Bonds
Chapter 3 Tranquil
Aoko sighed heavily.
She was lying in her new bed, on her back, watching her raised arm and wondering why she couldn't go through with hitting Kudo.
Well, no, she didn't really wonder. She was no monster. Even if she sometimes had anger issues, she didn't hit defenseless people. Much less those who she knew wouldn't fight back.
He hadn't even raised his arms in defense.
Masumi and Kaito pulled her back quite forcefully but it wasn't like they could have prevented it. If she hadn't stopped herself she would have hit Kudo. Hard.
She could stay, that's what Kudo told her. She was still welcome, of course, if she decided to hit Hattori, or anyone for that matter, again, he'd throw her in that cell himself. She was supposed to apologize to Hattori as well. And then he said that she needed to take some anger management courses. He said he knew a doctor who'd be able to help her.
Well. Aoko didn't decline any of it but she neither approved of it. It wasn't like she had a choice, though, and she'd go through with it since Kudo also promised to talk Hattori into not pressing charges against her.
In the end she really didn't care either way. She'd do the therapy like Kudo proposed and she'd apologize to Hattori and she'd try her hardest to not hit anyone again.
Maybe there was still a small part of the old Aoko who did everything to please others. The incredibly nice and naïve Aoko who saw the world in black and whites. A thief was bad and the police was good. There was no in-between. No thief who could be stealing bread because he has nothing to eat and no police officer who could be killing people simply for the joy of it.
Aoko felt calm again. She couldn't remember the last time she could simply lie in bed and not have to be prepared for some kind of attack or outburst. No one bothered her here, no one expected things from her (well, apart from those mentioned before).
Slowly, she pushed down the sleeve on her right arm, revealing a long thick scar going from her wrist to her elbow. She usually covered it up, not liking the stares or worse, the questions. But right now, there was no one there. No one who'd demand an answer to something that was never any of their business.
With a ghostly touch she ran her finger across the scar. It felt as fresh as ever even if the scar was already about five years old. It didn't hurt but it hadn't back then, either. Not even when she had plunged the knife into her skin.
It had healed considerably well but the scar will probably never fully vanish, forever taunting her failed attempt at ending things once and for all.
She wondered if Kudo knew that she'd once been seeing a therapist. She'd even been prescribed antidepressants. She'd even taken them for a while. Until the side effects became too much and the therapist wasn't helping, either. That was when she decided that she didn't need any of it. She was better off on her own, anyway.
She hoped Kudo had someone else in mind and not that stupid guy who called himself a doctor. Well, she'd probably go anyway, just to humor Kudo in the very least but if he wanted things to get better (not that she actually believed that they might) he'd have to find someone competent for a change.
Sighing again, she let her hands fall down.
Back then wasn't much different from now. Her father had been devastated when he found out about her suicide attempt. She freely chose to go see the therapist to lessen his guilt but maybe he should have gone instead of her since he never seemed to get better anymore. Maybe, though, it had to do with the fact that she didn't get better, either but sometimes, Nakamori Aoko simply didn't want to see some things.
Maybe, if she told her father that she was seeing a new therapist, he'd get better now. Maybe it would help him if he saw that she tried to get her life back together again. Maybe it would help him recover if he saw that she was living with people who were actually on the right side of the law.
Maybe he'd be able to sleep again.
Turning on her side, Aoko faced the wall in front of her. It was a bleak white. Would Kudo mind if she painted it some color? Maybe blue, just like the name she was given. Or maybe black like that dark soul of hers. White was the color of purity and pure was the last attribute she'd describe herself with.
Or maybe she should choose a happy color once in a while, something like yellow or orange. Wasn't it supposed to suppress aggression or something? Maybe Kudo would appreciate it.
Pulling her sleeve back down so people didn't accidently see it (not that she could hide it forever, she knew that much but she preferred some other time for them to find out and ask stupid questions) Aoko tugged at her leather band. It was the only thing that she kept. The only thing that reminded her of her.
Closing her eyes and pulling her right arm to her chest, Aoko breathed in deeply.
It was nice to have some quiet but whenever the girl was alone and in no immediate danger, those thoughts always came back to her. They'd remind her of her failures, occupying her mind with such an intensity that she cannot help but start distracting herself. Those distractions, though, they always ended up in the worst ways possible because a simple book or movie could never get her mind off of the memories, the regret and the deep, deep pain that tried to suffocate her.
She'd curl in on herself, clutch her head, shut her eyes tight and hope and beg to stop seeing those things. Sometimes she'd let it because she couldn't help but feel that she deserved all that pain, all that torture. It was her punishment for failing like that.
Other times it was simply too much for her to bear and, mostly, she was close to ending things again and again but there was always someone or something stopping her and in the end she ended with other things which distracted her.
Thankfully, though, her door was slammed open which successfully got her out of the funk.
