Chapter Text
In the short expanse of Rudo’s existence, one lesson had become firmly ingrained in his mind.
Humans throw away everything. Even other people.
That’s what life had always been like in the slums. He’d been found as a baby by one family, only to be kicked out a few years later when money became too tight. He bounced around the slums, sleeping on floors whenever someone found him pathetic enough to take in. If he was lucky, he’d get to stay for a few months. But usually people got sick of him before then.
Maybe if he didn’t have these eyes, people would take more pity on him. Maybe if he didn’t have these hands, he wouldn’t need that pity.
Rudo’s hands had always hurt, a dull throbbing on good days, a brain melting agony on the bad. Tribesfolk were quick to judge, quick to regurgitate the same disgust the higher society had dumped on them. Whenever that happened, Rudo’s fists tended to move faster than his brain could. And that never ended well.
Rudo had long since come to the conclusion that no one was coming to save him. If he wanted to survive, he had to fight for it. He started sneaking into the trash bins from higher society neighborhoods, taking things he could fix and sell. He’d almost been caught on numerous occasions, but it wasn’t something he had the luxury of giving up.
At night, he didn’t have many options for shelter. He’d exhausted the hospitality of most everyone in the slums, so he often had to resort to sleeping in the streets. There were, however, occasions in which houses had to be vacated.
It was rare for a space to remain abandoned on his side of the wall, too many people languished on the streets to be picky about that. But sometimes he would get lucky, spotting an empty home on the other side. He’d sneak in, stealing a few hours of sleep with a roof over his head, and then sneak back out with none the wiser.
It was in one such place that he found them. The greatest treasure he’d ever laid his eyes upon. He’d been rifling through some stacks of dusty old boxes when they’d come tumbling out, practically into his own lap.
A pair of beat up gloves. They seemed like they’d be way too big for his hands, but he slid them on anyway. There was something about them. Something about the way the old leather wrapped around his fingers and warmed his skin. It was rare that something in Rudo’s life didn’t cause him any pain.
Maybe it was the gloves’ comfort that warped his sense of danger. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed in that house for so long. Spending his days combing through forgotten treasures, reassuring them that he was there to love them again.
One morning, he awoke to cold metal being pressed against his head.
“Found you, trespasser. “ the apostle had snarled.
He was dragged out into the opulent streets by the elbow, the gun still held tightly to his temple. Fear stabbed in his gut as he was wrenched by the arm down the streets. What was going on? Where were they taking him?
When the apostles dragged him to the edge of the slums, he understood on some level that he was in danger. Hands gripped him tight enough to bruise. People were screaming at him. It all felt very far away. He could almost see himself standing there on the wooden platform, swaying slightly from exhaustion and hunger.
Rudo had never seen a child thrown into the Pit before. He watched numbly as the apostles tied the ropes around his gloves. In a way, he was grateful. He knew that the apostles probably just saw them as garbage, but that meant he wouldn’t have to fall alone. He only wished they’d had more time to get to know each other.
He looked away from the crowd towards the sky. The sun was shining. A rainbow was peeking through the clouds. Maybe this was always meant to happen. He hadn’t learned his lesson the first time someone had thrown him away.
“Here before you hangs a Tribesman who never learned how to respect the sanctity of our beautiful land. He has exhausted the last of our goodwill. As the son of a murderer, it was only a matter of time before he sullied our utopia. A thief and a trespasser will not be tolerated. For this, he is sentenced to the Pitt.”
Rudo watched numbly as the apostle’s hand quickly lowered, whistling through the air. He heard a snap and his stomach dropped as the sense of weightlessness overtook him. Wind screamed past his ears as he fell. Past the clouds. Past the only home he’d ever known.
…
“...found him in the southeastern sector…”
“...alone. No major injuries…”
“Somebody send word to…”
Rudo opened his eyes. He was lying on a cold metal table topped with a long sheet of paper that crinkled when he moved. Bright, artificial light shone down from above. He lifted his head. His arm was stinging and when he looked over, he saw a tube running from the inside of his elbow to a bag of clear fluid.
He turned his head. The room was small and smelled like antiseptic. And he was not alone.
The man watching him was tall, even when hunched over in a chair. He had short gray hair and the bluest eyes Rudo had ever seen. He appeared to be wearing some sort of uniform, but it wasn’t like anything the apostles wore. It had draping layers of red and black, studded with silver.
“Where—?” Rudo croaked.
The man stood, looming over him. Rudo flinched when his hand came near, but the man merely brushed the hair out of his eyes with an almost tender expression.
“You’re in the Kamuatari District. One of our squads found you a few miles from here. Do you remember how you got there?”
Rudo sat up slowly. His head was spinning and his throat was dry. He opened his mouth to say something, only to make a sound like a rusty door hinge.
The man’s hand shot to his belt, unfastening a metal canteen from his side. He unscrewed the cap and held the open mouth to Rudo’s lips. Rudo drank greedily. The water was warm, but it tasted fresh and clean. He didn’t stop to take a breath until the canteen was empty.
“More,” he rasped.
The man sat down instead, screwing the cap back on.
“What is your name?”
Rudo looked him over. He didn’t seem malicious. If he’d wanted to hurt Rudo, he could’ve done it while he was unconscious. When he looked down at himself, he saw bandages. Injuries from when he’d fallen? He couldn’t remember, but clearly someone had taken care of them for him.
“Rudo,” he said.
