Breaking News: EXPLOSION: NEW YORK CITY
The television, my only link to the outside world besides the limited view from the window, shows a picture of standard-looking coins rolled into paper coin wrappers reading Sky Casino.
"The counterfeit coins believed to have caused the explosion match those recovered from the terrorist cache in the Sky Casino. Europol has called it a misfiring of the coin's remote-controlled detonators leading to concerns that similar coins may also—"
The calm and collected voice of the newscaster is interrupted by the click of the sliding door. It's Jouno, the member of the hunting dogs that intrigues me the most. He's come in with the devilish one called Teruko, but he's never spoken to me alone. But if he notices my unease, which he must, he says nothing.
"What a terrible incident." he remarks casually as if a cat had been stuck in a tree, "Any thoughts about it, Kunikida-san?
I hate to associate my colleague with these . . . (I don't even know what to call them) people, but his coolness reminds me of Dazai for some reason. If this were Dazai I'd give him a good whacking, but it isn't. And it's not like I could whack anyone now.
I keep my reply as calmly as I can, trying to match his tone. Though I know I won't manage the hint of humour his statement carried without my stomach turning. "I agree with you, it's terrible."
He gives a small smile, meant to be comforting or patronising, but I'm not sure. "You're the ones who did it. All of you terrorists." His tone is completely neutral, and he gives nothing away without his eyes. What is he here for?
His statement annoys me more than anything at this point, the result of festering frustration, helplessness, and worry for my colleagues' lives, my friends' lives. "That again? I don't know what your HQ is doing but the Detective Agency is innocent." I'm sure he can hear the tiredness in my voice, I'm not sure if I care. They won't break me. They won't. I won't let them. I can't.
"If you say so," He shrugs, plopping down on the folding chair next to my bed, "I didn't come here today to talk about that."
He's holding a green fruit, some type of pear I think Kenji would know, my heart aches at the thought of the young farm boy. I push the feelings back, sealing Kenji away safely in my mind, away from everything, and look back to Jouno who's smiling properly now.
"I have an Asian Pear. Want it?" He's teasing me, but my stomach still hopes. The food they've been giving isn't bad, per se, prison food would be worse, but still.
"You'll let me have it?" I let my sarcasm show openly, wondering how I'd even eat it. I'd be so humiliating to have him feed me.
So much so in fact that I'm almost relieved when he says, "Of course not." Almost, but there's a knife in his hand now, my muscles tense, aching for my notebook, knowing it would be useless to me even if it were within reach.
"Kunikida-san, maybe you can't see it, but I do respect you." He doesn't look down even as he peels the pair with the knife, keeping his face pointed towards me, and even though I know he can't see my expression, it's unnerving particularly since I'm not exactly sure what expression I'm making. I don't know how I should react to his words. Maybe his respect for me will keep me from further punishment but if he respects me what kind of person must I be?
He continues, either unfazed by or oblivious to my inner turmoil, "Back when you blew yourself up in midair, I saw you nimbly grab Tetchou-san, and use him as a shield against the grenade. Without that, even our engineers would have had trouble reviving you."
He pauses, probably gauging my reaction, however, he does it. I frown, hoping he'll sense it.
When I jumped, I fully intended to sacrifice myself, to die for the cause, or on the off chance I survived, to find a way to put myself back together alone until I could act to clear the Agency's name. When I first woke up here, I wished I was dead.
Satisfied, or at least realising he won't change my opinion, he starts speaking again, "That talent deserved praise, and so I thought of a way to ensure you alone are found innocent. . ." he pauses, letting silence reign letting suspense itch up my spine and into my fingers which I imagine I can still feel, and then," Kunikida-san, would like to join the Hunting Dogs?" He smiles again as he bites into the pear, and at first, I think I've misheard him, all the isolation causing auditory hallucinations.
"Huh? What did you just say?" I let slip my confusion, in horror
Jouno's smile only grows as he eats the fruit, "I think you heard me."
He lets me stew for a second, chowing down nonchalantly on his snack, "Track down and arrest the members of the agency as a Hunting Dog. That is the price for your freedom. We all require operations every month to live, so betrayal is impossible. The pay is good . . . and women love men who defend our nation." He lists the benefits off on his fingers like some sales clerk, still smiling watching me try to comprehend it all.
I can't even process his request. I think whatever painkillers they must have given me are starting to wear off. So I just say, "Leave."
"No. I'm not quite finished yet."
"You think I'll turn traitor to the agency? My heartbeat tells you all you need."
"Your heartbeat is unsure. You don't know what it is that you want." Jouno's voice is sharp, a harsh sound that drops the temperature of the room. Then he begins to giggle. The only relief is that he sets the knife down." I was quite surprised. Your pulse responded to the "women" thing."
I'm not sure what to say to that. It is in my ideals to find a wife soon, but in times like this I try not to think of things like that.
