Inverse
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I do not own Detective Conan.
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Chapter 2: Thoughts
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It is with screaming that he awakes, when he never thought he would once again.
Everything looks similar to blobs, no rough edges, no straight lines, only colors that never dared mix together. If any were to ask him what it felt like, to open your eyes once again and be greeted with a sight such as that, he isn't ashamed to admit that he froze with his mind blank.
Needless to say, he also ceases breathing.
It is only the screams that manages to reach him in his state of astonishment, his mind began whirring, asking questions about what's currently occurring, and his lungs receiving the much needed air.
He abandons the countless questions that he's certain wouldn't be answered any time soon, and focuses instead on the source of the screams. It's near, he could tell, maybe just beside him.
Looking in the corner of his eyes, a pinprick of irritation runs through his body, because he should've known that the only thing he'll see would be blobs of color.
It would've been much appreciated if his eyes worked as well as his ears, and even he didn't know if his ears would be working properly after the screaming would be over. Quite a pair of lungs this person had, why the need to scream though?
Is it some kind of torture?
If this was Hell, well, it could've been worse.
Ignoring the screaming mass of something beside him, he wonders if that were truly the case, or perhaps he's just in a coma of some sort, maybe having hallucinations.
... rather unlikely when he recalls a fuzzy memory of life draining out of him, of not being able to feel his own body, of heartbeat stilling, of him welcoming the embrace of Death.
A likely probability is; he truly is in Hell.
A realization that would be broken soon enough.
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He likes to think that he isn't at fault for ignoring the screaming mass of flesh beside him, if he were to undergo the same treatment that the other is currently going through, it is best that he conserves his energy. So closing his eyes and blocking his hearing, he lets his consciousness of the outer world go, and embraces the haven that is his mind.
Everything is fuzzy, there is no clear memory that he can remember, his looks, his work, his family, his name, his life. There is nothing lucid left behind.
He takes it in stride, for what use would they be if he is in Hell?
He is a mass of white, in his mind filled with fuzzy memories.
He waits, and he doesn't know what for.
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Time is a foreign concept, weeks could have gone by, but for him it is only seconds that have passed. He isn't aware of what his body can be doing, or if it responds at all to the world outside.
Though, there is a curious being residing in his mind as well.
It is like him, a mass of white, only smaller, much, much smaller than he.
The size of a babe.
It appears often, and gradually, it changes to something more definable. First came a mouth, a mouth that the being took advantage of and babbles to its heart's delight. A small nose came next, where snot began to flow when the babe begins bawling. Ears then took shape, with its usual curves and lines.
Eyes followed soon after, eyes that simply made him still by a glance alone.
It is an unnatural hue of blue, it takes after the intensity of the sea, of the depths unknown, full of mysteries and beauty of the vast world below.
He didn't know why the being is here, or perhaps he's mind is already muddled and full of insanity, that he thought of such a creature.
Not until he opens his eyes in the outside world will he know what is the purpose of the being, the being that resembles a babe in both actions and size.
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He awakes once again, and realization strikes his bones.
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He's alive.
Something bubbles in his stomach, and giggles escape his mouth -his mouth with a sole tooth, and soft gums- he doesn't quite know the reason for his amusement, only that it seems to be an appropriate course of action.
It only took him sitting in front of a mirror to realize such a thing.
As he gazes at his form in the mirror, it isn't that hard to make the wild guess that the white mass that appears in his mind is the consciousness of the child's body which his spirit -was it his spirit? - is currently taking residence of.
A rather unnatural and mindboggling experience, but who is he to question the workings of upper being/s?
No one that's who, and it certainly didn't help that he is unaware of his name in his first life, as well as in his current one.
No matter, he'll learn it soon enough.
His eyes spy a tuft of brown from the mirror, hidden behind a pillow with a peculiar pattern of magnifying glasses, and he is immensely glad that his eyesight has improved. Curiosity burns inside him, wondering whose locks it is, if he is related to the person, and so on.
He urges his body to move, to turn around and appease his burning curiosity. It does obey his wishes, only it feels as though he is underwater, every action sloppy and uncontrollable.
He really shouldn't have expected anything less.
The soft rug underneath his form is a great help, as it prevents him from injuring his undoubtly fragile body, and the softness makes a giggle escape his lips. He would have spent his time rolling around the carpet, if it weren't for the self-appointed task that he wishes to complete, the rug is just that comfortable and soft, perhaps comparable to a cloud.
Halfway to his destination he hears a gasp, whether it is of surprise or some negative emotion, he does not wish to examine it to deeply, in fear of forgetting his goal. An unexplainable urge just runs through him, something that mingles with his curiosity, beckoning him towards the figure with the tufts of brown hair.