The man took a moment to respond. He seemed somewhat perplexed.
“Are you…,” He shook his head. “,where did you come from?”
Rudo blinked. Then he looked up at the ceiling, squinting in the light. “I fell,” he murmured. “For a long, long time.”
His eyes caught sight of something. His gloves! Rudo could’ve burst into tears from relief. They had made it together.
Rudo turned, sensing the man’s eyes on him.
“What is this place? Who are you? I want some more water.”
The man’s brow creased. Then he rose from his chair, heading towards the only door the room possessed. When he opened it, Rudo made a growling noise in the back of his throat.
“You’re just going to leave me? You haven’t given me any answers!” he snarled, his fists balling at his sides.
The man paused, as if considering something.
“I am known as Heiji. You happen to be in one of the Hell Guard’s main bases. That’s all I can say. You’ll get more water after the interrogation.”
Rudo froze. “Interrogation?”
Heiji didn’t respond. He walked out of the room, closing the door with a heavy click that sounded like a lock being turned. Rudo whimpered, drawing his knees against his chest.
He didn’t know what an interrogation was, but it didn’t sound like anything good. Would he have to fight? He’d gotten into quite a few scrapes, but he was usually the one that ended up worse for wear. One of his caretakers had chastised him for it.
What was it that she had said? Anger can start fights, but it's rarely enough to finish them.
Rudo took a deep, shuddering breath and curled in on himself. Maybe if he closed his eyes tight enough, he would fall back asleep. Maybe this would all turn out to be a bad dream.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the door opened again. His nerves had made it feel like hours. Rudo bolted up right, the tube tugging uncomfortably at his arm. The bag of fluids was nearing empty.
This time, the person who walked in was a woman. She strode across the room, heels clacking, and unfastened the tube's connection to the bag. Then she extracted the other end from Rudo’s arm. Blood welled in the hollow of his elbow.
“I was quite intrigued when I heard of your arrival, Rudo.” she said levelly. She had produced a roll of bandages from somewhere and was wrapping his arm with precision.
She was beautiful, an older woman with long black hair spooling out over her shoulders. She too wore a uniform like the man before, only hers had several embellishments that led Rudo to believe she was much higher in rank. She ripped the end of the bandage off the roll, securing it tightly to his arm and stepping back to look at her handiwork.
“Where am I?” he asked her. Heiji had thrown around lots of terms he didn’t understand. Hell Guard, Kamuatari. None of it meant anything to him.
She met his gaze.
“You’re on the Ground, Rudo.”
A sick feeling washed over him. Really, she was just confirming what he already knew, but it still shook him. He was glad there were no windows in the little room. He couldn’t bear to look up and no longer be able to see the sky.
“Right. So, I take it you don’t remember the fall?”
Rudo closed his eyes, nausea churning his stomach.
“What do you want from me?” he whimpered.
The woman paused. The next time she spoke, it was softer with a lilting tone. Rudo recognized it instantly. It was the voice of a parent trying to prevent a temper tantrum. He didn’t need her to treat him like a child.
“I can see you’re upset. Let’s start over. My name is Xia. I work for the Hell Guard. We take care of people who…misbehave. People who try to hurt or steal. Do you understand?”
Rudo had to bite his lip hard as anger bloomed in his belly.
“What. Do you want. From me.”
Xia sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Information. That’s what I’d like. Information about where you’ve come from. How the Sphere functions. I understand that you are a child and possibly suffering from a concussion. I’m not trying to make this difficult for you. But I can, if that’s what motivates you.”
Threats. That was a language Rudo was fluent in. He opened his mouth, just about ready to tell her to fuck off, when there was a knock at the door.
Their heads turned as it opened, revealing a man dressed in a blue and white yukata. He was carrying a metal case under one arm.
Rudo stiffened as he approached them.
“Sorry for the interruption, but the lady of the house requests we further our physical examination,” he said. He had long gray hair, tied back in some complicated style by a series of white cords.
He set his case down on the edge of the metal table. He undid the clasps keeping it shut, revealing a variety of medical tools nestled in a bed of felt. Metal instruments shaped like hooks and needles. A small magnifier. Three empty syringes. He swallowed dryly.
Xia didn’t seem too happy about the man’s sudden appearance, but she stepped aside, shooting Rudo an apologetic glance.
Who was this man?
“Now,” he said with a bright smile. “Let’s take a look under those gloves, shall we?”
It took Rudo a moment to process what he’d heard. His…gloves? His eyes darted down. He watched in horror as the man’s hand came closer and closer to him. In his mind, only one thought made itself clear.
I won’t let him separate us.
He leapt from the table. Before anyone could react, he grabbed the chair Heiji had occupied, securing his hands around the back of it before swinging it in a wide arch. It clobbered the man on the side of the head and he collapsed with a groan.
“Rudo!” Xia screamed, but he was already scrambling towards the door. It was still cracked, showing him a long stretch of hallway behind it.
She made a desperate grab for the back of his shirt. Her fingers hooked around the neckline, strangling Rudo for a moment before he wriggled out of her grasp. Xia lunged, only to trip over the man lying prone on the floor.
Rudo hopped over their bodies and slammed himself into the door. To his utter relief, it relented under him, sending him flying out of the room. He turned his head as he ran. Xia was hot on his tail, having apparently decided to leave the man behind.
Fear spurred him forward. He couldn’t afford to get caught. He rounded the corner, throwing himself bodily at the first pair of doors he came across.