"But I don't need to read your heart. I know your answer. If you don't accept my offer and undergo healing surgery. . . you'll lose not only your ideals but all the abilities you have."
I don't understand what he means. . . . I think I do. I don't want to. And I know it'll be an even greater weight on my shoulders to have the words said aloud. I don't want them said aloud. I'm in denial. But I know I need him to say them. I know I do because I need to start dealing with this before I lose my mind.
I feign ignorance "My abilities?"
He knows I'm faking. He smiles, a closed-lipped sadistic thing. "Your notebook. How are you going to write anything without hands?"
I look down once again as he says it, still shocked by the sight of my bandaged arms, only blunt wrists underneath. My hands. Gone. My ability. Gone. My ability to defend and help people. Gone. My ability to execute my ideals. Gone. Everything . . . gone.
What do I have left?
He finishes the last bite of his pear slice, standing, leaving the rest of the fruit just out of reach.
"Well . . . I'm off for now. I'm sure you need time alone to consider the offer." He talks with slight giddiness as if this were any ordinary interview. His cloak swishes behind him, as he heads for the door. Then he pauses as if he forgot something (surely not the fruit) but doesn't bother to turn around. "Oh. And also . . . the female doctor's execution is today."
What!
He continues, facing me now, "This proves how meaningless . . . your "Ideal" to protect your friends is."
I want to argue, but can't find the words. It feels as if all the fight has drained from my bones. Something whizzes through the air and lands with a soft plop in front of me. It bumps my arm, sending waves of hot dizzying pain coursing through my body. I feel sick.
Through the nausea, I look at the object. My notebook! It's been cut jaggedly down the middle. I look back to Jouno. He smiles slightly, having the audacity to look as if he's tired of arguing with me. He probably is. He finds my Ideals petty, whiny and annoying, I'm sure. Many people feel that way. Even a certain doctor finds them somewhat odd. At the thought of her another wave of pain assaults me, sending a scream tearing through my lips.
-
It's that kind of pain where you scream, not because you want to, or even because you want others to know that you're in pain, but because you have no other choice, there is simply nothing else to do. You have no control over it, but these sounds won't stop leaving your body until your ears ring and your throat is akin to sandpaper.
And shifting positions doesn't help at all. No amount of jerking, twisting, or writhing even starts to take away the pain.
At some point, my glasses come off and I can't reach them. They fall to the floor with a crash. I hear the thin lenses shatter climatically but don't bother going to get them. Not spare whatever dignity I may or may not have left, but because attempting to retrieve them would only hurt more.
-
My voice is hoarse. I'm sweaty, I feel faint, and there isn't a trace of painkillers left in my system. This must have been their plan. At this point, I couldn't care less whether it was the plan of the gods themselves. They say a person will do anything to cease being in pain, and I understand. My thoughts are like thin ribbons in the wind, thin, translucent and dancing infuriatingly out of reach.
I just want it to stop. I want all of this to stop. Is this the only way?
Suddenly the world goes black. I can still feel the pain but nothing much else.
What feels like days, but is really only probably three hours later, (judging by the sun) the world becomes clear again.
I see the small, but savage girl standing at the foot of my bed, the leader, Fukuchi, behind her. But it's not the same bed as I was in before. They must have moved me. But, why? It hardly matters now.
I look around, trying to make sense of my new surroundings. The glare of fluorescence burns my eyes and everything is fuzzy. (I'm not sure how much is from the pain and how much is from my lack of glasses). From what little I can see, this room is smaller, it has no windows. Not underground, but maybe close?
Fukuchi carries a bag of some clear liquid, like the empty one that's on the other end of my IV line now. I can only hope it's more painkillers. He clears his throat, strokes his moustache then says, "Yosano Akiko is dead. Have you made your decision yet?"
I knew, of course I did. I spent the hour preparing for it, but so soon . . . She really was my only hope of regaining my hands, and now she's gone just like they are. How did they kill her I wonder? She's very hard to kill. Part of me wants to know every detail the other part wants to know nothing of it. But I don't have the energy for non-essential questions.
Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me. I can make this work both ways. I grit my teeth, fighting the pain-induced delirium to get the words out. " . . . I . . . I-I need more information. I need to know exactly what it is I'd be agreeing to."
He frowns, probably discontent with granting his prisoner even small freedoms, but I can see his eyes alight with the possibility that I might agree. It makes me sick.
"Anything you wish." he smiles a friendly smile.
The girl smirks. It makes me hesitant. I push the fear down, no time for hesitation now.
"I don't understand. What do you mean about the surgeries? What would happen to you–"
Jouno enters the room, cutting me off. He wears that signature smile of his.
"Trying to get information, clever, but futile. However, since the only way you'll be leaving here is in a body bag or as one of us I suppose I may as well tell you. The source of our power is, of course, the abilities we've possessed since birth, but our strength comes from so-called enhancement surgeries. These changes, because they're so drastic, require maintenance, hence the monthly surgeries."
