The Asylum

By Spunky0ne

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Prisoner KIH182016N wakes from a coma to learn that he is a murderer, responsible for the violent deaths of five people. He arrives at the Aomatsu Correctional Center, an asylum for the criminally insane and soon learns that escape is likely impossible. But a meeting with another inmate leads him to wonder if everything around him is a horrible maniacal lie...or if he is as insane as his handlers tell him he is...Ichigo/Byakuya, Bazz-B/Renji, Grimmjow/Tetsuya mpregs

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Chapter 1: Awakening

"Can you hear me?" a stony male voice said, stirring the ginger-haired man lying on the examination table in front of him.

The man groaned and shifted, then his eyes flew open and widened in distress as he spotted the plain, white room he laid in, the medical implements on a nearby table, and the heavy restraints that wrapped around his wrists, waist and ankles. He loosed a sound of dismay and began to struggle, making the white clad, pale, black-haired man leaning over him frown disapprovingly.

"Be still and listen," the man admonished him, "I know that you are confused. I will explain. You are prisoner KIH182016N. You are a criminal, convicted on five counts of murder. You have been ordered to undergo treatment here at the Aomatsu Center until you are deemed sane and can begin serving out your sentence in prison."

"Wh-why don't I remember anything?" the prisoner asked in a shaky voice, "I don't remember anything at all!"

"It is probable that the reason you don't remember anything is that, at your sentencing, you became violent again. You grabbed a security guard's gun and took him as a hostage. You were shot in the head while trying to escape and became comatose for six months. You have awakened slowly, over the past several weeks and were deemed cognizant enough to be transferred from the hospital to this correctional facility. If you will remain calm, I will release your bindings and allow you to stand, if you can."

The ginger-haired prisoner nodded uncertainly in agreement, watching as the other man's icy, white fingers slowly undid the restraints, freeing him. He sat up cautiously, breathing slowly as spots danced in front of his eyes and his vision went dark for a moment. He felt the other man's thin, bony arm curl around him, and he slid his legs over the edge of the examination table, then very slowly started putting weight on his shaky legs.

"Very good," the other man complimented him, "I am surprised you are on your feet so quickly. Now, your legs will be weak, so I will take you to your room in this wheelchair. Sit down."

The prisoner placed a hand on the arm of the wheelchair and with the other man's help, lowered his unsteady body into the seat. The man crossed the room and pulled a wooden chair over, positioning it in front of the prisoner.

"What's my name?" the prisoner asked.

"All prisoners are referred to by their prisoner numbers," the man told him, "You are KIH182016N."

"That's going to be kind of awkward," the prisoner mused.

"Well, if you wish, you can use a descriptive name. That is what the inmates here tend to do."

"A descriptive name?"

"Based on a physical characteristic," the man prompted him, "for example, your hair. You may be called Ginger."

"I don't know if I like that."

"Well, you are rather unremarkable except for that feature."

"Hey, that's a little harsh, isn't it?" the prisoner complained.

"You don't have any other outstanding features," the other man explained, "I wasn't insulting you. Now, my name is Doctor Falk. I will be your handler here. You will meet with me frequently to undergo testing and treatment until you are well enough to be transferred to the prison. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," Ginger said, looking down at his wrists, "What's with these silver bracelet things?"

He tried to slide one off, but found the device seemed fused to his flesh.

"All inmates are fitted with those bands," Falk explained, "They are used for control, should you become troublesome. Just follow the rules and you will not have to suffer the consequences. Break the rules and you will learn quickly how troublemakers are dealt with."

"So, what are the rules?" Ginger asked.

"Adhere to the posted schedules. Do not interact with the guards. Do not try to escape. Do not engage in sex, use of drugs or any form of violence."

"Well, what am I supposed to do all day then, if I can't do any of that?" asked Ginger, smirking.

"Learn to play cards," Falk answered glibly, "It is almost time for lunch. I will take you to the common room and you can meet some of the other inmates."

"Are they all killers too?" Ginger asked.

"Most of them. Some are druggies who have destroyed their brains and some were committed by their families before they reached the point of murder."

"Hey uh, does my family get to visit?"

Falk studied his face carefully for a moment.

"Those were the five people you killed," he said quietly.

"Oh," Ginger said, a twinge of distress touching his insides, "Damn...I really don't remember anything at all."

"Maybe it is better that you don't," Falk suggested, "You did take their lives in an unusually grisly fashion."

