Chapter Text
Ikebukuro was a strange place, exceptionally vibrant and accepting, like a mother who'd embrace each and every one like her own flesh and bones. It didn't take long for her to get sucked into that whirlpool of everlasting events and to almost feel like a part of this district.
Almost.
Everything happened around her, and she was allowed to spectate those events, but never take part in any of them. Even though she could explore the inner depths of Ikebukuro, roam its streets and examine just about any detail that piqued her interest, the city still remained cold and distant, perhaps not being able to unfold upon the calculative and heartless eyes of the necromancer.
Those very same eyes lunged to the wavering lights of the dusk consumed Ikebukuro, her thin, black coat fluttering a heated dance for the fierce wind. Her feet were few inches away from the edge of the moonlit rooftop, yet her posture was enough to tell others that she was no jumper. She pondered endlessly to whom the old blood stain belonged, imagined how the dead body was scraped off the pavement, how those soulless eyes rolled back in the head for the eternal sleep.
It was beautiful.
Not the blood stain, of course- the young necromancer was never too fond of blood or gore, and perceived a human body with its share of imperfections. The beauty lied in the process of human breaking free of chains, of the abandonment of hedonistic pleasures and simple earthly urges. The act of division, one that would leave the fleshy prison to rot and open up the gates for something that would emerge out of the body, something that would remain after inevitable end of the body. Maybe it was soul, maybe sheer energy, or maybe nothing in the end- she did not know, but all those thoughts in the chilling breeze made her body shake in the best kind of thrill.
Distant footsteps awakened her from her slumber and she turned to welcome whoever has decided to join her in the silence, away from the city. Her eyes fell upon a man with a leather motorcyclist outfit, bright yellow helmet covering his head. She moved to this city recently, and there were no people that she actually knew, so this man, who soon typed something into his PDA and flashed the message towards the girl, remained a mystery to her.
[Are you Etsuko Mimisa?]
Her eyes narrowed into two sharp slits as she examined the person in front of her further. It was searching for someone, obviously. If this were to be just a coincidence, she'd be awfully polite and try to help the person out with finding whoever they wished to find. Yet this time, she knew that the motorcyclist was no human. It reeked of death- and not of corpses or drugs, but of the true smell of death, of a murderer that has bathed in blood for far too long. She shuddered as the possibility of this being a reaper who'd come to claim her life unraveled before her, but soon shrugged it off as something impossible.
After all, she was not Etsuko Mimisa, but there was something that drew her to this enigma of a creature. For far too long she has stood by, not bothering to participate in the play that the puppeteer so carefully prepared. Perhaps it was today that she could take part in one of the happenings of Ikebukuro.
She didn't bothered to give any kind of answer, and as she lingered longer the man stepped a bit closer, hastily typing into his PDA once again.
[Someone who you were supposed to meet here wants me to take you to a certain place]
By the time she read the message, the motorcyclist was just on the other side of the railing, her own eyes reflecting on the shield of the helmet. Even though no voice or face displayed the emotion, she could tell by how frantically he typed and how stubbornly he faced her that the man was worried about her safe being. She wondered who this Etsuko Mimisa really was, where she had gone to, what she had herself involved into, but brushed those thoughts off.
She slowly climbed onto the other side of the rooftop, the presumably safe one, and raised her eyes to the man in black, who signaled her to follow him. As the two of them descended to where a pitch black motorbike rested, the motorcyclist stopped abruptly, his fingers brushing lightly against the screen as it pondered for a while. She felt her lips curl downwards and she impatiently tapped her foot against the pavement, hardly containing her excitement for taking over someone's life and identity for even a while. The thought of wearing someone's skin, of peeping into their secrets and their ugly sides, of playing the role of someone who already existed fascinated her, and she strove only for action, for the culmination of this petty little play.
The man in black typed something in the PDA and erased it, fidgeting around nervously. He glanced through his shoulder, finally soothing his heart and laying the those thoughts in the mechanical device.