Everything is of a lesser priority at this moment.
Even the countless flashes he can see, he puts it at the back of his mind.
He would've succeeded in his task, if it weren't for his body, because as he gradually crawls the feeling of being underwater gave in, and in its stead is the feeling of walking through deep and thick mud. Annoyance bubbles through him, and he can feel his face react accordingly, with his nose wrinkling and eyebrows scrunching up.
Then he feels himself being lifted up by large hands, he gurgles in surprise, and he flails his arms for the lack of anything better to do.
A chuckle reaches his ears, low and smooth, full of something he can't name, but it makes his stomach shift uncomfortably, unused to such situations.
"Seiichi," a voice says, and he turns his head at the direction it came from slowly. The word isn't something he knows, vastly different from the language he speaks, and he is certain that he'll butcher the word if he tries to say it. "Did you miss Shinichi?"
Even if the next words this male -for he is certainly a male with prominent cheekbones, short hair the shade of chocolate, and a baritone voice- utters were said in his native language, he would've still heard gibberish, because this male had the same eyes as he did.
No, he reminds himself, it is him who inherited the same hue of irises from the male.
The man's eyes so full of emotion that he couldn't bother to name that he stops breathing for a moment because he couldn't believe that such a gaze is directed at him, the glasses the man wore couldn't do anything to hide it, and certainly didn't diminish the vividness of his own irises.
"Yu-chan! Yu-chan!" Another voice chirps, and he turns his head to the direction where he heard such a bubbly tone. "Fix your poses would you? I need to capture both of your faces!"
The voice belongs to the woman a meter or so away from them, with golden tresses that loops together, fair skin, and eyes so bright and blue that it wouldn't be so hard to believe that her eyes hold skies within them. A camera is held against her cheek, the object undoubtly catching the moments that happened earlier on.
She's looking at him the same way the man who's holding him did, and he himself isn't aware why such a look reduces him to tears. The tear drops running like a leaking faucet, with him unwilling to make a sound, that it takes a while for the couple to realize that he is indeed crying.
"Are you crying? Wait, really? Why are you crying Seiichi? Seiichi?"
He's determined not to laugh at the man who looks like he's holding a ticking time bomb, face frazzled and obviously not knowing what to do, he's certain that the woman is laughing hard enough for the both of them.
"Yu-chan! Your face- priceless!"
A flash goes off, and he can't reign his amusement any longer, so he giggles. It makes more flashes appear.
"See? Even Sei-chan thinks it's funny!"
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Seiichi.
It's his name.
It was rather saddening that he didn't realize it early on, but in his defense, the language isn't something he's familiar with and he thought 'Seiichi' was just another word.
The only reason he even knew it's his name, was when he kept glancing everywhere in his crib, because there was nothing to do, and his eyes caught a very familiar script.
To his joy, it was written in letters he was familiar with, written in a font that was obviously fit for babies, if the rounded edges and balloon like features were considered.
But most of all, it's written in English.
S-e-i-i-c-h-i.
He'll butcher it when he tries to say it, he knows, but it brought a sense of comfort when he realizes that he has a name, that he's not just a nobody in the streets.
It brought a smile to his face.
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He feels bad for his sibling.
Seiichi –his name, his name – remembers the first thoughts that wandered in his mind when he first awakens, how he ignored his sibling, and didn't even make a move to comfort him. It didn't matter that he was disoriented, not even sure if he's truly alive, or just plain insane, Seiichi should've comforted his sibling.
His precious little sibling.
Seiichi likes to think that while he's not a genius, he can somewhat come into correct conclusions, and based on the fact that he and his sibling share the same size, he thinks that perhaps his sibling is not just a sibling, but a twin.
A twin.
It just makes him feel worse.
He's heard that twins share something special, a bond that's hard to put into words, a bond that's nigh impossible to be broken, and Seiichi –for all that its worth – is determined to not wreck this chance presented to him.
Because he remembers, no matter how faint, the feeling of loneliness, of isolation, of pure anguish, and the cold that seeps through his bone, that only a special warmth can melt.
Seiichi remembers, and he's none too eager to experience it again.
Especially when his whole being feels warm, warmth that he's never felt before, and he isn't quite sure if he can survive if this warmth is taken away, if it is robbed away from him, because now that he's felt it coursing through his body, coursing through his very soul, the cold would be much more unbearable.
He doesn't want to be left behind. Again, his mind whispers.
So he smiles.
He smiles, and laughs, and claps, and squeals, and giggles.
Because… nobody will leave him then, right?
…
Kind of drabblish, but it won't stay that way (I hope), this is just because Seiichi's still disoriented from everything.
Seiichi did have a life before, but everything's foggy, except for some things.
And that's all.
RichInsanity. Out!