A/N: I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter, and how long it is! I really did try to shorten it, but that's infinitely harder than it sounds. Life's been kicking my ass lately, and I've barely had time to breathe, much less write, but I'm trying my best! I still absolutely intend to continue this story and write the sequel, and have even been thinking of a third installment after that. Anyway, this chapter has a lot of highs and lows and is very fast-moving, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Trigger warnings (if necessary) for blood, panic attacks, and hallucinations. It also hasn't been proofread, like usual, for which I apologize.
Also, Maiko's Pinterest board has now been separated in two! One is for the original story (this one), and one is for the sequel, so now there's no risk of spoilers for the latter by viewing the former. Check it out! Additionally, the numbers in Izaya's phone number spell 'Orihara' on a keypad.
Cyan Rubies: I actually cried happy tears reading your review and please excuse my lack of punctuation here but oh my gosh you made my day and I'm so so so grateful for your feedback! I'm so glad to hear that you feel that way! I really hope you continue to enjoy the story, and thank you so much for reviewing!
"Head under water, and you tell me to breathe easy for a while. The breathing gets harder, even I know that. You made room for me, but it's too soon to see if I'm happy in your hands. I'm unusually hard to hold on to. Blank stares at blank pages; there's no easy way to say this. You mean well, but you make this hard on me." - Sara Bareilles, Love Song
Hands in the pockets of my ever-present hoodie, I realized that already, less than twenty-four hours after yesterday's incident, I was beginning to feel the familiar company of paranoia seeping back into my mind. So unbelievably recently, I'd been romping around the streets of Ikebukuro without a care in the world, just enjoying the fresh air and atmosphere of the morning; now, late enough in the evening to be painted orange by the sunset, my eyes were trained carefully to every possible direction, scanning religiously for the presence of anyone that could be following me.
After all, the previous night had been far from as seamless as I'd foolishly thought it would be.
When I'd finally thought myself to be calm enough to stand from my graceless position against the alley's wall, I'd begun my retreat to Izaya's office feeling relatively pleased. That was a mistake; feeling like I'd run far enough to escape any harm, and letting my guard fall down under the weight of my joy. When the immediately recognized and evidently displeased face of the gang leader I'd just been spying on popped out smoothly from a back street halfway to my 'home', I stopped dead in my tracks and realized my grave miscalculation.
"Who are you?" His voice was flat, deadpan, and a kind of serious I knew I shouldn't underestimate; it was the same as it had been at the warehouse. It lacked all of the enthusiasm and zeal I was now entirely sure he'd faked around Mikado.
"To you, no one. You don't know me, and you won't know me." My words were careful and guarded, and my face reflected none of the surprise that was still wracking my mind. It was clear that that was not what he'd wanted, and he scoffed.
"If you were no one to me, you wouldn't have been at that meeting. So who are you, and what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"How do you know where I'm staying?" I disregarded his questions altogether, and mine clearly took him off guard, because his eyes widened, if only for a second, and I smirked.
"What?"
"If you were just following me from the warehouse, you wouldn't have been able to take the shortcut you obviously took to get ahead of me. Right? So you had to know where I was going, or else you would've thought you'd lose me if you went that way. So how do you know where I'm staying?" My words were impulsive and came out no sooner than I'd finished connecting those dots in my head to begin with, and I felt the same shock as he clearly did when the explanation and challenge left my clearly overconfident lips. It took him less time to recover from it.
"I asked Mikado."
"And he just told you?"
"He's my best friend. He trusts me."
"Maybe he shouldn't."
"I'd never hurt him." The venom in those words was spat back at me with enough force to interrupt our quick back and forth for a moment, and I raised an eyebrow.
"In your position, you really can't know just who you're hurting, can you?" That was the wrong thing to say, clearly - or at least something he did not want to hear - because he answered fast, and he answered with the harshest glare and sneer I'd ever seen.
"Shut the fuck up. No wonder you're living with him," was his response, and his eyes narrowed with something closely akin to hatred.
"Not his biggest fan, then -" I began to ask, before the blond's voice roughly cut me off.
"I'm not playing this game. Just tell me what you were doing there."
"Just getting... insurance. I thought you were a threat. I wanted to nullify that. Obviously, I had no fucking idea how good of insurance I was gonna find, huh?"
"He'd never believe you if you told him," he retorted, taking a step closer to me with confidence and an unspoken threat I should've worried about. But stepping back would be telling him he was in control, and stepping forward would be stupid, so I stayed where I was.
"Probably not, you're right. But given the pictures I took and the video of everything you said, I think reasonable doubt is effectively out of the picture."