[I don't really know how to say this but... No matter what problems you are facing, that man is not going to help you. And even though it might look like your life is insufferable, one day it will get better. You just have to live and take care of yourself to see that day come to life]
She didn't know exactly how to reply since it was actually nice to see a complete outsider actually care for others in need, but it was pretty ironic in her position- she managed to prevent her sly smirk from gracing her features.
"...I know. But thank you for telling me that " It felt like forever since she spoke and her voice was raspier than she remembered it being. It probably added up to the effect of her being some depressed, lonely girl so she didn't really mind- after all, today turned out to be more exciting than any day she spent her in this city.
The man nodded gently and signaled her to join him on the motorbike.
They rode off to the darkness, or more exact, towards the undying source of light, but she focused more on the warmness of the Death's associate and his motorbike, that calmly neighed every once in a while. The breeze dishevel her clothing, trying hard to rip her off the pulsating body of the rider, yet the thoughts that occupied her head could not be pushed out. She still wondered who this creature was, why it couldn't talk, and how exactly was it linked with death. It was not a grave keeper or a necromancer, nor a priest either, so it was probably something out of this world, something that she had not yet encountered and had no knowledge of.
The bike stopped in the city square, where dozens of people still sauntered around, blind to each other's worries.
[This is where he is waiting. I can help you find him, since there are a lot of people around here]
She managed to squeeze out a fake smile and nodded gently.
"I would be very thankful" She knew already that this venture had no real outcome, only a bundle of consequences and misunderstandings, however, for some reason she could not allow herself to back out of this challenge. The creature in black, the one whose face she did not see yet, continued to intrigue her further, filling her up with the feeling of safety, happiness, in a way leading her towards her noble goal- that was something she hadn't felt for a while.
It was as if it was the warmness that this creature emitted actually managed to gnaw through the icy facade of her chest, reaching out to her heart and--
Finding it as stony and indifferent as ever.
The rider in black leaded the way, gently pushing past people to whom the nearby urban legend remained unnoticeable. Too caught up in their own lives and problems, their own little miracles, they failed to see a real phenomenon that brushed past them. Then again, it was nothing surprising, because it was in human nature to strive for the knowledge, yet refuse it whenever it came knocking on your doorstep.
The rider finally stopped, blocking the girl's view with it's slender back, typing something down and showing it to the person in the front. The girl managed to poke her head out to examine her surroundings, only to come eye to eye with a slyly smirking man.
He looked pretty odd in terms of outfit, but one could not deny that he was good-looking (although, the girl just could not feel any emotional attraction to a living person). Some kind of odd aura surrounded him, something that flared 'danger', not to mention that the dark smirk, which could be considered a mere smile by someone naiver than her, clearly signalling his troublesome nature. However, this one was a human, at least, not someone associated with death. That was a good thing, since she would not want to deal with someone like him, especially with things were to get a bit more complicated.
The dark haired man's eyes finally left the motorcyclist and descended upon her, two crimson eyes reflecting daunting moonlight. She saw how his lips twitched for a second and she felt her own body flinch when that gaze laded upon her, piercing through her brittle masks. It felt as if she saw her right through, and knew everything about her.
Did he know that she has a clear goal here, in Ikebukuro? Does he know that she is not a mere human, but in fact one that wields the bodies of the dead- a woman committed to the dark arts? Can he sense the grief that she carries within herself? Can he understand the duties she has to carry out, to free herself of guilt shackles?
"I'm sorry, transporter" the man's mood does not falter but his flamboyant and relaxed posture stiffens as he slips his hands into his pockets. "But who is this?" His velvety voice is like the most lethal poison, one that appeals with scent and flavor, yet as soon as it slides down your throat, it ruptures your lungs and tears your body to shreds. The so called transporter almost drops his PDA as his glance shifts from man to girl and vise versa.
[H-HUH??!!]
Her eyes still remain on the man, debating on whether or not there is a weapon in his pocket. Cautious was her middle name, after all, and she was pretty helpless here. It irked her a lot, that even if she'd manage to disarm him, he'd still be able to defeat her only on his brute strength- despite looking slim and elegant, he was still a man, taller and stronger than her.
[You mean you don't know her?!?]