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to cure me so I can be sent to prison?" Ginger mused, "You don't really sound like a guy who wants to help me."

"Oh, I do want to help you," Falk assured him, looking at him through unreadable cobalt eyes, "I just don't know if your conscious mind can bear what your subconscious convinced you to do."

The doctor moved into position behind the wheelchair and pushed Ginger out into the hallway. Like the treatment room, the hallway was brightly lit and had stark, white walls and heavy wooden railings for recovering inmates to lean on as they walked. They passed through sturdy double doors, then paused at a checkpoint, where the guards greeted the doctor and regarded his wheelchair-bound companion with dour, unfriendly looks. Ginger felt a wave of relief at passing through another set of double doors and into the living section of the facility.

"This will be your room," Falk said, stopping at a room that had his number printed on a placard beside the closed door, "Inside, there is a bed, bedding, a sink and a toilet."

"Cozy," Ginger sighed unhappily, gazing in at the plain, nearly empty room as Falk opened the door to show him.

"We have to keep the implements inside sparse to discourage escapes and suicide attempts," the doctor explained.

"Is it that bad here?"

Falk's frown deepened.

"Only for those who do not know how to obey the rules. As long as you behave, you needn't worry."

He closed the door to Ginger's room and wheeled him further down to a large room where a number of men in white yukatas and marked with the odd silver bands sat at tables or on a few sofas and chairs, engaging in various activities.

"Over there by the window is Shadow," Falk informed Ginger, indicating a delicate looking, blue-eyed man, "He barely speaks at all. He was framed for killing his parents and even though he was cleared of the crime, he's never been the same. The guy with the mohawk is Buzzard. Watch out for him. He killed, dismembered and ate his victims. The guy at the table with him is Tats. You can guess why. His brain was fried by drugs and too much alcohol. The blue haired guy is Kit...another cold blooded killer, like you. An assassin. The guy talking to himself in the corner is Brains."

Ginger stiffened and his breath caught for a moment as a very pale man with lovely, sad grey eyes stepped into the common room. His silken black hair was pulled back into a ponytail except for a few stray hairs that fell around his face and despite his simple clothing, he looked almost regal.

"That is Sakura. He is the son of a wealthy family who was abducted and tortured to the point of insanity. His family had him institutionalized after all attempts to cure him failed. He is really only dangerous to himself. He has tried a number of times to commit suicide. Go on now. There will be an announcement when it is time to eat."

Ginger nodded and wheeled himself to a nearby table, where he studied the magazines that had been placed there.

"Those are very old," a male voice said from a short distance away.

Ginger looked up and found the man known as Sakura looking down at him.

"You are likely to have already read them."

"Not that I would remember," Ginger said, smiling up at him, "I'm Ginger."

"Sakura," the grey-eyed man introduced himself, "Would you like something better to read or do you prefer company?"

"It'd be nice to have someone to talk to," Ginger said reaching up to run his fingers through the ginger spikes of his hair, "although since my memory's fucked up, I don't know what to talk about. Can you tell me about this place?"

"I only came here recently, myself," Sakura answered, looking around, "It's a new facility. I don't think any of us have been here for more than a month."

"Do you know what city we're in? I know I come from Karakura Town. I saw it on the chart my doctor had. Where are you from?"

"I'm not sure," Sakura answered, looking through a sliding glass door that led out to a small courtyard garden, "Would you like to take a walk outside?"

"S-sure," Ginger answered, reaching up to move the wheels on his wheelchair.

"Here, let me," Sakura offered.

He wheeled Ginger outside and along a little trail that meandered around the courtyard. The expanse of green grass and the splashing of koi in the central pond gave the area a tranquil feel and pleasant scents of flowers drifted over their senses as Sakura pushed him along.

"Did you say you don't remember anything?" Sakura asked.

"That's right," Ginger affirmed, "The doc told me I killed my family, but I don't remember doing it. And it makes me sick to think of killing someone. It all feels pretty unreal. But I can't say I didn't do it. Everything's kind of a blur. I mean, I remember things like how to tie my shoes and stuff like that, but things that happened to me? Things that I did? It's all a big blank. How about you?"

"I also have no memory from before, and what I find curious is that none of the rest do either."

"Really?" Ginger asked, frowning, "That's weird. The doc said I don't remember because I was shot in the head and was in a coma. I just started waking up recently."

"Have you been working with a speech therapist? You speak very well for someone who just came out of a coma recently."