And he moved fast. He was smart, much more so than I'd given him credit to be, because his golden eyes watched the hands in my pocket instinctively grab hold of the phone there, and he knew exactly where to go for. Barely fast enough to avoid him, I stepped aside and out of his reach, roughly and clumsily grabbing the arm he'd extended, almost losing my grip as he tried to pull it back - with instinctive and desperately adrenaline-fueled strength, my hand tightened around the limb, and I forced it behind his back at an angle I knew would break it if I pushed just a little bit more. I used that to push him against the building wall beside us, and my voice erupted harshly from my throat to stop him from responding in kind.
"I know you could get out of this in a second, I know the fucking technique. But keep your feet away from mine and let me talk, because I can break your arm before you can flip the power and take my phone, and we both know Mikado would start to get real suspicious if you went to school like that tomorrow. Him aside, it might hinder your extra-curricular activities, too, so it's up to you to decide how badly you really want those pictures. If you hear me out, we'll both get a much better outcome. Win-win. You gonna listen?"
There were several seconds of tense, terrifying silence before he responded, and my mind was reeling and scrambling to figure out what to do if he didn't - and then he sighed deeply and shakily, and spoke.
"Fine. Talk. What do you want?" The question was all but growled, and I should've been scared, but I just grinned, biting my tongue to hold back a laugh. How quickly everything I was feeling could change.
"I don't want anything. I want to walk away and never talk about this again. I want to make sure my name doesn't leave your mouth and you don't say a damn thing to Mikado - and neither will I. I already emailed it all to myself -" I hadn't - "So it won't make a difference if you take my phone. All you have to do to stop me from letting anyone see it is to forget this happened and stay on my good side, and I'll stay on yours."
"How'm I supposed to know you won't just show him the moment you leave anyway?"
"Because I don't want to; he obviously cares more about you than me, and I can't see an outcome where you two don't make up anyway and I don't get blamed for following you and starting shit." And I don't want him turning me in.
"Then why would I even need to take your deal?"
"Because you don't believe that'll happen. You think you'll lose him forever. That's why you act the way you do around him," I challenged, wishing to god I knew how to think before I spoke, because that was a bluff and I didn't know if that was how he felt and I was never that great at poker -
"Fuck you," he spat, clearly answering as impulsively as I had. Thank god. "...You could just post it online and get blamed for nothing."
"Yeah, and have you tell him it was me and turn him against me. And I'm almost 100% sure Izaya would confirm it and throw me under the bus. That's the opposite of what I want." Because I fucked up and gave Mikado the power to ruin me if he was even slightly so inclined, and I was really starting to see the downside to that.
And he laughed. Well, not really a laugh, but a breathless and cruel chuckle that both unsettled and calmed me.
"Yeah, he would. Why the hell are you living with him if you know that, then?"
"Because I make stupid choices, and so do you, obviously - so do you want your arm back and unbroken, or do you wanna keep asking useless questions?"
For a moment, there was nothing but silence again. It was broken with a scoff that held no mirth that broke through his lips like a sharp, brief cut of a knife.
"Yeah, alright. But keep in mind... One wrong move, and I'll break this thin ice you're walkin' on and let you drown in it."
I smiled, releasing his grip and stepping back safely away from the boy. "That's perfectly fair. I don't plan on making any wrong moves."
The smile he returned with was cold and hollow, and to anyone else, I was sure it would've been more unsettling than the blatant anger that was previously written across his face. "Yeah. For the record... I wouldn't be making a deal like this with someone like you if Mikado weren't involved. I'm just doing this to keep him safe and out of this. If that changes, we'll go after you with all we've got."
"I believe you," I nodded, and my words and expression were genuine, but I knew I was still grinning and I could tell it was making him uneasy and, if possible, even more suspicious than he'd already been. "But I'm glad you see that wouldn't work out well for either of us, Masaomi." What was I doing? Intentionally antagonizing him by using his first name? Of course I was. And it worked, because for a second, I saw a sneer begin to form before it was wiped off of his face. Instead of the warning I knew I should feel from that, I was thrilled. As always.
At this point, that was barely even a surprise.
After that, we'd parted ways - less than amicably, on his part. The memory brought a smile with no semblance of conflict to my lips, although it was the very same event to prompt the paranoia plaguing me now, and that alone made it clear enough that no matter the mental peril I was saddled with as a consequence of my actions, it would always be worth it.
It was the message I'd received the moment Kida was out of my vicinity that left me questioning what that meant for my future.
"042-6744272: I must say, Maiko-chan, this is the biggest surprise yet. I had a feeling this kind of life would suit you, but it's like you're made for it! I'm impressed~! (⌒▽⌒ゞ"
That made me think more than I'd wanted to.
