Ah, thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! It always makes my heart do a little dance when I see them in my inbox, so thank you again! This chapter gets pretty heavy with the metaphors, so I hope you don't roll your eyes too much at my dumb attempts at being poetic, ahaha.
Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.
The Duality Of Man Surely Is Strange
How young is too young, do you think?
Some say that we must spend our lives protecting the innocence of children. They are too inexperienced to know any better, and that makes it the adult's responsibility to ensure their purity is preserved for as long as possible.
But why?
What happens when a child is already exposed to the harsh realities of the world? Are they a basket case, then?
What does purity mean, anyway? Is it a quality, or is it a tangible feeling? What defines it?
"Mama?" a tiny voice calls, one that could definitely be labelled as "pure."
"Yes, baby?"
"Is there something wrong with me?" the small girl asks, her eyes focused on the smooth skin on her knee where a deep gash should have been. Five minutes ago while on a leisurely walk with her mother, she had tripped over a stray pebble and fallen to the ground. She thought it would be just like the cartoons that she watched with enraptured eyes every Saturday morning. After she fell, big, fat tears would stream from her comically large eyes until her loving mother stuck a bandaid on her knee and kissed it better, and all would be well.
Except she did not cry big, fat tears, and there was no boo-boo on her knee to slap a bandaid on even though she knew that, by the basic laws of nature that even a child could comprehend, there should have been. She had distinctly felt the gravel pebbles that lined the jagged path cut into her skin, but there was no scratch, scab, or even a bruise to prove it had happened.
Her mother looked up from her knitting in slight surprise. "Of course not, darling. Why would you think there's something wrong with you?"
The girl stared down at her lap, swinging her small legs back and forth. "Today, when I tripped and fell, I didn't get hurt, remember? Even though I should have." A small lump formed in her throat. "And yesterday, too, when I was at school..."
The knitting needles made a sound as they clicked together. "What happened at school?"
"I fell from the monkey bars, but I didn't get hurt, and then a mean girl called me a freak," the small voice said, as if the words were difficult to pronounce. She finally gazed up at her mother with big, questioning eyes, unmarred by the inner sadness that she felt. "Am I really a freak?"
Her mother sighed, perhaps out of pity, and gently reached forward. With steady fingers, she took her daughter by the hands and lifted her up into her lap. As she began rubbing soothing circles into her child's back, she spoke.
"You're not a freak, dear. You're just a little different from the other kids, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"But what about you and Papa and Aki-nee? You're not like me, either."
A tender smile graced the older woman's face as she pat her daughter on the head. "We're all different, Kei-chan, but that's alright. Just know that no matter how many times people may call you bad things, Mama and Papa and Aki-nee will always love you, and that will never change."
The girl seemed satisfied by this answer, and a peaceful solitude filled the air. After a few moments, she spoke up again.
"Mama, do you think I'll ever meet someone just like me?"
"No."
The girl seemed taken aback by her mother's blunt answer—taken aback and also slightly hurt. "W-What?"
Seeing the betrayed expression on her daughter's face, she laughed lightly. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Kei-chan. It's true that you'll never meet someone exactly like you, but that's because it's impossible for anyone to meet someone exactly like them."
"What do you mean?"
Her mother smiled, and there was no ill-intent hiding behind the gentle upturn of her lips. "When you grow older, you will see that everyone is very different. Now, you might want to find someone who's exactly the same, but in the end, all that matters is that you find someone who understands you. You'll probably be completely different people, but that's okay. As long as they accept the bad things and love the good things, then you will be happy."
This sentiment seemed a bit inappropriate to say to a child, as the wording was a little too complicated for elementary levels of comprehension, but the young girl understood every sentence spoken in the song-like voice of her mother. Her parents' friends, when they gathered for monthly dinner parties, had always called her "mature for her age," chuckling through the words over a thin glass of clearish-yellowish substance that had a sour smell.
The girl buried her face into her mother's shoulder, her small hands tightly clutching slips of her silken blouse. Her mother chuckled softly and began patting her back in a rhythmic pattern, resuming her knitting as she quietly hummed a familiar tune.
