks at him without fear a hiss of their own feels like a warning.
A’zawa stares into round green eyes and sees his own feral expression.
Then those eyes narrow, the creature's expression hardens, mouth thinning. The I-line Thera feels the weight of being scrutinized. His hearts clench, is he being considered as prey or a threat? Is this where everything ends? Here? Alone with an intelligent Deathworlder? A position he put himself in?
Stupid. How could he…—?!
—He’s let go—
—And his body reacts before his mind can register the situation; Leaping and facing the Deathworlder with his hackles raised. Yellow eyes turn to slits as his upper torse lowers and his bottom half arches.
A strange chirp has him looking around the room for the source of the sound. Only to come back to land on the Terranian.
They’re relaxed. Standing and watching him with bared teeth. The Ow’brry’s are held in one hand; the one that hadn’t grabbed him.
A’zawa is pulled from his icy fear with the realization that…that chirp had come from the Deathworlder.
The Hue’mon makes a show of raising the small glowing fruits, before turning to sit on the far side of the painted circle.
Far from him.
A’zawa does not trust them. He does not understand them. Even if he were to teach the Terranian— Hue’mon — the commands, that doesn’t mean they will obey them.
But, A’zawa will take this first step. If they are to get anywhere, buy time, and survive this place, they can’t turn on each other. This might not last, this tentative…truce? Whatever it is, he will learn , just as he will teach .
If he is to find his crew— his friends , he needs the time to look for them first.
A’zawa takes one last look at the Hue’mon …and leaves.
Izuku listens as the ‘Hero’ leaves, the door sliding shut with a woosh .
And their confidence shutters…and topples.
The false sound of building blocks as they fall and clatter to the floor, echoes in his ears.
He brings the berries to his chest. He holds them as both hands press against his suit's chest plate.
Knees buckle and Izuku sinks further to the floor.
When he breathes, a horrible wheezing sound leaves him. Deflated like a broken toy.
Clenching his teeth Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and the chains that rattle behind him are a mockery to the figurative chains that wrap around his chest and tighten.
Emotions hurt like thorns and blades. Crushing in their intensity.
But the pain is a lifesaver from the nothingness that threatens to drown him. Pulling on struggling legs, weak kicks keep him above a black ocean.
He has been surrounded by enemies. Aliens that had weapons. They could— would— hurt him—!
“Hyu’mon.”
Four yellow cat eyes watch him, wary, but holding out a paw full of glowing berries.
When was the last time someone had reached out without hurting him?
Izuku had acted on pure emotion. A desperate feeling had exploded from his core. A hunger for something other than food. A want for kindness.
Hands grabbed and pulled. Yanking the Alien closer— and only the other’s fear had kept him from—! From what? Falling apart?
But seeing the way the other cringed, hissing and lashing out like a startled street cat. An act so foreign, yet so familiar , had pulled him away from his emotions. Pushing them away and coming back to himself.
Instead, he has studied the other.
He doesn’t know what this Alien is doing. Where they place on the hierarchy in this place. But when he had spoken with the fish-Alien and had gotten everyone to leave, he must place high.
He needed to show them he wasn’t afraid, that he wasn’t going to fall to their orders.
Izuku wasn’t going to break.
Yet.
As soon as the Cat-Alien, Hero, had left…
Izuku holds himself, a sorry imitation of a hug. Tears prick at his eyes and he only tenses further—
—Warm wet juice drips down his hands.
He recoils, unwinding, and looks down.
The Berries have all nearly been crushed. Glowing juice stains his chest plate and bare hands.
The springs loosen.
Izuku brings the mess up to his mouth and takes a bite.
Soft sweetness spreads over his tongue, cotton candy. He expects the taste to melt, but it stays as he chews and swallows.
Swallows down prickly emotions and their thorns.
He takes in a shuddering breath, the sound wet.
Izuku takes another bite.
“[How was your first day with the Terranian Deathworlder?]” The squirming of Luxsin’s tentacles stops, like plants wilting, “[Our Leader will want an update in six Cycles [3 days].]”
A’zawa looks down at the Deathworlder’s file, “[ Hue’mon. ]” Yellow eyes drag up, “[They call themselves a Hue’mon. ]”