Chapter 10 - Your Deepest Fear

The first two days were anything but pleasant.
The first day had revolved around showing him parts of the facility, making him uncomfortable as possible (even if that wasn't their end goal), introducing him to clone that he had never known existed, and... he preferred not to think about the rest of the day past that. The second day had come all too soon from the time when they had thrown him back in his room after Hideyoshi had become far too annoyed and seemed too disappointed to put up with him.
The lights had suddenly flickered back to life in his room, nearly blinding him and causing him to curl up tighter into himself in the corner of the bed.
It was needless to say that he hadn't gotten any sleep.
He had desperately tried to wipe away the evidence of the tears on his face, to hide the blatant effects of the panic attack that had hit him for at least an hour that night before anybody came into the room.
He knew there were probably cameras that had caught the whole thing anyway, but he cared less about a security team seeing him than he did about Hideyoshi or Naomi or any of the rest of them seeing him. Despite his attempts, though, it was obvious, from his reflection in various surfaces, that he still looked like a mess.
Only three people came to get him from his room this time, all of them being from the group of four that had come to escort him out yesterday. Neither Hideyoshi nor Naomi was anywhere to be seen with them, which relieved him beyond all belief.
The woman who had been there the day before leading him along while the other two men trailed behind them. She gave a brief explanation of the day ahead, which was filled with various and vaguely described 'tests' and 'examinations'. As grateful as he was for getting an overview, the contents of the day were enough to concern him.
'Tests' and 'examinations' could mean anything; that also meant they could mean bad things.
While they had made their way through the various corridors, Zyro silently prayed that they wouldn't be as bad as his mind was imagining they would be. And, thankfully, they were tamer than what he had been fearing.
In fact, most of the day was almost like a doctor's appointment. They took him into several different rooms, had various doctors check his reflexes, his breathing, his eyesight. They checked his pupils, his ears, his throat, how long he could hold his breath for, and the list went on. And throughout the whole of it, Zyro stayed still, let them do whatever they had to do, and hardly said a word unless they asked him some sort of question, which didn't happen very often. In the perspective of the outward eye, they weren't anything to get worked up over. Zyro might even go as far as to say that they were polite, asking for his permission to touch him at various times and handling him - handling him - with care. There was no sharp remarks, no yelling, no contact that he didn't permit.
But all the same, he was scared. He was scared and disgusted, and he didn't want them to touch him, but he let them anyway because he remembered what Kuro had told him the day before. Play along, and don't fight them. As long as he did that, then there was a sure chance that he could possibly get out of here, as long as he cooperated and did as he was expected and told too. He kept those words in mind throughout the whole day, and did his best not to flinch from he was poked or prodded; did his best not to claw at his own skin after they brought him out of the rooms and took him to another one. He just had to behave... If he could that, then everything would be fine. But none of that took away the cold fear that prickled on his skin, the sick feeling in his gut that wasn't helped by how little he ate. That was more on him than it was on them, in all honesty.
The tray of food that was pushed through a slot in the door actually provided a fair amount of food for a place that seemed so cruel and prison-like, and none of it even looked weird. It all looked like normal food, complete with a juice box, fresh fruit, and vegetables, and plenty of grains.
But as hungry as Zyro often found himself, he hardly any more than a few bites, if anything at all. And as much as his stomach ached and cried at him in protest, he still couldn't bring himself to eat the food that he was given. He just... couldn't. Not here. And although they definitely didn't seem pleased by this, no one came to scold him about it.
They simply brought him his food, and then took whatever was left on the tray after about an hour, three times a day, and presumably right on schedule.
There was no clock in his room - he could never tell what time it was. The only clear indication was when the lights turned off at night, and then turned off again in the morning. And he wasn't prepared on the second day when the lights turned off again, leaving him in total darkness and with hardly a hope of his eyes adjusting without a sliver of light to go off of.
So all he did was curl up in the corner where the bed met the wall, wrapped his arms around his legs, and sit there for hours on end, always sure that the walls had contracted.
Always sure that it was harder to breathe now than it was five minutes ago.
Always sure that there was something crawling on his skin, pulling at his clothes, whispering in his ear through the darkness where everything was left up to his own terrifying imagination.
He didn't sleep that night, either...

