God In The Machine (er, Subway)
Prompt by allietheepic7: "Harry and Mikami talk while on the train. Harry immediately regrets his decision to vacation in Japan."
Premise: "In which the 'Master of Death' bullshit proves to be less bullshit than previously imagined."
Warnings: Mikami being Mikami, and Harry's No More Fucks To Give attitude. As with all my other prompts, this one is UNBETA'D.
Disclaimer: Don't Own, so Don't Sue. Please and Thank You.
. . .
Harry knew that he had rotten luck. Really, he did.
Even if his self-awareness had been all but non-existent, after so many years fighting the baddies, dodging assassination attempts by sociopaths with delusions of grandeur, and barely escaping his groupies with his clothing—and virtue—intact, he would have cottoned on to the fact that he had the worst fucking luck.
Potter Luck wasn't a joke; it was a very real Thing.
Still, he had assumed he'd left the worst of it behind after he'd offed ole no-nose. Apparently, he'd been mistaken. There was no other explanation as to how he could have picked now—in the midst of the Kira fervor—to travel to Japan...ground zero, as it were.
He shifted in his seat, the hard plastic unforgiving as the train zipped through the subways. He tried to ignore the admittedly attractive young man across from him as he continued to stare at his hair, all the while babbling in a mix of Japanese and English about Kira.
Kira is God.
Kira is doing good.
Kira is Justice.
...
Fuck Kira. Fuck Kira in the fucking EAR.
The young man—Miichi? Mitsuru? No...Mikami!—blinked, his mouth snapping shut. Well, fuck me. Apparently, his whole "speaking while thinking" problem was still a very real problem. At least it gave him a moment to think in peace.
The man continued to stare...and stare...and stareeeee. Harry edged back a bit. The young man didn't even appear to be blinking, was a bit more disturbing than the hair-ogling had been.
"Look...I get that you think Kira is here to save you, what with him targeting criminals and all that, but...you can't eradicate violence with violence. The world doesn't work like that. Sure, the criminals are dying off or going into hiding FOR NOW, but as soon as there's a lapse—and there will be, sooner or later—they are going to come out of the woodwork again. In fact, it will probably be worse, since Kira is probably pissing a lot of people off." Harry didn't even notice the stare shifting to a glare as he continued, "ALSO, it's a bit fucking hypocritical for the bloke preaching an end to terrorism and murder using terror and murder to achieve his goal!"
He slumped back into his seat to catch his breath, trying to ignore the wide-eyed staring from the other patrons. As for the young man, he was hunched over his lap, scribbling in a notepad furiously, while darting glances at his hair again. Ah, well. There was nothing for that.
After a long moment and an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, Mikami stopped his scribbling and sat back in his seat...and did the whole staring thing again. A minute passed, then another...then another. The man continued to stare, tensing as the train slowed to a stop for the next exit. Harry watched, curiously, as sweat began to bead his brow, his eyes bugging as Harry continued to sit, quietly watching a young mother and her sons disembark, and an old woman shuffle on board.
The doors slid closed, and the train was off again.
Mikami was trembling in his seat, his mouth gaping as he panted for breath, his eyes bugging out. Was he...having a fit? Harry hesitated to reach out, not out of a desire to let him suffer, but because he honestly didn't want want to be within striking distance of the man.
A low, trembling moan rattled up the young man's chest, startling him and the other passengers. Mikami staggered to his feet, swaying as he continued to moan. His notebook tumbled from his lap, forgotten, as he tugged at his hair, screaming incoherently about Gods in the Flesh, and Monsters, and Betrayal.
As suddenly as he started, he stopped screaming, falling to his knees weakly. Harry flinched, startled, as Mikami shuffled forward til his forehead touched his knees. "Kami-sami, Kami-sama...gomennasai, watashi wo yurushite kudasai! FORGIVE ME!"
With a trembling hand, he snatched up his notebook, pushing it into Harry's hands in a strangely earnest move. "Please, forgive me, God...my True God."
Harry knew he was gaping, but could do fuck all about it. He wanted to stand up and shove his way off the goddamn train, regardless of it being in motion; he'd be happy to apparate from the tracks, if need be. He wanted to tell the guy to get a fucking hold of himself, and for God's sake stop touching him, but didn't want to trigger another breakdown.
He wanted to do all this and more, but couldn't find the will to move or the words to say as a cackling met his ears.
Hyuk Hyuk Hyuk. "You humans are so...interesting."
…
Fuck his life. Fuck this fucking vacation.
Hermione was right; Cornwall was lovely this time of year. At least he wouldn't have had to deal with this shit there.