You would allow someone like me who has been You would actually let me know where you live Do you have any self preservation I have no desire to kill you That is hardly my feelings Nor to harm those close to you HOW ARE YOU LIKE THIS WHY WOULD YOU
Are you an idiot? Are you feeling well? You actually want me over?
[ kei stares at the address, before sending off a message to wesker. moreso, he questions his own intelligence! why.
but he goes to meet with oda; of course, he does. the interest remains even if he doesn't want it to. wesker says it will keep happening. kei wonders if he can get accumulated to it so that he could ensure -- no, it's excuses; it's using logic when he isn't being logical. it's being rational when there is no rationality. he just is interested. he forgets his usual sharpness. but if he can put it all into words to oda; if he can explain it; there may be redemption still for him.
[ oda knows this is a bad idea. he is aware of everything that could happen and every way that baren and/or shuji would chew him out if they learned what’s about to happen.
but he’s sick of dancing around it through cryptic texts that he can barely understand. if kei wishes to hurt him or talk him down or do literally anything, then he might as well do it in person. he’s an idiot, but that’s something that odasaku has never denied about himself.
the moment the door bell rings, odasaku watches how his cat scurries off to hide in her usual spot, behind the bookcase. maybe that’s what i should be doing, he considers, followed by a shrug. the damage has been done now, and he’s not gonna waste coffee because he suddenly got cold feet about it. leaving the coffee maker working in the kitchen, he makes his way to open the door. ]
Afternoon.
[ now it’s even more obvious how stupid this idea is, staring at the man that has made his life a mild hell for the past week or so. but now there really is no way of backing out of it.
so he’ll turn back, expecting kei to follow and close the door behind him. welcome to his apartment-slash-library. he tried to clean up, but there’s still books piled up haphazardly. ]
[ You don't have to greet me like we're friends. Irritation rises up against his back before he looks away. He is just saying hello. People do that. Kei rests his hand against his eye, lightly rubbing with the heel of it, as he follows after. He shuts the door with his free hand and it feels final.
He doesn't like it. ]
Pardon the intrusion. [ A beat. ] Yes, black.
[ His hand drops as he looks around, noting the piles of books. ] You're well-read. [ It doesn't sound like a compliment. Kei already wishes for a cup of coffee in his hand to drink so he wouldn't say anything. Wesker said, he reminds himself, that he would not be able to stop. Conscience and guilt would be unable to stop his interest. ]
But I don't mind the mess. It feels like you live here. [ That also doesn't sound like a compliment, but it doesn't sound like an insult, either.
He sighs audibly as he walks toward the couch, letting out an extra sigh as he sits down. ] It's good that you know you are a fool. I don't need to get into it then-- [ He stops as he notices the cat watching him from a safe distance. ] Are you still upset about how I used your life against him? Come now, you are still alive and well. Honestly, if you had stayed with me, you would be doing equally well with a cat fanatic. Both of you would probably be very happy right now.
[ odasaku calls out from the kitchen, not really caring for whether or not kei’s comment is an insult or not. he knows that it’s surprising for someone like him to be seen checking out five or more books from the library at a time, but that’s how he is.
or, well, now he’s only checking out two at a time. work does hold him back.
he does manage to hear the cat hiss which gets oda to actually turn around to see what is happening in his living room. akage’s all bristled, as if holding her territory from the Very Tall Man that threatened her life days ago. at least someone is smart in this house. ]
Stop bullying the cat, Kei. She’ll bite you. [ and he turns back towards the kitchen in order to serve their respective cups of coffee. both black, oda realizes, and he feels like this is some sort of bad omen. still, there’s nothing that can be done anymore. stepping out of the kitchen, he hands his cup of coffee to kei and sits down on a seat in front of him. ]
[ He holds his hands up in surrender to show he will leave the cat alone. She has served his purpose for him and so holds no worth anymore. ]
I am not surprised you are well-read. [ Kei closes his eyes and lets out yet another sigh. ] I used to read a lot. People assumed I enjoyed it, but I didn't. [ He wants to rest his head on the back of the couch but that is being too familiar with his surroundings. He straightens how he sits instead. ] I gathered stories upon stories because I wanted to understand. The things people write about come from their souls. They are bearing something of themselves in what they write. Something vulnerable, something fragile.