Morning came at a much slower pace than Zyro would've preferred. He spent the whole night awake, crying even after he had run out of tears to shed, waiting in a terrified silence for the constricting darkness to consume him until there was nothing left. He was a little disappointed when the lights finally came on and he realized that it hadn't.
Once more, Zyro fought to wipe away the tear tracks leftover from the night, rubbing until his skin was raw and he was sure to have a scab or a few around his eyes.
They would still be able to tell, he was sure of it; but the least he could do was spare himself part of his dignity. He wasn't going to break down while anyone else was in the room - not as long as he could help it.
Before long, a silver tray was slid through the slot in the bottom of the door, bearing the food that he was expected to eat.
Shaking with shivers from the night before, Zyro got off of the bed and walked over to the door, and sat down on the floor with the tray in front of him.
On it was a bowl of hot oatmeal, sprinkled with what looked like cinnamon. Next to it was a little carton of orange juice, and a plate with toast and cut up strawberries and blueberries. A normal-looking breakfast.
So normal.
Zyro felt his stomach grumble hungrily at him, and he sighed through his nose, biting his tongue as he cursed it silently. He hated the thought of eating food in his place... Nevertheless, he took the spoon from the side of the tray and scooped up a reasonable spoonful of oatmeal.
It wasn't actually bad, he supposed. He just didn't really taste it.
It only took about two more spoons of it before he knew that he couldn't eat another bite. As much as they were probably displeased by how little he was eating, they would probably be only more displeased if he vomited all over the floor. He figured he should refrain from that.
His stomach protested to him in more ways than one as he stood from his sitting position, taking nothing by a half of a strawberry and a couple of blueberries with him before he went back to the bed. He sat with his back to the wall, supported by the single down pillow behind him.
He did nothing as he sat there for a next hour, watching the tray of food on the opposite side of the room slowly go cold as he ate the few berries that he had taken. It wasn't much longer before he saw a pair of hands reach through the slot in the door (albeit with some difficulty), and pull the tray back through, taking back everything he had left untouched.
No one said anything about that to him, even when they once more came for him. When they did, he was unfortunate to find that Naomi was coming along this time, but he followed along anyway, attempting to stay as far away from her as he could in the close proximity that they were forced to share.
Naomi said nothing to him as she led him through the halls; although Zyro hated the uncomfortable silence, a part of him was grateful for that. He didn't really want to hear anything she had to say.
Strangely enough, however, Naomi only went as far as one of the elevators, stopping in her tracks as she came to it and turning to him.
Zyro tried not to flinch under her cold gaze.
"You'll go into the elevator alone." Naomi instructed, "And you'll press the button for the 7th floor, directly below us. The Director will be there waiting for you. Understood?"
Zyro shakily nodded his head, averting his gaze away from her the first chance he got. But although he had agreed, he really didn't understand anything she had just said.
Well, at least he didn't understand the context of it...
She had told him to go into it alone.
Alone.
By himself.
Considering how he was usually escorted by no less the three - for lack of a better term - guards to anywhere he went at all times, the idea that they were just going to let him take an elevator alone was... disconcerting.
He had been here for, what, three days? How did they even know they could trust him with that?

Because you have nowhere to run The voice in the back of his head stated.

and they know that

And so do you

Zyro really hated how right it was...
Shaking with anticipation, Zyro made his way to the elevator as the doors opened, and stepped inside the small compartment before turning back to look out the doors.
Naomi stood there, watching him with eyes so cold there was no way they could be human.
But Zyro just pressed the '7' on the panel and watched as the doors closed. Being away from all of their prying eyes didn't make him feel any better, and not just because he knew that there were probably cameras in there.
Zyro had never liked elevators. Being claustrophobic as he was, it was understandable. He had never liked any form of small space, and he disliked it, even more, when he couldn't see anything.
You would probably think that not being able to see anything would make it better for some people, but it did the exact opposite for Zyro. It made everything seem smaller to him because he couldn't see where everything was. He couldn't see that the wall might be 2 meters away rather than 3 inches in front of him, which was why he had been subject to using a nightlight or having a window open, or his door cracked open a bit so that the light from the hall could creep in.
The night in his closet when he was 6 had been bad enough; locked in a small, crowded space with no conceivable way to get out, no light to show him where everything was and leaving his overactive imagination to everything.
In short, he had a reason to dislike elevators.
He would take them when necessary, but they still bothered him - the only solace that he took whenever he got in one was that the doors would eventually open again in a wider space, and everything would be alright. So he simply allowed himself to breathe, reassured by the fact that, in a few short moments, the doors would open and he'd be out.
Of course, he wouldn't exactly be greeted by the most desirable of people, but at the moment that didn't matter too much to him. He would just be out of this cramped space, and that was all he wanted.
So when Zyro felt the elevator lurch to a violent stop, the screeching of metal on metal outside loud in his ears and a distinct 'banging' sound making his heart nearly stop in his chest, he couldn't control the instant dread that struck itself into his body as he fell back into the metal wall of the elevator. The lights on the ceiling just barely flickered for a brief moment but steadying themselves again, and leaving Zyro frozen against the wall as he felt the carriage rock in place.

