I've bullied him into agreeing to let me help him steal things. [When my own father is the one in charge of catching him, this is a legit life choice.] I don't regret that choice at all, but there is a part of me that keeps pointing out how badly it could go.
Do I want to be a thief? No. Not really. I'll be betraying half of what I always believed in—still believe in.
[It's like she's never laid it out like this before. She speaks slowly, clearly, just with the occasional pause.]
But . . . Do I want to help Kaito find some closure . . . Help him use Kid to put an end to something worse than he'd ever let himself be—? And finally have some way to protect the people that matter to me?
[She lets out a soft huff.]
I do want that. Even if it's ridiculous and stupid and dangerous and selfish.
Yes... finding some closure is good but... Will you be all right violating your own morals? It's no good if you end up harming yourself to the point that you're the one who needs closure, right?
No.6 was considered a utopia; it was also a meritocracy. Both Safu and I were in the top percentage of intellectuals in the city as determined by our IQs in infancy, and so we were treated as the elite. We wanted for nothing, and the city seemed like a perfect place. Then, one day, an injured boy burst into my room. That was Nezumi. After I treated his wounds, I realized that No.6 wasn't the place I had thought it was. Four years later, when I stumbled on medical research they were inflicting on their less desirable citizens -- as I'd become -- I got framed for murder. Nezumi helped me escape before I was taken to the correctional facility, and I went to live with him in the slums outside the city walls.
When I left, I carried in me some of that research; I'd become a test subject without knowing it, and had a parasite wasp living in my neck. I nearly died that night, which is why I look like this now, but Nezumi managed to extract it. Nezumi was always quite verbal about wanting to destroy No.6 -- for his own reasons, and you'd have to ask him about them; it's not my place to say -- and was very excited about the idea that these wasps were likely to be unleashed on the populace sometime during spring when they became active again. Obviously, I was less so. It was a tense winter as I tried to figure out what I could do and as he grew more and more frustrated with my idealism.
[There's a faint wince; she remembers the memory she saw in Shion's heart, of Nezumi trying to torture a man for information. And she remembers exactly how it feels to have a hand full of glass shards.]
It became irrelevant. Ah, in the West Block, the only nice goods anyone got were things from the waste pile that came out of the Correctional Facility when they brought people in. A friend took me to buy a coat and I found Safu's. So we decided to break in.
The only way they wouldn't do enough of a scan to notice we were both wanted criminals is if we were brought in with a huge group. Fortunately -- not really fortunately -- No.6 did regular raids on the West Block to cull the population and also bring in experimental subjects.
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I've bullied him into agreeing to let me help him steal things. [When my own father is the one in charge of catching him, this is a legit life choice.] I don't regret that choice at all, but there is a part of me that keeps pointing out how badly it could go.
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[It's like she's never laid it out like this before. She speaks slowly, clearly, just with the occasional pause.]
But . . . Do I want to help Kaito find some closure . . . Help him use Kid to put an end to something worse than he'd ever let himself be—? And finally have some way to protect the people that matter to me?
[She lets out a soft huff.]
I do want that. Even if it's ridiculous and stupid and dangerous and selfish.
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I can't stay on the sidelines anymore. Not when there's so much at stake.
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Y-Yeah.
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No.6 was considered a utopia; it was also a meritocracy. Both Safu and I were in the top percentage of intellectuals in the city as determined by our IQs in infancy, and so we were treated as the elite. We wanted for nothing, and the city seemed like a perfect place. Then, one day, an injured boy burst into my room. That was Nezumi. After I treated his wounds, I realized that No.6 wasn't the place I had thought it was. Four years later, when I stumbled on medical research they were inflicting on their less desirable citizens -- as I'd become -- I got framed for murder. Nezumi helped me escape before I was taken to the correctional facility, and I went to live with him in the slums outside the city walls.
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. . . Did you find a way?
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