Whether it is a good or bad book didn't matter. Whether it was a work of passion, for money, for just because they wanted to try... I could peel apart the reasons by the time the last page turned. [ The emptiness grew inside of him, however. He had nothing to give the world; he had nothing so vulnerable inside. He had nothing that called to others. ]
Eventually, I stopped. I came to realize that I would understand the author but I wouldn't understand the characters. I wouldn't be able to see into what was lovingly or clumsily woven together ... I would only see the person. ] He takes the cup from Oda, feeling the warmth of the coffee against his palms is welcome. ]
I found other books, however, to read over and over. [ Religion-based texts. ] So it doesn't surprise me that you are well-read. [ He repeats. ] The reasons you are ... They are different than mine but you are still...
[ A slight beat. ] I am getting off-topic. So, where exactly do you want me to start, Sakutarou Oda?
[ fully ignoring kei’s question, odasaku feels as if he’s in some sort of trance, watching a scene thats no longer his apartment or kei’s annoying presence.
he’s in a cafe, speaking to a bearded man he doesn’t recognize. and what that bearded man tells him is— ]
To write about lives is to write about people.
[ snapping out of the trance, he sees kei’s annoying face once more, but manages not to pay any attention to it. there’s a strange feeling in his chest due to this stranger. something... that makes him feel whole. added with a sip of the black coffee, odasaku can’t help but feel content, underneath the deadpan exterior. ]
That’s what someone told me once. Past me. If you don’t understand people, you won’t be able to understand the characters—because they all got lives of their own. Even if it’s just made for the money, every story’s got its own life. A writer writes people. How they live and how they die. Even the books you read are probably like that, you just don’t notice it ‘cause you’re neck deep in your own emptiness or whatever.
[ He looks down at the coffee rather than to look at Oda's face. Kei feels he will not lose himself to interest if he does so -- it's childish and he despises it. The black of the coffee makes him think of what's filling up his own emptiness. His eyes narrow at it before he brings the cup up to take a small sip. No need to be so dramatic.
When Oda starts to speak, again, Kei does give a brief look at him. He thought that he would tell him where he wanted to begin, but he didn't -- and he did. ]
You believe this is something that I did to myself, as you did? You believe I am like this by choice? [ He huffs a laugh over the rim of the cup before he takes another drink. Sighing loudly, he tastes the coffee on his breath. ] I was born this way, Sakutarou Oda. Nothing happened to me to make me this way. No great tragedy. I simply was born as I am -- an empty person. I have never been truly happy in my entire life.
[ There is no bitterness in his words, however. There is no sorrow, either. Kei merely states a fact about himself. ] I am only ever content. Yet you... you decide that you would empty your entire self out. For what reason would you decide that you had to give yourself up? And why didn't you simply complete the process? You still feel it, don't you -- happiness?
[ His tone shifts as he smiles. The smiles that he has been giving every time that he writes Oda a text. He doesn't quite realize that he is showing such a hideously wide, pleased look, but he does. ] You feel it because you want to protect your loved ones. The desire to protect comes from experiencing joy that you do not want to give up on.
And what does it matter to you if I do feel happiness? Why does it matter to you if I’m half empty or mutilated?
[ and there is the main question in oda’s head. it’s the thing he can’t understand, no matter the amount of texts he receives from kei. whether he’s empty or not, happy or not, shouldn’t be a problem for someone who, until a month ago, was absolutely irrelevant in odasaku’s life.
and yet, every time he hears that word, all he can see is the reflection of his younger self, accepting the job to kill someone, followed by his current self, a hollowed out shell with nothing but anger to fuel it. ]
I don’t know why I’m like this. [ he takes another drink of his coffee. despite kei’s expression, he remains listless, unwavering. ] Going by the memories I had before the app, I should be normal. But I’m not. ‘Cause those memories aren’t true in the first place, I think.
