2. Family
"Even now, there are those rare moments when we do what we like; we run through the grass barefoot; we stand in the cascading rain and we jump into puddles; we walk the city streets at hours which are always too early or too late; basically, we let ourselves act like idiots. In any other moment, though, we do what no people of our age do; we shoot guns; we throw knives; we plant bombs; we kill people and we fight to survive. We can't lead a normal life, but there are those rare moments when we pretend that we can. There is a certain sadness to it, but in the end, if being normal would have meant never meeting Ryouko, Rio, Rutherford or Kanone, I say fuck normality."
"Rio smiles and skips happily down the pavement, all lace and sunflowers and rosy cheeks, with ribbons trailing behind her like butterfliers. She runs up to me, places her hand in mine, and I can't help but be amazed once again at how small her soft hand is; how lissome; how tiny, like a newborn pup that has barely learnt how to stand on its own legs. And it feels as though I should protect her, take her somewhere safe, run away with her into a field of flowers; plant her there and watch her bloom like a snowdrop.
"Rio dreams of melons. She dreams of spring mornings and gifts under a Christmas tree. She sometimes dreams about me, I think. Then she goes and plays with shrapnel, C-4 and nitroglycerine, dressed all in flowers and candy, and washes off the blood from her hands as if nothing ever happened. But, in spite of all this, I don't think I'll ever stop seeing her as a little child, as a loving friend to whom I would give all the melons and all the flowers in the world if she asked me to. And has she any idea, does she even suspect how happy it makes me to see her childlike face light up with joy?
"I guess I like thinking we have our innocent parts."
"It's like dragging a kite through the water or planting flowers in the winter; it's like hugging your mother when she only wants to see you drenched in someone else's blood; it's like calling her by her name, because she thinks the word 'mother' makes her sound too old. And it's not even a fitting name- she's not the feminine singularity and she's definitely not an angel. She's the kind of woman who takes away her child's stuffed toy and replaces it with a knife, the kind who believes in evolution. The kind who thinks that 'no, this was not a failed experiment' and 'you'll be the best killing machine one day, you'll see' and 'there's no time for hugging and laughing now, there never is'.
"It's like suddenly missing your mother after all these years, because you've just realized that somehow, in her own twisted way, she loved you more dearly than her own life."
"I can't remember if I've ever wanted a sister when I was little, but laying sprawled on my stomach under the sheets well after midnight with a flashlight on while in the middle of an oh-so-vital girltalk with you makes me think I did. Which is rather funny, considering how jealous of you I was when we first met. To tell you the truth, I still am a bit jealous; you're everything I can't manage to be, you're sweet, cute, girly, loveable. Me? I just get all the girls and I don't even want that; but all these stupid feelings that I have for the only boy I love make me feel even worse; it's wrong in all ways possible and ethic weighs me down when I just want to run as free as a wild animal.
"But I know it's not much better for you, either, because no matter how hard you try, you'll forever be everyone's little sister, wide-eyed and pig-tailed, in spite of your age and knowledge. Neither Rutherford, nor Kousuke, nor Kanone dare say it, but you know it, you know it too well, don't you?
"The tragedy of a half-sister."
"That one has always been Kanone's favourite. Shame it died, though, Kanone's gonna throw a fuckin' tantrum when he finds out. At times I wonder where he finds all of them, it's as if his entire house were a friggin' shelter for cats, the kind of cats that always get in your way when you're walking, the kind that wake you up with their meowling in the middle of the night, and, d'you know, it's quite disturbing to talk about guns and ammunition and plans of assault with those fluffy little shits always rolling this way and that and with Rio's occasional squeals of delight. But I don't mind, I guess."
"Eyes-kun has been playing Mozart all day again, which is just another way of saying 'today was a good day'. Brahms is the smell of freshly roasted coffee on Sunday mornings and Chopin is the rain gliding down on windowpanes. Berlioz is short for 'those-Hunters-today-who-tried-to-kill-us-for-the-nth-time-were-exhausting-and-unexpected-yet-it-was-a-great-satisfaction-to-kill-them-instead', while Borodin is 'I-don't-even-know-why-I-woke-up-today'. Liszt is when Eyes-kun is simply himself and Schubert is when the sun shines so badly, it hurts your vision. Mendelssohn tastes like melons on the front porch. Mussorgsky is made of late nights staring at the sky and Wagner is Eyes-kun thinking Kousuke-kun is an idiot.
"But, mostly, they're all just Eyes-kun talking to us. He says we're all in this together, and I think that's the only thing that matters."
"It's silly, really, Kousuke is attracted to trouble like flies are attracted to honey. Or pigs to mud. Or is it that trouble is attracted to Kousuke like flies are attracted to honey? Well, supposing Kousuke was all honey, but I honestly doubt that one. Maybe it's that trouble is attracted to Kousuke like pigflies are attracted to mudhoney. Or maybe how chewing gum is attracted to sticking to your shoes. No, not chewing gum, that would be annoying and Kousuke is not really that annoying. It's just that he's the sound of a plate crashing in the kitchen in somebody else's house when all you wanted was to get an empty glass, and now everything's turned really awkward and you try to shake it off with a joke. He'll swear at my cats, he'll swear at the weather and he'll swear at any Hunter, he'll do stupid stuff and say stupid things, but I think that a life without ever having broken a plate is not really worth living, in the long run."
"Tell me again about how you'd like to say that it gets better with time, but how, unlike me, you're not a very good liar. Tell me about how, maybe, if we laugh, we'll manage to stay alive, when you know very well that I never laugh. Tell me about how you think that I'm dead inside, but sadly not dead enough, and then take me in your arms. Don't tell me what colour the sky is or what season we are in; don't give a name to your feelings or to mine and don't tell me how you've never thought and never will think of me as your brother. Don't say it. Just keep silent, bite your tongue till you can taste the blood; just hold me in your arms and leave it at that; just be my something-to-believe-in."
"I remember well the first time we met. Two six-year olds standing in the street; rain was about to fall and she was trying to steal my lunch. That little thing, trying to steal my friggin' lunch! Can't imagine what she was thinking, but, honestly, she should have known better than trying to steal from another thief. And pity? What was I to pity? A pigtailed, runny-nosed brat who didn't seem much younger than me and who had just made the most shitty attempt at taking away my food?
"... In other words, yeah, we ended up sharing the small sandwich I'd nicked from the hot-dog stand and then we rushed together to find a decent awning that could shelter us from the storm."
"We're a dusty, old postcard, tea-stained and tear-stained, the words all jumbled up and bleeding into one another until almost nothing is intelligible anymore. Ink stains, like blood stains, are unattractive and messy.
"And yet, through all this confusion, I can still make out a phrase here and there, one handwriting or more, a word that spells 'friends' on a loop. The word 'family' springs into my eyes, though, and the image is too sharp, the sound is too odd, the taste is too bitter, why did Ryouko-chan write it here? There is no signature, but I know it's Ryouko-chan, it's always her; it's always her obsession, it's always her imprisonment.
"The fact is, we didn't grow up as siblings; we never thought of each other this way, none of us did- or, at the very least, we chose to say that we didn't; so why can't Ryouko-chan just let it go? Blood is the only thing that says we're brothers and sisters, and blood is as silent as a dead Hunter."