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“You can read my mind. And yet you didn't know? That I am immortal?”
The moment she looked up at that immortal creature, so much like a human yet so different, she heard her pride in her humanity crack.
Immortality. The fabled power is thought to exist only in tales and fictions. The faraway dream mankind had spent years chasing after. The very notion which defies mother nature herself.
That supernatural being was here, looking down at her, in a tattered uniform showing off unblemished skin, with silver bangs glinting in the fire, with steely blue eyes that could see right through you.
For the first time in her 15 years of existence, she understood what it felt like to be the human in a story about the immortal. How bitter fear and jealousy could taste.
—-------
The way Kyouya was sitting in front of her room, casually and fearlessly, was a declaration of war. It was as though he wanted her to know. That he was the one calling the shots, in this endless cat and mouse game of theirs. That there was nothing she could do, to stop him from exposing her the moment she showed the slightest sign of vulnerability.
It must have been great, to be immortal. Had she been one, she would be just as arrogantly confident.
She was only human, with flesh and bones and no advantages other than her secret identity. And he was not. Was an immortal with a razor sharp mind and an obsession with the truth. Those were the cards they were given, in this unrelenting game of poker. Fair or no fair, they all had to play with what they'd been given.
She chose to bury it down, the frustration and the outrage. She would beat the only person she couldn't kill.
—-------
Kyouya drank the poison from the contact case with a kind of nonchalance that scared her.
It was frightening, to see how far he was willing to go to get to the truth. It was frightening, to know that this person treated his body as nothing more than a tool to get what he wanted.
That's not how humans think.
But then again, was an immortal human ever a real human?
—-------
She came to him. At her wits’ end. Desperate for a way to save Michiru. Yet there was a part of her that couldn't help but feel hesitant.
What reasons were there for him to help her anyway? What makes her so sure that he wouldn't use this as an opportunity to get the better of her, just like Tachibana Jin did?
If even his own body was considered a tool, would he spare a second thought, for a girl he barely knew?
Wouldn't someone who was not afraid to die treat the life of those weaker than him as nothing more than links in a chain of interesting murders?
“There's a lot I wish I could say right now, but for now, let's save Inukai.”
For just a moment, she felt something inside her snap.
It was the first time that it occurred to her, that despite that indestructible body and that eccentric personality, the person standing in front of her was still a person after all.
A part of her was relieved by that revelation.
—-------
When they'd confirmed that Nakajima was really back and wreaking havoc on those around her, she felt guilty for putting her friends and classmates through it all.
How many more would lose their life because of the chaos she had sown? How many more times would she have to experience this piercing pain and crippling guilt? Thinking about it scared her half to death.
But then she realised. That even if all of them were to fall, in the end, there will still be one man standing. The one she couldn't kill. The one she couldn't surpass.
And if she were to die one day, Nana knew that Kyouya would still be there, to finish her unfinished business.
Maybe, he was the only one that wouldn't cause her mourning or regret.
Deep down, she knew it was selfish of her. But she couldn't help the relief that washed through her.
—-------
Under Nakajima’s command, the whole class started moving. Running. Charging towards her. It was then that she knew. That this was her reckoning.
She didn't resent it. Didn't resent anyone. This was her price to pay. Even if she died. Right here. Today. She knew, she didn't have the right to resent.
Though it pained her, to think that what she had fought so hard for would be reduced to nothing but ashes. That Hiiragi Nana would forever be remembered as nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer.
She thought of him. Of someone who'd seen her for who she really was. Of the one who would always stand tall, even if the whole world was blown to dust.
Nana didn't dare wish that Kyouya would shed tears for her. She only hoped he would remember her, as someone who had tried to do the right thing, in spite of all the blood on her hands.
Even if all her efforts would be for naught, buried under the passage of time and the lies of history, she still allowed herself to pray that Kyouya would be there as proof for her existence, for the life and work of the real Hiiragi Nana.