san·a·to·ri·um
[san-uh-tawr-ee-uhm, -tohr-]
noun, plural san·a·to·ri·ums, san·a·to·ri·a [-tawr-ee-uh, -tohr-ee-uh]
Neo-Latin, equivalent to Latin sanā ( re ) to heal + -tōrium -tory;
Aninstitutionforthemedicalcareandrecuperationofpeoplewhoarechronicallyill.
oooooooooooooooo
Stupid Yin.
Stupid Yang.
Stupid, stupid Yin and Yang.
Why did they always beat him? It made no sense; he was stronger than them by a long shot. And not just because he had been born – no, created strong; he had also trained himself to become strong, trained day and night without rest if necessary, perfectioning Woo Foo techniques that were far too advanced for any other Warrior of his age but never for him.
So how did they always find a way to beat him?
Why was he not strong enough? Why wasn't he ever strong enough?
Yuck's thoughts are cut short as the shrill sound of terrified screams and the bitter smell of burning candy come back to him. As he returns to the present, he sees cupcake houses on fire and gingerbread people running for their lives and he instantly remembers what he was doing in the first place.
Something hard collides with him from behind, and he turns around to greet a quivering gingerbread man, his features drawn in white icing contorted in terror. Yuck's lips twist into a snarl as he tears a candy cane from the ground, and the gingerbread man falls on his knees a blubbering mess; "P-please, I beg of you! We've done nothing wrong-"
CRACK
"Did I ask for your opinion? DID I!?" the green rabbit growls at the sentient cookie, sobbing and impaled to the floor by the candy cane. When he doesn't receive an answer, he scoffs and shifts his attention to the undamaged portion of the town as he summons his rotten bamboo sword, "Tch. I thought as much."
The Candytopia of the Flippy-Dimple Gumdrop Bearies: the name itself is sickening enough, but seeing its inhabitants being so ridiculously jolly in their stupid, saccharine town was the last straw. And he's already in a bad mood from being defeated by Yin and Yang for the fifth time, so why not take it out on these hopeless morons?
Another gingerbread cookie runs past him in panic, but a swing of his sword is enough to sever its legs and tear them to crumbs, leaving the cookie moaning in pain on the asphalt. The good thing about terrorizing living desserts is that even in pieces, he can still bask in the sweet sound of their pain since they can't really die. The bad thing is that, after a while, their screams become just plain annoying.
Oh well.
"Are none of you weaklings going to try and stop me? Huh?" He swings his burning sword and yells out for the entire town to hear, "Are you idiots going to just stand there and watch me tear your precious little town to dust and then cut you all to pieces, or are you actually going to do something to save yourselves?"
But all he gets in return are terrified glances and sobbing and begging, not even a hateful glare or a threat or even some heroic speech about how he wouldn't get away with this. They 're weak, weak like Yin and Yang and their soft-hearted excuse of a master, and such weakness disgusts him.
He would never be weak like them. Weak was unforgivable. He was strong, and the stronger crushed the weak under their feet and stepped on their skulls and on their throats and on their weak little hearts-
"Stop at once."
This voice's new. It's not high-pitched and annoying like that of the cookies; it's low and hoarse and devoid of emotion, too coarse to tell if it was male or female. Yuck turnes around to face the voice, ready to attack, but all he sees is a flurry of black robes and sickly-looking blue hands before a crushing pain blossoms on his head and the world flashes and spins around him.
He hears screaming in the background; those stupid cookies were actually concerned for him as they see him fall (a bunch of bleeding hearts, the whole lot of them), but as his face touches the ground he realizes one of those screams had been his as well. Dazed, he tries to take a look at whoever had attacked him, but once he raises his gaze all he sees is bottomless darkness behind a dark hood.
The last thing he thinks of before blacking out is how much it reminds him of the Grim Reaper.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
When Yuck comes back to his senses, the first thing he notices is that his head feels as if someone had stuck a drill into his skull.
The second thing he notices is that the floor's smooth and cold, not like the licorice streets in Candytopia. And there's a light shining above him like a spotlight, burning into his eyes and making his headache even worse.
The third thing he notices is that he isn't alone.
Battle instincts in overdrive, he struggles to stand up and attack, but his body feels like jelly and the bright light is making his sight useless. His sword's gone and he has no strength left in him to summon it back. He can't even use Magic or Might or any form of Woo Foo.
"Do you understand now, child?"
