...Th-then that's just nature, isn't it? I guess sharks need to eat too.
[But her eyes flick to the little fish. Simple creatures. Nasty looking, she'd always thought, but in a strange way that's more endearing than typical favourites, like rabbits or kittens. She can relate better to these kinds of creatures. Simple, powerless, wretched. Stupid.
Doomed.
Her hands have taken hold of a lock of hair. She's tugging on it, bracing as her pulse picks up speed.]
[ Is there ...? what? She just trails off like that, and Mikoto looks back at her, nervous. ]
What- what is it?
[ It's like she's about to say there's a ghost or a monster or something, and it wouldn't be too much of a leap of imagination to think so, what with all the seamen gathering around the tanks on either side of them. so many fish it blots out the ambient light, a thousand fish eyes staring out into the dark. ]
The ambience doesn't help. Can these wretched fish smell fear? Is that why they're gathering? Gazing? Her throat goes dry.
No — she won't be a coward. Even if her gooseflesh has pricked and her pulse is quickening. Either there's a rational explanation for it, or there isn't. And she's faced killers. Faced things that would have sent her running and screaming even a year ago. She's not a coward anymore. Or at least she has to try not to be]
Th-there's writing on your back. It...it s-says "Murderer."
He makes a face at that, simultaneously trying to turn around and reach behind his back as if he could catch that word and tear it away, but all it does is slither around towards the front, over his chest to cover his heart, where the glow is impossible to miss even if Mikoto himself can't easily read the word. ]
It's... [ "nothing," he wants to say, wants to deny all association with the word, it has nothing to do with him. It does and it doesn't. ]
...before I came here, I was caught up in something... I was accused of murder and thrown in prison, but I didn't do it! I didn't do anything!
[ He backs up, back against the cold glass of the tank so at least he doesn't have to see all those fishy eyes, he can just look at Toko's, see only himself in their reflection. pleading. ]
I'm not a murderer. How can I be? Me. [ look at him, agitated, on the verge of tears. ] ...You believe me, don't you?
[She really would love to live in a universe where she is never asked this question again. Her thumb comes between her teeth, subject to a fretful gnashing as she deliberates.
Why would the word appear on him if it weren't relevant? She wants to believe it's a lie, but it skates around front as if to assert itself, give its own testimony. Is this a test of some kind? Does she have to choose correctly or suffer some deadly consequence?
What does she really know about Mikoto? How can she judge anything on a frantic three second plea?]
...Y-you said you were in a facility before. Is that what you meant?
[ She doesn't answer the question. She doesn't believe him. It's just more of the same, distress buzzing in the back of his mind, anguish boiling in his gut. ]
That's right.
[ He looks down at his hands, wringing the edge is his shirt, fabric worn and frayed. ]
They never showed me any proof, and never gave me the chance to defend myself- with alibis and lack of motive, you know? They got the wrong person. I don't know...
I don't know wh-what's happened to you before. And I d-don't know what you did or didn't do. I c-can't judge you. Not fairly.
If...if you w-want the chance to defend yourself, do it with your time now. Wh-what you choose to do now, in this place...maybe that is better evidence of who y-you are than things you w-were accused of before.
[She should know. She never expected to see that kind of mercy either, and yet somehow it was given to her.
Fukawa swallows thickly, but steps forward. Her hand is held out to him, palm open and up.]
C-come on. Maybe th-there's something we can use to cover it, before anyone sees.
[ toko: use this chance to show us who you really are mikoto two days later, biting people and torching bridges,
but that's then and here's now, listening to Toko suspend judgement, neither blaming nor forgiving him. How could she, besides? She doesn't know the full circumstances of what happened, and neither does he.
He lifts his hand, touches his fingers to the incriminating words on his chest for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes her hand, if she'll let him. ]
[It's only W1 surely we will find time to forgive him (next time he's got a baseball bat)
It's very difficult for Fukawa to initiate contact of any kind. For much of her life no one was willing to touch her, and the slightest gestures — or promises thereof — had ballooned into great and terrible things. Even now she's despairing that the first boy to try holding her hand isn't Byakuya-sama.
