We never really gave him much credit. We never really saw him for what he could have- no, what he was back then.
But we do now.
Now that the damage is done. Now that the shadows make us flinch. Now that he left us, leaving in his place the cold Shinigami in our friends shell.
We only saw the hyperactive boy. But he saw more, so much more. He saw the fragile spider webs woven around us connecting us to each other and the world outside. He saw their faults. He saw the pressure points. He saw how those fragile strands held our remaining sanity together.
He knew what tones and what words could make us doubt ourselves, he knew which strand to break to make us doubt the others.
Silence became his weapon of torture. His words became cruel and deadly.
What brought this on you ask? We're not sure. He came back from a mission, and our lives have been hell ever since. We haven't even had any missions to take us away from this not-so-safe house.
Maybe… so many maybes.
Quatre noticed first. He always notices things like this. He approached him after dinner if I remember correctly. WuFei and Heero were accompanying me outside getting fire wood. We returned to find a Cheshire grin on Duo and a sobbing Quatre. Neither will talk about the events leading up to where we found them.
Quatre changed that day. He's dissipated into a ghost, haunting the safe house with his tear tacks and his candy cane arms. Neither of which we pretend not to see.
Heero was the first to snap at Duo. Big surprise there. I cant even recall what happened to ignite their tempers. Angry shouts from Heero is all I can remember. I don't think I heard anything from Duo now that I reflect… but I digress. Heero shut up. Next morning at breakfast he ha a black eye. I remember that clearly. After all, who knew the perfect soldier could bruise? He made on comment, and no one pressed.
Soon after that he joined our candy cane ghost in their nightly haunts. Avoiding contact and curled up in the corner was how we grew accustomed to seeing him.
Still no missions.
By this time Wufei and I were growing concerned about the other pilots behavior.
Not that we did anything.
Days went by. Then WuFei snapped.
WuFei never liked Maxwell much. Okay, that was an understatement. But still it was an odd thing to observe over breakfast. Quatre and Heero kept eating as if they couldn't hear WuFei blame their condition on the smiling man.
WuFei didn't shut up as Duo politely excused him self, but soon after he leaned down whispering in his ear he went quiet. I only caught one word. 'Nakatu'
He excused him self and went to his room. The sent of incense would waft out for the next few weeks as the house got a third ghost. A praying boy before a shrine.
Duo just stood there though. Smiling at me. It unnerved me so I left to retire my room. I had to prepare a report. Something was not okay. The Dr.'s needed to know.
That night I never got around to typing my report.
That night started a ritual. One for just Duo- no, Shinigami and I.
When I look back on it I can only come to three points.
One. Duo was a skin shed by the man in my room. This man is Shinigami.
Two. This is my punishment. I'm not sure what I did, but I know he is here to torture me.
Three. I have become the fourth ghost in this cursed house. I exist only at night, only in his arms.
Its always the same. The same punishment for me. He comes into my room at night, and for what seems to be hours he sits in the corner. He doesn't talk. Just sits, smiling at me.
When I acknowledge him- and I always do, he'd lure me to him with cruel words.
Before him I never would have guessed the expanse of my masochistic tendencies.
The doors opening now, its time to begin. The darkness in my room hides the torturing shadow from my view, but I know he's there.
I know I'm considered a quiet person by most people, hell, anyone who's served with me, but his quiet demeanor makes me want to scream. Instead I just whisper my nightly plea to him.
"Please, just go…" It's quiet but soon the silence breaks.
"Stupid Nanashi, I am going nowhere." I still flinch every time he calls me this. Same thing every night. Same inflicted self hatred.
"I'm Trowa."
"Nanashi." I rarely fight back past this. I know how useless it is.
Silence.
"Come Nanashi. Come to me." Wordless and spinelessly I kick my covers off and move off my tattered bed.
I can see him in the darkness now. I can see the violet eyes shining in a feral way.
Do I hate him for what he made me into?
I'm not sure.
But I do know that deaths embrace addictive.
Shinigami, what have you done?