LOVING MACHINE ‣ d. osamu

O5.

   HANDS TREMBLING, [NAME] SIPPED the drink set in front of her. a year had passed since her first runaway. this was her first day back in yokohama city. lately, nobody had noticed or even recognized her. was she safe now?

   inside the comfort of a small apartment that she had rented out for the time being, a bar nearby had a sign that flashed the words, 'bar lupin.' it was the bar that she and chuuya had gone out to once, to discuss their plans.

it was time to try and join the sheep again.

did the silly ginger miss her?

they had always gotten along.

   i wonder how he's doing now, she wondered, stirring the straw in her glass of iced tea. it had slowly become her go-to drink whenever she went out. over time, [name] had learned to forget about the kitsune and dazai, especially that monstrous creature. it never appeared again after their first encounter. nearly finishing her drink, she sat down on her chair, pondering her mind.

should she head to lupin bar tomorrow?

   chuuya may be there, she reminded herself. and i've never seen dazai drink there. i think i'll be safe for the time being.

happy birthday to me! she raised the glass which contained what remained of the iced tea and emptied its contents. washing the glass in the sink, she eyed it carefully.

   she never liked glass much. especially wine glasses. at least this was only a glass cup. wine glasses drilled fear into her brain, seeping away at whatever peace remained. as a child, her drunk mother liked to hurl them around especially. one day, a whole glass shattered on her foot. yikes, she thought to herself. well, she's not there anymore, so...

   it was crazy how she forced herself to stay nonchalant just to keep calm. checking the fridge for the slice of [favorite flavor] cake that she had bought herself, she helped herself to a portion, digging a spoon into it. my house had never truly been home.

all was well, for now.

   she never saw a single 'missing' poster of herself. could she be wanted? perhaps an expensive bounty was set upon her head? if the port mafia caught her, would she be thrown into the basements, tied up with rope to tranq her mind until she was crazy? just like when i saw dazai for the first time in years, she shuddered, the thought passing over. i never liked rope or him much after that.

   "i still bandaged him up, though," she muttered to herself. "i was crazy. mad. does he still walk around in the very same bandages every year, until someone bothers to fix them? dazai never liked being touched very much. perhaps it was that way with everyone."

i wouldn't like being touched either, if i had rotting bandages on my skin.

   "what a lonely birthday," she snorted. "a happy sixteenth to another year of losing my sanity and becoming less of a shell than i already was. how pleasant."

"how foolish."

   startled at the cold voice, she glanced around before realizing her apartment was empty. it dawned upon her that the words had been from her. 

just what kind of inhumane creature was she turning into?

   [name] never had the chance to fully reflect on herself as a human being, to breathe in the world around her. that was truer than ever. even now, she stayed alert, on the run in case she had to escape quickly. she would never have a sliver of peace again.

   long ago, she had that chance. a young boy with ginger hair and dark brown eyes made that a reality, ensuring that she was safe every day. he was a handsome fellow, always attracting the young girls that attended their elementary through high school. unfortunately, he never had a chance to experience a year of high school fully. the poor boy had run away four years ago at the age of fifteen. it's safe to say that he's around twenty-one by now.

   the man he became now was a mature, older version of the stubborn assassin he had once been.

   he was always a good person, she thought. no matter what he did. the man had a good nature and a tendency to care for strangers. i bet he grew stubble by now.

   the thought was enough to amuse her into finishing her cake after a while. washing the dish, she hung it up on the drying rack and went upstairs to brush her teeth.

   heating her bath, she sunk a strawberry bath bomb inside, letting it dissolve. the clear liquid slowly started to dissipate and fade into an adorable shade of reddish-pink tint. deciding to give herself a moment to relax, she lit a few scented candles and turned the lights off.

   the only light source was the pinpricks of tiny flames, safely controlled by the heavy wax surrounding it. she scooped up a portion of water and poured it over herself, her mind embalmed with the delicious scent of candles and water as if she were a mummy, a rotting corpse in body and soul, slowly becoming preserved with enriching salts and no sense of mind.

   scrubbing herself mindlessly, [name] let the peace take over, the tiny light casting a glow that hit her face in the dark, revealing rich, poisoning features. for many, she was a lovely girl; for others, she was a heavy thorn stabbed into their side and gushed out blood for their hearts.

[name] [sur—] . . .

(nope.) 

   [name] was a bit delusional. a person could do a simple favor for her, and she would marvel at them like they were an angel sent from above. she would drop to their knees and worship the ground the person walked on for doing that simple deed.

   at least, she used to think that way. a long year of rough traveling and forced calm had shaped her into a newer, evolved version of herself. the road was like home to her now. she was no longer afraid of what was in the dark—what creatures were dwelling on her journey of life.

in other words, humans don't change completely—they just become a more mature, more cautious, less monstrous version of themselves. a few folk liked to become the opposite—a horrifically grotesque, more detached version of themselves. however, humans always learned to mature, whether they liked it or whether it drove them to insanity.

   [surname] was her mother's last name. she had both her father's and mother's, usually using her mother's more often. the ginger-haired man sounds familiar...

   oda was her brother, and sakunosuke just happened to be [name]'s true last name.