As Rize opened her eyes, she startled to find herself sitting at a table, staring down at a steaming bowl of rice. Wisps of vapor curled into the air, carrying the rich, comforting smell of freshly cooked food. The scent was so warm and real, it made her chest tighten as the smell was the same as the way her mother cooked
"Are you not eating, Rize?" came a soft, familiar voice.
She turned her head quickly, eyes wide. From the kitchen, her mother appeared, holding a lit plate in her hands and wearing that same calm, gentle smile Rize had longed for.
"Mom..." Rize breathed, her voice trembling, sadness and disbelief bleeding into her tone as tears welled in her eyes.
Her mother walked over and placed the lid plate on the table in front of her. "Are you all right, Rize?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"Yeah... yeah, I'm all right—I think," Rize said, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
"Then why are you crying, my girl?"
"Crying?" Rize glanced at her hands again, noticing the wetness. "I'm not crying," she said with a small laugh, blinking back more tears. "These are tears of joy."
Her mother chuckled warmly. "And what's got you so happy, sweetheart? Don't tell me you finally got a job or something."
Rize shook her head slowly, her smile soft and wistful. "No… I'm happy because the dream is over now."
"Huh? And what kind of dream was it?" her mother asked casually, as Rize reached out to lift the lid of the plate her mother had brought.
"I... I had a dream where you were not there Mom," Rize replied quietly.
But just as the words left her lips, the warmth on her face vanished. Her expression twisted, joy draining away in an instant as her eyes landed on what was underneath the lid.
Thud.
The lid slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
She fell back into the chair, frozen, her breath catching in her throat. Inside the plate were mangled human body parts form eyes, noses, bits of torn flesh all drenched in . crimson blood. The stench hit her next, raw and coppery, making her gag.
Rize tried to scramble away, but her body didn't move. Cold metal dug into her wrists and ankles. She looked down.
Chains. Thick, iron chains bound her to the chair, pinning her in place.
"Mom?" she whispered, panicking, looking around the room. "Mom?!"
But her mother was gone.
The cozy kitchen had vanished too.
The world twisted, and in its place, the cold, sterile lab reappeared. The walls were gray. The air stank of chemicals and fear. She could hear the buzzing of machines, the hum of overhead lights.
And then the voice came—sharp, clinical, and terrifyingly calm.
"Miss Kimihiro, please stop moving. If you resist, the experiment will take even longer. And you don't want that… do you?"
A figure in a white coat stepped into view, holding a tray of gleaming metal tools.
Rize thrashed against the chains, eyes wide with terror. "No! No—stop! Stop!
Taskmaster glanced at his new "student" from the corner of his eye, his focus still mostly on the dark road stretching endlessly ahead.
She was muttering again.
"...Stop... no... help... stop..."
Her voice trembled in her sleep, broken and hoarse. Her fingers gripped the seatbelt tightly.
He frowned while looking at her .
Should I wake her up? he wondered, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
He wasn't exactly the nurturing type. Never had been. And nightmares? Those were just part of the package in his world—background noise for the kind of lives people like him lived.
But looking at her now, curled up in the passenger seat, trembling like a kicked dog, muttering broken pleas into the quiet…
She wasn't just dangerous. She was damaged. A child, mentally twisted, shattered, and stitched back together by something cruel.
And he? He was a killer, not a caretaker. He'd never raised a child. Hell, there were someone he thought that he might've be his daughter
"…Help… please… no more… please…"
Her voice cracked, low and raw.
Taskmaster gritted his teeth. Why the hell had he taken her in?
He didn't need this. This wasn't part of the deal. He trained mercenaries, not walking trauma cases with blood-soaked hands and invisible friends.
"Why did I take her in as a student…" he muttered, voice dry, almost bitter.
"Kid… you really are a mess," he said, not unkindly.
"Maybe I can cash in one of my favors," Taskmaster muttered under his breath.
The car rumbled to a stop in front of a decrepit house in the middle of nowhere half-swallowed by overgrown weeds and surrounded by the kind of shadows .
He killed the engine, the headlights casting long, skeletal shadows across the cracked porch.
Rize was still asleep in the passenger seat, her body twitching slightly with the remnants of her nightmare. He glanced at her one last time before opening the door and stepping out into the cold night.