No

No, no, no, no, no

this couldn't be happening it can'tbehappeningno

Zyro briefly shut his eyes and tried desperately to shut out his overactive thoughts, tried to calm his now heavy breathing, tried to settle the nerves that automatically kicked into overdrive.

It's okay... You'll be fine

No, no, no-

They'll get the elevator working again soon... They've got too

someone help

Someone will get it working again... It'll all be okay

He kept telling himself all of that. He kept repeating over and over to himself, even as he became dizzy from his heavy breaths and felt nausea rise up in his stomach and shivered uncontrollably.

See? It's not that small of a space... it'll be okay

get me out of here

The walls aren't closing in on you... They're staying where they are

They're gonna crush me, they're gonna crush me

The ceiling is high, you can still stand up... Everything is where it should be... You're going to be okay

And then the lights went out...

Waking up in Minoru's childhood home definitely wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world. Although it was still standing and seemingly well structured, it was drafty and made sleeping on the floor the equivalent on sleeping on a frozen lake - minus the possibility of the ground falling out beneath them.
However, the way the floorboards creaked in some places was a little unsettling... The dust that covered almost every inch of the place was an issue in itself, making it nearly impossible to breathe on the pillows and the blankets that had been loaned to them. But at the least, the faint stench of mothballs and mold was more soothing than the permeating odor of a rotten corpse. However, not many of them could say that they had gotten a good night's worth of sleep though; the house made sure of that.
The kids were all still asleep (or at least trying to sleep) when Madoka woke up the next morning; it was still dark outside, and it took about a minute of her eyes adjusting for her to see the watch that she wore on her wrist.
5:38
Earlier than she was usually comfortable with; however, she knew that she wasn't going to be able to get any more sleep than she had already had, so she didn't even bother with laying back down.
Instead, she quietly stood up from her place on the floor and tip-toed around the younger bladers who were still asleep. She took a moment to just look at them, spread out around the living room, huddled up among one another.
The Unabara brothers were curled up together in an armchair in the corner, a large blanket draped over them both, and Kite sitting in what had to be a less comfortable position than Eight was in.
Ren and Shinobu had somehow managed to huddle up during the night, covered by both of their blankets in an attempt to keep out the cold. And Kira seemed to have found his way under the coffee table... How he managed that, Madoka had no idea, but she stifled a small laugh in order to spare the children their sleep.
Everyone was there, except for Gingka and Minoru.
That surprised her; for as long as she had known Gingka, he was never up this early. He had always been more of a 'sleep-in no matter what day of the week it is' kind of person.
Then again, that had been the case back when they were still teenagers; back when she had still known him. Now, after all of this time, there wasn't a lot that she was sure about when it came to him anymore.
Turning away from the living room, Madoka followed the gentle glow of candles and the sound of soft murmuring from the kitchen; hushed voices trying their best not to make any noise that would wake up the rest of the group in the next room. In the kitchen, lit with several oil lamps and little candles spread out across the counter, she found the twins.
Gingka was standing at the small island in the middle of the kitchen, watching as Minoru kneeled on the kitchen counter alongside some questionable masses of... food... with an entire arm buried into the cabinet, searching around for something.
"What are you two doing?" Madoka asked in a hushed tone, but the skepticism was still clear in her voice.
"Minoru's looking for the basement key," Gingka responded.
"Why? What's in the basement?" Madoka asked.
"If I remember correctly?" Minoru started, "Some non-perishable food that we might be able to eat. Unlike everything else in these cupboards..."
Madoka cast another glance at the several different items placed on the counter from the cupboard, and visibly scrunched her face at the thought.
"Ew..." She said quietly.
"There it is!" Minoru said triumphantly, and finally pulled his arm (now covered with dust) out of the cupboard, a small brass key in hand. He then climbed down off the counter and made for a door at the opposite end of the room.
"How much food do you think is down there?" Madoka asked, following the shorter man to the door.
"Suggesting that nothing serious has happened down there, enough to sustain us for as long as we're here," Minoru said, unlocking the basement door and opening it on creaking hinges to reveal a dark stairway.
"Pleasant..." Gingka muttered softly to himself.
"Yeah, it's pretty great." Minoru conceded sarcastically, then turned to look at Madoka, "Would you mind coming down with me, I could use some help."
"Yeah, of course." Madoka agreed and followed Minoru down the dark steps and into the basement.

