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Izuru never really told him to kill people. Or to do anything bad. Or perhaps to even do anything at all. His voice in Hajime’s head wasn’t even a voice – just a train of thoughts, as natural and simple as his own, going on in the background as he walked, talked, prepared a meal or just was busy with his everyday chores. It felt so simple. So unintrusive.
And this was the scariest thing about it.
Hajime could never notice when his thoughts stopped being his own, at least not immediately. Those fleeting moments when he started to overanalyze the slow, barely noticeable movements of the clouds, changes in how the wind feels and smells, behavioral patterns of birds, insects and animals – and could say that it would rain today, even if sun was high and hot.
Those moments when something insignificant – a table lamp with green lampshade decorated by a childish flowery pattern that they used to light up the day room, because the main electricity network was damaged and Kazuichi was too busy to start working on it, for example – would catch his attention.
And he would suddenly know everything about the lamp. Structure, composition, quality of materials and manner of craft would tell him in what country was it produced, when was it sold and how it was transported here. He would remember every nuance of how the particles of light from the lightbulb moved and interacted with their surroundings, creating a mild glow with a barely noticeable touch of green that was so comfortable for reading. His knowledge of art and theory of design would tell him that this lamp, scientifically speaking, is very sloppy and serves mostly for practical purposes, and would not fit in most modern interiors.
He would even know that it would meet its end when Kazuichi would eventually trip on its cord and cause it to fall while trying to fix the main electricity network. He didn’t know why – because nothing immediately pointed at it – he just knew.
Hajime made a mental note to move the thing away before the mechanic comes. He liked the green light and exaggeratedly childish pattern because they brought back memories of calmness and innocence.
But his head was hurting.
There also were at least twenty-nine ways to turn that lamp into a weapon, blunt or sharp, lethal or otherwise – depending on his goals at the current moment…
Hit them with the handle.
Remove the lightbulb, split it in two, and stab with an improvised shank.
Choke them with the cord.
Restrain them with the cord for future interrogation.
Cut the cord, plunge it in, and use as an improvised stun gun.
Remove the lampshade, move the lamp too close to their eyes to dazzle them.
Throw the lamp at them with enough strength for it to speed up in flight and break their bones.
Throw it with less strength to temporarily knock them off.
Hold the blub too close to their clothes to set them on fire.
Throw the lamp at something that will fall and make a lot of noise, distracting them.
Break the lightbulb and make them eat the shards so they die of organ damage…
Hajime shook his head, but it was awfully ineffective at silencing the voice. He took a book – there were plenty of them in the day room – and tried to concentrate on the words, but somehow they co-existed with Izuru’s thoughts perfectly.
Izuru’s thought weren’t violent – they were cold, disturbingly emotionless, and instinctive. The thoughts of someone thirsty who saw a glass of water and decided it would be nice to drink it. The thoughts of someone who sees sunflower and immediately recognizes it as a flower, or notices a ladybug and knows it’s a bug. They were completely, utterly neutral – Hajime was sure there was no ill will behind them.
But that didn’t make them less disturbing.
Hajime sighed, and left in a pace faster than he was willing to admit, hoping it would silence the intruding thoughts. There was a bit of curiosity in him about what remaining eighteen ways were, but his head was throbbing and his body felt overheated – and not in the “spent too much time in the sun” way. He felt like he was a machine, a complex biological mechanism whose engines were overworking and would explode at any second if he didn’t stop.
“Hey, Hajime!”
Ibuki’s cheerful voice was what finally distracted him as he left the room. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, so he didn’t mind just tagging along with a group of his classmates. Ibuki, Mahiru, Hiyoko and Mikan – they seemed to be inseparable despite their clashing personalities and the rather… strained relationship between the last two, but Hajime could not imagine it any other way. For some reason, Nagito was with them too. That was surprising – he was rarely invited to join any activities, and even more rarely agreed to it…
He should not overthink it and just be glad that Nagito’s becoming more integrated and social, Hajime thought.
Or perhaps he was just by coincidence going in the same direction. He didn’t seem to be eager to engage in conversation anyway.
“It’s so unfair that the hardest thing to find in this world is balloons! They’re so great to play with in water!” Ibuki grunted.
“Be grateful that we have an ocean clear enough to swim in! Man, the only thing that’s keeping me sane is that we’re on a tropical island,” Hiyoko answered, waving her hands in annoyance.
Izuru intervening in those moments was the worst.
Hajime could tell what they would talk about next, almost to the point of citing their replies word by word. He could read the mood, everyone’s intonations, dozens of hidden gestures and silent messages they hoped to hide, but secretly wanted to reveal on their faces.
His friends were almost like characters in a videogame he had replayed a hundred times, or a movie script which he wrote himself and accidentally memorized. Predictable. Meaningless. Boring…
So boring.
Hajime suddenly stopped, causing Ibuki and the others to stare at him with a shared look of confusion. “Sorry, I would be glad to play with you today, but I forgot something in my cottage.” He blurted out, making a very poor attempt to sound calm. Then, he raced away, trying not to look back and imagine their faces full of awkward confusion.
His cottage was boring, and he knew everything about it. He wasn’t sure if that was Izuru’s influence or just his own accumulated awareness. The burning feeling in his head, not exactly pain, but not any less unpleasant, was slowly strengthening its grip over his mind.
Boring. Boring. Boring.
Just give up, and acknowledge this world is boring and meaningless, and the best course of action is to just sit there, not even bothering to climb onto your bed, and do nothing…!
Hajime closed his eyes, and somehow managed to climb onto his bed as a sign of protest.