This was unconditional love.
Many years in the future, on a day that she would rather forget, the girl would think back to this interaction and wonder about which she truly preferred.
Did she want unconditional love, where the people she cared about loved her completely and absolutely, despite her blinding faults?
Or did she want true understanding, where someone, anyone, took the time to absorb her faults and her graces in turn and fully unravel why, why, why she felt this way?
Which was better for her?
Which was better for them?
Too many questions, not enough answers.
Too many questions...
Kei's chest heaved as her legs finally came to a stop, a lingering burn making them tremble slightly. She was standing in the middle of an empty crosswalk, a red splotch amongst the plain, white stripes that marked the asphalt.
It was midday, and work shifts were ending.
Soon, cars would be speeding down this very road. Soon, people would fill up the streets of Ikebukuro, maybe on their way to impromptu karaoke with their work buddies, maybe not. Either way, people would be here, and they would see the girl in a high school uniform with the right side of her face painted red with her own blood, and they would wonder how it was possible for her to stain her skin so badly without having any visible injuries.
That was too many people, and—technically—she was still running.
Kei calmly pulled her cellphone from her jacket pocket and flipped it open, staring at it blankly.
Make the call, her mind shouted to herself. You have nothing to lose.
The processes of her mind had always been analytical, always asking what she had to gain, what she had to lose. However, the scales were tipped now—but they had always been unbalanced from the beginning, hadn't they?
In an attempt to grasp some semblance of control, her conscience organizes her options again. It pushes all the stones off of the drooping side of the scale while the other cup lays bare. In this situation, there is nothing to gain, and there is also nothing to lose—well, it would be safe to say that she had already lost.
The golden scale sways back and forth, momentarily unsure of its purpose without the added pressure of weight. It was no longer a matter of whether or not her decisions would turn out in her favor—based on the day's disastrous events, Kei had already determined that the universe was definitely not on her side right now.
And so she asks herself, "What do I want?"
She answers her own question as she clicks through the contacts in her phone, stopping at one name.
The phone rings once, twice, three times before it is answered. There is silence from the other side of the call, but Kei knows that someone is listening.
"I am sorry to bother you, but I..." She clutches the phone just a little bit tighter, forcing her next words out through tight lips, as if she cannot bear the vulnerability it will expose within her. "I just... I just need someone to talk to."
No answer came, but Kei understood. She quietly snapped her phone shut and tucked it back into her jacket pocket before she began to walk again, this time with a definite destination in mind. The toes of her shoes dragged along the ground as she walked, further emphasizing her crestfallen demeanor. Her legs were beginning to grow tired, but she knew that she couldn't afford to stop moving. She was still running away, just like she always did—away from him, and him, and herself, too.
Fortunately, the city at that moment held a rare quiet—a quiet that Kei was, for once, actually grateful for. The clear atmosphere allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts, which had previously been an unorganized amalgam of anxiety.
This is not the end of the world, she told herself. Running from one's own self is an impossible endeavor, and this day finally helped her realize that fact. It was a race that you couldn't win. The best course of action would be to accept your unavoidable loss, recover, and move on from your failure. It was a cruel and difficult process, but that isn't to say that Kei was not already a cruel and difficult person.
That's what she believed, anyway.
As Kei began approaching the long shadow cast by the apartment building that she had become so familiar with, she contemplated whether or not she really needed to talk to anyone after all. She then decided that she had already walked all this way, and it would be a waste of her time if she didn't even do anything.
Ah, yes, analytical as always.
This part of herself was the smooth surface of the water, the part that she allowed people to see, the part that rippled when touched, creating perfect, clear rings—restrained, calming, unaffected.
It would be rude if I called and didn't even come, she thought to herself as she gazed at the building's ominous entrance. She repeats this phrase, as if attempting to convince herself that she's merely being cordial, that her reciprocative nature is the reason for this impromptu visit. She ignores the emotions that are driving her actions, buried leagues and leagues below the rippling surface of the blue water.
It is in these deep and untouched crevices of her mind where the id festers, thrashing wildly against the tight holds of the ego and the super-ego alike. Here, in this forbidden place, is where Kei conceals her what, her why, and even her who for reasons that she doesn't know herself.
