Oddly Captivating.

10 - Captivating.

Life is a frail, delicate thing.

If I were to compare it to something, I'd say life would be a canvas, one that starts off as completely blank with only a smidge of red paint adorning it. As a person's life passes, however, it is only natural that that painting, once as white as the wool of a sheep, would become more colorful, the colors representing the creation of their passions, desires, hopes, dreams, skills, and, most of all, relationships.

Eventually, the painting that is their life will grow into one that is full of color, turning into an image designated only and specifically for them, being completely different compared to another's. And when that person dies, their painting will be inherited by those who remember them as an example and as a memory of who they were.

For me, I would say I have experienced something similar to that, though, at the same time, my experiences are much different compared to others.

My life also started off as nothing more than a blank canvas, one that, unlike others, wasn't painted with that smidge of red that many others are. Instead, it remained blank until, eventually, it was given the color that it needed to not remain blank, empty, and soulless.

However, my canvas was not painted with care or love in mind. Rather, the one who decided to illustrate me did it without care, splashing blue, purple, and black all over until, eventually, nothing but a mess remained.

Nevertheless, that mess still turned out to be something, something that contradicted the word 'mess,' and that mess continued to persevere even when it only led to them becoming more of a disgusting, indiscernible, and terrifying monster.

And I made it; although, when I reached the end, nothing but a mirage of what could have been remained.

Thus, though I am technically like everyone else, illustrated and designed with almost everything I need: passions, desires, and skills, that does not mean that I have no room for development and that I myself am nothing more than a putrid example of what being human is.

I have skills, skills beyond a normal human's; I have desires, simple and generic; I have passions, ones that are grounded in nothing but fantasy, considering my situation; but I don't have what everyone was born with, a blotch of red.

That is something so major that I am missing, and I am fine with it.

Such a fate is not one that I consider terrible, as I know that there are others who have suffered much worse than I have, and I know that I'm not the only human who was born like this.

Notwithstanding this, I did hope that I'd one day, even if only for a minute, get to experience something similar to those born naturally with red.

However, after all the experiences I had in my first year, I thought that to be impossible... that is...

"Kiyotaka, what the hell are you staring at?"

...Until now.

"I don't know; what was I staring at?" I say back, unleashing a small grunt from her as she grips my hand a bit too tight.

"Do you seriously not even know where you were staring? You really have to stop spacing out so often," she says, grabbing an apple from my coffee table and biting into it. I don't know why she requested for us to buy her apples of all things, but I won't question it because it seems she's enjoying them.

"Well, sorry then, I guess."

"Nah, it's fine. I've gotten used to it, but try to reduce how much you space out."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," I reply back, as we, as usual, mellow back down into silence.

However, it seems that Fuka was completely intent on continuing the conversation, and she suddenly spoke once more.

"We've really come far, haven't we, Kiyotaka?"

"Huh?" It was sudden, both her choice of words and how she expressed them. She was clearly happy, but there was another tone to her voice, one of disbelief.

"Nothing, it's just that... I never thought we'd get this far..."

"Yeah... neither did I, but I don't regret what's happened," I say, as resolute as I possibly can be. It's true I don't regret anything that's happened, and I don't regret being with her, not at all.

"Neither do I... Say, do you still need help with tracking Nagumo?"

"Of course, that was part of our deal, wasn't it?"

"It was..." She smiled, turning her head to me as she shone brightly.

"Say, Kiyotaka, would you mind if I stayed in your room tonight? It's fine if you say no; it's your choice, after all."

"I wouldn't mind, so long as you don't do anything weird," she punches my arm lightly for that, as she laughs at my attempt to tease her.

"Trust me, I won't," she laughs, and in turn I give her a small smile.

She doesn't notice it, but she hasn't noticed a lot of things she's done for me. And that's not a bad thing. One day, I'll tell her about what she's done for me and how she did it, but today's not that day.

Suddenly, she inches closer to me, and I do the same for her.

And eventually, our lips collided.

The feeling was just as exhilarating as the first time we did this, and I knew it wasn't going to be the last, which only made me hopeful of things to come.

The possibility of me returning to the White Room is also there, and I won't deny that fact.

But even then, I wish to enjoy my time with her because, even if she does not know, Fuka has given me something that no one else has.

And that is a red blotch, one that shall permanently remain on my canvas.

And one that, even in the White Room, I'll take with me.

As she has made the mess he created one that has become a potential for beauty.

But perhaps that is Fuka's influence on me showing; after all, she is oddly captivating.

And I've fallen for her, and that's fine with me.

Because as long as I have her, nothing else matters.

And I'll find a way, find a way to not go back.

So I can be with her for as long as I live...

.

.

.

in peace.

---------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for this one, and I hope you enjoyed.

I'm considering making a Honami fanfic because of how Kinugasa killed her character, essentially.

So expect that.