Chapter Text
Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation
Hours, hours, hours. A stiff neck and more coffee, probably too much for a boy as young as fifteen. Papers, crime scene photographs; a tornado of accounts and observations splayed over his bedroom desk, only a flimsy lamp to keep them in sight.
It started out as a curiosity into his uncle’s more intense cases, potentially even an underlying desire to be helpful. Little did Shuichi know what he’d got himself into. A week later, his brain continued its non-stop ticking as he hovered over papers at unsociable hours. He couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to – every conceived possibility being one step closer to the truth.
He only noticed his panging stomach and the strain on his poor eyes when glancing towards the window. A new daylight created a pastel haze on the walls, filtered through phthalo curtains. A muted cacophony of birdsong performed outside. Last time he looked at the clock, it was midnight. It was difficult to admit to himself that, by this point, he was just waiting for his hunches to start make sense.
He closed his eyes and pinched his eyebrows together, prompting an overdramatic yawn and stretch of his arms. “Maybe that’s enough for now,” he mumbled. As he pulled himself from his desk chair, muscles screamed in his thighs and his right knee clicked in protest. His breath hitched and he sighed, staggering towards the window to open the curtains.
Four hours of sleep in two days was nothing to brag about, his headache alone proving that fact. Upon yanking the curtains aside, he winced at the dim sunrise. Tired, cloudy vision made the street below and empty restaurant opposite seem like a bleached mess of wet cotton.
He stood for a moment; nonsensical thoughts being triggered. A mere curiosity had definitely become a mild obsession. He somehow found it difficult to blame himself; the puzzle was practically begging to be solved after just two pieces of evidence matching up.
His stare grazed over the restaurant across the street, a diner-style family place with a bar on the second floor. He’d only been there once despite it being no more than a few steps away from the apartment. He visited with his uncle, just after Shuichi started taking on cases. He remembered the conversation they had, namely, the advice he swore to remember every word of.
‘Always look for new angles.’
He spaced out; eyes boring into a table through the distant restaurant window. He scoffed, knowing nothing good can come out of his being this tired, no matter how close he was to solving it all.
‘And always remember to be compassionate.’
His touched a hand against a condensed patch on the glass, water droplets vaguely refreshing his senses. He turned back to the memory.
‘And never forget, even dots that are miles apart can connect.’
Shuichi’s eyes widened; his mouth drifted open. “No way.”
He snapped rigid irises away from the window and darted back to his desk, the rustling of a thousand pages griping under his fingertips as he searched for a different case file – a recently closed suicide case file his uncle gave him to skim over.
Eyes scurried over page to page, one file to another, checking every detail several times to make sure everything made sense, cursing himself for missing it previously.
“This has to be revenge murder.”
After explaining what he’d found to his uncle, Shuichi’s world dissolved into a mess of chaotic driving and explanations to random police officers.
Then the arrest.
The moment he’d been waiting all this time. And not how he expected it.
It was filled with more malice, guilt, and inner turmoil than he could’ve ever imagined. All from one look - a single glance.
He didn’t want to remember it. Despite his haze and dishevelled consciousness, something in him knew he could never forget. This was more than a bad dream. This was going to embody future nightmares.
The final police car pulled off the curb, containing the culprit who had violently confessed and verbally assaulted Shuichi. And suddenly all was calm. No more sirens, no more police. Adrenaline still coursed through his exhausted bones. All that remained was early morning traffic and the presence of his uncle.
He sank back into the car, blank tension cemented to his face; grey and traumatized to match the weather. The sound of nothing clashed in his ears, briefly interrupted by the sound of his uncle climbing in the driver’s side and closing the door.
A brief moment. “So,” his uncle awkwardly began, “the victim really did drive the culprit’s sister to suicide. Who’d’ve thought such different cases could be related, huh?” He forced a smirk and nudged Shuichi with his elbow in attempt to lighten the mood. Shuichi’s wide stare stayed fixed on the dashboard. “Hey, he can’t hurt you now.”
Shuichi’s lips parted. “N-no, it’s just,” he mumbled. “The look on his face.” Tears started running down his cheeks as quickly as they formed.
“He stared at me… like he hated me more than anything else in the world.”
Congratulations Ｓｈｕｉｃｈｉ Ｓａｉｈａｒａ
You have achieved the title of:
THE Ǘ̷̳̠͘L̸̩͒T̵̖́́I̵̘͛̇M̸̼͛͘A̸̯͋͋T̴͙̎Ë̶̪́̈́ ̸̱̫̈́D̵̛͉Ȅ̷͖̓T̸͓̫̏È̵͇́C̶͍̏͛T̴̤͛͠Ì̶̢̆V̵̳̽Ė̵̝