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medaka box: get out misogi

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[Today is a terrible day! You do not know why it's a terrible day, but it is. Everything's ominous and you've probably walked into ten tables and door frames and couldn't find your favorite coat and perhaps even got robbed by a hobo. Either way, your luck is terrible! Enjoy it! Or not. Because it'll get worse.

Meanwhile in Michi's residence, a corpse has disappeared. Corpses do not usually get up and wander away. This one did and is found standing in the middle of the street staring at nothing. It is almost as terrible as your day is, and you simultaneously run away and get closer.

Both of these are terrible ideas, but there is no correlation between them whatsoever. You're silly to think that way! Go enjoy your terrible day! However you wish to.

But no really, to anyone who comes over there is nothing but terrible here. And up to three bingo squares. Have fun guys.]

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[The only odd part here is the action of hitting him is perfectly mirrored, with just as much power, but without the tears. Without the expression. But it's Equal, isn't it? The white hair and red eyes means Michi is on his level, but it's mirrored, isn't it?

He knows everything she feels after all.]

Why are you still standing?

[She doesn't hit him again, but for the very first time since they've met, probably in forever, she raises her voice, with all the instability you'd expect from an eighteen year old girl who's just had her emotion switch tripped and has no idea how to deal with this.

So, quickly, like for real in a single breath, hiccuping aside;]

Because -- w-why do you hate me? I've been doing my best because I wanted to make you happy, because I like you -- I-I was nearly happy, being with you and Mr Liam and Christopher, I ignored everything else! Your lying and your low self-esteem and I believed that you were speaking honestly with me then but you -- said that --

[And she cuts herself off like she's just remembered you need air to talk. Note the present tense on "like."]

Edited (I know english good) 2013-02-24 06:46 (UTC)

[Dammit Michi stop freaking out with feelings. You're making him freak out by proxy. Since along with her misery and spazzing from freaking out, that hatred of his wells up again. But, in equal amounts, it comes with waves of panic.

She can squint and try to figure out if it's from her or himself. Probably her because there's only one girl he cracks in front of and it's not her and She's not around and the voice is utterly furious just from that thought alone.]

Because of exactly that! How can you ignore it? How can you ignore any of it?! Mister Liam with useless contracts and Christopher with his useless attempts at humanity and your father with his useless humanity and you! That even while facing them and Them and me and everything of Us you can still stand there! Why aren't you breaking like everyone else?!

[Because it's safer when they break. Because it means you're not at fault for not understanding them. It's their fault. It's their fault. It's their fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry. Because that's just how it is.]

[Taking a moment to catch her breath calms her down. In, out. Having a screaming match won't solve anything. You're equal, but in the way close, long decimals are equal. 4.56756756756 and 4.5675675677. Both round up to five, but one is technically higher. He could still kill you if he tried.

And it's rude to yell at your friends.

When she opens her mouth next, she sounds significantly more drained.]

Because if I allow myself to fall without rising, then they -- then those people win. I can accept losing, but I refuse to give up. ... I'm not sane, after all. Christopher is as human as you or me, regardless of what he believes.

[She can't say she doesn't think Liam's contracts are useless or that contracting's not a bad idea, and she's choosing not to say anything about the snipe at her papa.]

Or perhaps I'm afraid of what will happen if I allow myself to break. To speak frankly -- I'm unable to give you a proper answer.

... But I apologize for raising my voice. ... I'm sorry.

[That kind of injury sticking out of her and written on her appearance is one that means her heart bleeds truth. There's nothing left for it to bleed anymore. And whatever it's bleeding means she gets stared at with those eyes like knives.

Whatever it is is good - or bad, who knows - enough to have a hand rest on that spear sticking clear through her torso and ripping it out. Her hair reverts to black and that suffocating feeling around her is gone.]

Don't be sorry. That was an answer.

[You're different. I was wrong. You already understand them. I'm done. It's all over.

But she's been cut off already, so the only thing she feels is that crawling presence slowly recede when he turns and abandons her there again.]

[Goddammit.

SHE WILL BE CONTINUING TO FOLLOW, still no Yakety Sax because I hate that fucking song. Yelling sends adrenaline through the system, ups confidence, or more appropriately put, lowers fear.

She reaches for his shoulder.]

-- Wait.

[She was close enough to grab him. Maybe. Because something goes rotten in the world for a minute and space warps, and when he turns around to stare at her flatly, he's just out of her hand's range again.