"Understand what?" He spits back despite his better judgment; he really isn't in the position to talk back to his captor, whoever they are; "What the hell am I supposed to understand from gettin' the snot beaten out of me?" His claws unsheathe out of his fingers on instinct as he tries again to stand, but his limbs give out and his nails make a horrible grinding noise against the marble as he curses under his breath.
"Do you understand how you have hurt others through your anger and your hatred, now that you have faced that pain yourself?"
The rabbit struggles to look up at his attacker, and is greeted by the same empty black void behind a hood from before. And much to his dismay, he spots more hooded monks standing in the shadows from the corner of his vision. He can't tell exactly how many they are, but he knows already that they're too many for him to handle, "What…the hell are you even talkin' about? Where am I, anyways!?"
"This is the International House of Peaceful Readjustment," another monk steps forward, their voice grave and steely, "and you have been brought here because you have lost your way from the righteous path. But we have brought you under our care to offer you redemption; you should be grateful that you've been offered a second chance."
Hold the phone: these people really want to make him a good guy?
"….Grateful?" The hooded figures cock their heads to the side in confusion as he lets out a raspy chuckle. It quickly escalates into loud, maniacal laughter, and Yuck raises his head to give the monk in front of him a mocking shark-like grin; "You idiots think I need to be cured or something? That I need your help? Because if that's what you think then you got another thing coming-"
SNAP
Whatever words Yuck was about to say die in his throat as something strikes his right arm with tremendous force, feeling the bone break underneath. The searing pain that followed makes his vision blurry and his stomach churn, and is so powerful that he can't even scream; he falls face-first on the floor, feeling his martial arts gi dampen from what he guesses can only be his blood.
"But sometimes," The monk that had spoken second kneels next to him – their footprints and the very edge of their robe stained dark red; "those who stray from the righteous path are stubborn and refuse to find redemption. People like you, little rabbit."
"Why don't you bite me instead, you piece of-"
A dark blue hand shots out and hit his face with such force that his vision fails again, and the taste of metal fills his mouth as blood dribbles down his nose and chin. The combination of both pain and barely contained fury make him dizzy and disoriented; the monks surrounding him fade out and become blurry, looking more like giant shadows closing in on him.
"But there is no obstacle powerful enough to stop our noble cause; no black heart that we cannot bring back to the light". The voice keeps talking, but it sounds so far away, "And so we shall fix you, young Warrior…"
Darkness envelopes Yuck's vision, and soon he falls back into unconsciousness.
"Whether you like it or not."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
When Yuck comes back to his senses, his entire body feels as if a steamroller had run him over and the inside of his mouth tastes bitter. His right arm throbs painfully, and he's almost afraid to look at it.
And he's chained to the wall.
Wherever he is, it seems to be a dungeon. The walls are cold, made of poorly cut stone with no windows and iron bars for a single door. The chains holding him still are thick and sturdy, and they hold the rabbit tightly against the wall, digging into his wrists.
He smiles weakly.
"Did they even try keepin' me here?" He cranes his neck and clenches his fists – the muscles of his right arm feet as if burning but he ignores it - focusing all of his power at once, "Fooportate!"
Nothing.
His smile fades and twists into a snarl as he sits straighter, his hands clenching so tightly that his nails are digging into his palms, "Fooportate!"
Still nothing.
"Fooportate!"
"Fooportate!"
"FOOPORTATE, DAMMIT!"
"It will not work." Yuck's eyes turn towards the iron bar door so quickly that for a moment, his vision fails him again. A monk – he can't tell if they're the same one from before or a completely different one and frankly he doesn't care – is sitting on a wooden stool while facing him, hands tucked inside their sleeves, "We know various forms of magic within our House, and your cell is laced with too many seals for you to get rid of-"
"You've got to be kidding me," the rabbit struggles against his chains, baring his fangs at the robed figure, "Is this some sort of prank? Oh wait, don't tell me; Master Yo hired you guys to do this, right? Or was it Yin and Yang?" He looks around his cell in a frenzy, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as if expecting the elderly panda to walk out of it at any moment, "Yeah, very funny, dipsticks! Now cut the crap and show your faces, you cowards-"
"ENOUGH!"
The shackles dig themselves so deep into his wrists he can almost feel the metal crushing the bone. Hot, searing pain goes up his broken arm under the strain and this time he can't help yelping out; "This is not a joke, you clueless boy. You are to remain here as long as you need to in order to be reformed." The monk rises dramatically from their chair and points a shaking finger at the Woo Foo Warrior; "You will not leave until you see the error of your wicked ways!"