Actually, at first, it made me prouder than I could handle admitting, and I was grinning at the screen like a blushing school girl whose upperclassman gave her a compliment. That worried me more. Not once in my life had I ever valued the approval or even recognition of anyone, above me or below - and the unsettling thought at the base of it was that it wasn't really that it made me feel more confident. I was sure of my abilities and my value whether he reaffirmed them or not, though it was an ego boost to hear from someone like him - no, what made me so inherently happy about this was something more... personal. Like I really did just want him to notice me and respect me and...
I didn't want to finish that thought, and I buried it with the rest of my less urgent concerns. It was something I could contemplate when I was either back in the hospital by one way or another or just away from him, because the more fuel I gave to that fire, the more it would grow... And that was the last thing I wanted.
When I'd finished basking in my short-lived and childlike glee, I really started to consider his words. It had been a surprise to me, too; but it had come so naturally that I believed and agreed with him that it felt like this was what I was made for. I liked that. I was walking on coals and all I could feel was the adrenaline it gave me, so much so that the burn was nothing but a dull tickle. It felt like my feet had been grown with callouses for this very purpose, and I'd been walking on feathers every second up until now, and it had been wasted, and this was finally what was right -
But Kida's words, too, echoed in the back of my head, and I wondered for a moment if what I was walking on were coals. After all, fire and ice felt exactly alike in extremes, and maybe the surface beneath me was already beginning to crack with nothing but subzero water waiting to consume me hiding under it. Maybe it didn't matter if I was made for this life; if I made one wrong step, it wouldn't matter what my feet were prepared for, after all. Even if this was right for me, I was still eighteen and just now starting to reclaim my place in the world.
If that was the case, I'd already made my situation more critical. I'd given Mikado the ammunition to break the ice just because I'd been impulsive, and just because I'd managed to cover my ass for now didn't mean I'd always be able to do so in the future. Maybe this was what I was good at, what I was born to pursue; but I was still clumsy and inexperienced, and I knew Izaya's compliment was at least in part supposed to make me forget that so I'd fuck up.
And it made me wonder if, with things as they were, I could really gain the experience I needed to learn how to prosper. Contrary to how I felt, I knew I was backed into a corner no matter how smoothly I fought back. Izaya could turn me back in at any given moment, and so could Mikado. If I went off on my own, I'd get caught almost immediately no matter how much experience I had on the streets. I could make moves that could bring me a few steps ahead, but I would always end up back at square one if not farther back than I'd started. Conversely, if I did fuck up and Izaya wouldn't benefit from it, he'd be there to catch me when I fell, and that wouldn't teach me anything, either.
If that were the case... Maybe I had no chance to learn anything from this, because it wasn't how things would really be. Maybe no matter what I did -
But the voices approaching from a side street took my attention from those thoughts and questions, the familiar high tone of Mikado's voice paired with Kida's and a female companion's I did not recognize - and I casually slowed my pace, slinking calmly behind the cover of a group of girls walking ahead of me. Maybe stalking my friend was the wrong thing to do, but it was what I'd dedicated my evening to, though only for the sake of an experiment. A morbid one, perhaps, and a risky one that was designed to show me how far I could push without being pushed back - one that, despite the risks and my previous concerns, I was absolutely thrilled to be pursuing.
As I had overheard them mention earlier in the day, they were heading straight for Russia Sushi - all according to the plan they didn't know I'd listened in on. For a moment, I felt I was being negatively influenced by Izaya, beginning to act like him... But I quickly reminded myself that while he stalked yakuza and top-tier criminals to gain information, I was stalking a group of teenagers to find out their dinner plans, and that was... That was about as comparable as a pigeon and a hawk.
Nonetheless, I followed along their path with practiced ease, no less pleased with myself than I'd been a moment before. My plans may have been smaller scale, but I was thoroughly and deeply enjoying them. In this case, I simply didn't have the self-control not to indulge my nagging curiosities.
Hearing the booming voice of the restaurant's advocate, I knew we were getting close, and ducked behind a sign to lean against the wall beside it - normally, there would be no risk to following closer and watching them enter just to confirm, but I knew from my extensive experience before the hospital that Simon would not let my presence be unknown, so I waited until I heard him unmistakably greet the group and welcome them inside from a safe distance. For several minutes, I remained in this position, not wanting to be seen - or heard - coming in too soon after them.
It wasn't until I finally pulled myself from my mostly hidden position that I finally noticed the large Russian's eyes trained carefully on me with a precision I couldn't have expected. He did not watch me with malice or even suspicion, but simply with disapproving observance. To my surprise, though, he stayed silent until I approached, and he greeted me normally as if nothing had happened at all. But his eyes warned me with wisdom and unsettling understanding as I walked past him, and I simply offered a solemn nod in response. He didn't have to say 'watch yourself' for me to know to do so.