The sensation of it still crawls across her fingers like a warning.] What?

... You haven't answered my question. How long has it been since your last meal? Please have breakfast with me before continuing your work.

[There is a slight pleading note to it, leftover emotion leaking into her voice that she just doesn't bother to suppress, because this is Kumagawa and he is her friend and she doesn't have any reason to be afraid of him or hate him.

So it's easy to glean a general message from what she's saying: "I'm not angry."]

[She actually gets glared at for it, and it's really hard to say what it's directed at because of all the options. Her hand, her offer, her real feelings, him being stupid, who knows. It might even be everything.

But what's the point? Something of the fight drains from his face and he takes a step back.] Do I have to?

[Bluhhhhh, why, it's stupid. But it's pretty much a yes.]

... Thank goodness.

[Which sounds a little odd without context but of course, it's clearly in response to him not seeming totally angry. She's glad for that. She's glad they can still be friends.]

... But I do have a question, if that's acceptable? Those were your feelings, weren't they, Kumagawa?

No.

[It's an immediate response and with that tone, it feels entirely natural. Honest and a shoot down and he's not going over this, he's done, he quits, whatever.

But from Michi's small glimpse at trying to make that last decimal point match, she knows above all else the most hated thing is admitting you lost.]

[Her lips press into a thin, frustrated little line. Frowningggg.]

-- I want to try again, later. If that is acceptable, and something that I'm capable of doing...? I don't understand yet. I would like to get to know you better.

[~More intimately~, the writer was tempted to joke, but then she started laughing so it didn't happen.]

You already tried. Once is enough.

[He is going to flee from the second time for as long as he possibly can. Putting faith in people is stupid.]

-- And I failed, so I'll try again! I will do it as often as I must.

[So help her god she will hike up her dress and run after him if he leaves.

Knew she should've invested in a miniskirt, but she was like nooooooo I'll look like a whooooooore.

Whores can run.]

You didn't fail anything.

[He did. But he's a loser, so his fate was to lose, which means it's not a problem and it doesn't bother him. Sigh.

And obviously she should just wear pants, problem solved.]

[PANTS ARE FOR MEN AND LESBIANS, geeze, other brackets.

But of course being herself, she won't accept that. He didn't fail, because he doesn't fail. She does. Obviously she made some horrible mistake in understanding him.]

I did.

Please put it back inside.

[And men and lesbians are people who can run. So Michi can just hike up her dress and look even more scandalous than if she just wore pants or a knee-length skirt.

And then Michi says that and he freezes. Two beats. Turning to stare at her. Four beats. Then turning and walking away again. Nope, he's not even touching that one, HE'S DONE.]

I'm a taken woman, Michi.

[Kat obviously Charlotte couldn't run. Are we sure about the lesbians.

And she keeps going. Slightly flustered;]

-- It wasn't my intention to imply a sexual subject! I was referring to your screw!

[Lesbians in pants, Tiv, keep with the pace.

And he's still dead of all life and facing away from her when he speaks, so there Michi.] So you're asking me to screw you twice in the same day.

[If she squints, that means he was trying to play along like usual.]

[... Well, Moran was a bisexual in pants... I guess I can't dispute that one.

As usual the joke goes right over her head, so in as serious of a tone as she usually manages -]

Yes, I am.

[Dammit, he was hoping that would've worked. So he just huffs out a tired sigh.]

Later. Ah... I lost the motivation, sorry.

[Good enough. She smiles, brightly and cheerfully.

You know what else has a bright and cheerful smile, though? Bear traps.

Like the one he just stepped in.]

Ah, in that case, it's certainly time for breakfast! I did say that you would work yourself into an illness! Please come with me!

[Ah, he couldn't win again. Michi gets a huff of an annoyed sigh.]

Fine. [He'll just stab at it with a fork for an hour or something, bluhhh.]

[OF TO HER HOUSE WE GO luckily her dad is out. But some of the maids sort of give him the stink-eye when she's not looking. They remember.

It doesn't matter though. She just sets a small section of the table and fixes both their plates -- no, no, the maids can't do anything she's got this :T -- and gestures for him to sit down across from her.]

... You gave Father quite a scare, as well.

[Whatever maids, the only thing he ruined was your clothes. He missed actual injuries on purpose, you're welcome.

And he does sit, but he also jabs at his food with the fork and stares out at nothing. Not mentally there except in the minimum.]

He hates me. Why should I care? Let him be afraid.