Yuck would reply back with much-less-than-kind words, but the pain from his injuries make bile rise to his throat and he feels too sick to come with any insults. His robed captor doesn't wait for him to recover; with a silent flourish of their robes they head for the exit and close the door behind them with a loud slam. And as Yuck sees them leave, his rage and frustration give way to confusion.
Just what the hell kind of mess has he gotten into?
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
He never realizes he had fallen asleep until he wakes up hours later.
The dungeon was as dark as when he first regained consciousness inside it, so Yuck has no way of knowing for sure how much time has passed. The searing pain in his right arm remains and the raw wounds in his wrists from the shackles are not helping. For a brief moment he considers chewing off his own hands to free himself – his right arm is already useless at the moment – but he bitterly realizes his mouth can't even get anywhere near his shackles anyways.
But before he can come up with anything else, the entrance to the dungeons open and three robed monks walk in, silent as ghosts. This time Yuck doesn't even bother with any snarky comebacks; he just sits in silence and glares daggers at them as he braces himself for anything they might attempt. One of them pulls a keychain from their sleeve and opens the bars to his cell, all three of them casting an ominous shadow over the rabbit as they stand before him.
"Have you made up your mind?"
"About what?"
"Have you decided to leave your criminal life behind and go down the righteous path?" The monk speaking kneels right in front of him, and Yuck's fur stands on edge as a feral growl rumbles deep in his throat; "It will be better for everyone if you do. Especially for yourself."
"Oh sure, I've made up my mind all right," The rogue Woo Foo Warrior looks back at the monk's obscured face, his lips curling into a twisted smile, "I've decided that once I get outta here, I'm gonna paint the walls of your stupid academy with your brains once I'm done pounding all of you idiots' skulls into them. Does that sound good to you?"
For a moment none of the monks have any reaction at all to his threat, and Yuck's sadistic expression becomes one of annoyance and impatience. But then the one in front of him makes a sound as if clicking their tongue in disapproval; "Why must you make this harder for yourself, boy?"
Before he can reply, a dark blue hand strikes out too quickly for him to follow and makes contact with his chest, delivering a crushing blow to his ribs. The rabbit doesn't even have time to cry out before another punch hits him in the stomach, causing his nausea to return full force.
A blow to the forehead.
A foot stomping on his leg.
A kick to his already broken arm.
Hit after hit after hit; the robed figures have no mercy with him. They attack too quickly for him to dodge – not that there's much to do while being shackled in the first place – and each blow feels more powerful than the last, too fast for his body to even register the pain. Bones begin to break, flesh begins to bleed and by the time they are done with him, all of the damage inflicted weights done over him like boiling oil and millions of bricks.
He wants to scream, but neither the pain nor his pride allow it.
"If you refuse to give up your evil ways then we will have to…help you with your recovery." The monk speaking is cleaning the blood off their shoe by wiping it on the wall. They turn to look down on the rabbit and although he still can't see their face behind their hood, he can't stop the chill going down his spine.
For the first time in his life he feels truly afraid.
"It will be for your own good, so we hope you stop resisting and change your mind soon," The monk whispers, and just as silently and orderly as they entered, the three of them leave and close the door behind them as if nothing had happened.
For a while, Yuck does nothing but stare blankly at the closed door through swollen, black eyes, his breathing ragged and labored. Slowly, his aching body begins to shake in fury and he struggles wildly against his chains, lashing and biting at the air while cursing and screaming like a savage beast.
His process of 'recovery' has begun.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
A couple of days pass (or at least that's what he assumes; his notion of time is already failing) and the Grim Reaper monks don't bother to check on him again. And while this means no more beatings or annoying cryptic messages, it also means no food. Yuck tries to distract himself by tending to his wounds and devising escape plans, but his hunger and thirst get the best of him soon enough. He gets water from the leaks in the ceiling that drip cold water on him (it's better than nothing even if it's barely enough to quench his thirst and also tastes like dirt), but there's nothing to satisfy his growing hunger and his hunger pangs are actually becoming painful.
The door suddenly opens.
The chained rabbit snarls at the now familiar black robes, but his defiance wanes when his nose catches the smell of bread that comes with them. The monk stops right before his cell door and puts down a dish with bread and cheese and a bowl with water on the floor for Yuck to see; the servings are meager at best, but after spending so much time with no food at all it seems like a feast to him. Almost unconsciously, his body leans closer to the tantalizing smell of food and his stomach growls louder. If only he could get closer…
"Have you made up your mind?"
