Chapter Text
Drip...drip... That was the only sound in the desolate chamber, of which could be heard. The only thing Wind was able to register as a sound, besides, of course, his own heartbeat, and his brother's quick breaths. It was hard to believe that only an hour ago he was asleep, Four on watch, the rest of his brothers all around him. Making him feel safe. Happy. But not anymore.
Now? Now, he was a prisoner. It had only taken a minute. Just one minute, and not just himself, but him, and his brother, Four, were both prisoners of the ruthless Yiga Clan. His brothers had only just woken up, as Wind had had a gloved hand to his mouth, and the flat of a sword to his head, knocking him out. What he hadn't realized, until he had woken up in the prison cell, was that he hadn't been the only one to be struck down and stolen away by the Yiga's blade.
Four.
His brother was still out cold, blood dripping from a lump on the back of his head, chains on his ankles, holding him to the wall, like Wind. But not anger nor defiance filled Wind's heart. But fear. Worry. Not even for himself, no. But for his brother. What was the reason they had brought them here in the first place. Surely, he knew, it was no coincidence that the two youngest of the group had been taken. The two youngest targeted, while the others went ignored. A question he couldn't answer right now.
But now was not the time to dwell on that.
Now was the time to figure out how to get out of here.
Wind reached into his boot, and pulled out a small, but simple lock-pick. Tetra had forced him to always carry it with him, and little did he realize at the time how much he would need it in the future.
Carefully, he got to his knees, trying to ignore the pounding in his head, where the Yiga had struck him, and scooted quietly closer to the cell door. He leaned forward, barely able to reach the lock, and carefully twisted the pick into the key hole.
Instantly, the very second he twisted the pick, trying to turn the gears to force the open, he was burned. But not the kind of burn you get when you touch something hot, like a pot, or a metal rod that was near an open flame.
No.
This was much more painful.
MUCH MORE.
A burn, like searing hot oil, but worse. Like an infection from a dirty wound, but worse. This was skin searing, soul piercing, pure evil scorch. Wind screamed, and leapt back, clutching at his burned hand. He panted and looked down at it, there was no visible wound, but it felt like it was on fire all the same.
He groaned softly, leaning up against the cell wall beside Four, who suddenly twitched, and slowly opened his eyes.
“W-Wind?” He murmured, blinking rapidly, his eyes melding from violet to red, then back to violet.
Wind took a sharp breath, and moved closer to his brother, “Yeah, Four, I’m right here.” He helped his brother sit up, even though his hand was still aching.
The Smith looked around in confusion, his eyes narrowing, “Where…where are we?”
Wind paused, surely Four remembered what had happened, right?
“Four,” he whispered slowly, “we’re in the Yiga Clan’s hideout. They took us prisoner, do-don’t you remember?”
Four’s eyes clouded, and he looked down, fidgeting with his tunic, deep in thought, then stopped.
“Yes.” He whispered, “Y-yes, I do.” His voice shook slightly, and his grip grew tight on the edge of his tunic. “I, I do remember. I remember hearing their laughs, trying to scream for the others, but everything went dark too quickly–” he stopped again, and whipped around to face Wind, “I didn’t realize they got you too.” He whispered almost inaudibly.
Wind met his red eyes, “Well–I didn’t realize they’d gotten you. So, I’d say we’re even.”
Four snorted, but there wasn't much amusement behind the noise. He glanced around the room, then back at Wind, then at Wind’s hand, of which the Sailor was still holding sourly.
“Wind,” he reached forward to take his hand, but Wind pulled it back, holding it close to his chest, “what happened?”
Wind bit his lip, reluctant to explain, but Four’s gaze bore into him like one of Time’s disappointed glares, and he sighed. “I tried to pick the lock, but, something–” he rubbed his palm, “burned me.” He mumbled the last part, but Four still heard it.
“It did what?” Four reached forward and snatched Wind’s hand before he could pull back again, and the Sailor hissed in pain.
Four closely examined his palm, but didn't see anything, “Are you sure?” He asked.
“Oh, yeah, pretty sure. I mean, I could always be hallucinating that I just felt the worst burn of my life on my hand, conveniently when I was trying to find a way for us to escape.” Wind said sarcastically.
“Ok, ok,” Four muttered, “sorry, just checking. Did it at least work?”
Wind sighed, “Not even…”
Then, a voice echoed through the cell, silky, but poisonous…
“Yes…probably not your best decision…”
And the hair on Wind’s neck stood up…