maskslain:
It felt as though it was an understatement to say her crimes haunted her. It was part of her. Her every thought, her nightmares. Even the scars hidden by her clothes were part of the life forced upon her. Sometimes, she believed that the assassin was all she was. It was all the cult required from her. It was all those who learned the truth saw. The monster, the machine. Not the girl, never the girl.
For years, she’d been left to her own thoughts. To the voices in her head. Voices that were far louder than her own. Voices she long since stopped trying to quell. She’d seen no point. Not when she continued to follow the whims of the cult. Whims she would obey time and time again, lest they threaten those children.
Yet… Saihara wasn’t agreeing. Not with her thoughts, her beliefs. He was insisting against them. Not with the mask she wore. The lie she needed everyone, including herself, to believe. She couldn’t be kind. No..! It would get someone killed. It could get him killed. She wasn’t allowed to be kind or soft. Yet, he would defy the world. She couldn’t understand him.
“…W-Why?” Maki questioned softly. Confusion, vulnerability, and childishness laced her tone. She still refused to look at him, though she could tell he was closer than before. Her gaze remained pointedly downward as her fingers curled tightly into her hair hair. She didn’t understand, didn’t want to see his persistence.
“That’s what I am..! Why don’t you get that..?”
Even though he didn’t see himself as that great of a detective—if he could use his title as the Ultimate Detective to help anyone at all…he would do it. Right now, instead of trying to expose a criminal…he was attempting to expose Maki Harukawa’s own compassion to herself.
But would that be alright? Was it safe for her? It wasn’t right—the more he thought about her position…the more he felt ill. Shuichi dealt with all sorts of cases at his Uncle’s detective agency, sure…but most of them involved infidelity, missing things, people…it was hard to relate to what this girl had gone through.
And yet they were both human. That’s where he could relate. She may not believe it, may not want to see it—but she was and always would be a human being…just like him. He didn’t want to think of her with the title ‘murderer’…it simply didn’t suit her. She wasn’t, and nothing in the world could change his mind. No evidence, no witness accounts—nothing.
“Because Harukawa-san, I…know you.” He inhaled deeply, exhaling gently. He continued to get closer toward her…until he was in as close a proximity as he could get without it being suffocating. What he’d said sounded so Kaito-like. But he wanted her to believe him. What he said wasn’t backed up with evidence, with factual basis. But…his tone was genuine. The brunette in front of him resembled a child—she looked so fragile, so small. One wrong action, one misstep…and he was afraid he’d deeply wound her already lacerated heart.
With hesitance, he grasped her hand…testing the limits, yes, but…he wanted her to at least feel his resolve, if nothing else.
“But that’s wrong. You’re so much more than some title. Even if people called you a murderer, even if they insisted on being wrong...”
She was her. And yet, it was so hard for her to see that. She was an individual Shuichi enjoyed being around. He liked seeing her smile, watching her actually ‘coming out of her shell’...if possible, he wanted her to live life like a normal girl. Maybe that just...couldn’t happen. Was that a silly wish? He tightened the grip on her hand.
“...I’ll...hold your hand, like this...with the person they call a murderer.”