And, while I didn't plan on heeding his warning to the point of not going in, I did think much more carefully as I entered the establishment about what I intended to do there. After all, I didn't need to know what would come of this; all I was trying to do was draw Mikado's attention to me in front of his friends to see if he'd ignore me or invite me over. Certainly, knowing which path he'd follow would serve to either put my mind at ease about my current situation or give me the warning I needed to prepare for the boy's next actions. That said, maybe I didn't need to know. Maybe I should be backing off and leaving this be, and staying the fuck out of the fire rather than poke the logs to make a bigger flame.
Even so, I couldn't turn back now, just having entered the building to begin with, without drawing the exact same attention I had already been planning to garner, with the added detriment of having them ask me what the hell I was doing going in and then immediately leaving. I moved towards the sushi bar and took a seat, watching as inconspicuously as possible as Denis worked on the consistently unconventional meals being prepared; if he noticed me, good. If he didn't, good - I'd slip out quietly as soon as I could. Either way, neither option was bad.
Before the paler Russian had the chance to ask if I was going to order, that dilemma was resolved. The familiar, pleased gasp of surprise caught my attention, and I heard an enthusiastic but soft voice call: "Maiko, is that you?"
When I turned around, it was with a smile. The pleasure the question gave me told me I wasn't as impartial as I thought; that this had been the outcome I was hoping for. I almost worried about it. But with a bout of feigned surprise and a falsely excited "Mikado!", I was invited to the table and tempted right back into exactly what I'd wanted.
"It's good to see you! Uh, w-what are you doing here?" the boy asked, friendly and comfortingly awkward smile on his face as it almost always seemed to be.
"I mean, probably the same as most people. Food, or whatever." This prompted a light laugh from the boy, who rubbed the back of his neck in what seemed like nervous hesitance. Before he could finish the "Oh, of course," that he'd begun to get out, the blond boy beside him spoke up with a challenging smile that, unlike before, did reach his eyes; but with an unspoken threat that was backed by an army of malice.
"I think what our friend Mikado here means," he opened, hand slapping the boy's back roughly but fondly, "Is that our classes had the day off today, but the seniors like you don't. So shouldn't you be just getting out, right now?"
What a dick. I grinned. Nice try.
"Oh, um- Kida, right?" I asked perfidiously, offering a friendly smile in return with feigned realization before scratching the back of my neck in what any normal onlooker would describe as sheepishness. I could tell he didn't fall for it; obviously, I didn't want him to. "Yeah, I mean - As the hair would suggest, I'm not quite the 'model student' type. It's been a long time since I've been back around here, and I have a hard time staying cooped up in a classroom all day, y'know? Too much to see. But don't worry, my grades won't suffer - and I gave a very convincing doctor's note."
I gave a stereotypically devious smile and chuckle, playing the part of the rebel seamlessly after years of practice being it. Enough honesty and offering of vulnerability to be convincing as a lie; of course, both Mikado and Masaomi knew the truth, and I cared little to convince the admittedly very attractive third party present. I just wanted to show the blond that I could.
The raucous laugh he gave afterwards was accompanied with a shadow of something very, very dark in his eyes - something that told me he wasn't pleased with my response nor my lack of discomfort or pause. "Hahaha, of course! Shoulda known you were the rebel type! Y'know, if you ever wanna sneak off together sometime, I'm-"
"Masaomi! Stop that!"
He was just as good at this as me. I couldn't believe how seamlessly he'd continued on, and I was sure he felt the same towards me, too. I should've felt threatened, but I was pleased. I'd spent my whole life playing some fucked up kind of solitaire against my own computer, and having real, competent opponents was an objectively electrifying experience. Not quite the same as Izaya, but that only made the gang leader 'normal mode', not the 'easy mode' I was tempted to believe.
"Hah. You couldn't handle me in a million years, Kida," I teased, though I knew he saw the alternative meaning behind my words because of that same flicker of something dark that I'd so frequently been seeing across his features. But before I let him respond, I turned my attention to the girl across from them, an undeniably unreadable expression adorning her face. "Sorry, I've been rude. I'm Maiko, and I don't think we've met." I bowed my head slightly as was customary if one was polite, waiting for her reciprocation. It came, though with a moment's almost tense hesitation.
"My name is Anri," came her reply, though I noted with interest that she didn't offer her full name - though neither had I - nor did she make eye contact. Whether she was always like this or she was particularly uneasy, I didn't know, but she was undeniably compelling both because of it and of her own right.
"It's lovely to meet you." My voice was even and my smile was pleasant, before turning my attention back to Mikado and giving the boy the final push that I hoped would resolve my curiosities. "Anyway, I don't wanna intrude on your meal, so I'll leave you guys be. Nice seeing you, though!"
And immediately, his hands raised and waved to argue the idea. "No, no, you're not intruding at all! Please, you're welcome to stay," he invited, and I grinned internally. He then turned to the other two in realization, eyes widening for a brief second; "O-oh, only if it's okay with you two, of course!"