A shiny, black car bumbles by, and the driver momentarily gazes at the spot where someone should have been. They only stop to look for a second, but in that solitary moment, they wonder why there is a splotch of blood on the pavement.
Celty wasn't quite sure what to make of the sudden phone call. To be fair, she had said that if Kei ever needed someone to listen, she would be there—but even someone as otherworldly as Celty had very human feelings. At that moment, those human feelings were fretting about how cryptic Kei had sounded over the phone.
She seemed a little off... I hope she's alright, the Dullahan thinks to herself as she watches steam flow from the mouth of the electric teapot. The call had certainly been sudden, but gosh darn herself if she didn't at least try to be hospitable!
The short ring of the doorbell momentarily pulled Celty from her thoughts, and she made her way over to the entrance. Shinra was off in his room studying for an English quiz that he had the next day (because even though he may be a master of anatomy and biology, literature was not his best subject), and since Kei only seemed to want to speak with her, Celty thought it best to leave him to his own devices.
However, upon seeing the state that Kei was in, she immediately rethought her decision.
[What on earth happened to you?!]
The right side of Kei's face was caked in dried blood, some of it staining the white undershirt of her school uniform. Before Celty could fly into a panic and call for Shinra or (even worse) an ambulance, Kei quickly attempted to reassure her to the best of her ability.
"Do not worry, Celty-san, the wound has already healed," she said, her words curt and hurried.
Seeing that she did not want to elaborate, Celty quickly ushered her in, her fingers flying as she hastily typed a response. [But still, the injury must have been pretty bad for you to end up in this state! How did this even happen in the first place?]
Kei didn't answer at first, instead tearing a paper towel from the roll sitting next to the sink and soaking it under the tap before rubbing at the blood on her face—it seemed like she wanted to prolong the inevitability of speaking for as long as possible. But, eventually, the crisp whiteness of the paper towel became stained with maroon, too. Another thing she had ruined.
"I was out in town with Shizuo-san when a group of gang members attempted to fight him," she said, her voice a monotone whisper. "One of them tried to throw a knife at him, so I..."
Kei trailed off quietly, momentarily remembering Shizuo's expression when he saw her. That look of shock, one that she should have been very used to seeing—she didn't know why, but witnessing that same expression on his face hurt much more.
Wordlessly, she brought her hand up to her face, pressing it against her phantom eye. She should never have let her guard down, not when she knew that Izaya was dancing behind the scenes like a morbid circus performer.
She cursed her utter foolishness. If only she had been more careful, she could have avoided this completely...
No, it had been futile from the beginning. All she had been doing was procrastinating the inevitable. She should have recognized that fact—it would have saved everyone a lot more trouble.
But was it so wrong of her to wish for a peaceful and normal life?
Noticing Kei's tense silence, Celty chose her next words a bit more carefully.
[He saw you, didn't he?]
She received an almost imperceptible nod in response as Kei clutched her hands tighter in her lap, while her face gave no inkling as to whatever inner thoughts she may have had in that moment. Celty's hand hesitated over her phone's keypad, her inability to read Kei's blank expression making it difficult for her to formulate any sort of comforting response.
Seeing the hand that held the PDA wilt slightly, Kei slowly stood up and bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, Celty-san. I know that I requested to speak with you, but I see that I have only caused you trouble. I will leave."
Celty's fingers practically flew over her phone as she rushed to write a response before Kei could run away. She quickly stood up and grabbed Kei's shoulder with one hand while the other hastily held up her phone.
[Wait, you don't have to leave! You haven't been causing me any trouble at all!]
More rapid tapping sounds.
[After all, I did say that if you ever needed help, you could come to me. If you want to talk, that's what I'm here for.]
Kei's eyes widened ever so slightly, but her momentary surprise was soon replaced by a sullen look. "I... I cannot bring myself to speak about it, though."
[Well, you're clearly upset about something. Let's start there, okay?]
A tense silence filled the space between them. Celty's hand was still on Kei's shoulders, as if she were taming a wild animal that could dash away at any moment.