I was an assassin, y’know? Was just a kid when I got that memory. And you know what the “me” of that memory felt? Nothing. You could’ve been telling me to wash the dishes or something and I would’ve had the same reaction.
But I’m not like that anymore. You know that much. Something filled me up after that memory and then that got taken away, too. That’s just how my life is.
[ He does not raise his voice; he does not feel any anger. As he has always said, anger comes from a place of righteousness. He feels no righteousness in his behavior so there can be no anger. The cup rests against his lips before he tips it back to drink, burning his tongue and throat, but he feels pleasant about it. Like he is pouring water over a flame, leaving it but smoldering ash. ]
And your friends only love you as much as you love yourself. Which is to say, it is a hollow affection that they have for you. They see you as you are and leave you to it. [ He grips the cup as he decides to finish his thought before conquering the issue of finding out that Oda was an assassin. Of course, you were. ] Yet you cling to that the empty friendships that could be real.
You were born incomplete rather than defective. Incomplete means that you can still build within yourself something. The pieces may not fit as well as if you were built to have them, but they will fit. I, however, cannot even manufacture parts for myself. [ Kei readily calls himself a defect; no human being should live the way that he lives. The only meaning to his life is to show others how they should not. ] Yet I don't believe you want your life to have the same meaning as mine. Do you wish to just be a cautionary tale, Sakutarou Oda?
Is that what you want to go bleeding into your stories written about people? What weight do the people that you write have when you made yourself only partially weightless? [ It only calms the flames, he realizes. He cannot stop himself; a smile dances on his lips as he brings the cup down to rest in his lap, held carefully in his hands. His thumbs rub along the lip of it as he speaks with a little too much cheer: ]
Or perhaps, your life will have meaning if you were to kill me.
[ odasaku shakes his head, almost disappointed at kei’s taunt. having heard all that, and he somehow thinks that meaning will come to oda’s life if he managed to take his life.
the surprising thing is that, despite all the stress, the idea of killing kei had never even crossed his mind. even now, he doesn’t think about it. ]
I don’t want to kill you. [ he shakes his head, taking a sip from the coffee, ignoring the burn as it goes down his throat. ] I was an assassin and I was a mafioso, but now I’m neither of these things. I’m just a writer. And if I gotta sacrifice the rest of my meaning in order for my characters to have some, then I don’t mind. I’ll do it without a second thought.
[ He holds the cup in one hand as his other hand gestures to Oda himself. ] I don't say that because I have any desire to cling to life, however. I merely have no wish of making you into a murderer.
[ There is yet another sigh as he lifts the cup up for another deep drink. He pauses as he looks down in it as he swallows to see that the contents are all but gone. ] But I don't deny that would finish the mutilation that has already begun. I merely have no wish to see it to its fruition by my own hand. Your ruin should come by your own hand and yours alone, so you have no one else to blame.
Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. You can only wish to repent once you have fallen on your own.
[ His eyebrows lift in a manner to mock the expression of surprise at the comment about characters and giving up his own life meaning for them. ] And who are the people in your stories, Sakutarou Oda? Can you see them clearly? Can you know them? The writer writes about people, but you have shut yourself off from them.
[ odasaku mumbles when he recognizes that line, his eyes parting from kei and settling on one book that’s on the top of a small stack— the bible. a book he’s read many times, but one that holds the same meaning to him as most of his fiction novels.
still, he knows that this line wasn’t said haphazardly; there’s meaning in those words as well. your ruin should come by your hand and yours alone. it’s so ominous, that it’s almost laughable, as if kei is somehow sealing his fate— or maybe it’s already sealed to begin with.
he doesn’t laugh. instead, he closes his eyes, sighing into his cup of coffee. ]
I’m writing about myself. Because I can’t understand anyone well enough, I’ve decided to write about the only person I can understand: myself.