The girl - Anri - gave a small nod, and Masaomi offered a grin, agreement and obligatory flirt, though it was clear to see - at least to me - that that was not what he wanted. I nodded at the group, smiling and bowing my head again in thanks, taking a seat next to the girl as she scooched slightly to the side.
This couldn't have gone better.
An hour passed in what the rest of the table would've called friendly conversation, and what Kida and I would've described as a full-on pissing contest. The longer I spent chatting with them, the more tempting it became to move past my initial goal and pursue my newest one - to see how far I could push the blond before he pushed back. Maybe he'd lose his temper altogether.
Eventually, that was, indeed, the case. I dropped subtle hints towards what I'd seen that I knew no one would understand but he and I, made jokes and double-entendres throughout the entire meal that suggested less of the more commonly seen sexual undertones and more of the 'actually, I'm talking about your secret gang'. And when he did finally lose his temper, it was with careful masking that ensured no one took notice. Instead of offering me the outburst I would, admittedly, have loved to have seen despite the possible effects on my own safety, he simply said: "You should probably get going if you don't want to get caught skipping! We're still pretty close to Raira, y'know."
So, I did. I bid my farewells cheerfully and charmingly, and even paid the bill as I left. And as soon as I left, I waited right outside, leaning against the wall that Simon had abandoned before returning inside.
Just as I'd expected, the boy joined me within minutes and with a glare darker than I'd seen it yet. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with the anger I was impressed he'd been so believably suppressing.
"What the hell were you doing in there?"
"Come on, I can't make jokes? You sure do. What happened to free will, Masaomi?" I grinned, less malice behind it than friendly challenge.
"I told you you were walking on thin ice. Are you really trying to stomp on it? I thought we had a god damn deal." His eyes narrowed, and my grin widened.
"We do. As far as I'm aware, I didn't violate any terms, did I?"
"Shut up. I told you, I'm not playing your games. What were you trying to get outta that?"
"I thought that was pretty clear. I wanted to push you and see what you'd do. I think it's fair that I wanna find out how thin that ice is before I count on being able to walk on it at all."
"Then I'll save you the time and tell you. You pull shit like that, it's a sheet. You stay the hell away, it's concrete. That enough for you?"
"Clear as day. But, for the record," I both answered and began, taking a step closer to him as I did so, "I have a lot less to lose here than you do, Kida. I could lose a friendship. You could lose everything. So maybe you should think a little harder about acting like you've got the bigger trump card here." Of course, he did. But for as long as I could, I'd bluff.
I saw his eyes narrow, and he wasted no time taking a step forward to match my own. I was sure he would've threatened right back, given the chance, but that chance was stolen from us both. I didn't feel the briefly red-flashing eyes of the girl I'd just met observing us both from inside, but I did see the police down the street watching both Kida and myself carefully and talking amongst themselves. My eyes met a pair of theirs. I saw that one nod.
They recognized me.
Panic bubbled within me, and for a moment, I forgot the blond existed. I felt my lips move, and before he could speak to either get my attention or comment on my fear, I heard the words leave my lips:
"Tell them anything and I tell them everything."
And with that, I turned and walked away with a distinct attempt at calmness. My stance didn't falter and my legs didn't shake, but my hands sure as fuck did, and I couldn't think. I needed to think. I couldn't seem out of place - I'd garner public attention and I wouldn't be able to sneak away through the crowd. I had to walk like nothing had happened. But I knew they were walking right behind me and I knew they would catch up, and I knew all they had to do was yell and their path would clear, and I would be caught.
Was I supposed to keep walking and hope to blend in? Should I run and hope I was faster than them? I didn't know. God, I couldn't think, I didn't know what to do - all I could think was to pull up my hood and hide my hair, not that it wouldn't have still been totally clear if someone looked at me from the front. I kept walking. Breathing. Sidestepping and casually moving between the crowds of strangers.
I'd follow instinct. That was all I had right now anyway, so it was less a choice than a submission to it. I shoulder-checked, eyes flickering as quickly and briefly as I could; my eyes landed on the pair of cops again, but theirs didn't land on me. They didn't see me; not yet, anyway. When I ducked into the next alley with forced composure- now that was when I finally broke into a sprint.
At first, I started to run to Izaya's office. On some inherent level, I'd clearly started to associate it with safety, which only contributed to the growing number of informant-related, worrying thoughts. But logic kicked in about a quarter of the way through my alleyway route, and I realized that if I was still being followed, I was just leading them right back to the only possible escape I could think of, so I kept running.
