Work Text:
April 2017
"You need to make a decision, Kasahara."
Was that all he ever said? You need to make a decision. What kind of advice was that, without any indication of which decision was the right one or how I was supposed to figure it out?
I stared at the man sitting on the opposite side of the broad desk without really seeing him. I'd watched him enough times before to know that he was staring back, a tightness around his eyes the only indication that there was any emotion behind his quiet mask. I didn't mind. I was the same way, looking out at the world without caring what was happening, locking away any feelings that might try to bubble to the surface in a moment of weakness. I couldn't afford to be weak.
Neither could he.
There was that tacit understanding between us, the quiet respect shared by people who were in the same inescapable situation. It had been like that at the orphanage too, silence as we gathered around the tables in the evening to share a tasteless meal. We were all in it together, but talking about whatever it was would ruin the illusion of hope. Even the newcomers quickly learned that blabbing about nonsense like being adopted by a caring family only made life harder for everyone who had to listen to it. Themselves included.
Maybe the darkness that hung over the others had lifted a bit after I was adopted. Escape. Success. And after the Suzubishi family had descended upon the place in search of my brother, what had happened? Excitement about the possibility of other rich families discovering distant, long-lost relatives, or despair because an impossible fairytale like that would never come true twice in a row?
It had certainly been despair after my parents were arrested and I was returned to the orphanage, my success story crumbled to failure even though I'd been gone for years. No one would be interested in an older kid who'd been sent back; it didn't matter who was at fault.
Then the Platinum Paper came, and I was an instant celebrity holding a symbol of hope in that world of endless night. That it had come directly from Brother was even more magical. That sheet of paper was more than just the promise of a fairytale ending. There was also the added romance of a tale of long-separated siblings being reuinited after many years.
No one knew that I'd earned the Platinum Paper by running from the darkness. They just assumed that Brother had used his newfound influence to bring me close, but they were wrong. Maybe he'd influenced the selection, moved by the story that had been splashed all over the news, but he was never the kind to abuse power or position like that. He was too good to stoop so low.
I was finally going to be reunited with that exceptional person.
I should have known not to hope. Should have known that the spark of light was just that, a flash in the darkness, swallowed up in an instant, leaving behind a dim afterimage that quickly faded.
But darkness wasn't all bad. It was cool and quiet and almost comfortable once you got used to it. There were no expectations, no ups and downs, just a steady and stable blackness, thick enough to keep out the faint flickers of light that threatened to invade. It was easy to slip into that cool, gentle embrace, losing myself easily in a doze or a long and dreamless sleep. That world became my comfort, a safe place to withdraw from the world where the demands of adults rained down on me without ceasing. I didn't have to answer to anyone or justify my actions. I could just sleep.
Still, I worried that others would notice the dark cocoon that had formed around me. Its softness kept others from getting too close, but every time I met someone new, I was convinced that they could somehow see it encircling me. It didn't matter that I'd met dozens of people since taking over Brother's work and that none of them had noticed anything out of the ordinary. My heart still skipped a beat when I had to look someone in the eye or shake hands.
No, that wasn't true. The ones who had their own black cloud noticed, maybe when the two got close enough to brush against each other with a dry rustle. There was never more than a moment's pause, a dim flicker of recognition in tired eyes, and no mention of the secrets we carried. Other people, cloudless and light, didn't notice. Instead, they mistook the tranquil gloom for frustration over a bad day or single upsetting event, not understanding that it took more than a handful of minor disappointments to form a lasting cocoon.
I hadn't expected to find so many affected individuals at Bell Liberty. I'd grown to expect the tired glances of the other kids at the orphanage, but I also saw the familiar silent resignation in the eyes of several students. But I'd been most surprised to find it in the quiet defeat of Professor Sakaki's expression as he tried to convince me to make a decision, even if he tried to mask his weariness with a show of detachment.
The professor leaned forward, lab coat rustling as he rested his elbows on the desk. White. Idle curiosity made its way from the depths of my mind. Did he wear it to counteract the effect of the darkness, maybe unconsciously? That wouldn't fool me.
"Are you listening, Kasahara? If you don't make a decision soon, the board will act on its own and take away any choice you might have."
Choice. Ha. As if there was anything more than the illusion of choice. When any choice would lead to a destructive conclusion, could it really be called a choice at all?
I stared at the professor, not meeting his eyes. Why was he involved in this, anyway? It was obvious that he'd been pressured into it, same as me, but he didn't seem the type who would normally be pushed around by others. The orders were coming from his brother, but during my brief meetings with the man, I hadn't detected any special force of will or influence from him. Rather, he was angry and petty, too much of a hothead to exert any calm pressure. Not like his brother, who was a master of silent disapproval, the kind that could provoke an unconscious desire to appease his unspoken displeasure.
It didn't make sense, which could only mean there was something I didn't know.
A glimmer of curiosity, stronger than the one from before, came to the surface as a spoken question.
"Why are you doing this?"
The professor simply looked at me for a moment before his eyes narrowed, though his tone was emotionless as he asked, "What are you talking about?" He understood exactly what I was asking; the tension of his shoulders and a brief flash of panic in his eyes made that perfectly clear. I held his gaze, refusing to let him go, and asked again,
"You don't want to be part of this plot. So why are you doing it?"
He looked away after a few tense seconds, brows drawing together in a slight scowl of irritation, recognizing that he'd lost in some way by breaking eye contact first.
"I'm sure you understand the importance of family," he muttered after a long pause, tone frosty.
My eyes dropped shut, chest tightening as if I'd been struck. That was low. Especially since the professor been close friends with my brother, at least according to Dr. Matsuoka. I'd never been able to get the professor to talk about that relationship; even hinting at it was enough to summon a cold glare and drive him from the room. Maybe he didn't like me because I reminded him too much of Brother. I could understand that; sometimes just passing by a mirror on a sunny day, with the sunshine revealing the brighter highlights in my hair, was enough to tie my stomach up in knots.
But my brother and yours... there's no comparison. Why are you letting that jerk push you around?!
I opened my eyes again, searching the professor's face for hints of emotion, but he pushed back his chair and stood. "I don't have time for this. I'm going back to my office."
Running away again. Also something I understood all too well. I offered no comment as the professor turned and stalked from my office, lab coat fluttering feebly behind him like a pair of malformed wings. I sat there, watching and thinking long after the door shut behind him.
Maybe he owed something to his brother. Or to his father, since it seemed that the elder Sakaki was acting as a proxy for the head of the group. All I'd been able to gather from my interactions with both brothers was that the family didn't exactly approve of the professor's decision to be a teacher and was merely tolerating it for some reason. Well, maybe that was obvious; the opportunity to lash out at Suzubishi, to literally destroy competing work.
I was the gatekeeper. The last line of defense between the precious research and the company that would be ruined by its successful release. The research that might have saved Brother's life, if only he'd been able to hold on a little longer.
Anger flared within me. No one will ever get their hands on it. Never.
But how on earth could I keep it from happening?
I folded my arms on the desk and laid my head down with a shaky sigh. Someone help me...
~ end ~