Maybe Komaru is rubbing off on her. She just can't stand looking at that desperate face, friendless and frantic. He could try to hurt her. Kill her, even. you don't know him what if it's right what if it's a trap what if you die and you don't get to save anyone at all
What she does know is that feeling of being cornered. The fear of the slander being right. Paying the price for things you never meant to do. Blood on your hands and only your imagination to explain how it got there. How could anyone trust someone who was so clearly a curse? Don't they hate you? Don't they want you dead? Wouldn't you be better off dead, you disgusting psycho bitch?
Fukawa takes a breath, and lets him have her hand. He calls her "chan" and her gut roils. Too familiar, way too affectionate even on a good day and she should be cussing him out for it.
She doesn't.]
D-don't thank me y-yet, you big idiot. Who knows if c-covering it will even work.
I'll thank you again when it does. This one's for listening to me, and for not pushing me away.
[ squeezes her hand, which, btw, now that he's got he's never letting go of ever, like he's terrified of losing the one person he's got on his side right now. it'd be nice to just stay here, like this, in the dark where nobody can see besides a thousand fish, but they'll both have to leave sooner or later, face the real world. ]
The costume department has lots of different types of clothes. Let's look for something with thick fabric, or, or maybe if it's baggy enough the words will be harder to see.
It makes her uneasy, this sort of gratitude. She doesn't like people, people don't like her. Him looking at her like she's some beacon of hope puts pins in her gut. Maybe it's partly positive? A pain of growth, muddled among so much roiling nerves. She'd like to do the right thing.
He squeezes her hand and she shivers.]
D-don't — ugh, don't be s-such a sap. You're so annoying.
[She won't comment further. It might give away too much, or dispel whatever freak magic she worked by copping out. Her eyes flick to the horrid wall of seamen, still watching them in perfect stillness.]
F-fine. L-lets just get out of here, those freak fish are gawping at us like a b-bunch of voyeurs.
[Costume department. That's a bit of a walk from here. Let's hope no one catches them while they're at it.]
he just laughs quietly about being called a sap and annoying, but these are going to be added to his collection of tattoos later fyi. it's the first time, though, that he's been able to sort of explain himself and have the other person accept it- whether or not they believe him- and treat him no different for it. amazing. he feels almost giddy from the relief, and he's going to ride this high as he swings their hands a little as they escape through the aquarium away from the seamen.
... he does want to say something, but he glances over at her and then looks away, deciding against it. glances back... never mind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
...Th-then that's just nature, isn't it? I guess sharks need to eat too.
[But her eyes flick to the little fish. Simple creatures. Nasty looking, she'd always thought, but in a strange way that's more endearing than typical favourites, like rabbits or kittens. She can relate better to these kinds of creatures. Simple, powerless, wretched. Stupid.
Doomed.
Her hands have taken hold of a lock of hair. She's tugging on it, bracing as her pulse picks up speed.]
...Mikoto. Is there...
[something strange happening to you?
a way out?
Something you want to tell me?]
no subject
What- what is it?
[ It's like she's about to say there's a ghost or a monster or something, and it wouldn't be too much of a leap of imagination to think so, what with all the seamen gathering around the tanks on either side of them. so many fish it blots out the ambient light, a thousand fish eyes staring out into the dark. ]
no subject
The ambience doesn't help. Can these wretched fish smell fear? Is that why they're gathering? Gazing? Her throat goes dry.
No — she won't be a coward. Even if her gooseflesh has pricked and her pulse is quickening. Either there's a rational explanation for it, or there isn't. And she's faced killers. Faced things that would have sent her running and screaming even a year ago. She's not a coward anymore. Or at least she has to try not to be]
Th-there's writing on your back. It...it s-says "Murderer."
no subject
He makes a face at that, simultaneously trying to turn around and reach behind his back as if he could catch that word and tear it away, but all it does is slither around towards the front, over his chest to cover his heart, where the glow is impossible to miss even if Mikoto himself can't easily read the word. ]
It's... [ "nothing," he wants to say, wants to deny all association with the word, it has nothing to do with him. It does and it doesn't. ]
...before I came here, I was caught up in something... I was accused of murder and thrown in prison, but I didn't do it! I didn't do anything!
[ He backs up, back against the cold glass of the tank so at least he doesn't have to see all those fishy eyes, he can just look at Toko's, see only himself in their reflection. pleading. ]
I'm not a murderer. How can I be? Me. [ look at him, agitated, on the verge of tears. ] ...You believe me, don't you?
no subject
Why would the word appear on him if it weren't relevant? She wants to believe it's a lie, but it skates around front as if to assert itself, give its own testimony. Is this a test of some kind? Does she have to choose correctly or suffer some deadly consequence?