Yuck freezes. His old wounds feel fresh again.
"I said, have you made up your-"
"I heard you the first time!" He snaps back at the monk, inwardly flinching at how shaky his voice is coming out. His stomach makes a loud noise and his throat feels like sandpaper as he lets out a humorless laugh, "So this is your big plan? You gonna make me starve to death if I don't do what you guys want me to do?"
The monk shakes their head and – Yuck's expression becomes one of horror- reaches out for a piece of bread, "Oh no, not to death; letting you die under our care would be…" The piece of bread vanishes into the hood with the sound of chewing, and Yuck's stomach clenches so tightly it hurts, "…unfortunate."
"But you see, even the most stubborn spirit can be broken. And all things broken can be fixed afterwards; they may never be as they once were," The cheese is next; Yuck's eyes follow it hungrily as it also disappears without even leaving a single crumb, "but it can become something different; something better that what it was before. And that is what we plan to do with you if you continue to refuse our help."
"So I ask you again; have you made up your mind?"
Yuck's stomach grumbles loudly; his jail keeper has already eaten half of his food, and he knows very well what would happen if he refuses.
He spits on the floor, never breaking eye contact.
"I thought as much." The empty dish and bowl disappear among folds of black robes without a trace and in a flurry of cloth the monk exits the dungeon, leaving Yuck alone in the darkness once more.
His pride tells him he has made the right choice.
His stomach tells him otherwise.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
For the following days (Hours? Minutes? Weeks? Months? Hunger had ruined his notion of time as well as his sanity, he thinks) it's the same thing: if he isn't being beaten up by the monks as their way of 'reforming' him, then he's brooding in silence, licking his wounds while desperately trying to ignore the gaping hole his stomach was becoming. At this point the green of his fur is almost completely hidden by all the grime and blood, and his wrists are red and raw and blistered from struggling against his shackles.
And every day, they come and ask him the same question again and again:
"Have you made up your mind?"
And his answer is always no, because even against all that pain and starvation and solitude, his rage never wavers or diminishes in the least. Because he decided long ago that he would become the strongest Woo Foo Warrior in existence, and he would not surrender to anyone.
Not to Yin, not to Yang, not to Master Yo. He would not admit defeat to anyone.
Needless to say, he is surprised and confused when he wakes up in the middle of the night (?) to find his cell door open and his shackles gone. And for a moment he's completely sure that he's dreaming or hallucinating due to the hunger or the isolation, but the pain all over his body is more than enough to know that he's awake and lucid.
And free.
His body is torn from so many beatings, and no food and little water has made him weak. But the very prospect of freedom before him gives him such an adrenaline rush that he' already running through the hallways before he even knows it, despite the pain spreading like wildfire all over his flesh as his old wounds reopen and his muscles strain under the sudden movement.
There is no time to think, no time to doubt. Whatever has happened, it has given him a mean to escape and there's no time to lose. He has to get out; ohh, he would be back to get revenge on them all for sure, but now he has to get as far away as he can-
The exit!
He almost slips as he turns around, but he sees it; huge oak doors giving way to the night sky, and not a soul in sight. This is it; this is the end to his torture. And he could just cry with relief but there's simply no time as he desperately scrambles to reach the door.
He runs. He runs faster than he has ever run before, and his entire body feels as if it were about to explode and his legs are shaking with the strain but he ignores it all. All he can think of is that he has to get out get out GET OUT NOW-
"You failed the test."
-and suddenly he's lying on the floor, howling in pain as he shields his chest. The world's spinning into a multicolored blur and his ears are ringing. His ribs send ripples of pain all over his abdomen (definitely broken) and it hurts to breathe, but through his failing vision, what truly catches his attention are the black silhouettes standing side by side in front of his one way towards freedom.
"We really thought you would make the right choice and stay put," Several pairs of hands grab at his arms and legs, and despite his struggling and cursing they hold him tight in an iron grip, "But you let temptation cloud your judgment and look where it has led you. How truly deplorable."