She was not very far from the truth.
Eventually, she was able to coax Kei back into her seat without a fuss. Seeing that Kei needed some time to herself to think, Celty busied herself in the kitchen, using the dark shadows that curled around her legs to begin preparing some tea.
When she returned to the living room with a cup of tea and a wet hand towel, Celty could see that Kei's posture had softened slightly, as the sharp shoulders that once stood at attention were now relaxed.
Placing the cup on a cork board coaster, Celty handed the towel to Kei, who took it from her wordlessly. It was after she timidly brought the cup up to her lips that she finally spoke.
"I am afraid."
Celty waited a moment before writing a response.
[Why?]
She looked away, averting her eyes from the yellow, cat-eared helmet that her company wore. "I do not know." Taking another small sip from her tea, she continued.
"When he saw me, he looked so shocked. I cannot even imagine what he must have been thinking." Her hands trembled slightly, clutching the teacup just a bit tighter. "All of the other people, too. They were all staring at me, as if I was some kind of monster..."
[Is that why you're upset? Because all of those people saw you?]
Kei shook her head slowly. "No, it was not that. I have become used to that expression by now. It's just that..." She looked down at her cup, only to see her own darkened eyes mirrored in the swirling tea. "Seeing Shizuo-san look at me the same way... For some reason, it hurt much more."
The words came out short and staggered, as if it pained her to say it aloud. Why was she acting so weak? She should have expected something like this to happen—for her to react in such a volatile way was pathetic.
Celty's hands dropped into her lap, unsure of what to do or say. She knew in her heart that Shizuo was a good person, and the idea that he would be disgusted or horrified by someone like Kei didn't seem plausible at all. After all, if that were the case, then that would only open up more questions about her own friendship with him.
But at the same time, she didn't think it would be appropriate for her to speak for someone in their place. She couldn't read Shizuo's thoughts nor could she predict his actions, so trying to comfort Kei in his stead didn't seem like the right thing to do.
Kei looked so sad, though (well, to be honest, she looked completely normal, but for a person without a face of her own, Celty was fairly good at reading other people's moods), so she couldn't, in good conscience, just let this situation go.
Lifting her hand up, Celty quietly tapped out another message.
[I understand.]
Frowning slightly, Kei shook her head. "I'm sorry, Celty-san, but I surely do not expect you to—"
Before she could continue, Celty calmly dropped her PDA on the seat beside her and brought both of her hands up to her yellow helmet.
Kei's eyes widened ever so slightly, perhaps in awe, as the woman sitting across from her slowly removed her headgear, a plume of black smoke tapering where a head should have been.
I don't...
Tearing her eyes away from the supernatural spectacle, Kei barely registered the message that Celty held out to her.
[I do understand, Amane-san.]
An otherworldly silence fell between them as the two women, who ended up being more alike than they could have imagined, regarded each other with unclouded gazes, seeing the other for what they really were for the first time. After a moment had passed, Kei opened her mouth slightly—perhaps to say something, or maybe just to gasp.
Either way, she would never remember what she had wanted to say in that moment, because her mind went blank at the next words she heard.
"What do you want, Shizuo-kun? I was in the middle of studying!"
The muffled voice came from the other room, its irritated intonation matching what one would expect from a student that had been loudly interrupted in the middle of his dutiful studying.
"Wait, what happened? Well, what are you calling me for?"
Kei immediately tensed up, her fingers gripping the cup so tightly that a hairline crack traveled up its side. What?
"Why would I know where she is?" Then, a bit more meekly, "Okay, okay, I'll ask."
A few seconds later, Shinra popped his head into the living room, his hand pressed against the phone's speaker. "Hey, Celty, Amane-san called you, right? You wouldn't happen to know where she—"
In the middle of his sentence, Shinra's eyes finally fell on the person in question, who was currently attempting to send him a mental message through intense eye contact alone.
No, don't—!
Either Shinra couldn't understand pleading eye conversations, or he was just plain stupid, because he merely blinked in the face of Kei's glare and paused for a moment before holding the phone up to his ear again.