“My friends are not boring. My friends matter. I will live a perfectly happy, interesting, not boring and fulfilling life. I love reading, I love swimming, I love exploring the old city and finding new things, I love how Ibuki always says stupid unpredictable things to cheer everyone up, I love how Hiyoko’s insults are getting more and more creative as she grows up, shut up, shut the heck up…!”
Hajime had once heard that words are stronger than thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he agreed, but he did feel a bit better.
“Shut up!” he yelled one more time, this time without any effort to hold himself back.
Someone knocked on the door.
Great. Worst timing ever, as always.
But he wasn’t expecting this, and realizing that was not a bad feeling.
“It’s open, come in…” he murmured, his voice suddenly losing strength. And he immediately wished to take those words back, because letting anyone come in when he was in this state was probably an awful idea, but…
“Hello there, Hajime.” Nagito’s cheerful voice was even less expected. Hajime started to cool down, even if logically such an embarrassing situation should have had the opposite effect.
He turned his head to his guest lazily, watching Nagito come in. His slow, careful steps, more resembling those of someone who accidentally stumbled upon unfamiliar, forbidden territory than of a friend coming to visit, were saying that he didn’t exactly feel welcomed – Hajime didn’t need Izuru to understand that.
“Do you want something?” Hajime asked.
“You didn’t look good…” Nagito answered. Hajime was thankful he didn’t mention screaming. “So I thought you could use some company… Not that someone as pathetic as me could offer reasonable support, but I didn’t want to bother anyone else too, and distract a shining symbol of hope from having a good time…”
Hajime felt his mouth opening against his will. “I’m fine.” He transformed that weird movement into an answer, hoping it didn’t look too stupid.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Nagito said with such a radiant smile Hajime could as well think it was praise. It actually wasn’t, right? Or was it a passive-aggressive joke?
Hajime sighed. “Am I really that transparent?”
“Yes,” Nagito answered bluntly. “I mean, it’s hard to be any more transparent than running away from your friends, pale and shaking your head rapidly, then running to your cottage and screaming…” His smile widened. Without any hostility or sarcasm. He just smiled.
Hajime rolled his eyes. “You can call me the Ultimate Transparency if you please.” He managed to crack a joke despite his face going hot again – this time for a more prosaic and mundane reason. But Nagito’s expression suddenly grew serious.
“Are you scared of… Izuru Kamukura?” he asked, coming closer.
Hajime pulled himself into a sitting position. “I mean…” He wasn’t sure how to start. “He doesn’t seem like… a bad person. But I can never feel comfortable knowing there’s something like him inside of me, something way more powerful than I could ever be.” If there was something about Nagito that he admired, it was his ability to listen to any kind of crazy stuff and take it seriously. “I’m always afraid… of becoming less of me, and more of him. Moreover, it gives me headaches!”
Nagito giggled. “Having headaches, surely, sucks.” That was not a very hope-inducing answer. However, Hajime would give him some points for the attempt. “Is there anything… that makes it easier?” he asked, his face growing serious again.
“I think… anything that is beyond Izuru’s competence makes it better. Which is not a lot, but… strong emotions. Actions lead purely by feelings, things he can’t predict…” Hajime sighed. Good old physical pain worked pretty well too, but he didn’t mention it.
“I see…” Nagito smiled.
He paused for a moment, staring at Hajime as if he was thinking about some important decision. Hajime looked back at him. It didn’t last long – not long enough for him to start questioning the reason for that intense gaze, before Nagito…
Nagito leaned towards him, softly wrapping his arms around Hajime’s shoulders. Hajime blinked. The other boy looked peaceful, eyes closed. Slowly – not hesitating, just very carefully – he put his head on Hajime’s shoulder.
“Huh…” It felt… weird, but not unpleasant. He could feel how cold Nagito’s hands were against his back, and how bony his arms felt even through his ever-present thick jacket, but those details weren’t bothering him or making him feel unwelcomed. He hesitated – more surprised than actually questioning if he wanted to – before returning Nagito’s sudden sign of affection. The other boy flinched slightly as Hajime held him closer.
Hajime felt calm. There really was something calming about Nagito – a feeling in the air around him, his mix of childish, doe-eyed devotion to his ideas and that creepy and immoderate, but somehow weirdly charming admiration to those who he considered worthy…
Not only that. There was something deeper about it, more personal, that existed only between the two of them. Hajime wasn’t sure what to call it, or if the word for it even existed, but it really made him feel peaceful.
Well, at least, when Nagito wasn’t ruining it with trying to get people killed…
Hajime felt peaceful, completely ready to stay there and enjoy the moment, as he felt Nagito lean back and move over. It was a bit sad to let go.
“Sorry,” Nagito said, though he didn’t sound too guilty. Hajime learned that it didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t feel guilty, though, but… “I was just giving in to my perfectly emotional and irrational selfish wish!” It was impressive how he could say it with a perfectly serious, straight face.
Hajime’s cheeks started to feel hot again. “Come on, don’t say you did it to strengthen my hope or something…” His voice was low, and, for some reason, slightly hurt.
“I literally said the opposite of it.” Nagito smiled, crossing hands in an all too familiar defensive gesture.
Hajime wasn’t in the mood to teach him about the difference between words and implications. Perhaps he was overthinking it himself.
“Mahiru offered for me to join their beach party because she didn’t want it to be all girls again, so… are you feeling up to joining us too?” Nagito changed the topic in a way it seemed almost natural.
“Yes… I think I’m good enough.”
Hajime stood up, smiling and putting Nagito’s hand in his.