What does she really know about Mikoto? How can she judge anything on a frantic three second plea?]
...Y-you said you were in a facility before. Is that what you meant?
What h-happened? Why do they think you did it?
no subject
That's right.
[ He looks down at his hands, wringing the edge is his shirt, fabric worn and frayed. ]
They never showed me any proof, and never gave me the chance to defend myself- with alibis and lack of motive, you know? They got the wrong person. I don't know...
no subject
[She wets her lips, thinking.]
I don't know wh-what's happened to you before. And I d-don't know what you did or didn't do. I c-can't judge you. Not fairly.
If...if you w-want the chance to defend yourself, do it with your time now. Wh-what you choose to do now, in this place...maybe that is better evidence of who y-you are than things you w-were accused of before.
[She should know. She never expected to see that kind of mercy either, and yet somehow it was given to her.
Fukawa swallows thickly, but steps forward. Her hand is held out to him, palm open and up.]
C-come on. Maybe th-there's something we can use to cover it, before anyone sees.
no subject
mikoto two days later, biting people and torching bridges,
but that's then and here's now, listening to Toko suspend judgement, neither blaming nor forgiving him. How could she, besides? She doesn't know the full circumstances of what happened, and neither does he.
He lifts his hand, touches his fingers to the incriminating words on his chest for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes her hand, if she'll let him. ]
...Sure. Thanks, Fuka-chan.
no subject
It's very difficult for Fukawa to initiate contact of any kind. For much of her life no one was willing to touch her, and the slightest gestures — or promises thereof — had ballooned into great and terrible things. Even now she's despairing that the first boy to try holding her hand isn't Byakuya-sama.
Maybe Komaru is rubbing off on her. She just can't stand looking at that desperate face, friendless and frantic. He could try to hurt her. Kill her, even. you don't know him what if it's right what if it's a trap what if you die and you don't get to save anyone at all
What she does know is that feeling of being cornered. The fear of the slander being right. Paying the price for things you never meant to do. Blood on your hands and only your imagination to explain how it got there. How could anyone trust someone who was so clearly a curse? Don't they hate you? Don't they want you dead? Wouldn't you be better off dead, you disgusting psycho bitch?
Fukawa takes a breath, and lets him have her hand. He calls her "chan" and her gut roils. Too familiar, way too affectionate even on a good day and she should be cussing him out for it.
She doesn't.]
D-don't thank me y-yet, you big idiot. Who knows if c-covering it will even work.
no subject
I'll thank you again when it does. This one's for listening to me, and for not pushing me away.
[ squeezes her hand, which, btw, now that he's got he's never letting go of ever, like he's terrified of losing the one person he's got on his side right now. it'd be nice to just stay here, like this, in the dark where nobody can see besides a thousand fish, but they'll both have to leave sooner or later, face the real world. ]
The costume department has lots of different types of clothes. Let's look for something with thick fabric, or, or maybe if it's baggy enough the words will be harder to see.
no subject
It makes her uneasy, this sort of gratitude. She doesn't like people, people don't like her. Him looking at her like she's some beacon of hope puts pins in her gut. Maybe it's partly positive? A pain of growth, muddled among so much roiling nerves. She'd like to do the right thing.
He squeezes her hand and she shivers.]
D-don't — ugh, don't be s-such a sap. You're so annoying.
[She won't comment further. It might give away too much, or dispel whatever freak magic she worked by copping out. Her eyes flick to the horrid wall of seamen, still watching them in perfect stillness.]
F-fine. L-lets just get out of here, those freak fish are gawping at us like a b-bunch of voyeurs.
[Costume department. That's a bit of a walk from here. Let's hope no one catches them while they're at it.]
no subject
he just laughs quietly about being called a sap and annoying, but these are going to be added to his collection of tattoos later fyi. it's the first time, though, that he's been able to sort of explain himself and have the other person accept it- whether or not they believe him- and treat him no different for it. amazing. he feels almost giddy from the relief, and he's going to ride this high as he swings their hands a little as they escape through the aquarium away from the seamen.
... he does want to say something, but he glances over at her and then looks away, deciding against it. glances back... never mind. ]