Work Text:
A small apartment, barely even a studio, Hanto threw the door shut behind him. He threw his jacket off, unbuttoned his shirt. He sat down on the futon as he slid off the clothing that masked the bandages around his stomach. It had finally been a week. Suga had said after that, it should be fully healed. As if, he thought. He unwrapped the bandages, wincing as the gauze pulled away from the tender skin. Tender? As he undid the cotton wraps, one loop at a time, he trembled as the air tickled his skin. The old man was right, the incision had completely scarred over, just a few centimeters above his bellybutton. However, the skin around it had all turned a pinkish color. It felt raw, as though the top layers of skin had been ripped off. He sighed. Time to pay the Granute researcher a visit.
It was halfway to his lab that Hanto realized it was a bad idea. The loose fabrics of his shirt rubbed against his stomach constantly. The stimulation brought with it several sensations. At first a tickle, then irritation, and after his stomach numbed to the sensation, he felt a warmth in his belly. Despite his breezy attire, he began to feel sweat bead on his chest. It was as though his abdomen was a furnace and his shirt was stoking the coals. He realized he had stopped in the street. He bit down on his lip to distract himself from the feeling and redoubled his pace.
Laying on a cold metal table, shirt discarded to the side. Suga leaned over him, prodding at the area with multiple apparatuses. The poking and prodded caused the heat to intensify once more, as though he had poked an anthill. A… fire anthill? Hanto became frustrated trying to think, his usual verbose journalist inside seemed to be asleep at the wheel.
“Mmm, yeah, I’d say this is certainly within the parameter of what was too be expected.” Suga mused, peeling off his blue nylon gloves. Hanto shot up.
“What do you mean? I thought this thing was supposed to let me transform-” The reporter fell back onto the metal table. Sweat was beading on his brow and his body was trembling. Suga did not act, but he was watching, peering through his glasses. “Am I… going to die?” Tears welled up in Hanto’s eyes.
“Ah, no, if you’ve made it this far you’ll be fine. What you’re experiencing now is a vasovagal response…” He trailed off, pursing his lips together, deep in thought. “It’s likely that the organ is doing some… rearranging to make itself more comfortable. There wasn’t exactly a place for me to drop it in, so as it shifts your intestines around, your body is going to get confused, throw a bit of a fit.” Hanto began to hyperventilate. Suga nodded. Yeah, that figures. He placed a reassuring hand on Hanto’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “What I mean to say is your body is overreacting. It doesn’t know how to respond to this so your body’s playing guessing games. You’re going to be fine, Hanto.” Hanto’s breathing began to slow down.
“What about my skin, though?” Hanto was clearly still worried.
Suga sighed, “We’re in uncharted territory, here, my boy. Do you want me to take it out?” Hanto reflexively covered up his exposed torso.
“No way.” He stood up, pulling his shirt on. Suga shook his head.
“You should probably wait a few more minutes.” Hanto began walking out.
“I’m fine, really.” It was then that he became rather light-headed and felt his knees buckle as the world whirled around him. Suga watched him collapse into a lump on his floor. This sigh was long.
“You really are the perfect lab rat.” He mused to himself quietly.
A few days later, Hanto had been taken by Sachika out for lunch. Her treat, for something or other. She always insisted and he wasn’t in the mood to complain, this time. As soon as the tab was paid, however, he apologized. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of.” He apologized. Sachika watched, mouth agape, as he nearly dashed out of the cafe. Hanto began to sweat as he sat down on the train, cursing himself for agreeing to this. His whole body felt hot and the skin on his abdomen felt like it was on fire. Ragged gasps were all that passed through his lips, his vision blurring. The episodes were becoming increasingly more common. Hanto was surprised with how quickly his fear turned to anticipation. He was certain that every single episode was going to leave him a more capable Kamen Rider. It had to. Valen was a cobbled together effort but his body never stopped working to make him stronger. These were the thoughts he kept on loop to stave off the anxieties that swirled in his mind. The wet sensation in the corner of his mouth jolted him out of his stupor. He closed his lips, swallowing. Drooling was a new one. He had to be mindful of that in public.