"And . . ." I prompt, ignoring the tremor that runs through me as I imagine what he's describing.
He seems happy with my interest. I repress disgust. Fukuchi frowns deeper. But he doesn't need to worry, there's no chance I could escape even if I wanted to, and I've accepted my fate. There's no way I'm getting out of this now. Jouno waves Fukuchi away, with a casual gesture. An "okay", I think. All the while, he's still smiling.
"And if we do not have them our bodies will begin to rot, until our untimely demise."
"Lovely." I'm surprised at myself for the sarcastic statement. I guess my brain chose sarcasm over puking.
"Indeed," Jouno said, smiling brightly. " I mean, there are some things the surgery can't fix, such as my eyes, but hands are simple everyday work for the engineers here. Risk of rot is certainly better than a life without two of your most essential body parts . . . don't you agree." He holds out the bag I can now see is labelled with the name of some prescription drug, underneath it are smaller words I can barely make out, but I don't need to know what it is. A painkiller. The gesture says what he doesn't. If I agree, I won't be in pain. An admittedly tempting offer. I can feel the edges of my sanity beginning to fracture, to crumble away, thoughts catching on fire as they fall like ash into the depths of my mind.
He has a point. It takes every ounce of my strength not to scream when I open my mouth, it takes all of my will to allow only a small " . . . Yes." to escape.
"Good. So what'll it be? Die weak, or live and be strong?" asks the girl.
I close my eyes. I was once told that everything seems clearer in the darkness. Not literally, of course, but that it makes it easier to think. I've never understood it before, having always been a dedicated morning person, only working past 7:30 when absolutely necessary. Now, when I close my eyes the world goes quiet. I can even ignore the ringing in my ears for a break in the half-baked visual input.
This is temporary, surely? Surely the agency won't be exiled forever? I shouldn't act so rashly. . . . I don't know. I have to help as best as I can. If I become a Hunting Dog I'd have access to their locations, and I could find them. I could clear them. (The members left alive at least.) But then if I reunite the remaining members and prove the agency's innocence, I wouldn't be able to be a part of it. Even if they were declared innocent, there's little chance Fukuchi would let me go.
My job. Gone.
But the longer the agency remains scattered the farther Dostoevsky's plan can progress. They need to get back to fighting the real criminals! Isn't it selfish though? If I can do something, it would be selfish not to. So what if I can never join them again? I must do what I can so that the agency thrives anyway. It's the only way to protect this city. And this is the only way to save the agency. (It won't be so bad, a life of fighting criminals. So long as they're actually guilty. I just have to trust that the Hunting Dogs wouldn't be going after the agency if they knew we were innocent.) I know what I have to do if I'm to execute my ideals.
"Oi, handless notebook guy!? You haven't gone to sleep have you?" the girl shouts, shattering my silence, reminding me of the pain I'd almost repressed in my deep thought.
"Shut up! You're hurting my ears. Let the man think." Jouno says.
"N-no!" Of course not, how could I? How could anyone sleep like this? "Could you turn the lights off?"
There's light footsteps, then the flick of a switch. They must know I'm in no state to pull anything.
When I open my eyes the room is completely dark, but after having my eyes closed for so long I can see fine. It's kind of wonderful. (Oh, I must be delirious.)
"Yes. My answer is yes. I'll join you Hunting Dogs and hunt down the remaining members of the Armed Detective Agency."
"To do what?" Jouno asks.
"I'm . . . sorry?"
"I said: To do what?"
Oh.
"I will help you to hunt down the remaining members of the Armed Detective Agency, so they can be brought to justice." My voice flickers out at the end, cracking noticeably.
"Good." He claps once joyously. Is this what Dazai was like when he was in the mafia?
As if on cue Fukuchi comes in again, the one called Tetchou flanking him. I know he was probably listening at the door, but not having his presence in the room helped with my decision.
"Excellent! The operating room is prepped. Tetchou, carry our new friend here to operating room 3. Be careful with his arms."
Tetchou for some reason, reminds me of a dog. Maybe it's his hair. I expect him to pick me up with no hesitation, and throw me over his shoulder, but instead, he takes me carefully in his arms. Despite his attempt at gentleness, the pain still radiates through my body. I didn't think it could hurt any worse but the movement makes me sick. I think I feel myself puke. I'm not sure. I feel my consciousness wavering, black creeping into the corners of my vision, consuming the fuzzy landscape. Humiliation is pointless. I'd be a fool if I thought I could walk on my own, even if my legs were technically working. I'm sure they'd collapse right out from under me as soon as any weight was placed on them.
(A/N: Kuni~ki~da is suff~er~ing)
Tetchou walks quickly, his stride even. Soon I feel the gentle coldness of a new mattress under me. Then the ever-so-sweet relief of anaesthesia. And then nothing at all.