The darkness of the basement was almost overwhelming and far more unsettling than the darkness of her own crawlspace back home. Though maybe it was just whose house this was, and what sort of things had happened in it, that it made it all the more uncomfortable. Judging from Minoru's shallow breathing in front of her, Madoka could only guess that he felt the same way.
If it wasn't for the light of the door above, she would never have known where the stairs ended, and she could only feel a sudden onslaught of relief when Minoru pulled on a string that hung from the ceiling and switched on a series of various light bulbs scattered throughout the basement.
"Well I'll be damned, they do still work..." Minoru said through his own sigh of relief. "Thank the lord..."
The basement, thankfully, seemed to still be fully intact, even after years of abandonment. The cobwebs and dust made everything almost impossible to identify, but, like the rest of the house, it was in surprisingly good shape. And there was indeed a bunch of canned food stocked on the shelves - though 'a bunch' would be a bit of an understatement.
"Were you guys, like, preparing for something, or...?" Madoka asked, staring around in awe at the shelves upon shelves of stocked up food in the basement that seemed to be larger than the actual house itself.
"Not that I know of..." Minoru asked, briefly hugging himself as he looked around as well. "But, then my uncle never really told me much... Though I couldn't help but think, sometimes, that he might have been afraid of something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know..." Minoru shrugged his shoulders. "I never really knew him that well."
And so the two of them got to work, clearing multiple layers of dust away from the shelves and their contents, finding old boxes to put them in, and organizing them as best as they could. When they got one filled to as much as it could hold, Minoru brought it over to the stairs and guided it up the thin passageway to where Gingka was at the top of the stairs, where he would take them and bring them into the kitchen. Most of their work was done in silence, and neither of them was quite comfortable with it. There were snippets of conversation here and there, but it never lasted long enough to clear the air.
Madoka kept her eyes on Minoru, watching him as he moved, stiff and rigid, shoulders tense and his eyebrows brought together in a look of discomfort. Clearly, something was bothering him, and it didn't take too much to guess what that might be.