This may surprise you but I am also a religious man.
[ It is, in that explanation, that the talk of salvation and repentance are not simply fluff words for Kei. He is not simply using them in order to intimidate Oda, but that he wholly believes in those ideals. But it also shows some of the twisted portions of his mind with his own faith. ]
I would like to read that book, then. I feel like if I had it... I could come to understand you. [ The cup is empty, and he frowns, as he sets it on top of one of the stacks of books. It is the small one with the Bible; he slides the Bible out to have the cup rest on top of the book underneath. ]
[ odasaku tilts his head slightly, blinking when kei comments his religiousness. he’s not surprised per se, but he can’t help but remember his conversation with baren a couple days ago. well, there’s the internal conflict they were talking about. ]
Not really. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t. This is why you try to hold yourself back, ‘cause you know that this goes against the values of Catholicism. Right?
[ finishing his own cup of coffee at almost the same time as kei, odasaku lowers the cup on his lap. he keeps himself from glaring at how kei uses his book as a cup holder, deciding instead to stand up and take both their cups to the kitchen, setting them in the sink to be washed later. inside the kitchen, the cat meows loudly, as if asking when this unwanted guest is going to leave.
she can’t understand him, but he still shakes his head, before making his way back to the couch. ]
Every time you try to “help me”, you act like a psychopath. You threaten the ones I hold close. ‘s that your way of helping me?
[ He pauses to open up the text, turning the pages over to find a familiar passage. But his eyes do snap up at the comment about how he is holding himself back. His usual dull, indifferent stare turns sharp -- one can almost feel the bite of metal just underneath the gaze -- before it returns to just calmly interested. ]
It goes against my beliefs, yes.
[ Again, it is the sin that troubles Kei most rather than the action itself. He runs his hands over the pages as the black cloud that had seemed to surrounded him recedes. His eyes only lift up once when Oda picks up the cups to walk away, the sound of the pages being carefully turned as he rereads a passage. There is silence between when the man leaves for the kitchen and when he returns; it's not an uneasy silence but it is not a comfortable one either. The air merely feels heavy rather than foreboding.
The Bible is closed when Oda returns. ]
It's not my intention to act poorly. However, you recognize that you have people that are close to you. You recognize that you care about them and that you may even love them. There is a connection that you've created with people, but it is on a spider's thread. [ Which, consequently, is more than he's felt with anyone. He's forced connections with people in order to remain grounded, and so the bonds he has are more violent and artificial than a naturally woven wish. ]
It's only help I can give for you since you deny and cut off all other means.
Remember when I told you that you’re like an incoming train, disguised as the light at the end of the tunnel? That’s what I meant.
[ he takes the bible from kei into his own hands, flipping through the pages aimlessly before shutting the book closed with a sigh. clearly this has some sort of meaning for the man; maybe it’s the only meaning he has. either way, he makes no more mention because he’s never been able to understand religion.
ignoring the oppressive atmosphere around them, he continues to talk, his expression deadpan. ]
You try to help me, but I’ve never asked for your help. And if I keep denying your help, what are you gonna do? Keep escalating until I’m forced to see what you want to show me?