Standing at his door, Hanto cursed as he dropped his keys for the third time. His body was feeling as foreign to him as the Granutes. His fingers felt too long, his body was too far off the ground. He laughed as he finally unlocked the door, stumbling through. He practically fell onto his futon, hastening to unbutton his shirt. As he peeled the fabric from his damp torso, he found a barely audible sound push itself through his larynx. It was a trembling moan. His abs had long since gone past the realm of the familiar pink they started at. As he looked over them now, he saw splotches of red, purple, even some bluish bruises. Instead of agony and irritation, however, they just felt sensitive. He touched the area immediately around the scar. He once again gasped. The whole area was absolutely dripping with sweat.
He began to trace a finger along the surface. As his ragged breaths began to break into shuddering moans, tears began to bead in the corners of his eyes. Despite the pleasurable heat radiating through his body, he was also terrified of what was happening. He found that certain areas were much more sensitive than others. The area around his bellybutton was extremely tender and he could barely apply any pressure with a single finger. A few inches above, past the incision scar, he could rub with several fingers, applying pressure into the muscle underneath. He laughed nervously. What the hell was he doing? He felt the tightness in his pants and sighed. These acts of deviancy really didn’t suit him, he’s probably just been really pent up with how distracted he’s been, he reasoned. He’d take care of this the normal way so he could calm down. He began to slide the rest of his clothing off but gasped as something caught his boxers. It was something on his lower abdomen that had snagged it. He tried to yank them off, but this sent a surge of pain through his abdomen and back. After a few seconds of fumbling, he managed to finally pull his underwear down far enough to find the cause.
A small, white protrusion was sticking up, a few inches above his groin. The flesh around the base of the protrusion had swollen up. Hanto was certain of what it was immediately. A tooth. He laughed, trying to convince himself the opposite of what the tears streaming from his eyes told him. This was fucking terrifying. He grabbed the tooth with two of his fingers, but it wouldn’t budge. The only reward his prying gifted him with was another shock through his body. Once more, his blood pressure plummeted, his heart slowed. He felt cold sweat beading on his thighs, his arms, his brow. He stood up, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t going to let this thing best him. He stumbled over to a cabinet. As he opened it, his legs buckled. Instinctively, his arms tried to support him on by the door. He felt a snap as once of the hinges gave under his weight, the other bending, warping. A scream of frustration came from the reporter, who yanked the door clean off.
A few seconds later, Hanto had retrieved the small pliers from his tool shelf. He chuckled. Try staying on, now, motherfucker. He thought gleefully, gripping the bony growth with the metal teeth of the apparatus. Woozy, leaning against the wall, Hanto grit his teeth. Gripping the pliers as hard as he could, he yanked, hard. He screamed as pulled the fang out, blood gushing from the root. Having been looking straight down at his work, his sharp yank caused the pliers to fly toward his brow. The metal slammed against his forehead, causing his head to spin. He dropped the pliers, though the tooth stuck to the pliers which had worked a groove into it. As blood gushed from the open wound, Hanto’s breath faltered. Shuddering gasps, shaking arms. All he could do was grab a nearby kitchen towel and slink against the wall. He pressed the towel against the wound, moaning in pain. That was a mistake, he thought. He tried to apply pressure to the wound but this once more sent fire through his veins. His consciousness began to fade.
Waking up in the morning, Hanto would find the wound scabbed over. Once he washed the blood away, he found two more bony protrusions poking out from his skin. One was near the tooth he had just removed and the other was toward the top of his abdomen, a few inches below his ribs. It was also in the shower that he investigated his scar. His scar tissue seemed to be… growing. It had taken on a pinkish hue and rather than being a ridge over his skin it seemed to be more of a flap. As he stared at himself, the realization came crashing through his muddled mind. The top and bottom row of teeth and a tongue were all beginning to form. It would not be long before he had his very own Gavv. He screamed, falling to his knees. On the other side of town, Suga sipped his morning coffee. While not scheduled, he was expecting to see a most important patient today.