"I can't walk."

"Yes, immobilization can do that," Sakura agreed, "But you seem very together for a man just out of a coma."

"What're you trying to say here," Ginger asked, smiling, "Are you paranoid or something? You think it's all a plot?"

"Well, I just think it's strange that none of the inmates here remember their names, where they are from or committing any crimes. There are explanations, of course. But if you begin to probe their stories, I think you'll see that something is off."

"Does your family come to see you?"

"No," Sakura replied, "No one ever has any visitors, not even legal counsel...not yet, that I've seen, anyway."

"And why are you telling me all of this?" asked Ginger, "It's not like there's anything I can do about it."

Sakura stopped under a tree at the edge of the koi pond and looked down at the fish swimming beneath the surface.

"I don't know," he confessed softly, "It just helps to talk to someone about it...to see that I'm not alone in my suspicions."

"Well, even if you aren't, what are we supposed to do? I mean, they've got us locked up good and we'll be punished if we start poking around and asking questions."

"Yes, I know."

"You say that like it's happened to you already."

"It has."

An icy chill went through Ginger's insides.

"What did they do to you?"

"I would call it an electric shock, but it wasn't electricity," Sakura explained, "Electricity if used to cause the level of pain and body reaction I felt should have left a burn mark, but this didn't. And I felt a shudder in the bands on my wrists when they employed the shocks. More recently, they resorted to just a regular beating. I think they figured out that I learned something from that first punishment. But I suppose if they thought I knew anything truly important, they would empty my mind again, as happened to Shadow."

"Shadow," Ginger repeated, the quiet one who..."

"Was accused of killing his parents, then exonerated," Sakura finished, "Yes. I shared what I knew with him and he confessed to me that even with the bands he wore, he was able to do something strange. He could alter his body so that it was hard to see, except in direct light. But just after he told me this, the guards took him away, and when he came back, he didn't speak for days. He is close to Kit, who thinks himself Shadow's protector. Kit tells me that he doesn't remember being able to do that, and when he tried to see if he could, he felt awful pain at just the attempt."

"That's pretty suspicious."

"Ginger," Sakura warned him, "you need to be careful who you talk to, and about what. The guards do not hold back. If they even suspect anything, they act immediately, and we have no way to oppose anything they do."

"Then, what are we supposed to do?" asked Ginger impatiently, "We're just supposed to sit here and let them lie to us?"

"They have us in a compromised position," Sakura said sadly, "We don't actually know if we did anything wrong or not. We aren't sure where we come from or why we might really have been imprisoned. If we are not here for crimes or true insanity, then why are we here and who is imprisoning us?"

"Great, so all we have are questions and no way to get the answers?"

"I think we can get some answers," Sakura suggested, "We just have to know who to ask and how to get them to answer us. I would start with Brains."

"The guy who was off in a corner, talking to himself?" Ginger mused, "Why him?"

"He receives regular treatments like my first punishment. And whenever he comes back from them, he stops talking for a few days, then starts talking to himself again. I listen sometimes to his ramblings, and sometimes he says things that make me think he knows something."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. I heard him say some words and I tried to quietly find out about them, but our media is severely restricted here and so I don't know what the words mean."

"What were the words?"

"They were kurosaki, soul society and zanpakutou. The words feel familiar."

"Yeah," Ginger agreed, sitting up straighter in the wheelchair, "to me too! Sakura..."

"KIH182016N and KBS222016N," a male voice said from behind them, "it is time for lunch. Come."

Sakura gave Ginger a warning glance and nodded obediently, turning the wheelchair back and starting towards the building.

"You weren't teasing our new guy with your paranoid suspicions, were you?" the guard asked, making a visible shiver go through Sakura's slender form.

"Hey, take it easy on him. He was just being nice and showing me around," Ginger said in a placating tone.

"Ginger, don't!" Sakura warned him.

Ginger cried out in shock as one of the guards slapped him across the face and glared down at him.

"Don't talk to them!" Sakura insisted, "We aren't allowed to interact with them."

"The asshole talked to us!" Ginger complained.

Ginger gasped as the guard grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him onto shaking legs. He drove a fist into the prisoner's midsection and Ginger dropped like a stone at his feet, panting and trying to catch his breath. He caught a glimpse of Sakura's worried expression as everything went hazy and began to disappear.

"Don't be a troublemaker," the guard said, aiming a kick at his head and sending everything into an explosion of endless blackness.