"Are you okay?" She asked when he came back from guiding another box up the stairs.
"Yeah, I'm fine." The blue-haired man said dismissively.
"Really? Because you definitely don't look it." Madoka pushed, watching Minoru with earnest as he paused, hand on one the shelves in front of him. He looked... lost. Similar to how Gingka looked the night before.
"It's just this house..." Minoru said quietly, shaking his head a bit. "It's no big deal."
Madoka tilted her head to the side a bit and watched him again. She didn't know Minoru very well, but she knew he was lying.
Coming back to your childhood home after years of being completely dissociated from the world was not just something you shook off.
"It's just..." Minoru started after several moments of silence. "... I never thought I'd come back here. I never thought I'd have too... When we first got here, I thought that maybe..." He shrugged his shoulders, voice trailing off, unable to find the right words.
"That everything that had happened... didn't actually happen?" Madoka questioned, trying to fill in the blanks.
"Something like that, yeah..." Madoka nodded.
"I get it... Maybe not very well, but I get it." She said. "It was the same with me after my dad passed away... I wasn't really sure what to do after the funeral. I mean, everything he had ever had was left to me, and obviously, I still had a place to go back to, but... I didn't feel comfortable going back to the B-Pit that day... So I went back to the house we used to live in, out in the country, with my mom. She died when I was just little... I hadn't been there in years, and my aunt owned it by that point; she said I could always come back to visit whenever I wanted, so I decided that that day, I would. And when I went back there, I just stood in the driveway, and I thought... 'What if it didn't actually happen'? What if my mother didn't actually die, and she was waiting in there for me? I-I knew it was stupid, but... I wanted to believe it was true. I thought that, if I dad couldn't be there anymore, then maybe my mom could be. And for a second, I did actually believe that she might be in there, waiting. But she wasn't... I guess it's kinda silly to say I was disappointed, but..." she shrugged her shoulders. "You know."
Minoru nodded his head, and briefly wiped at his eyes.
"I'm sorry," He said, "about your mom."
"It's okay." Madoka waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head, "It was years ago - she was sick, and there wasn't anything we could do; simple as that. I've gotten over it."
"No, you haven't..." Minoru said softly, and Madoka looked back at him again. Minoru held her gaze for only a moment and muttered a small 'sorry' as he looked away.
The silence rested for only a moment before Madoka spoke again.
"You know, I saw the two of you last night," She said, "You and Gingka when you were talking out there."
That got Minoru to look back her slowly, his expression hard to read.
"I didn't hear too much. Or anything, really, you guys were too far away, and quiet... But I could tell that you were upset. I mean, obviously, you would be, but..."
Slowly, Minoru nodded his head. "No, I get it." He said.
"No, I mean-" Madoka started, and then stopped for a moment. She was silent before speaking again. "You were crying." She said. "And Gingka hugged you... Which was a surprise, considering he doesn't touch anyone, so-"
"Trust me, I didn't expect it either," Minoru said, wiping a little at his eyes. "I went with it anyway, and he said it was fine, but... he wasn't comfortable. He couldn't have been."
Madoka nodded, falling silent, before speaking again.
"You're the only one he seems to say anything too anymore." She pointed out. "About anything. I've asked Zyro and the others before when they've gone to see him, and he talks to them, but not about himself. Never about himself. He won't talk to anyone about what happened to him when he was... there."
She saw Minoru twitch slightly at the reminder of that place.
"I've even sat there sometimes with him, during his therapy sessions, but he doesn't say anything. He just sits there... We've tried to talk to him about it, but he hates doing that, and half of the stuff the doctors tell us don't even make sense, and I just want to understand so we can help him... And I don't even know if he does talk to you or not, but you seem like the most likely person that he would actually say anything too."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because you can relate."
That left Minoru silent.

Madoka watched him, rigid as ever, uncertain, even scared, and wondered if she had gone too far. She didn't know Minoru that well, but it wasn't too hard to guess where he could draw the line. He had been stuck with Alcorin longer than any of them had been, and had he gotten the worst from it. She was about to speak again before Minoru finally said something.
"He doesn't talk to me." Minoru said, looking up at her again, "Not much, anyway. I've gone to visit him a lot, and we don't really talk about what we went through when we were there. I tried to ask him about it before, but he shut me down. So I figured I should wait until he was ready..."
"And?" Madoka asked gently, "Did he talk to you?"
"Not exactly..." Minoru answered. "He would never just bring it up, and he would never say that he wanted to talk. I've seen a lot when I've gone there, and it's never pretty."
"Like what?"
Minoru shook his head. "He made me promise not to tell you." He said. "He doesn't want you to think less of him."
"But why?" Madoka asked, confused. "He knows he can trust us, he can tell us those things, we're his friends!"
"And he does know that." Minoru reassured her, "I think he's just in the mindset that if you know about those things, you'll see him as crazy no matter how much you care. And I think we both know for a fact that he would never want that."
Inside, Madoka felt her heart break just a little more.
How could Gingka think that they would see him as crazy if they knew what he was afraid of? About what he went through? Did he really think that little of them...?

"Are... Are you sure you can't tell us anything?" It only took the small crack in her voice for her to realize that she was crying.
Minoru shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry..." He said. "I know you care about him, and you want to help, but I can't say anything. I promised him I wouldn't."
Gasping lightly, Madoka nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks as best as she could.
"O-okay." She agreed. "That's fine, I get that... You're a good brother, you know?"
That seemed to surprise the younger twin, his eyes going wide, flushing just a little at the ears.
"Uh, thanks..." He said a little awkwardly, and Madoka breathed out a soft laugh at that.
"Um... We... We should get the rest of these boxes up there." Madoka suggested, and Minoru nodded in agreement.
The quiet that surrounded them as they packed the rest of the boxes with cans wasn't a comfortable one. Not in the least. But they just moved, side by side, working without a word.
Just quiet.