"Ah, Shizuo-kun, you're in luck. She's actually here right now, if you want to—hey, wait, Amane-san! Where are you going?"
In the midst of Shinra carelessly blabbing to Shizuo on the phone, Kei's body had fallen limp. The porcelain cup dropped against the cut edges of the coffee table, shattering the painted ceramic into thousands of pastel pieces. Her body seemed to move on its own, forcing her up on her feet and racing to the hallway before anyone could even attempt to stop her.
The loud sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the apartment, interrupted by the increasingly disgruntled voice on the other end of the call.
Even now, she could not stop running.
Shinra stood at the corner of the biology classroom, eating a packaged rice ball as he idly stared through the window. He watched as Shizuo bat away his assailants with a "do not cross" sign, an explosion of dirt and debris erupting from the athletic field (as well as a couple bodies flying out from the dust plume).
There was some irony in that, although maybe in a different way. Something like, "Do not cross Heiwajima Shizuo!"
But of course, there are always those who disregard street signs and the clear warnings they give. And right now, those people were getting their just deserts for their mistakes.
It had been a few days since Kei had fled from Shinra's apartment (for what reason, he didn't know). Whatever happened, it seemed to be enough to warrant her avoidance of school, as she failed to turn up to class ever since that event. When he tried to ask her sister about it, all Akira had said was that she wasn't feeling well, and that only made him consider if it was even possible for someone like her to get sick at all. His thoughts didn't dwell on that, though.
On a completely unrelated note, Shizuo was even crankier than usual, and the amount of daily fights he went through ended up doubling as a result. (Shinra had estimated this based on the increasing amount of broken scalpels and needles he went through trying to suture his friend's iron-clad skin.)
In addition, Shizuo's evident irritation made it even more of a tightrope walk to talk to him than it already was. Yeah, that seemed like an avid comparison. Wait, actually, it was more like one end of the tightrope was lit on fire while the other end was slowly being whittled down with sandpaper.
Who was the fire, and who was the sandpaper?
Shinra felt his stomach sinking as he realized that he had a fair idea of which was which, although more out of exhaustion than fear or worry with everything happening around him.
Is this correlation or causation? Shinra thought to himself as Shizuo sent another row of delinquents flying, letting out a tremendous, lion-like roar that echoed around the campus.
Shinra sighed and ate the last bite of his rice ball. If Shizuo kept getting into fights like this, he'd end up running out of scalpels to use.
Just as he crumpled the food wrapper in his hand and prepared to throw it away, a familiar voice came from behind him.
"Looks like that beast is on quite a rampage, huh? Wonder why that is."
Shinra turned around expectantly, not the least bit surprised by the sudden entrance. He greeted the newcomer with a friendly smile.
"Hey, what's up, Izaya-kun?"
"Nothing much," was his simple answer. Then, as they both observed Shizuo tear through another wave of thugs (one in awe, the other in disgust), he asked, "Shinra, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to Kei-chan, would you? She's been gone for a few days."
There was no point in asking—he already knew for himself. One could say that he was simply interested in hearing Shinra's response.
"Nope, no idea. She just ran out, and I haven't seen her since. Amane-senpai said that she wasn't feeling well, which I guess makes sense," he chirped, seemingly not worried about the strange situation at all.
"Would you think it has anything to do with that monster's temper being shorter than usual?" Izaya asked with a smirk, an animalistic growl coming from outside just as the words left his mouth. The sound grated against his nerves, making it difficult for him to retain his ever-present smile.
Shinra shrugged and linked his arms behind his back, turning to face him with an inquisitive expression. "I don't know, maybe."
Another loud shout accompanied an even louder crashing sound, echoed by a chorus of terrified shrieks. Shinra walked around one of the lab tables, observing a translucent anatomical model as he asked, "Why are you so interested in her, anyway?"
"Hm?"
Shinra didn't break his gaze from the model, his smile falling. However, his expression wasn't threatening—it was more like one of genuine curiosity. "You seem to talk about her a lot. I know you said that you love all humans, but it seems like all you're doing is making her life more difficult. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't really call that 'love.'"
Izaya paused, absentmindedly tracing the outline of a crude drawing on one of the desks before responding.
