bulgeunk

I've always thought of it as a kind of state-of-mind thing.

Like, most of the time, he's just Hajime. Regular, ordinary Hajime, short-tempered and sarcastic and still so caring. Still the same guy that gets wrapped up in the dumbest shenanigans because as much as he likes to quip, he doesn't like saying no to others. And he's taking care of all of them, taking care of the island trying as hard as he can to ensure everyone's recovery and health.

But there's something unsettling about it, the way he picks up new skills with such speed and grace - there's usually a bit of a learning curve on things he's never tried before, sure, and he can't quite outclass anyone in their own talent ... But still, it's a bit intimidating to know that whatever you're struggling with he could probably do blindfolded.

And it's the little things, too. He's not quite the same Hajime he was before. Before he was awkward, and kind of clumsy. Now he never stumbles. He never forgets a word, or misspells one, or mispronounces something. He never spills his drink or stubs his toe. He avoids drawing lots and playing rock paper scissors, when the others are divvying up chores with games of chance he won't participate. If offered, he'll just wave them off and say he'll take care of whatever chore it is - and he plays it off like he's just trying to be helpful, but they know why he's dodging it, they know that no one but maybe Komaeda could ever win against him.

And then, sometimes, when he's focused on a difficult task, they can see it setting in. His eyes glaze over, and his hands work unnaturally quickly, effortlessly. His expression falls, his posture stiffens, and he's lifeless, listless, mechanical. And it's creepy, it's unsettling, but they know that when he's done he'll just smile and go back to being just Hajime.

And rarely, very rarely, he's not doing a difficult task when it happens. He isn't doing anything. One of them will walk into a room looking for him, and immediately sense that something is just ... Off.

He's sitting there, still, not occupying himself with anything, staring off into the distance. Expressionless, motionless. And when they talk to him ... He responds as normal. He talks quickly and jokes and makes facial expressions as if nothings wrong - but as soon as the interaction is over he falls again, goes still, and they can tell he's just putting on an act to not make it weird for them.

And when he's left alone, he'll go about his daily tasks. He'll finish them far too quickly. He won't initiate conversation, won't join on any group activities. They know they can interact with him and he'll act normal, but even the act just feels creepy with the knowledge of what's behind it.

And it's unfair, really, to call that Izuru. Because it's still Hajime, there's no memory loss or dissociation or anything like that - it's Hajime, just the same. But it's creepy to think that the same guy that was laughing along with one of Kazuichi's stupid jokes or trying to comfort Mikan through a panic attack an hour ago is suddenly so dead in the eyes. They still call him Hajime, still treat him as normally as they can, but it's hard, mentally, not to think of it as a different person altogether.

It's temporary though. Just a mood. A state of mind he gets in and out of, rarely and for a short time. He comes back around eventually and it's visible, watching the light flow back into his eyes.