[ He frowns as the Bible is taken from him; it may be the first time that Oda saw something like real displeasure. Kei folds his hands on his lap instead, drumming his fingers on the tops of his other hand's knuckles. ]
You have never asked for anyone's help as I have seen it. And so no one helps you. No one reaches past to attempt to touch any part of you that is vulnerable, because of the politeness of society and morals. [ His eyes drop to watch how his fingertips tap against his knuckles -- ring, middle, index, index middle ring. Three separate touches. ]
But I forget all of those due to my interest in you, so I'm the best person to help. [ And he ignores the last question. ]
[ in the deepest corner of his heart, odasaku can’t help but feel a bit of vindication when he sees that displeased expression on kei’s face.
the rest of his heart feels the unease grow, and he makes a mental note that religion is important to him. taking the bible away from him feels like taking a toy from a misbehaving child—if that child threatened the people he cares about. he watches the way the man’s fingers tap a rhythm, an obvious sign that kei is making an effort to hold himself back.
but oda himself won’t hold back, especially when his question is so blatantly ignored. blue eyes narrow, but his expression is otherwise deadpan. ]
That selective hearing of yours is a problem. I told you that I don’t want your help. I don’t want your interest. So, answer my question: what’re you gonna do when I keep refusing your request?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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My house. Now. You’re going to explain this and stop dancing around it because I’m so “scarred” or whatever.
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You would allow someone like me who has beenYou would actually let me know where you live
Do you have any self preservation
I have no desire to kill you
That is hardly my feelings
Nor to harm those close to you
HOW ARE YOU LIKE THIS
WHY WOULD YOU
Are you an idiot? Are you feeling well? You actually want me over?
[ Everything else is deleted. ]
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I cannot promise if anything will be understood.
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action.
but he goes to meet with oda; of course, he does. the interest remains even if he doesn't want it to. wesker says it will keep happening. kei wonders if he can get accumulated to it so that he could ensure -- no, it's excuses; it's using logic when he isn't being logical. it's being rational when there is no rationality. he just is interested. he forgets his usual sharpness. but if he can put it all into words to oda; if he can explain it; there may be redemption still for him.
and he knocks on the door. ]
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but he’s sick of dancing around it through cryptic texts that he can barely understand. if kei wishes to hurt him or talk him down or do literally anything, then he might as well do it in person. he’s an idiot, but that’s something that odasaku has never denied about himself.
the moment the door bell rings, odasaku watches how his cat scurries off to hide in her usual spot, behind the bookcase. maybe that’s what i should be doing, he considers, followed by a shrug. the damage has been done now, and he’s not gonna waste coffee because he suddenly got cold feet about it. leaving the coffee maker working in the kitchen, he makes his way to open the door. ]
Afternoon.
[ now it’s even more obvious how stupid this idea is, staring at the man that has made his life a mild hell for the past week or so. but now there really is no way of backing out of it.
so he’ll turn back, expecting kei to follow and close the door behind him. welcome to his apartment-slash-library. he tried to clean up, but there’s still books piled up haphazardly. ]
Coffee’s being made. How’d you take it? Black?
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He doesn't like it. ]
Pardon the intrusion. [ A beat. ] Yes, black.
[ His hand drops as he looks around, noting the piles of books. ] You're well-read. [ It doesn't sound like a compliment. Kei already wishes for a cup of coffee in his hand to drink so he wouldn't say anything. Wesker said, he reminds himself, that he would not be able to stop. Conscience and guilt would be unable to stop his interest. ]
But I don't mind the mess. It feels like you live here. [ That also doesn't sound like a compliment, but it doesn't sound like an insult, either.
He sighs audibly as he walks toward the couch, letting out an extra sigh as he sits down. ] It's good that you know you are a fool. I don't need to get into it then-- [ He stops as he notices the cat watching him from a safe distance. ] Are you still upset about how I used your life against him? Come now, you are still alive and well. Honestly, if you had stayed with me, you would be doing equally well with a cat fanatic. Both of you would probably be very happy right now.
[ The cat hisses at him. ]
Fair enough.