"Are you saying you're going to try and stop me?"
"I didn't say that. It's just that I've never seen you take so much interest in a specific human before. It's kinda unexpected, to be honest," Shinra said with a short laugh, absently scratching the back of his head as he peered at Izaya.
This time, Izaya met his friend's gaze and took a moment to think through his response. It was an earnest question, and it wasn't like he had anything to lose by answering. "Dangle the carrot," as they say.
"Well, you know how wedding vows go? 'For better or for worse'—I guess you could say it's a little bit like that. I simply want to see Kei-chan in all kinds of scenarios, whether they're good or bad. Is that so wrong?"
Smiling cheekily, Shinra wagged his finger in Izaya's face. "Oh, I get it now! You're in love with her, aren't you?"
Izaya regarded his friend with a slightly irritated look. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Shinra blatantly ignored his question, choosing to continue with his clearly misguided tangent.
"And it's not that 'unconditional love for humankind' kinda love, is it? You're in love-love kinda love, like the beautifully poignant love that I share with my dear Celty! Ah, finally, we have something fun to talk about!"
Izaya pressed his lips into a thin line and bopped Shinra on the head with a rolled-up magazine. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Shinra. Besides," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets, "I just admitted that I wanted to see Kei react to bad situations. Are you not going to question that?"
"Well, I can't really tell you if it's wrong or not," Shinra sighed, "because I know that whatever I say won't change your mind." He peered at Izaya, a slightly worried expression on his face—a rare show of sympathy. "But still, Amane-san is a nice person. I don't really think she deserves this kind of treatment."
Izaya grinned as he toyed with one of the pendulums that sat on the teacher's unoccupied desk, watching it swing back and forth. "Kei-chan isn't any specific kind of person. That's what I find so interesting about her."
"You think she's interesting?"
Izaya sighed tiredly. "I thought I've made that obvious by now."
"Well, yeah, but..." Shinra trailed off, trying to find the appropriate words to address his concerns without painting himself into a corner. "If you think she's so interesting, then how come you and Shizuo-kun can't get along?"
Izaya frowned. "In what possible way does that monster relate to this at all?"
Shrugging carelessly, Shinra waved his hands as he attempted to reason through his statement. "Well, they're both pretty similar, since they both have some kind of strange power unlike any other human, so I thought—"
"I wouldn't insult her by comparing her to that single-celled protozoan," Izaya cut in, his tone unintentionally sharp. Shinra only grinned.
"Oh? Well, if she's not a monster, then what is she to you?"
He thought for a moment. Then, a calm smile stretched his face once again.
"Shinra, do you know what a homunculus is?"
Shinra tapped his chin in thought. "I think I've heard of it. Isn't that a man-made human or something?"
The pendulum swings.
"Not exactly." Izaya turned to face his friend, still retaining that eerily calm smile. "The homunculus was first mentioned in the writings of the famous alchemist, Paracelsus, as a man-made representation of a small human being."
Shinra blinked, gazing at Izaya incredulously. "Wait, are you seriously calling Amane-san a miniature human?" Chuckling lightly, he said, "That's a little hard to imagine. For starters, she's not even mini-sized!"
Izaya waved his finger, as if he were a teacher chastising an elementary school student. "No, no, you're thinking too literally. It's more like, metaphorically, she's an undeveloped human," he corrected, his answer no less cryptic than it was before. "Her emotions are hidden, and each one is new to her. Just as her reactions to things are restrained, a homunculus is imprisoned as a dwarf in a flask, unable to escape its glass cage."
"Wow, you're really into alchemy all of a sudden. It's actually kinda creepy."
"It's not that I'm interested in alchemical sciences," Izaya responded, paying no heed to Shinra's underlying insult. "It's more like I want to break the bottle, and to see what she does with the shattered pieces." He toyed with the untouched science equipment as he spoke, absentmindedly rubbing the lip of an Erlenmeyer flask with his fingertip. "And once her barrier is broken, I want to see how she will react to the world—or, more realistically, how the world will react to her." He looked up at the ceiling and shrugged, although the motion seemed more brazen than careless. "You know, I guess you could say I'm doing an experiment."
