One Of Us

My Soul Takes A Midnight Stroll

Sayuri Rei

"Finish what?" Dazai's voice makes me jump. I thought he'd left to go home when I told him I hadn't eaten. But apparently he was the one to thank for the food on my desk. And thanks to him scaring the hell out of me, I'm pretty sure my soul just took a nice midnight stroll.

I take a sip of the tea and pause. "Did you...?"

He smiles and shrugs, "you've barely eaten over the past few days, let alone slept. I figured that some food would at least be helpful so you can finish... whatever it is you're working on."

I sigh, enjoying the warmth the tea brings me and allowing it to calm my racing heart. "...Thanks, I guess." I say softly, setting my cup down on my desk. I lean back in my chair and glance over at the clock. It's two in the morning. I massage the bridge of my nose as a headache blooms behind my eyes. I've barely slept in days. An hour a night, at most. Is that healthy? No. Does Dazai need to know that? ...Also no.

Dazai gives a half shrug, as if bringing me food at this hour is a normal thing to do. He's just lowering himself onto the ground beside my chair when there's a loud bang and the man we just recently captured to interrogate starts shouting. Dazai leaps up and I almost fall out of my chair. This time, I bet both of our souls went for a nice walk. We trip over each other's feet for a hot second before stumbling into the other room.

Dazai flicks the light on. The prisoner was banging on the glass windows. And he still is. I smirk, "you could launch a missile at that pane of glass and it wouldn't even crack."

The man growls with frustration and presses himself up against the window again. "You're one of us," he snarls at me. "Let me go and we can go back to the Mafia together. We can be unstoppable!"

"I think I'll pass."

He slams into the window again. And again. And again. Then he starts to bang his head against it until his nose starts to bleed. He slams his cuffed hands against the glass. Then his head. He starts to scream and shout.

And I freeze. My feet won't take me away from this scene. I just... stare at the man. I want to move. I don't want to see this. I know this man is struggling to come to terms with the fact that we've caught him... and it's probably hard for him. It's driving him insane. I suck in a breath and force my legs to move but they don't. It's like I'm stuck in place. And I'm zoning out on the window sill of the observation panel... and suddenly my head feels light...

-

I'm back in my cell like I was months ago after the plane crash. I don't know how I survived... I suddenly woke up, soaking wet... in a freezing cell. I'm covered in my own blood...

I lift my trembling head up to see the man that looms over me. He brings his fist down on my cheek. Then my forehead. When I fall, he slams his foot into my ribs... and he does it over and over again.

Through a blurry gaze, I see his face. I used to call him Father.

-

"Rei?" A quiet question. The yelling has stopped. I snap into the present. Dazai is inside the interrogation room. Our prisoner is laying on the floor, unconscious. Dazai holds him by the wrist and kneels beside him, but he looks up at me. "Rei, are you alright?" He stands and walks out of the room, locking the door behind him.

I clear my throat and nod. "Yes... yes, I'm fine..."

"He had you in some sort of daze just now. I don't know how he did it. It was like an illusion, right?"

My eyes widen. It wasn't an illusion I'd just seen. He'd triggered a memory. A trauma response. "I... no it was like... it was a memory. And it felt real-"

"A hallucination is all. He must've triggered it with his abilities. I'm sorry I didn't get to him fast enough-" he reaches for me but I shrug him off.

"It's fine," I snap, despite myself. I feel... angry. And I can't exactly understand why. "I'm fine."

He flinches away, quickly recoiling a bandaged hand. However, I reach out faster than he tries to get away. I take his hand and ignore his protests as I unravel a small part of the bandages. His cuts have faded. Most of them are gone, and there are only a few healing scabs left along with some fresh scars. Even in the dark, I can see the older, larger scars along his arm as he guides my hand to pull away the rest of the bandages.

"I left them alone." He tells me, his voice quiet, his tone hesitant. "The scars are so... so ugly. But the newer cuts are healing without scaring. Well... most of them are anyway. I still won't ever go out without my bandages on. I have to hide these scars-"

I cut him off, "back when we were in the mafia together... after Tech had an incident and my training room exploded with me inside... as they wheeled me into the med bay, you followed them. And when I woke up, you were there. You told me that scars tell stories. Because you know that he w-would be so mad..."

I shake my head at the memory. Mori was — and is still — so particular about how his members, especially his assassins, look...

"Your scars..." I swallow hard. "Your scars tell our story."

"...Our?"

I roll my eyes, "don't get any ideas. You're lucky I didn't shoot you for kissing me on New Year's. Point is, leave them alone. You don't need to hide them."

I drop his hand, but he reaches for me again and that anger bubbles up in my chest. "Don't." I say sharply, "don't you dare."

I sit back down at my desk. I ignore him until sunrise, and well past, busying myself with the new information Ranpo brings in the next morning. But all the while I still can't get over what our suspect said...

You're one of us...