Waking up was hard. My whole body was numb, and there was an unfamiliar weight on my neck. As my eyes pried themselves open, I saw an unfamiliar white ceiling with light fixtures and an inconspicuous camera in the corner. Touching the object on my neck and identifying it as a collar, I began to examine my apparent new place of residence more carefully. I hoped it would not be for long. Still, there was not much to see.
The well-lit white room, five by five meters and three meters high, contained a bed, a door leading to a toilet with a sink, and a transparent wall with a door that offered a "wonderful" view of an unremarkable light concrete wall across the way. Trying to distract myself from dark thoughts by examining my surroundings did not help much.
Judging by the fact that the people from the orphanage handed me over to these people, they either skillfully deceived the administration or have good connections and arranged everything in advance. In the first case, my disappearance might be discovered in a few days, and the police would be called in to search for me. In the second case, no one would look for me. I have no friends or good acquaintances. And who cares about or needs a seven-year-old Quirkless orphan named Ken Kayoshi, with both parents still alive?
Of course, there is still hope that heroes might appear who could take an interest in child abductors, but that would only happen when they find out these abductors exist and where they are.
Damn.
Maybe I do have a Quirk after all, and its name is "Misfortune," judging by the turns my life has taken. Dad left, Mom stopped paying attention to me, and then I was taken away from her altogether. No sooner had I come to terms with that in the orphanage than I was kidnapped.
Drip.
I, I, I do not know what to do. I have nothing. What do they even want with me? They are not going to run experiments on me like those third-rate villains from old comics, are they?
Drip.
Why is this happening? Because I am Quirkless? If I had a strong Quirk, I would be with Mom and Dad, watching videos of All Might, thinking about how I would get into the hero course, maybe even U.A. Academy itself?
Drip.
I looked at the transparent wall and in the unclear reflection saw a skinny boy with disheveled black hair and streams of tears — myself. Weak, small, worthless. This sight startled me and stirred anger. At myself, my weakness, at these people who kidnapped me.
The sound of footsteps interrupted my angry thoughts. I quickly wiped away my tears and began to wait. Soon, two men in white coats wheeled a gurney past my cell, carrying a boy tightly strapped down with unusual belts. Something about him struck me as odd. But more of my attention was drawn to the man who stopped near my cell, holding a tablet. Dressed in a medical coat and mask, the brown-haired man created the image of the most ordinary, stereotypical doctor, the kind you would forget within a minute of seeing him in a hospital. But his evaluating, cold gaze made me uneasy.
"So, test subject number twenty three, Ken Kayoshi. Let me inform you that for the entire time you are here, you will be an object of research and must obey us. I have been assigned to monitor your condition and conduct interviews about your well being…"
He spoke in a monotonous, bored voice, as if performing a tiresome but necessary duty.
"…you must answer questions clearly and honestly. Some experiments require you to remain conscious. One is scheduled for tomorrow morning. If you disobey orders, act unruly, stay silent, ask unnecessary questions, you will be punished. Here is an example of punishment."
During his speech, he took out a "remote control" and pressed a button. From the sudden shock of electricity and pain, I fell to the floor. With bulging eyes and convulsions throughout my body, I tried to breathe. The disappearance of the pain and current gave me the chance to exhale in relief and breathe heavily.
"Address me as Doctor-san. I will come to you before and after each experiment for questioning. That is all. Prepare yourself and be an obedient boy."
After he left, I still lay there breathing heavily, staring at the spot where that "Doctor-san" had stood. My mind was blank. Only five minutes later did I realize what had seemed strange about that boy. When they were wheeling him, his head with open eyes was turned toward me. There were no thoughts or emotions in his eyes, not even pain. They were like glass.
Minutes, hours, days, weeks — all of it blended into one unending stream of experiments, interviews, pain, fear, reproaches at my own weakness, and despair. With each experiment, injection, operation, and meal they gave me, I felt my body subtly change.
The first few days after the experiments, I felt nothing except a slight malaise. The man in the white coat asked me questions about how I felt in my limbs, during movement, any unusual sensations, headaches. I hoped and waited for a chance to escape or for heroes to come. I tried to ask questions about this place, but got silence or punishment. For experiments, I was put to sleep and woke up either strapped tightly to an operating table or immediately after the operation.
I suppressed the panic by devising escape plans, thinking about who had kidnapped me, recalling school lessons, heroes and their Quirks. About who that boy was, and whether anyone would look for him.
But gradually I felt worse. After operations, the pain in my body lingered longer. I began to feel nauseous, my thoughts became drowsy, and I felt cold. I told the man with the cold gaze about this and asked what was happening to me. He only recorded my words and asked more questions. His gaze remained as cold as on our first meeting. Hatred for him began to grow inside me.
Because of the uncertainty, terror paralyzed my thoughts, and my insides felt frozen. My screams, curses, demands, pleas only shook the air uselessly. Time dragged on. I no longer believed the heroes would come, and even if they did, it would be too late. I, I want to escape from here. Back to Mom and Dad, to make everything go back to how it was and how it should be. My thoughts became tangled and repetitive, and the experiments and monotony of the cell only made things worse.
Several days passed. Or not? I do not know how long I sleep after experiments, and there is no calendar or clock in my cell. Sometimes the man with the cold gaze would mention the time, but it seemed he was mostly reminding himself out loud.
I am tired of being afraid. I just lay on the bed and stared blankly upward. How I want to fall asleep and wake up at home. For all this to be just a nightmare, not reality. It was disgusting to look at my own body, which had begun to break out in sores. They itched terribly, but the man with the cold gaze ordered me not to touch them. After two "punishments" when I could not stand it, I learned better to ignore them.
Several more days, weeks, or months passed? It does not matter. Today I had a good dream. Maybe I should finish it? Yes. That is better than thinking again, worrying, and waiting for the man with the cold eyes. Better to sleep and forget everything for a short while.