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[ odasaku calls out from the kitchen, not really caring for whether or not kei’s comment is an insult or not. he knows that it’s surprising for someone like him to be seen checking out five or more books from the library at a time, but that’s how he is.
or, well, now he’s only checking out two at a time. work does hold him back.
he does manage to hear the cat hiss which gets oda to actually turn around to see what is happening in his living room. akage’s all bristled, as if holding her territory from the Very Tall Man that threatened her life days ago. at least someone is smart in this house. ]
Stop bullying the cat, Kei. She’ll bite you. [ and he turns back towards the kitchen in order to serve their respective cups of coffee. both black, oda realizes, and he feels like this is some sort of bad omen. still, there’s nothing that can be done anymore. stepping out of the kitchen, he hands his cup of coffee to kei and sits down on a seat in front of him. ]
Start talking.
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I am not surprised you are well-read. [ Kei closes his eyes and lets out yet another sigh. ] I used to read a lot. People assumed I enjoyed it, but I didn't. [ He wants to rest his head on the back of the couch but that is being too familiar with his surroundings. He straightens how he sits instead. ] I gathered stories upon stories because I wanted to understand. The things people write about come from their souls. They are bearing something of themselves in what they write. Something vulnerable, something fragile.
Whether it is a good or bad book didn't matter. Whether it was a work of passion, for money, for just because they wanted to try... I could peel apart the reasons by the time the last page turned. [ The emptiness grew inside of him, however. He had nothing to give the world; he had nothing so vulnerable inside. He had nothing that called to others. ]
Eventually, I stopped. I came to realize that I would understand the author but I wouldn't understand the characters. I wouldn't be able to see into what was lovingly or clumsily woven together ... I would only see the person. ] He takes the cup from Oda, feeling the warmth of the coffee against his palms is welcome. ]
I found other books, however, to read over and over. [ Religion-based texts. ] So it doesn't surprise me that you are well-read. [ He repeats. ] The reasons you are ... They are different than mine but you are still...
[ A slight beat. ] I am getting off-topic. So, where exactly do you want me to start, Sakutarou Oda?
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he’s in a cafe, speaking to a bearded man he doesn’t recognize. and what that bearded man tells him is— ]
To write about lives is to write about people.
[ snapping out of the trance, he sees kei’s annoying face once more, but manages not to pay any attention to it. there’s a strange feeling in his chest due to this stranger. something... that makes him feel whole. added with a sip of the black coffee, odasaku can’t help but feel content, underneath the deadpan exterior. ]
That’s what someone told me once. Past me. If you don’t understand people, you won’t be able to understand the characters—because they all got lives of their own. Even if it’s just made for the money, every story’s got its own life. A writer writes people. How they live and how they die. Even the books you read are probably like that, you just don’t notice it ‘cause you’re neck deep in your own emptiness or whatever.
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When Oda starts to speak, again, Kei does give a brief look at him. He thought that he would tell him where he wanted to begin, but he didn't -- and he did. ]
You believe this is something that I did to myself, as you did? You believe I am like this by choice? [ He huffs a laugh over the rim of the cup before he takes another drink. Sighing loudly, he tastes the coffee on his breath. ] I was born this way, Sakutarou Oda. Nothing happened to me to make me this way. No great tragedy. I simply was born as I am -- an empty person. I have never been truly happy in my entire life.
[ There is no bitterness in his words, however. There is no sorrow, either. Kei merely states a fact about himself. ] I am only ever content. Yet you... you decide that you would empty your entire self out. For what reason would you decide that you had to give yourself up? And why didn't you simply complete the process? You still feel it, don't you -- happiness?
[ His tone shifts as he smiles. The smiles that he has been giving every time that he writes Oda a text. He doesn't quite realize that he is showing such a hideously wide, pleased look, but he does. ] You feel it because you want to protect your loved ones. The desire to protect comes from experiencing joy that you do not want to give up on.
And you don't want to give it up.
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[ and there is the main question in oda’s head. it’s the thing he can’t understand, no matter the amount of texts he receives from kei. whether he’s empty or not, happy or not, shouldn’t be a problem for someone who, until a month ago, was absolutely irrelevant in odasaku’s life.
and yet, every time he hears that word, all he can see is the reflection of his younger self, accepting the job to kill someone, followed by his current self, a hollowed out shell with nothing but anger to fuel it. ]
I don’t know why I’m like this. [ he takes another drink of his coffee. despite kei’s expression, he remains listless, unwavering. ] Going by the memories I had before the app, I should be normal. But I’m not. ‘Cause those memories aren’t true in the first place, I think.
