It's Just the Taro Matsui Show
It's over. It's all over. But it isn't, because, no matter what they told him, Touta Matsuda will forever believe that he is a murderer. That in the end, he is no better than Kira.
He tried to get better. Really. But he couldn't. It was so hard to get up each morning, go to work, smile at Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide, and pretend not to notice how concerned they were. Pretend he was okay.
He is broken. And he knows it. And he just doesn't care.
One day, he's sitting in his kitchen, cutting vegetables. But, when his mind begins to wander, when he begins to hear the screams of a dying boy who was once his friend, he is brought back by a sharp pain.
He looks down to see that, instead of slicing the vegetables, he has cut his own arm. And for some reason, he is fascinated by the blood, and the pain. It is as if feeling this pain takes away everything else. As if, by inflicting a little pain upon himself, he is, in reality, drowning out everything else.
And he does it again and again and again, until his arms are scarred so badly, that he knows they'll never heal. And he still keeps going.
And time passes, and after a while, it isn't enough anymore. He can't escape the pain. He can't escape the terrible things in his head.
One day, he is sitting alone in his apartment, and thinking about the old days, when he remembers something. The Taro Matsui Show. His little stunt on the balcony of a huge building. A stunt that could have ended his life. Why didn't it? Why couldn't it have ended there?
He drives over to the NPA headquarters, and climbs the stairs to the roof. For a moment, he stands on the edge, looking down. And in that moment, he hears someone calling him.
"Matsuda? What are you doing?"
He knows it's Aizawa without looking. But he turns and stares into his colleague's eyes. And somehow, Aizawa knows what he's going to do before he says anything.
"Matsuda, don't do it," Aizawa says, "It's not worth it."
He smiles bitterly.
"Its okay, Aizawa. It's just the Taro Matsui Show."
And then he jumps.
Not particularly proud of this. I wrote it when I was upset over something, but it's not terrible (or I don't think so, anyway...), so i decided I'd post it. Why not? Review? Please? :)