"You know, there's a reason he keeps facing that mirror away from him all the time." The sound of Minoru speaking almost made Madoka jump, but she refrained from it and looked at him in confusion.
"Wha-what?" She asked.
"That mirror in his room at the hospital." Minoru clarified. "The one that sits across from him on the dresser. They have it there in most patients rooms - especially patients prone to violence or suicidal tendencies so that the staff can see what they're doing without having to go in the room... There's a reason he keeps facing it away from him."
"What is it?" Madoka asked, lowering her voice to the level that Minoru's was at, not knowing if Gingka could hear them at the top of the stairs or not.
Minoru was silent for a moment, hesitant.
Madoka almost thought he wasn't going to answer.
"I went there once, to pay him a visit," he said, "and one of the nurses seemed to be arguing with him about that mirror, saying that they needed to keep it facing him for safety purposes. I didn't want to interrupt, so I just stood outside the door and I listened. She scolded him, and he tried to tell her that he didn't like the mirror facing him. And he sounded... scared. But not of her, definitely not. He was scared of something else, but he wouldn't say what it was, even when she asked him... She came out of the room after she finished talking to him, and I went in, and he looked..." Minoru's face trailed off for a moment, and the ghost of something deeply haunted passed over his eyes.
Madoka moved a little closer.
"What?" she asked, pressing him further.
Minoru swallowed thickly before continuing. "He looked... I can't even say how it was. But he looked scared. More than scared... He was huddled at the far end of the bed, curled in a ball, and whispering to himself. I tried to go to his bedside, to try and console him, but I just... stopped. I heard him saying things... like 'turn it around', and 'he'll be here'. And he was almost hysterical, it was bad. I tried to talk to him, but he just kept saying it over and over again until he was almost screaming it, and then..."
Madoka tilted her head to the side, trying to look Minoru in the eyes.
"'And then' what?" she asked.
"He broke the mirror," Minoru said bluntly, "It was like it just kind of... exploded, and glass went all across the floor. He didn't throw anything it. He didn't get up to do it, either. He didn't even go near it. He was sitting 4 meters away, and he broke it."
"B-but... how?" Madoka stressed, skeptical as to that whole explanation, "People can't just do that on their own, it doesn't just happen. Not usually, anyway..."
"I know... And I don't know how he did it, exactly. But I know why. And it's enough to say why he doesn't like having that mirror facing him: he's afraid of his own reflection."
"What...? But why would be afraid of his own reflection?" Madoka asked.
It was only then that Minoru finally looked her in the eye.
"Probably for the same reason that I am." Madoka was forced into silence, and she stared at Minoru for what seemed like the longest time.

Probably for the same reason I am

I am what he's always been

Yes. Now she remembered.

I am what he is

That face. So familiar at first glance, but after gazing at it you could tell that it was much different.

And I am what he will always be

"I know you want to help him," Minoru said sincerely. "And I do too, more than anything. But the simple fact is that we can't if he doesn't let us. And I honestly don't see how he's ever going to at this point."
"But he has to come around eventually, right?" Madoka questioned, "I mean, I know he's hurting, and he's had things done to him that you don't just recover from, but it can't stay this way forever, can it?"

Sometimes even I wonder how I get through the day at this point

"Well, reasonably, yes." Minoru said uneasily with a shrug of his shoulders, "And I hope that eventually, he does, but... You got him out of there, out of that place, and wherever he was while Alcorin had him there. But there's a piece of him that was left behind, that he is never going to get back..."

Whoever you bring back, it won't be him

"Look, I know I'm not helping any..." Minoru admitted, wiping at his eyes again. "But it's all I can say at this point... I don't even know if he's ever going to be okay again. If he's ever going to really confide in any of us, but it's the way it is, and I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize, you're right..." Madoka reassured him, causing Minoru to look back up at her again. "I know how you feel... And you're right, he might ever be okay again, but we can try... And whatever happens, I want you to know that none of it is your fault."
Minoru's eyes widened at that and looked at her with near disbelief.
Madoka just barely mustered up the strength to smile. "I know you blame yourself for all of this. Honestly, I wanted to blame you too, but I can't... And you shouldn't either. It happened; we can't change that, and you shouldn't dwell on it. It wasn't your fault. It was his." She didn't need to say a name for him to get the message. Minoru nodded solemnly, sniffing and wiping at his eyes again. He wrapped his arms around himself, bring himself into a small hug.
"O-okay..." He said quietly.
"Minoru, do you know who Mizarice is?" Madoka asked, almost on impulse, and she was actually surprised to see that the question didn't surprise Minoru in the slightest. Instead, he nodded slowly.
"Not well..." He muttered, "But I get the gist of it. And so do you."
Madoka said nothing to that. She watched as Minoru dragged the last couple of boxes over to the stairs, and guided them up with practiced precision.
She had wanted to deny that she knew who Mizarice was because she didn't think she did. She couldn't know who Mizarice was. They had tried to get it out of Gingka multiple times before, but he would never answer them - there was no one she could know...
But once she dwelled on it for a second or two, it was quite obvious. Maybe she did understand more than she gave herself credit for.

