Hmm

Kururu seemed to have arranged a base under a chair in Saburo's room, with three laptops set up for simultaneous use. Somehow, this worked despite his number of hands, and he tapped away, keeping his back to the resting Pekoponian. Pirarah, perched atop the same chair, was more obviously attentive. Anxiety sparked in his red eyes, and the keyboard clacked in his ears like thrown stones, as the only sound in the room. He shifted, bending down to peer at the scientist, a request for quiet on his tongue.

“What are you doing?” came out instead. Kururu was hardly a threat, but Pirarah was still hesitant about asking something of him so directly; the yellow Keronian was difficult to be around as a general rule.

“Keeping track of things...” Kururu trailed off and spun around, his skin pinched against the top of his glasses in a bothered frown. Pirarah was forced to withdraw swiftly as Kururu hopped out into the open, snapping, “I might need your... assistance. so come on!” The hybrid followed wordlessly, sliding down from the chair and landing neatly.

Saburo thrashed wildly, the intensity of some nightmare spiking and throwing him over the edge of the bed. He meant the ground less pleasantly, he crashed in a mess of blankets and shot into a sitting position with a vague cry. Dizziness swirled up in his head at the motion, as if it was confetti in a snowglobe, obscuring his senses. His head dropped and his hands rose to meet it, his perception of reality might have been distorted, but memories of the nightmare that had placed him here were not. The two Keronians arrived at his side, though he failed to acknowledge them, opting to struggle to his feet instead, or at least struggle. However, that was made quite tricky by the fact that it felt like he had twine stuck to toothpicks in his limbs, as opposed to muscles attached to bones. Though he eventually made it, his success was not maintained for any length of time, and he stumbled trying to climb back onto the bed. He dropped backwards, but Pirarah had determined the task Kururu called him for without any difficulty, slamming the button on the watch and using his new height to catch Saburo. The human's head jerked around, his dark shock undisguised, though he did not try to move. He didn't want to, this appeared thoroughly real, and he wanted to keep it as long as possible, because he might never have it again.

Kururu walked the short distance to stand before his wave buddy, staring unflinchingly up until he caught the boy's gaze, and then he refused to relinquish it. “Saburo, since I somehow don't think administering some form of brain surgery will fix this, you're just going to have to speak with us.” He offered this stern statement, covering up a degree of his own discomfort at the concept as he waited for an answer. It was a harshly long wait, and Kururu had almost decided that this would be no more productive than anything else they had done when Saburo spoke at last. His voice was dry and pale and shaky from disuse, unnaturally forced, as if someone was kicking him like fall leaves on the ground to get noise out of him.

“Fix... what...? I doubt th-that you can fix anything... Kururu. It's still s-so hard... to consider that y-your even here...” he said, a note of bitter, mostly self-directed mocking rising in his voice before he finished. He shoved Pirarah away, or rather, he half-shrugged, the other boy did not try to hold him back, and he was able to collapse on the bed by himself.

However, Pirarah did not stay silent, instead, he made a somewhat pensive addition to the conversation, “What? Of course we're here. Why wouldn't we be...?”

“That... is a very good question.” Kururu's frown sharpened as he folded his arms. His expression held no sympathy, though he had a fair amount of it internally. He was just going to have to swallow his bizarre inclination to openly worry about Saburo, and do what would actually get a response. The continuation of this condition wasn't something he would permit, not anymore. He was reasonably sure that the Pekoponian would understand later, anyway, so of all the things to worry about at the moment, harsh wording was not one. “You're being foolish, you know.”

“I am...” He parroted Kururu, and gasped, receiving that information from his own mouth stung sharply. It was lemon juice sprinkled lightly over injuries that had yet to heal, for all the care it had been applied with, it burned ferociously.  “...maybe... but I got rid of you... i-isn't that why you picked me?”

“Tch, you need to be a little clearer.”

“Y-you... thought I was... clever or something... could match you? And when it came down to it, I was... I defeated the ancient, dark thing that had taken over me! How great!” He yelped, curling into a ball on the bed, while his voice dissipated into inaudibility. “However, t-tell me... where that got me...”

Now, it looked as if the shock had transferred to another figure in the room, more specifically, Pirarah. He would never have expected Saburo of all people to behave this way, and it tugged at his stomach to see it. He murmured carefully, “It got you out of there... you're safe now, and we'll help you, so please...”

“You... shouldn't. H-how can you? I got myself out of there, and you both... I... k-killed you...” Saburo believed that he would scream. His head was outdoing all metaphors, he could only describe it as literally killing him, torture. Nausea rolled in his gut, disgusting, sour; his limbs were fragile and sore and sleepy, he had been lying on them for too long. He wished he could say that none of that mattered, but it did. He hurt, and he wanted to feel better, such a simple, childish desire, but not one that he would think was normally worthy of scorn. Still, if he had been the one to remove those who might help him, then he was alone. That was unchangeable. “So... it's alright if you can't be here. That's... a-alright...”