I was an assassin, y’know? Was just a kid when I got that memory. And you know what the “me” of that memory felt? Nothing. You could’ve been telling me to wash the dishes or something and I would’ve had the same reaction.
But I’m not like that anymore. You know that much. Something filled me up after that memory and then that got taken away, too. That’s just how my life is.
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[ He does not raise his voice; he does not feel any anger. As he has always said, anger comes from a place of righteousness. He feels no righteousness in his behavior so there can be no anger. The cup rests against his lips before he tips it back to drink, burning his tongue and throat, but he feels pleasant about it. Like he is pouring water over a flame, leaving it but smoldering ash. ]
And your friends only love you as much as you love yourself. Which is to say, it is a hollow affection that they have for you. They see you as you are and leave you to it. [ He grips the cup as he decides to finish his thought before conquering the issue of finding out that Oda was an assassin. Of course, you were. ] Yet you cling to that the empty friendships that could be real.
You were born incomplete rather than defective. Incomplete means that you can still build within yourself something. The pieces may not fit as well as if you were built to have them, but they will fit. I, however, cannot even manufacture parts for myself. [ Kei readily calls himself a defect; no human being should live the way that he lives. The only meaning to his life is to show others how they should not. ] Yet I don't believe you want your life to have the same meaning as mine. Do you wish to just be a cautionary tale, Sakutarou Oda?
Is that what you want to go bleeding into your stories written about people? What weight do the people that you write have when you made yourself only partially weightless? [ It only calms the flames, he realizes. He cannot stop himself; a smile dances on his lips as he brings the cup down to rest in his lap, held carefully in his hands. His thumbs rub along the lip of it as he speaks with a little too much cheer: ]
Or perhaps, your life will have meaning if you were to kill me.
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[ odasaku shakes his head, almost disappointed at kei’s taunt. having heard all that, and he somehow thinks that meaning will come to oda’s life if he managed to take his life.
the surprising thing is that, despite all the stress, the idea of killing kei had never even crossed his mind. even now, he doesn’t think about it. ]
I don’t want to kill you. [ he shakes his head, taking a sip from the coffee, ignoring the burn as it goes down his throat. ] I was an assassin and I was a mafioso, but now I’m neither of these things. I’m just a writer. And if I gotta sacrifice the rest of my meaning in order for my characters to have some, then I don’t mind. I’ll do it without a second thought.
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[ He holds the cup in one hand as his other hand gestures to Oda himself. ] I don't say that because I have any desire to cling to life, however. I merely have no wish of making you into a murderer.
[ There is yet another sigh as he lifts the cup up for another deep drink. He pauses as he looks down in it as he swallows to see that the contents are all but gone. ] But I don't deny that would finish the mutilation that has already begun. I merely have no wish to see it to its fruition by my own hand. Your ruin should come by your own hand and yours alone, so you have no one else to blame.
Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. You can only wish to repent once you have fallen on your own.
[ His eyebrows lift in a manner to mock the expression of surprise at the comment about characters and giving up his own life meaning for them. ] And who are the people in your stories, Sakutarou Oda? Can you see them clearly? Can you know them? The writer writes about people, but you have shut yourself off from them.
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[ odasaku mumbles when he recognizes that line, his eyes parting from kei and settling on one book that’s on the top of a small stack— the bible. a book he’s read many times, but one that holds the same meaning to him as most of his fiction novels.
still, he knows that this line wasn’t said haphazardly; there’s meaning in those words as well. your ruin should come by your hand and yours alone. it’s so ominous, that it’s almost laughable, as if kei is somehow sealing his fate— or maybe it’s already sealed to begin with.
he doesn’t laugh. instead, he closes his eyes, sighing into his cup of coffee. ]
I’m writing about myself. Because I can’t understand anyone well enough, I’ve decided to write about the only person I can understand: myself.