"One where you try to mentally break somebody?" Shinra commented wryly. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
Izaya smiled in the face of his friend's skeptic gaze. "Oh, I didn't say that I wanted to break her. That was what I originally planned, but I've changed my mind since then. You see, I hypothesize that once the flask has been broken, Kei-chan will just absorb the atmosphere—assimilate, if you will—and take on its qualities as her own."
He spoke with a childlike excitement, as if the very idea was more entertaining to him than the actual process of it.
"Is that so?" Shinra questioned curiously. "Well, what are you gonna do if she takes on Shizuo-kun's qualities? They're together a lot, you know. Are you just gonna give up and call her a monster, too?" His tone was teasing, borderline challenging—a tone that seemed inappropriate for a conversation of this caliber.
Laughing, Izaya shook his head. "Yeah, that probably won't happen, considering her situation now." He looked out the window, frowning with disdain as his mortal enemy performed feats of monstrous strength that one would only expect from an action movie. "But you have to wonder, if Kei-chan is exposed to the most horrid, most vile, most disgusting parts of humanity..."
Turning to Shinra, he smiled, and this time, there was no hidden evil behind it. There was only pure glee.
"What form will she take?"
"Kei-chan, don't you think it's been long enough?"
Kei woke up at 3:00 in the morning that day. She had been absent for almost a week, and for the majority of that time, she had been doing nothing but sleeping her day away and occasionally finishing the homework she had missed—and that was only when she had the motivation to do anything at all.
After she had woken up at the ungodly hours of dawn, she decided that she might as well start her day, busying herself with making a cup of tea.
It was 6:00 in the morning now. She had been "busying" herself for almost three hours, and up until that moment, she had been without distraction.
Unfortunately, Akira had noticed her sister frozen in place for the past fifteen minutes, standing next to the sink with a spoon clutched in one hand while the other held a mug in midair. Her hair was messy and unkempt, and the oversized sweatshirt she wore ghosted past the back of her thighs. Even now, after Akira's voice cut into the stale air, she did not move a muscle.
"Please, come back to school. Everyone's asking where you've been," Akira pleaded, hoping that maybe this time, out of the hundred times she'd asked, her sister would finally listen.
It ended up being just like those other hundred times.
"I'm fine. I'll be there tomorrow."
It had been that same excuse every time. A hundred was too many, and Akira was fed up. She clenched her fists, figuratively bracing herself for the verbal onslaught she was about to unload.
"What's going on, Kei-chan? Ever since that day you were out with Heiwajima, you've been avoiding school. Why? What happened that was so terrible that it forced you to act like this—"
SNAP!
Akira flinched back, her eyes widening as Kei's thumb hovered over the split half of the spoon in her right hand. Dropping the empty mug into the sink, Kei gripped the marbled edges until her knuckles turned deathly pale.
"Just go to school, Akira," she muttered darkly.
She hesitated.
"Go."
Sucking in a breath, Akira stood still in the dining room, stuck between wanting to smack some sense into Kei and also wanting to wrap her up in a hug and scare away all of her worries. The air was electric between them—one wrong move, one wrong word, and lightning would strike them both, and there would be nothing they could do to recover.
Without a word, Akira stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind her. The force rattled the walls slightly, and then it was silent.
Silent and empty.
Kei relinquished her death-grip on the counter, waiting a few minutes before finally gathering up enough energy to actually finish making a cup of tea. After dumping three hefty tablespoons of sugar into the cup and mixing it briefly, she took a sip.
It tasted disgusting.
She downed it all in one gulp, ignoring the overflowing streams that dripped down the sides of her mouth. Then, she tossed it into the sink along with its neglected brother and plopped down onto the couch, wrapping the blankets around her until she faintly resembled a burrito made of colored fabric.
She really was fine. The more she pretended, the easier it was to believe it.
Now that Shizuo had finally seen her for who she truly was, there was nothing she could do to reverse it. The best course of action, in her mind, would be to pretend that nothing had ever happened—and that included her friendship with him. Although, completely erasing an entire relationship from her life was harder than she thought. However, it was a necessary step.