I didn't know how much time had passed, but I knew I could hardly breathe, and I was almost entirely sure that I'd outrun my unwelcome company. But I couldn't stop running, not until I could find a destination to fucking think for a second, and the last thing I was going to do was trust that I was safe. I slowed to what was as close as I could manage to a walking pace, though, when my frantic eyes flickered to the familiar lighting of the SEGA arcade I'd frequented before the hospital.
I entered it slowly, taking the escalator to the top floor I remembered to be a purikura floor. With shaky breathing and unsteady steps, I pulled open the curtains of the nearest one and all but shoved myself inside the booth.
The prompt on the touch screen echoed in my ringing ears to pay and start taking pictures, but I ignored it without much effort as I slumped against the wall beside it and curled into myself. Both hands covered my face and I could feel myself hyperventilating as was so unfortunately frequent; I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them before they could manage to ruin my makeup and make themselves clear.
How could I have let this happen? How the fuck could I have let this happen? Had I already become that complacent that I'd just forgotten to watch for the police, already adjusted to this as my normal life that I'd neglected to consider that I was legally a fugitive? I was just having dinner! I was fucking around and having fun and eating sushi and all it had taken was a second for everything to just change. I almost lost it all. I could still lose it all.
I'd been worried about the wrong damn ice I'd been walking on.
When I heard the curtains gently slide open, my eyes reopened in panic and my hands snapped down to my sides - I felt them curl into fists, ready to deck the first officer to enter and run past him - but who I saw was a surprise. Izaya.
"Why hello there, Maiko-chan! Don't worry, you did an excellent job losing them, so there's no risk in me using your name. There's no one around to hear." His reassurances fell on deaf ears, because all I could do was stare at him, trying to process his presence.
Had he been around the whole fucking time? He could've stepped in, helped me, gotten me away -
"I bet you're thinking: if I was there for the whole time, why didn't I help you escape?" This smug motherfucker. "The answer's quite simple: if you couldn't manage to get away on your own, it would only be a matter of time until you were caught anyway! If I can't trust you to handle yourself, I can't let you leave the apartment, can I? But since you're so crafty, I don't see that as a particularly viable option for either of us."
"So you were testing whether or not you'd have to take me back to the hospital," I concluded, words whispered and hoarse despite his assurances of safety. My eyes were still wide, and my hands still shook, because his explanation scared me more than being caught. He was beginning to remind me of a bird of prey, even in the way he looked at me now; was I flying with him, under his protection, or was I the prey he was circling?
He made it so easy to forget that he was dangerous.
"That was certainly one option, yes - but since you managed to get away, there's no need to dwell on what-ifs! Good work, Maiko-chan! Commendable, really! I must say, I really thought your panic was going to get the best of you for a moment there. You really kept me on edge!" He 'complimented', clapping his hands with glee as if I'd just given him the thrill of what a horror movie was to a normal person.
"Yeah. You were on edge. That's rich," I retorted dryly with a tired, lazy grin despite my racing heartbeat, and there was both resentment and amusement in my voice.
"Ah, do you feel betrayed? That's so cute! You couldn't possibly have thought someone like me would be your safety net, could you? Naive as ever! Quite the contradiction, considering how well and naturally you handled yourself with Kida." He leaned in as he spoke, and his crimson eyes held mine with the same hawk-like precision and predatory nature that made me liken him to one to begin with. He was gleeful, but sadistic; helpful and pleased, but savage and malicious. It was terrifying. It was alluring. I was too distressed to know the difference.
And my lips parted, because none of that made me angry; it made him more attractive than ever, and that brief moment of truly seeing just how dangerous he really was just made me want to throw myself at him and let him make me his prey if it meant just -
I heard the clink of a coin. He'd moved so quickly that I'd hardly recognized it until the metallic noise claimed my attention, and I saw his fingers tap several buttons on the touch screen. The thoughts were pushed aside, and I'd never been more grateful, because I knew I should've been scared and it scared me so much more that I not only wasn't, but that lust had been the first feeling to surface instead.
It was just because I was panicked, scared, too out of it to control my own mind, it wasn't more than that - but before I could properly bury the thought and ask him what he was doing, his arm was pulling me gently to his side with deceptive strength, and into the view of the booth's camera. There was a click, and a brief glance to the screen told me the first picture had been taken; a photo of me staring up at him in confusion and wonder and him smirking that infuriating, ever-present smirk.
For some reason, that annoyed me. He had a picture where I'd lost my composure, and he'd maintained his. I didn't like that. And that spark of competition and irritation was enough for me to get enough control of myself by the time the screen prompted us, so I got myself into the suggested position beside him and gave the camera a cute, confident smile.
The second picture saved; satisfactory, I decided. We were both controlled in it. But I heard the countdown for the last one, and I quickly took that position, too, until the number '1' flashed across the screen, and I took that last second to surprise the informant with a movement almost as fast as his own.