Startled, she jumped up, crouching into a fighting position to fight whoever lunged at her.
"Dammit Hattori, stay back!" came the annoyed voice of none other than the detective of the east and in her door stood none other than the detective of the west.
Well, he looked better than Aoko imagined.
His face wasn't swollen and he really looked like always. Of course, he was certainly still in pain but things could have been much worse. (She could have broken his jaw instead.)
Aoko visibly relaxed, jumped down from her bed and faced him with some distance (getting too close to him might have some unwanted effects as in he might try to punch her back).
Closing her eyes, she bowed deep. "I'm sorry, Hattori."
She sounded as if she meant it but both of them knew that she was only halfhearted about it. He deserved it. No matter what he said or did, he deserved it. Still, Kudo had made those conditions and she would be obedient (just this once).
"Now, accept the apology, Hattori". Kudo grumbled before hearing his footsteps surprisingly getting softer and softer the farther he went. Aoko didn't think he'd really leave her alone with Hattori after he saw what she was capable of. (He couldn't possibly trust her that much.)
"Che", Hattori muttered and left as well.
Aoko blinked, watching her feet firmly planted on the ground – there was no carpet, maybe she should get one. The parquet floor was nice beneath her feet, somehow raw and cold but at the same time earthly and soothing.
She wondered if she was going crazy.
After Aoko finally unpacked her things (though it didn't take long to unpack her five things), she sat down to do some homework. The incident with Hattori had successfully gotten her out of her thoughts so she could get some stuff done.
She had applied for a psychology degree and weirdly enough she'd been good enough and gotten accepted. That was two years ago and while she liked the subjects, they were quite hard, especially since she skipped most lectures and had to work it all out on her own. Aoko was clever enough to be able to understand all of it but it took her some time which she scarcely had.
Today, though, she was able to get half of an essay done which was due in a few days. Maybe she'd even attend tomorrow's classes. It was probably the best choice considering her new housemates who straight out hated her.
Stretching her tired muscles Aoko stood up and left her room. It was close to morning so she didn't think anyone would be awake at this time of night. However, she soon realized that in this house there was no such thing as normality.
Kudo was sitting at the dining table, a notebook in front of him, several papers scattered around it. He hadn't slept a wink and he honestly looked like it.
When Shinichi noticed the girl walking down the stairs, he looked up, surprised to find her awake.
"Nakamori-san", he nodded and closed the notebook shut. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"Something like that", she answered.
"You should eat something. When was the last time you ate, huh? I'm sure Ran left something in the fridge. Just help yourself."
Aoko sat down next to him, ignoring his talk about food, taking one paper into a hand and observed it.
"It's some cases we couldn't solve", he informed her gravely. "I think like there is a link but I can't seem to find it. It's all pieces of a puzzle, probably the same puzzle but I can't seem to be able to put it together."
The paper Aoko held was about a girl, age 18, Tamura Nako. Certainly she'd been a pretty girl, a bright one with a future ahead of her which was brutally taken away from her.
"Ah, that reminds me, Nakamori-san. How did you know about the victim's feelings?"
Aoko put the paper back on the table, fighting the urge to vomit. Thinking about Kudo's question helped her to calm down again.
"It'll sound crazy."
He watched her like a hawk. "I think I saw my share of craziness. I doubt there's something that might make me doubt you."
Aoko arched an eyebrow but didn't question it any further. "Whenever I touch a dead person I can see or feel their last moments. It always varies. Sometimes I'm put in their bodies, watching the person they know or not kill them, sometimes it's just a feeling, cold or terror, sometimes it's just memories. People usually feel something when committing suicide, as well but sometimes they don't. It always differs but the challenge in convicting the murderer often lies more within finding evidence than finding out who the murderer is."
Shinichi looked honestly interested in her story. "Is that with everyone like that? If I for example touched you, could you tell what I think?"
Aoko shook her head. "No, I don't think so. It's mostly just with dead people. I don't know why, though. Sometimes, but I've experienced it just once or twice so far, when people are overwhelmed with emotion and it doesn't matter what kind it is, and they touch me I get to feel it, too. But as I said that's pretty rare."
Shinichi nodded, the gears in his head turning. "So that is how you helped out Megure-keibu before, huh?"
Aoko shrugged. "I guess. But I never did much, I just directed them towards the murderer if I knew who it was. Most of those guys are really smart and they were always able to figure it out themselves."
Kudo nodded again. "Though I do think that you did help them quite considerably, even Megure-keibu noticed that much. Anyway, have you given any thought to what I proposed before?"
Aoko watched Shinichi watching her. He was wide awake, no more sleepiness hanging around him. His sharp eyes were fixated on her, probably counting how many breaths she took.
She turned away from him and started tugging at her leather band. She knew it was a bad habit she did whenever she didn't feel quite at ease. "I did."