"LET GO OF ME!" There's a sound of cloth ripping, and a few of the monks step back, holding their hands and hissing in pain. The remaining ones hold Yuck tighter as he struggles and claws at the air like a wild animal, his eyes desperate and his voice wrathful yet breaking, "THE EXIT WAS RIGHT THERE I WAS SO CLOSE TO IT YOU BASTARDS AND YOU RUINED IT YOU RUINED EVERYTHING-"
"And yet you insist on being so stubborn," the monk speaking shakes their head, and several feet stomp on the defenseless rabbit's back, his angry yelling being replaced by wails of pain; "Maybe you will finally learn your lesson after spending more time in the dungeons to think of what you have done?"
What was once rage is quickly subdued by a fierce, primal fear, and days of exhaustion and agony break through his defenses as tears roll down his cheeks. And so Yuck finds himself doing something he would never do: beg; "No, no, you can't do that. You can't make me go back there I won't let you I CAN'T GO BACK THERE DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK THERE PLEASE-"
Cold, rough hands twist his arms back. Another one tugs violently on his fur to subdue him.
"NO NO NO LET GO OFF ME I CAN'T GO BACK NONONONONO-"
But his begging falls on deaf ears, and black upon black descends over him like shadows and drowns his screams.
The last thing he sees before the black consumes him is the beautiful night sky right before the doors close.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
He has already forgotten how much time has passed. It feels like an eternity to him, though. Years. Decades. Centuries.
The pain in his stomach feels dull like an old knife, a black hole that crushes his innards. His once green fur is now grey and black and red, his arms and legs thinner and more brittle than twigs. His throat feels hoarse and dry. His body is bruised and broken like a used doll, and his mouth tastes like blood and bile.
His amber eyes are dead. They no longer reveal anything but fear.
He starts to forget, and doesn't even realize it. And sometimes he remembers – in the short, grateful moments when he's able to sleep – and his dreams are filled with pink and blue and black and white. But then they would be gone, and all that remain are black robes and blue hands and more pain and more hunger and more brokenness-
He coughs. His mouth tastes like blood again. A shiver runs down his spine and even such a small movement is enough to make the old wounds feel fresh again.
He is
g
and he can feel his body sinking but he no longer remembers how to swim how to save himself he's too tired and he doesn't know what to do what to say and
he just wants everything to
s t o p
.
.
.
.
.
"Have you made up your mind?"
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Name?"
"Yuck."
Shuffling papers. Fresh ink. The sound of quill over parchment.
"Age?"
"Thirteen."
"For how many days did you stay with us, Yuck?"
"Heh, that's a tough one. Three, four months?" Sheepish laughter. Hands running through clean mint-colored fur, tugging the hem of a crisp new martial arts gi. Pearly white teeth (they're still too sharp, they'll always be too sharp to be normal) curling into a bright smile, "They were for sure the best months of my life!"
Liar.
"Four months, and here you stand as a new man, untainted and free of harmful desires." The sound of writing stops and invisible eyes look at him behind a hood, "And we trust you shall use your newfound freedom for good?"
The rabbit laughs, and for the first time in his life his laughter is free of malice, his eyes no longer cruel, "You bet! I have many people to make up to, after all the horrible things I've done. It just feels right to correct my mistakes, right?"
Wrong. That's not how you feel at all.
"You are absolutely right, Yuck; you must atone for your bad deeds. And we trust that you shall stay in the righteous path this time," The monk sitting in front of him laughs, but it sounds empty and unfeeling, "or else you might find yourself back under our care."
The room suddenly feels cold, and Yuck smile fades. The bandages under his gi begin to sting again and his mouth tastes funny and his fists shake, and for a brief second his eyes flash like bright, wrathful flames-
I hate you I hate you you did this to me I'LL MAKE YOU PAY I'LL MAKE YOU ALL PAY-
"Of course not! This time I'll set things straight; I promise!" And he smiles again, but his smile is broken and fake and something inside his chest hurts but he doesn't know what it is-
The monk raises a hand, and out of an instinct he can't understand he cowers under it, and even when the monk lowers their hand down just to pat his head the gesture still feels wrong, "Then you are free to go, child. We wish you good luck in your journey, and hope that you will never forget us."
And his gut tells him he won't.
And when he's at the very exit of the International House of Peaceful Readjustment as the morning sun rises, the moment he sets foot out of the dojo an immense relief washes over him. And when he turns around to see the rows of black-robed Grim Reaper-like monks watching him leave, the gut-wrenching pain inside him is almost too much to bear. But then he sets his head on the new life that waits him, and faint memories of pink and blue rabbits come back to him like a warm summer breeze.
He smiles.
Today is a new day.
.
.
fin