The man shook his head, a playful smile still playing on his face as if it was all just a game for him, despite the fact that the courier seemed to be sweated over the situation a lot.
"Isn't that just disappointing?" The man feigned hurt, dramatically shaking his head and rubbing his temple with his pale fingers. "To think that my most trusted transporter, the hero of damsels in distress, failed to carry out her task! And if whoever this is" He lazily pointed towards her, without bothering to look at her again. "Is here, means that the other girl, that suicidal one" He paused merely, obviously taking pleasure in seeing the awfully calm and stiff transporter, smirking a bit wider. "Is God knows where"
"Who knows? Maybe she just left and went home" Once again, he motioned towards the swarming crowd of people, preoccupied with everything but the dark haired man and the courier. He sighed deeply, as if his own speech has brought him the feeling of melancholy, but apart from the mask full of diverse emotions, she could tell that in the end, beneath those layers, his heart could not quiver one bit, since empathy remained unknown to him. "Back to this cruel world where no one needs or loves her, to continue her existing as a sad, lonely and pitiful creature" He pressed his hands against his chest, his face once again twisting with fake pain. In the end, this really was all just a play, perhaps even a bit too obvious, since even she, who had met the man only recently, could tell. It was amusing nonetheless. "Since humans are all lonely things, especially if there's no one there to comfort them"
As soon as the man was content with the shock that he has planted upon the rider, he once again tucked his hands into his pockets, shrugging gently, as if he wasn't one blaming the rider seconds ago.
"Oh, well. Too bad. You could have at least brought someone more interesting" For the last time, he cast a bored glance to her, wrinkling his nose as if in distaste. "This one is by far one of the most blandest humans that I have met. But I guess it can't be helped~" He chirped gently, smiling almost fondly at the two of the bewildered people in front of him. "Farewell, my trusted transporter! Be sure not to fail me next time~" He waved energetically, strolling down the alley without much trouble, almost seeming pleased with himself.
She watched him depart, the fur-trimmed jacket slowly disappearing in a mass of people and darkness.
[Why didn't you tell me that you weren't Etsuko?!]
The motorcyclist wrote furiously, fingers hitting the keys with hard blows. Her lips curl downwards again as she searched for an excuse. She could not let all of this just go away, to fade away as a distant memory. She could not let away this rider get away.
"I-I am sorry. You helped me so much, and in the end I..." She hesitated for a better effect, leaning down in an apologetic bow. At least in this position, she wouldn't have to keep smiling like an idiot anymore. "I-I really thought that I was her. When I was standing there on the rooftop..."
She inhales sharply, listening to the silence of the black rider.
And continues to act out her rotten show.
"I didn't know who I was or where I came from. I was just standing there, all alone, my memory blank and when you came... I just wanted some certainty. Even if it meant taking someone else's life and pretending it to be my own, I was willing to do it. Just to feel like I belong somewhere"
From their short meeting, she already knew that the rider was soft-hearted, helping complete strangers, stressing over someone else's problems, so a bit of emotional manipulation would probably do the trick. And it did.
[Please calm down! I'm sorry... I didn't know you were in such a situation...]
She smiled kindly at her, shaking her head.
"You've done enough. I was so scared, so lonely, so terrified by the fact I don't even know where my own house is" She once again bowed elegantly, finally straightening fully and facing the rider. It wasn't really hard to pull on people's heart strings, so in the end this was bound to work. Surely, this kind of dumb act would not last longer than month or few, but she honestly hoped that her goal would be accomplished by then anyways. In the end, she did feel bad for tricking people, for using them, but her personal philosophy said that causing people pain and allowing them to go through hardships meant making them stronger, thus helping them gradually. "Right now, you encouraged me. Thank you for that"
She turned on her heel, her gentle footsteps echoing through the alley, before she was stopped abruptly when the rider jumped in front of her, desperate to catch her attention, change her mind.
[Actually, there is something that I can do for you. I don't know if you're comfortable, but... We have a spacious apartment, so if you have nowhere to go... You could stay with us!]
The smile turned into a darker smirk as soon as she finished reading it, sighing off her worries of her plans not working.