I am him

But

he is not me

And suddenly, he was 6 years old again. Wandering into his closet to look for something; he couldn't remember what, but he was sure that it had been important to him at the time. He wandered in, digging around the messy piles on the small space of floor, too tired to notice that he had forgotten to prop the door open. And then there was a click behind him that sounded like a bomb going off, and he was enveloped in total darkness, not even being able to rely on the small streams of light that managed to make it through the tight shudders.
He had rattled the door, pushed against it, banged on it, his breathing growing faster with every second that passed as he felt the darkness pulling at the edges of his skin, felt the walls just inches away from him, threatening to crush him, suffocate him.
And then he wasn't in his closet anymore. He was in someone else's closet.
Small clothes hanging from the bar, various small boxes and baskets and books lined up along the wall in neat rows, several toys piled neatly in the corner. But none of that mattered because the door behind him still wouldn't move. It wasn't like his own closet door, it was an actual door, with a doorknob that could be locked from the inside, but turning it didn't work. It wasn't his closet, but it was familiar.
He was also sure that the hand that reached up to try the lock wasn't his either, but it didn't matter in that moment. It was dark, and the walls were all around him, and he couldn't get out. Judging from the muffled sobs that made it through the deafening ringing in his ears, he was crying. He was sobbing, tears pouring down his face, and he didn't even know if it was his own face, but he heard himself shouting, banging on the door.
He was back in his own closet again, but it was all the same. He banged on the door, banged on it, and banged on it but nothing worked, it wouldn't open, and everything was suffocating him and he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe.
He was screaming. And he couldn't tell where he was. Whether he was in his own closet, someone else's closet, or an elevator, he couldn't tell anymore.
It was all the same. It was all the same and no one was coming for him. No matter whether he was calling out to someone's uncle, to his own parents, or to anyone that could possibly hear him, let him out, it didn't matter anymore.
No one was coming.
No one was coming.
No one was coming.
And then finally the elevator doors opened. He hadn't noticed that the elevator had started moving again, hadn't noticed that the lights were starting back to life, because the darkness had clouded his vision, surrounded him in a thick blanket where he could hardly breathe, blinded him to everything else outside of his own mind. And the doors finally opened to the outside, to the light, Zyro lunged himself towards it and dragged himself out on his hands and knees.
He felt hands on him, voices calling to him, telling him that 'it's okay' and 'he's safe now'.
He knows they are not really trying to comfort him. He knows they're not good people, not people he should be clinging onto for dear life, not people he should be crying in front of because he promised himself that he wouldn't. But it didn't matter anymore. He was here. This is where he was now. And he was not going to leave.
So as much as it internally disgusted him to have Hideyoshi stroking his back, whispering empty words of blank comfort to him, he let it happen. Because he had nowhere to go. No one else to lean on too, no one else to cry in front of. It didn't matter anymore. And so he sat there with them watching him, half of them with concerned faces and the other half with the pure analytical genius that couldn't be penetrated by worry.
He'd be fine, eventually. They all knew that.
So with a gesture from Hideyoshi, they took up their pens, dragging them across sheets of paper with a gracefulness you would only expect to see in movies or tv; that couldn't impossibly exist in the real world. And they all wrote the same thing.
Severe Claustrophobia
Mild Achluophobia
Keep away from small, enclosed spaces at all times

Somewhere underground, on the far side of the facility, Kuro had a breathing mask pressed tightly to his face as he was pressed down into his bed, being held by multiple hands as concerned voices shouted at him to calm down. His sleeve was pulled up above his elbow, and he tensed as a sharp needle was thrust into the vein in his arm, just barely missing the multiple marks and scars that littered the area. Gradually, Kuro's breathing calmed down, and his heart slowed, and nobody had to hold him down anymore. So he lay there on his bed, coming down from his dangerous high, surrounded by the personnel in charge of caring for him. Silently, he cursed himself, and everyone who had ever laid hands on the last person that he still had the power to protect.