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[ It is, in that explanation, that the talk of salvation and repentance are not simply fluff words for Kei. He is not simply using them in order to intimidate Oda, but that he wholly believes in those ideals. But it also shows some of the twisted portions of his mind with his own faith. ]
I would like to read that book, then. I feel like if I had it... I could come to understand you. [ The cup is empty, and he frowns, as he sets it on top of one of the stacks of books. It is the small one with the Bible; he slides the Bible out to have the cup rest on top of the book underneath. ]
And with it, I can help you.
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Not really. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t. This is why you try to hold yourself back, ‘cause you know that this goes against the values of Catholicism. Right?
[ finishing his own cup of coffee at almost the same time as kei, odasaku lowers the cup on his lap. he keeps himself from glaring at how kei uses his book as a cup holder, deciding instead to stand up and take both their cups to the kitchen, setting them in the sink to be washed later. inside the kitchen, the cat meows loudly, as if asking when this unwanted guest is going to leave.
she can’t understand him, but he still shakes his head, before making his way back to the couch. ]
Every time you try to “help me”, you act like a psychopath. You threaten the ones I hold close. ‘s that your way of helping me?
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It goes against my beliefs, yes.
[ Again, it is the sin that troubles Kei most rather than the action itself. He runs his hands over the pages as the black cloud that had seemed to surrounded him recedes. His eyes only lift up once when Oda picks up the cups to walk away, the sound of the pages being carefully turned as he rereads a passage. There is silence between when the man leaves for the kitchen and when he returns; it's not an uneasy silence but it is not a comfortable one either. The air merely feels heavy rather than foreboding.
The Bible is closed when Oda returns. ]
It's not my intention to act poorly. However, you recognize that you have people that are close to you. You recognize that you care about them and that you may even love them. There is a connection that you've created with people, but it is on a spider's thread. [ Which, consequently, is more than he's felt with anyone. He's forced connections with people in order to remain grounded, and so the bonds he has are more violent and artificial than a naturally woven wish. ]
It's only help I can give for you since you deny and cut off all other means.
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[ he takes the bible from kei into his own hands, flipping through the pages aimlessly before shutting the book closed with a sigh. clearly this has some sort of meaning for the man; maybe it’s the only meaning he has. either way, he makes no more mention because he’s never been able to understand religion.
ignoring the oppressive atmosphere around them, he continues to talk, his expression deadpan. ]
You try to help me, but I’ve never asked for your help. And if I keep denying your help, what are you gonna do? Keep escalating until I’m forced to see what you want to show me?
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[ He frowns as the Bible is taken from him; it may be the first time that Oda saw something like real displeasure. Kei folds his hands on his lap instead, drumming his fingers on the tops of his other hand's knuckles. ]
You have never asked for anyone's help as I have seen it. And so no one helps you. No one reaches past to attempt to touch any part of you that is vulnerable, because of the politeness of society and morals. [ His eyes drop to watch how his fingertips tap against his knuckles -- ring, middle, index, index middle ring. Three separate touches. ]
But I forget all of those due to my interest in you, so I'm the best person to help. [ And he ignores the last question. ]
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the rest of his heart feels the unease grow, and he makes a mental note that religion is important to him. taking the bible away from him feels like taking a toy from a misbehaving child—if that child threatened the people he cares about. he watches the way the man’s fingers tap a rhythm, an obvious sign that kei is making an effort to hold himself back.
but oda himself won’t hold back, especially when his question is so blatantly ignored. blue eyes narrow, but his expression is otherwise deadpan. ]
That selective hearing of yours is a problem. I told you that I don’t want your help. I don’t want your interest. So, answer my question: what’re you gonna do when I keep refusing your request?
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