"Hattori won't press any charges against you and I don't think he'll provoke you again. But since he's Hattori I can't guarantee he won't do anything. Kazuha-chan was pretty angry and she'll need time to calm down. I'm not going to lecture you just, maybe, restrain from engaging in conversations with those two."
Aoko stood up to get a glass of water. She'd actually not eaten since getting out of the hospital but she was used to skipping meals. She knew it wasn't healthy and it wouldn't do her any good, not when she needed to keep her physical health but there were times when she just couldn't get anything down.
She liked the design of the kitchen. There was the counter on the wall side with the fridge and cabinets. Opposite of it was a second counter with the oven. It was freely standing in the middle of the room, not pushed to any wall and behind it was something of a table with chairs to sit on so if you cooked and someone wanted to stay close, they could.
It was really spacey and nice. Aoko liked it very much, so much that she'd definitely cook something sometime.
"Glasses and cups are on the right side. On the left are the plates. All of them in the higher cupboards."
Aoko nodded gratefully, though not caring that he might not see her appreciation but that was another thing she didn't care about.
Finding a glass, she filled it with water and went back to sit next to Kudo.
"So? Will you go see a therapist?" he asked somewhat antsy.
"Say, tantei-san. What exactly do you hope to achieve by that?" Turning towards him she fixated him with a questioning look.
"You're mentally ill, Nakamori-san. That's what I came to believe since I met you. Punching someone to the degree as to dislocating his jaw just because he called you a name is not healthy behavior. I believe talking to an expert will help you."
"Ne, tantei-san, you do know that I saw a therapist before, right? I'm sure there is a medical file about me and I'm pretty sure you know everything about me."
"In fact, I do. But I promise not to ask any questions even if I am quite curious to know the whys. Still, I know about your previous counseling sessions and I'll introduce you to someone who is great in that field. Of course, it'll be for naught if you don't cooperate."
Aoko shrugged. "It's not like I have a choice." She sounded dull even to herself.
"Attending but not really trying is not going to help much, either."
Aoko watched him with a doubtful look. "I study psychology; I could very well counsel myself."
"You know that's not possible."
Aoko sighed, pinching her nose in frustration. "Well, it's not and having me attend the therapy is all you can ask of me, Kudo-san."
"Alright", he agreed. "That's all I'll ask for."
"Why are you doing all this?" She asked all of a sudden, surprising herself more than him.
Dammit you idiot, what the hell are you even asking?!
"Never mind. I don't actually want to know", she hastily responded, her body in full defense mode.
"Alright, but once you'd like to know just ask me."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep well at night."
Shut up already, idiot!
With that she stood up and hastily returned to her room, her still full glass long forgotten.
"Not closing your door, this is unlike you, Aoko."
"What do you want, Kaito? And don't even get me started on what is like and unlike me. You don't know a single thing about me, not anymore."
"Then I'll just get to know you again. How about we start with you taking some nutrition inside that body of yours."
"Kaito, it's the dead of the night, go to bed. I really have no nerves for this right now."
Aoko was lying face down in her bed and Kaito was leaning against her doorframe, watching her intently, a glass inside his hand. Pushing himself from the door, Kaito walked over to his, to him, still friend. He put the glass down on her night stand and kneeled next to her.
"Did you eavesdrop on Kudo and me?"
"I wouldn't call it eavesdropping if you didn't notice me sitting on the couch."
Aoko froze. What? Kaito had been sitting on the couch? She never noticed there was someone else with them inside that room. Now that was concerning.
She could explain things with tiredness or maybe she let her guard down around here (way too soon, she's not been here for a full day yet), maybe she just let her guard down around Kudo and that was why she didn't notice Kaito.
Or maybe she was still so used to his presence, so at ease that she tuned him out completely.
She turned her head his way, watching him crossly. "What do you want, Kaito?"
He gently touched her cheek, his face unreadable. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" she asked, her voice laced with annoyance.
"I shouldn't have left you like that, back then." He looked like he seriously regretted it. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back the time."
"Yeah, well, there are things I shouldn't have done, either and yet, here we are. Crying about it won't change anything."
"You're right." With that he pulled away from her, stood back up and left.
Aoko sighed, all of a sudden being exhausted beyond belief. That's certainly not how she expected her night to turn out. Especially not so calm. She'd expected a raging Hattori and Toyama, a scolding Kudo and maybe Mouri, a judging Kuroba but most certainly not this.
Deciding to get back up and read a book, Aoko ended her night for today.
(She wouldn't admit to anyone and much less to herself that his touch had felt nice, his fingers warm and soft, softer than hers, and once he took his hand away, she felt instantly cold but she'd never admit it had anything to do with him. No. It was just the room. She was only cold because she was tired. Yeah.)