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Summary
It was hard to ignore the reality that Rin was not human.
That was an egotistical thought, a deeply, deeply selfish proclamation, but it was true nonetheless. He didn’t know many people, granted, but the ones he did were nothing like him.
What was a human? It could be a biological definition, a concrete truth of reality, but the black hole deep and large in his stomach that drained and drained and drained every emotion from his soul before it could be digested by his brain surely couldn’t be part of the typical makeup of a person.
All he knew was that his blood made him human, bleeding even more so. The way his nose pulsated and throbbed as cartilage crackled and popped within his skull, dripping hot – radiantly hot – blood from his dying heart to his lips, that made him alive. That made him so alive he could die.
OR: Rin Itoshi struggles to understand what it means to feel human.