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Death, Hyakken Fukuzawa concludes, would have been far easier than this. And, at this point, possibly preferable.
See, they don't tell you that surviving being nearly beaten to death by your teacher - who, in addition to that, had been beating you only slightly less severely prior to reaching that point - is actually the easiest part of all of this. Now that he thinks about it, maybe that's on purpose. The goal of doctors and people like that is to save your life. It'd be a waste of their work for you to go and die after all they've done to keep you here, after all. That said…
Hyakken can't help but feel like their efforts have been wasted on him, anyway. It's not like he's doing anything with his life that he so miraculously managed to hold on to; though, from what he's heard, that was more the work of his older twin sister, Makoto, who had never trusted the teacher who was supposedly tutoring Hyakken in the first place further than she could throw him, and had called their fathers after school when the bad feeling rotting in her stomach became too much for her to ignore, even at her brother's earlier insistence that everything was fine.
Even though he truly owes his survival to his ability (the one he didn't even know he had, the one which only activated for the first time right then and there in order to save his life, the one which, despite being barely conscious at the time, terrified him to his core to witness it in action), had it not been for Makoto, his father, Ougai (who was only there alone because he had been closer to the school at the time and knew he had no time to wait for anyone, including his husband, to get there before he did or to come with him), certainly never would've gotten there in time to take him to the hospital before he bled out, alone in an empty classroom save for the comatose body of the teacher who'd just tried to kill him lying a few feet away.
His ability apparently damaged so much of his brain, nervous system, and muscle tissue, that the man can no longer move to any significant degree. While that is something to celebrate, in Hyakken's mind, he wishes the man had died back there. He says as much, too.
(What he doesn't say is the reason why he wishes that: because if the man had died, then Hyakken would feel no guilt nor reservation over wishing he himself was dead, because then at least it wouldn't mean his abuser got to outlive him, even if the Port Mafia is now in charge of doing gods-know-what to him in some safehouse far out in the country, to avoid suspicion by keeping him alive, but no doubt torturing him in a manner fitting of the torture he inflicted on an innocent twelve-year-old boy.)
But then, there are days where Hyakken can barely move - if he can move at all - due to the severe pain caused by the migraines which come almost daily. Sometimes he can't open his eyes because any amount of light coming through only amplifies his agony to critically unbearable amounts, and sometimes, he can't open his eyes because he's in too much pain to muster up the strength or the willpower to even do so. According to the doctors and his fathers, it's because the beating has left him with a traumatic brain injury, the effects of which he'll have to deal with for the rest of his life.
However long that life is, anyway.
Hyakken thinks he might be okay with not living as long as the people around him want him to, if it means he can avoid being in pain like this for an unpredictable number of days in the future.
For today, however, Hyakken simply lays motionless in his bed. He doesn't have the strength to move, or even make any sound, but if he did, he still wouldn't, because doing so would mean more pain, and he's not sure how much more of that he can take. That said, he wishes desperately that he could, because the curtains in his and Makoto's room are open, and it's starting to get light outside, which means the pain will only intensify soon anyway, and there's nothing he can do about it except lay here and suffer-
Then he hears some shuffling and a pause from somewhere within the room. Then more shuffling - quieter this time, though it still feels impossibly loud in his ears because of the migraine - then the characteristic sound of the curtains sliding shut. A few moments later:
"I'm not gonna talk a lot, 'cause I know you're hurt real bad-" Hyakken's breath hitches as Makoto's voice filters through his haze of pain, and though it does hurt to hear any other noise, he strains to hold on to her words, if only for a moment. "-but I'm gonna let Dad and Papa know you're sick, okay?" She pauses. "Last thing, I promise: you need meds? Just- twitch your fingers or something for a yes."
That, he finds he can do, so Hyakken taps his index finger on the hand resting above his comforter against the fabric.
"Kay. I'll be back."
As he listens to Makoto's retreating footsteps until she's out of his sensitive earshot, Hyakken concludes: perhaps living for a little while longer is alright, so long as he has his sister by his side.