Keep telling yourself that.
It was better than going back to her daily life and believing that he thought she was a monster, too. She recognized that it was selfish, but now that she knew for sure that selfishness had become a solid part of her character, it was much easier to perform deeds of that sort.
Strange, isn't it?
Just as she was about to fall into a deep sleep, her phone rang. She peered at it curiously. For the days she had been absent, nobody had tried to call her. Well, Celty had, but after five attempts and Kei still refused to answer, she had stopped.
For a fleeting moment, Kei wondered if it was Shizuo—that idea was stifled by her subconscious as quickly as it came, as it reminded her that he didn't even have her phone number.
It also cruelly reminded her that he probably wouldn't have called even if he did.
Stop being so pathetic, she scolded herself. It does not matter anymore.
Sluggishly, as if her limbs were being weighted down by anchors, Kei picked up her phone. The number flashing on the screen was not in her contacts. Flipping her phone open, she cautiously held it up to her ear, almost like she expected a hand to physically claw its way through and grip her by the throat.
"Who is this?" she muttered.
"That's a pretty rude way to greet someone, Kei-chan."
Maybe she would've been shocked a few months before, but now, this kind of thing didn't really affect her.
"How did you get my phone number?" she asked. A soft chuckle came from the other end of the call.
"Are you really still questioning how I do things?" Izaya replied sardonically. "Anyway, I was just calling to check up on you. I've heard that you've fallen ill with something—how awful!"
"Do not pretend that you care," she retorted bitterly.
"I'm hurt! How could you even begin to think that I'm pretending? I was actually genuinely worried about you for the first few days!"
His words were coated in honey, and although Kei normally enjoyed sweet things, there was only so much she could take before sugar started tasting rancid on her tongue.
"Is that so..."
She could practically feel him grinning through the phone.
"So, how long are you going to hide away in your rabbit hole for? I thought I told you that running from your problems is impossible."
Kei tensed up slightly, gripping the phone a bit tighter. "I know that."
"Oh, really? Then I suppose you're not worrying about poor Akira-san walking to school all alone. This world is filled with some pretty bad people, Kei-chan. Who knows what could happen to her?"
In that moment, her suspicions were confirmed. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or furious.
"You are involved, aren't you?"
Izaya smirked at her words. "Involved in what? I don't know what you're going on abou—"
He always spoke like this, she realized. Always asking questions, laying out the land so that whoever he was talking to would expose themselves to him without a second thought. He never even had to lift a finger—which is why he didn't expect her next words.
"Please, stay out of it."
This surprised him.
His voice took on mock incredulity as he spoke. "Are you seriously trying to protect me? That's adorable!"
"Izaya-san."
He paused, momentarily caught off-guard by her tone of her voice that, if she were anyone else, he would have called "pleading." For only a second, his chipper façade melted away.
"What is it?"
Her voice was calm and unwavering as she spoke, a fact that was surprising even to herself. "These people are dangerous, even to someone like you. I know you will not listen, but even so, I will still tell you. Stay out of it."
She held the phone away from her ear as he laughed.
"Ah, Kei-chan, I'm sorry to say this—really, I am—but there are many things that you don't know, and it's just too hilarious."
"If you were truly sorry, you would not find it funny."
"I can't help it. Kei-chan, you really are one of the most interesting people I've ever met!"
She didn't understand his next words, but they still sent shivers down her spine, and in four years, when she would think back to this exact moment and ponder its meaning, their effect would be cataclysmic.
"I look forward to when your flask shatters."
Ah, sorry if Kei was acting super angsty this chapter! I think I enjoy torturing my characters too much...
Also, I don't know if you could tell, but I had so much fun writing the dialogue between Shinra and Izaya! They're both super intricate and complex characters, so their interactions are extra interesting!
I'm sorry that everyone's favorite angry child didn't appear much this chapter, but there will be lots of quality Shizu-chan in the next one to make up for it! (Plus, I kinda wanted this chapter to shine a light on the Izaya/OC relationship in this story for all the Izaya lovers out there.)
Please review, and thank you for reading! (=^_^=)