I brought myself closer to him, hand reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket that I'd felt his knife present in before, and I grabbed it. Pressing as hard as I could on the side of the flick blade, it snapped open, and as the camera flashed, it was pressed against the man's throat as my lips pressed against his cheek. For a brief moment, I felt distinct and almost smug pleasure, looking at the screen and seeing the brief expression of surprise on his face immortalized in the photo.
The next moment, everything was a blur, and by the time I knew what was happening, the knife was out of my hands, closed, and returned to his pocket; his other hand was pinning me to the small wall behind me, about one ounce of pressure away from breaking my wrist.
"That was a dangerous move, Miss Kaneko," he warned, voice low and terrifying, but still somehow jubilant, and he was grinning the most unsettling grin. "But two things are very fortunate for you - one, I can always appreciate when a human is unpredictable enough to surprise me. Two..." the information broker continued, pausing as he put just a tiny, tiny bit more pressure on my wrist, and my breath hitched, because he was so close to breaking it and his breath was right in my ear and-
And he released me altogether with an ear-to-ear smile, turning back to the touch screen as he spoke. "There's a time limit to draw on these pictures, much less print them!"
The city lights seemed brighter than ever, dotting the already-dark sky with a plethora of color and glow. Despite the fear and apprehension that had been wracking my body and mind for hours now, the sight made me feel so warm that for as long as I stared out into the city life, it was all there was and all I could feel. As I walked beside the informant that had so easily thrown my life into chaos, the lights and the buildings and the people reminded me of what he already knew; that that was exactly what I didn't know I'd wanted.
Idly, my eyes flickered across the cityline, searching for the distant and familiar sight of the hospital; I couldn't find it. After so long feeling so desperate to escape it, I still somehow felt like it being out of my view, not even knowing where it was, was like losing a safety blanket. It reinforced the fact that I was thrown from a pond to an ocean, and I was beginning to question how well I really knew how to swim.
I felt Izaya's eyes on me as I stared into Ikebukuro with a fondness deeper than any other in my heart, and I let my own flicker over to him for a moment. What they found was a small smile on his face, lacking both malice and amusement; like he, too, was gazing with fondness. I wondered if this was how he felt about the city, too. That the mere sight of the beauty it housed was enough to relieve any kind of worry, even if only for a moment. The thought made me smile, too.
It reminded me that he was human, too. He made it so hard to see past the things he did and said that it was easy to forget that there was more to him than that. I wondered if anyone had ever tried to.
"Don't overthink a smile, Maiko-chan," he warned, a light tone in his voice without its usual hint of threat, and despite his words, that smile was still present. God damn, it was like he was psychic. He didn't give me long to ponder that. "Out of curiosity, by the way... Why didn't you run to my office?"
"I didn't wanna lead the cops there. If they found out where I was staying, I'd either be caught right then and there or I wouldn't be able to stay there anymore. Not to mention that they have your description, so matching it to your address, I'd imagine, wouldn't do good things for you," I explained, hands wringing in the pockets of my hoodie, before I added, "Not that I think you'd have any trouble with that, but I would, and I'm pretty sure you'd throw me under the bus real quick if you needed to. Or even wanted to."
He grinned, eyes peering at me through his peripheral vision with a glint of satisfaction. "Smart girl. And here I thought you'd panic too much to realize that."
"I did at first," I admitted, shrugging, "But I'm usually pretty good at backtracking."
"That you are," the informant agreed, though he seemed to consider those words more deeply than I'd meant them. I wanted to ask why, but he interrupted. "What would you have done if I hadn't followed you into the photo booth?"
"The plan was to text you once I'd calmed down enough," I explained, gaze briefly falling to the sidewalk. I didn't like having to tell him much less myself that I was going to ask for his help. "It's not my first time running from cops, but the situation's a lot more delicate this time, and I wasn't... confident that I wouldn't be followed back to your place."
The man's eyebrow raised, and the grin that now widened told me he liked my reply. "You're ashamed to have wanted to ask for my help, aren't you?" I would've answered, but he continued on almost immediately and assured me that the question was rhetorical. As always, he knew he was right. "You shouldn't be. Recognizing one's own inexperience and need for guidance is a sign of intelligence. The students that ask questions even when they think doing so makes them dumb are always smarter than the rest."
I glanced up at him for a moment, brow furrowing as I considered his statement. I agreed, yes, but it was easier to apply that belief to other people than myself. But was he saying that just because it was the truth, or was he trying to tempt me into relying on him more because it made me smart?
He smirked at me, and I knew he knew what I was thinking. So I smirked right back, feigning the confidence I didn't feel. His eyebrow raised again, something I'd begun to view as a small victory, and I started to believe a little deeper in 'fake it till you make it'.
