3. Toys and Games

"There just isn't any limit to how twisted we can be, is there? You say it's not our fault and you say we'll overcome it and you say these people look more beautiful when they're gone and dead anyway, because then they can't hurt or kill children like us anymore, and it's just a game of hide and seek, it's just a game of tag; these are the only kind of games we've ever known and these guns, these knives, they're the only toys we've ever had, but don't you know, don't you know that it's exactly this which makes it feel like the nightmares I had when I was five?"


"At times, I hear a white noise and go blind while I fight.

"At times, I forget what my name is or even what I am doing.

"It never lasts more than a fraction of a second, but it's enough to make me not want to look in the fuckin' mirror for the entire day.

"They say a broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck. This mirror is still in one piece and I've always had bad luck, anyway.

"At times, I'm scared."


"I've never liked playing hopschotch, really. I was never able to make it past the third square without tripping over and bruising my knees, you see, and that always reminded me of that summer day when I was six, tired, pathetic and helpless, my ribbons in the dirt, far behind me, and my hair being torn out by the Hunter who was dragging me along the road full of rocks. Then, when one of my kneecaps finally broke, that man - that monster - that mere boy, really, just stood there, laughing, a filthy hyena upon its prey, and everything went blank, like a movie cut midway and replaced with static.

"I can't remember what happened; I can't remember what I did. I suppose my nerves just snapped, because the Hunter ended up dead minutes later, vivid red streaming from his skull like watercolours, dismantled limbs like discarded toys mangled up in a messy pile. It was not a pretty sight."


"This is bordering on boring.

"You can't catch me, you can't catch me, I'm swifter than the air you breathe, baby, and you can't catch me. Aw, that's such a shame. One measly bang-bang and you're dead already? I don't mean to brag about it, but you are one inexperienced Hunter. Ah, I mean 'were'.

"Sorry, but I'm waiting on a bigger kind of kill. Because it's actually pretty simple as a concept: kill or get killed; there is no way in between because there is neither justice nor good cause here; there is only darkness, fear and despair."


"I don't want to talk about it - I don't like talking about it; fuck it, I don't even like thinking about it. But the problem is that it's not something that we can avoid, is it? We can't make any choices; we've had this stupid Fate thing being thrusted into our arms without being given any right to decide for ourselves, and still they're going after us as if we were some freakin' monsters! They're afraid of the day when our trigger will just set off and we'll start murdering people indiscriminately, but, honestly? I'm not even completely sure we would've ended up like this if they hadn't been hunting us like animals for as long as we can remember.

"But don't worry. I won't let them do us any harm. I won't let myself be killed that easily and I won't let them hurt you or any of the others."


"I'm running again. I'm running. I'm running away from it all; if only for as long as it takes me to circle the entire neighbourhood three times and to stop for the usual chat with the newspaper boy. He told me yesterday that the thought of tomorrow makes him stop thinking. He told me today that I have a beautiful nose. I told him yesterday that the thought of today makes me stop breathing and I told him today that since I didn't inherit my nose from my mother, it can only be from the other party whom I refuse to call 'father'; I told him today that I have a brother that makes me go weak in the knees; I told him today that blood relationships in my family are pretty much fucked up and so I keep on running. And running. But no matter how much I run, it's still there and I can't escape it."


"Training rarely ended well whenever Ryouko-chan was around. Of course, Kanone-kun did nothing to make the situation better; he would say that she needed to go through this, she had to go through this, but just the sight of bunnies being targeted, the sight of bunnies struggling desperately, the sight of dead bunnies in our hands would send her on the first train to hysteria.

"I guess the problem was her upbringing. In the years we had spent fighting for our lives, Ryouko-chan's mother had been reading her daughter fairytales.

"Ryouko-chan's mother wouldn't let her daughter travel to England alone;

"Ryouko-chan's mother didn't let her daughter talk to strangers;

"Ryouko-chan's mother thought her daughter had a bright future in athletics;

"Ryouko-chan's mother really knew absolutely nothing and kept her daughter in a silk cocoon.

"Ryouko-chan's mother is no more, but the dead bunnies are still there."


"It's time. She glances my way and I know she's ready; she'll be able to carry out the plan.

"She grabs the rifle that's almost twice as big as her and nods my way, but her serious and grim expression seems out of place, a stranger to her childish eyes and pigtails. I know she's not really a child anymore, but, if possible, I'd rather not have her do this; if possible, I'd rather not have Rio, nor Eyes, nor Kousuke, nor Ryouko ever do this again, because it pains me, it pains me to see their faces smeared with blood, it pains me to look in the mirror and see my own face smeared with blood. But it's not possible,

and she knows it,

and she has to do it."


"It's whenever Kanone is practising hitting the target, be it by shooting or by throwing his knives, that the absurdity of it all hits me.

"But it's the ruthless expression on his face and the oh-god-it-hurts in my ribcage that really bring me down."


"Eyes-kun composes a murder the way he would a piano piece, all parts carefully orchestrated, ever so elegantly, ever so calmly. It's almost similar to watching him play in one of his concerts, only this time round we all play our roles as instruments, and the music we create with our guns and bombs and knives is nowhere near as pleasant. But that's just the thing, Eyes-kun doesn't simply create pleasant music; he creates beauty- he's a silver Midas and everything he touches turns to beauty, even if that means killing a person, or two, or more."


"And it's in the middle of fights such as this when, surrounded by Hunters, guns and knives at the ready, I sense you right next to me, and for a split second there's only the smell of blood, gunpowder and sweat, for a split second there's only the notion of your tense body so close to mine, silver hair dishevelled and lips cracked open, and I don't know if it's insanity or something else that awakens in me; I can be brutal if I wanted to, you know. I can be violent. I can be cruel. For one split second, I want nothing more than to tie you up, make you scream, hold you down right here in this mess made from blood, gunpowder and sweat, and hurt you. The worst part is I'm almost certain you'd enjoy it.

"But then the moment passes and the thought is gone, so in the end it's nothing more than just more blood, more gunpowder and more sweat, dead Hunters all around us and your soft hand in mine when we're done."


"In fact, we're not alone. Maybe that's what makes it even sadder. Little children with aching ribs and dreams crushed before we're even born. I suppose that's why Kousuke acts the way he does, comforting a dying child as he would a long lost friend. I can try to look away, but I can't block out the sound, and the shot rings as clearly as if it had been aimed at my own skull; the sight of blood makes me nauseous, like carnival rides on a stomach that's too empty or too full.

"At least it put him out of his suffering quickly, Kousuke says, still clutching the gun, but the kid wasn't a single year older or younger than us, and all this blood, oh god, all this blood, it's still running through half of our veins and I can feel the fear and the hate cracking at the seams and all I can think of is that I just want you to take me home.

"Please, please, take me home."