We walked in comfortable silence for the rest of the trip back to the high-rise building, and despite the fact that he'd almost broken my wrist only a little more than an hour prior and made me more afraid than I could ever recall being, I felt at ease next to him. When we arrived and entered the building, though, it only took me several minutes to lose that peaceful feeling. It was nothing he'd done, contrary to usual, but rather the loss of the city and noise and stimulation around us that led me back to the thoughts he'd distracted me from.
I entered the bathroom, hands gripping the cold counter tightly as I stared down my reflection. My makeup was a mess, my hair was tangled from spending so long hidden in my hood, and my eyes looked scared. Had they always looked that way?
Had I always been this terrified? I looked like the patients I remembered watching on the unit; the ones who'd just arrived, just been admitted, and were lost and out of their element. Half of them high or drunk, the other half injured or restrained, there was no one that got there and looked anything but afraid, even if they'd come of their own will. I'd always thought of them as rock bottom, and always thought of myself as having built myself up from that long ago.
But had I at all? Or maybe... Maybe leaving with Izaya had just brought me right back down.
The cops had chased me down the streets of Ikebukuro today. I barely escaped, and I was so close to being right back where I started. I'd pulled a knife on the most dangerous man in the city, thought he'd've killed me, and wanted to fuck him as a response - and then chatted calmly with him like nothing had happened on the way back to his apartment that I was staying in like it was a home.
Maybe this was rock bottom. Yeah, maybe I was handling things well, at least on occasion; maybe he was right, and I was right, and this was the life I was meant for. But this wasn't the way to get it, and on some level, I knew that. It was like I was supposed to be a biker, but here I was on a bicycle with training wheels thinking I was learning how to drive a motorcycle. Eventually, I was actually going to be on one, and I was going to crash and burn.
And Izaya, I knew, would be the one to give me the motorbike, pat my back, and say 'you can do it!'
Then I heard it. The voice I thought I'd escaped by getting out of the hospital, the words I'd naively thought I would never hear again; and it told me to run. The whispers were as loud as they were quiet, and I jumped, slipped, and fell, because for a second, it was right behind me. My back hit the toilet behind me and I felt it ache, but it wasn't enough to stop that fucking devil on my shoulder from talking some more.
'Run'. 'He'll kill you'. 'Kill him first'. 'Don't trust him'. 'Run'. 'Run'. 'Run'.
I heard a bang on the door, and then I heard one behind me. The floor was shaking. Was the floor shaking? Was this an earthquake? It was louder. It wouldn't shut up. It wouldn't shut up, shut up shut up shut up I needed it to SHUT UP -
And then I was up, on my feet again, and my fist hit the clear glass of the mirror with a resonating crack of both my knuckles and the reflective surface. And then I punched it again. And again, and again. By the time I was done, there were shards of glass embedded in my fists, and the mirror was a mess of blood and cracks, but aside from my heavy breathing and the sound of tears dripping from my cheeks to the sink, it was quiet again.
I pulled my hand back, letting it fall to my side. Breathing deeply, I looked back at my damaged reflection, infected with the cracks of the glass that I couldn't help but think symbolized more than that.
This was rock bottom. And I didn't know if I was building a ladder or a shovel.
After several minutes, I exited the bathroom with a bandaged hand, thanks to the first aid kit I'd been lucky enough to find under the sink. My hand ached, and I wished deeply that I hadn't used my dominant one, but lamenting wasn't my first priority as I all but fell onto the bed I no longer found as comfortable as I did before. Curling into the blankets and myself, I stared at the wall and then the window as I considered what had just happened.
Not only had I grown accustomed to this life this quickly, but I'd grown accustomed to the mental health it had given me. I wasn't even thinking about the episodes I'd experienced so frequently at the hospital, because for the past week, there'd been nothing to prompt them. So on some level, I supposed I just thought they were gone.
But they weren't, and it was never clearer to me than right now that I didn't have the slightest clue of how to handle them. I needed to learn. I needed to be taught. I needed the hospital. I didn't want to be like this anymore.
And I didn't know what to do, because I was here. I'd been wrong and stupid and naive and now I was here.
I rolled over. My head hit cold, laminated plastic, and I picked up the piece of photo paper I'd failed to notice when I entered.
I was crying for a lot of reasons when I looked at the photo roll from the purikura booth, and the cutesy emojis drawn on them, and the heart now drawn around us both on the final picture.
In the next room, the man who had ignored my outburst and placed the pictures he knew would aggravate the aftermath was on his computer, dragging six files into an email. All of these were photos of me, clad in a yellow kerchief and at the warehouse meeting. Kida's presence was cropped out. Typing Mikado's email into the 'To' box, Izaya clicked 'send'.
"I lie on the floor, washed by nothing and hanging on. I cry at night. I am afraid of hearing voices, or a voice. I have come to the edge of the land. I could get pushed over." –Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye
