NATURAL GENIUS .

           for someone in his position, he seemed strangely unperturbed. a captive, caught red-handed in a location he was very much not supposed to be in. and now he was facing the consequences of his mischief.  though honestly,  if he were to face consequences, he’d almost prefer it.  nothing ever touched him. it would be nice to see a change of pace.   ❛ hmm, let’s see. no one here worth killing, nothing here worth stealing…  at least not to me, y’know?  i guess that only leaves the last option━━    because i could? ❜    he chewed on the bulb of his lollipop, teeth cracking gently against the candy. 

           ❛ but wait,   why would i break into this, uh━━   sidebar, calling it a highly secure facility is a bit a stretch by the way. my underwear drawer would be harder to break into.  so why would i waste my time coming here, when there’s no challenge to it, huh? ❜  he paused again, always for dramatic effect.       ❛ can you figure it out, o’ great detective? ❜

near didn’t appear to take offense to the other’s description of his workplace— in fact, the detective barely seemed to react at all. if that was how he saw it, then so be it; that only meant there was room for improvement. ( there was always room for improvement, to assume otherwise was something only an idiot would do. ) getting upset over a statement of fact was a waste of energy that could otherwise be used to change it.

his question, however... that was of significantly greater interest.

She cannot help but agree with him, knowing that she had resorted to similar actions in her past, nodding slightly as she treads closer, like edging closer to prey although she very much doubts that the boy before her is as rabbity as he appears; looks were very deceiving.

“Yes, I’ve learned just how biased Roger can be in his reports.” She states with a shrug. “In mine, he reported me as a monster who should not be left alone with the other children. In Mr. Wammy’s report I was a bright and intelligent young girl. In the other caretaker’s I was a curious child with a natural knack for tending to the others. I never put much word into a single person’s perspective.”

She sets the the file aside, dragging over a chair for her to sit down on. She rests her elbows on her knees and brings her hands to her face, staring at the younger man before him. He is an enigma in every sense of the word, a wisp of a human being and as translucent as smoke.

“And yet I couldn’t find any of their reports. Only Roger’s has stood the test of time.” She tilts her head, and if she were a dog her ears would be pricked forward. “Why do you think that is?”

it was difficult to tell because his gaze never strayed from his toy, but something about near’s body language gave off the impression that he was listening to what she said quite closely. ( it was there in the way his hands stalled at the moments when his curiosity hit it’s peak, the slight incline of his head when he waited for her to continue. subtle hints, but hints nonetheless. ) by the time the conversation swung back around to near again, he had finished messing with his robot toy. he placed it down in front of him like a third participant in their chat— or, knowing him, a physical stand in for whatever was running through his head at the moment.

❝ i don’t think he likes children much. ❞ near drawled, in the kind of dull tone one would use to note something painfully obvious— like the grass being green or how water was wet.  ❝ perhaps roger should look into finding a successor. ❞ he smirked, clearly aware of the irony of what he was suggesting.

❝ to answer your question, well... i couldn’t confirm anything for sure. i know most of my files were disposed of. ❞ it was for security purposes; of course near would be one of the products of the orphanage whose information was kept under the tightest lock and key. he was truly an enigma in every sense of the word. ❝ but i wouldn’t discount the possibility of outside tampering, either. it could be someone’s idea of a joke or sabotage. leaving something unflattering as the only record of my existence is petty, don’t you think? ❞ he pretended to be deep in thought about the matter. ❝ but i’m having trouble imagining who would do that. ❞

❝ watch your step. ❞ the words were dispensed automatically, with the same kind of detached apathy one would channel when thoughtlessly swatting away a fly. the strange boy’s fingertips were stained in vibrant shades of blue, of canary yellow and the color of red most commonly found in summertime sunsets— and yet his clothes remained as white and pristine as ever. sidewalk chalk was apparently near’s medium of choice today, though his creation was still in it’s formative stages; blotches of color blocked out the beginnings of an image, but not clearly enough for the end result to be discernible.

strangely, his gaze would occasionally dart up and do a quick sweep of his surroundings. the gesture was noticeably, meticulously vigilant— as if he was watching for something.

when near gets overly tired— as in, multiple ( 3+ ) days in succession without sleep tired— he just kind of... goes limp after a while. when his body finally reaches it’s limit, he slumps over like a puppet on cut strings— sometimes in a chair, but usually on the ground, surrounded by toys or documents or whatever has his interest at the moment. it’s not that he doesn’t have a bed, it just rarely sees any kind of use; for the most part, near finds it a big hassle to physically get up and walk to his sleeping quarters— especially when he’s already tired. he’d much rather nap where he works, and get back to it as soon as he wakes. it’s not a matter of comfort, but efficiency.

         One  shy  note,  timid  fingers  pressed  against  ivory  keys  subtle  and  cold,  turns  to  a  burning  passion.  The  sound  resonated  through  the  room  and  down  the  empty  hallways,  ignoring  the  vague  sounds  of  children  at  play  outdoors.  He  didn’t  stop,  couldn’t  stop  in  this  frenzy.  His  eyes  began  to  burn  the  same  way  they  did  that  day.  They  burned  the  leaked  blood.  Now  they  leak  tears.  This  crescendo  fell  into  a  soft  melody  unsure  of  when  to  truly  stop.  But  an  abrupt  halt  came  when  Emil  heard  another  faint  noise  from  the  doorway. Startled,  the  boy  reached  up  to  wipe  his  tears,  looking  past  the  threshold,  eyes  not  exactly  placed  on  the  pale  figure  before  him  but  close  enough.  ❝  H - Hello?  I - I’m  sorry!  You  can  come  in  if  you’d  like!  Oh…  but  didn’t  everyone  else  go  outside?  I - Is  there  something  wrong?  ❞     @mindsgame

day in and day out, music had drifted through the halls. in time, near eventually grew accustomed to it— even sought out the source, back when it first began and his curiosity reached it’s peak. it wasn’t very difficult; the mystery musician had amassed something of an audience from the other children of the orphanage, but unfortunately it was for that very reason near brought his investigation to a screeching halt. ( too many people, too much of a spectacle for his comfort. ) still, the boy found himself lingering around that part of the orphanage, piecing together puzzles to the tune of their emotionally charged song. for a while, that was enough for him, but then the perfect opportunity to continue his investigation presented itself.

or so near thought, because it seemed like he was caught. well, this was embarrassing.

go  here  and  repost  with  your  character ’ s  name  in  their  handwriting !

could he fix it  ?  he’d take ( mock ) offence if he wasn’t currently at the toy before him,   before it’s soon held within his grasp.  if someone had told him he’d be spending a friday evening in near’s company,   it might of been enough to make him laugh without fail.   surprises never cease to amaze him.   he doesn’t spare him a glance,   even if expression shifts into dry amusement — before,  naturally,  changing again as he glances at the wiring hanging from the back.   “   c’mon.   you wouldn’t have asked me here if you didn’t think i could.  ”

&& that was the truth of it.   then again,  it was rather funny when he thought about it,   how eager the other was for his answer.    without much of a response,  matt found a place to slouch on the floor,   sitting in what seemed an awkward position to most,   yet captured both his interest and lack of motivation towards the task at hand.   he’d do it,   of course,  but he wasn’t all out of complaints just yet.   

“   hey,  if you were gonna offer me some compensation,  why not just get a new one instead?  it would be cheaper,   mind you.  ”   he may not be money hungry,   but it didn’t mean it hadn’t peaked some interest.   he had things he needed,   as well as certain pleasures that caught his eye (  it was definitely a car ),  so the offer was good enough for him.   

he wasn’t wrong to say that, and near even acknowledged it by agreeing, ❝ you’re right. i wouldn’t. i know your skill in this area far exceeds my own. ❞ there was no shame in admitting as much; it was merely a statement of fact.

matt’s question gave near pause, though not for lack of an answer— because of course he had considered the possibility of simply replacing it. from a purely logical standpoint, going through so much trouble to fix one toy was completely unnecessary. as if to stall for just a few moments longer, near pretended to mirror the other’s process of finding a place to sit, left leg pulled close in his usual unusual way. ❝ i can’t. ❞ he eventually admitted, when he could delay a response no longer. ❝ replacing it isn’t an option; this specific toy has sentimental value. that’s why i’m having it repaired instead. ❞ near didn’t exactly look thrilled to confess as much; it was childish, really. ( what a time to be concerned with such things now. )

❝ you know, normally when people break into a highly secured facility, it’s for one of three reasons. ❞ the detective’s tone was oddly conversational, especially considering the context— at least by near’s standards. ❝ to kill someone, to steal classified information, or the third option... ❞ he paused to twist his rubik’s cube into place, displaying six uniform sides of different colors. completed in record time, of course. ( though that really wasn’t much of a challenge. ) ❝ because you could. throwing you out now would be stupid, because it’s likely you could get back in if you really wanted to. ❞

Head cocking , pondering for a moment , just watching. He looks out of place , doesn’t he ?  ( Everything is WHITE , her favorite color alive. )  and he looks like a LIAR too, but who was she to call a child out ?  Instead , she nods , saunters closer and crouch in front of him.  ❝ I go by Judith.  ❞    She offers some-honesty ,  ❝ I like you , you look like a cloud. It’s pretty. ❞  and she smiles , a soft expression if not a little too sleepy.  ❝ but I guess that doesn’t help the whole ‘stranger-danger’ thing huh ?  I don’t think I’m dangerous tho. ❞  She lifts her hands up , shows her palms and goes  ❝ See ?  ❞  Harmless !  A silly way to prove her ‘innocence’ but at least there was an attempt. 

❝ So , can I carry you anyway ? ❞  A pause , a realization   ❝ or ❞   She motioned to pick something out of her back pocket ,  a cellphone dangling haphazardly via toy strap ( a tied up rabbit ? )  and offered towards the youth.  ❝  or you can call a friend , a mom , the police.  ❞  

✕  —  TO BE CONTINUED  @mindsgame​

the fact that it took so long for him to realize the truth was embarrassing— she thought he was a child, didn’t she? ( or perhaps, even more embarrassing was the fact that this wasn’t the only time someone had made such an error. ) ❝ i’m near. ❞ he said, feeling slightly dazed. then he glanced down at his choice of attire, as if acknowledging his monochrome outfit— and cloud-like resemblance by proxy— for the first time. ❝ i never thought of it like that. you see, i don’t like bright colors. ❞ that much, at least, was the truth. 

now, what to do? the mention of contacting an adult sent the gears in near’s head spinning. ( i’m sorry, my mom is dead, wasn’t the kind of answer that normally inspired much confidence. ) he looked up, not quite managing eye contact, but the phone was a welcome excuse to avoid it. what were his options? agreeing to her offer, owning up to the incredibly awkward misunderstanding, or trying to contact someone without revealing the truth? none of them seemed especially appealing, but near reasoned if she meant him ill, she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to offer help.

... and he really was getting sick of walking.

the mention of his file seemed to spark a bit of interest, if the way near’s fingers paused— just for a moment, just long enough to be noticeable— was any indication. ❝ that’s what roger thinks of me. ❞ it wasn’t a question; his tone was what one would use when making a statement of fact.  ❝ i can’t say i’m surprised. it’s not completely inaccurate either, but there are some points i’d like to elaborate on, if you don’t mind. ❞ he clicked the last piece into place and stared at the completed robot, so different from it’s appearance moments before.

❝ i do believe in independent thinking. people who blindly follow what others tell them without consideration aren’t worthy of respect. ❞ like sheep being herded thoughtlessly through life— lambs to the slaughter. ❝ that’s why i take the time to ensure my associates consent to what i ask of them, even if it puts their lives in danger— no, especially if it does. human beings aren’t like toys; you can’t put them back together again, even if they break. ❞ again near took to studying his robot, before deciding to shift the pieces into their original arrangement. ❝ of course, it’s impossible to achieve results without a little risk; that’s just part of the game. but i prefer to make calculated gambles, rather than leaving things to luck alone. if you want someone willing to take chances at the drop of a hat, you’re better off talking to mello. ❞ admittedly, in some ways it was a quality near envied. in other ways, not so much.

❝ so... can you fix it? ❞ the robot near placed down before the other was clearly old; the paint that once decorated it’s surface had been all but rubbed away, and the soft plastic had been scuffed  and dented in several places— from being dropped, most likely. ( it was one of his favorites— no, his absolute favorite. end of story. ) however, more worryingly than the cosmetic imperfections was the mess of wires coming out of the toy’s back. near had already tried and failed to fix it on his own, but he couldn’t match matt’s sheer technological expertise. if anyone could pull off a miracle, it was him.

at least he hoped. ❝ before you ask, i’m willing to offer compensation as an incentive; name your price. ❞ considering who he was dealing with, near thought a little motivation was necessary.

it’s exceptionally rare ( especially because he’ll never knowingly do it in front of an audience ) but on the occasions when near is in a really good mood, he actually has a tendency to hum softly under his breath while he works.

it’s also the same song every time, too; he first picked it up during his time with the first orphanage— the place his relatives left him before wammy’s took notice of his intellect. there was a caretaker who used to hum it quietly while she worked, and occasionally louder to comfort the children whenever they were distressed. it was surprisingly effective, and nate actually liked her a lot— though he was never one of the upset kids who needed to be calmed down. ( he was noticeably even tempered himself, even at that age. ) despite being largely nonverbal and seemingly withdrawn from reality, nate did end up bonding with her quite closely. that particular caretaker was actually the first person to take notice of his exceptional intelligence, as well as the first person to realize his “playing with toys” was more than what it seemed. 

     To Morgana and to the voice on the other line, Akira Kurusu was calm. He was under no stress or had nothing to hide. An easy front of maturity, level thinking, confidence, and vigilance. To himself, however, it was comparable to a cartoon where the camera would look inside his mind and everything was on fire. Alarm bells, printers with responses going haywire, various versions of himself running around and screaming, the whole deal. 

     As he continued on, Morgana talked quietly over him, “How can a reporter know so much? Isn’t this just for a newspaper article or something? If he’s so confident with this, why is he-”

     “Morgana, settle down,” Akira cut him off, shoving a hand over his face and pushing him away in a desperate way to get his voice to stop echoing the questions running rampant in his mind, “Sorry again, he’s just… Very whiny today. Anyway…” 

     How was he supposed to respond to this? He hummed as if trying to think over what the ‘reporter’ said, when he was really trying to think over what this new version of himself he made on the spot would say. Dammit, why was he so unlucky? While he wouldn’t want his friends to have to deal with this, it’s not the best for him to do it either. 

“That does seem pretty likely, but how would teenagers make corrupt adults confess? Even with some power people have been talking about, I kind of doubt someone like a yakuza boss would give up as easily as that Kaneshiro guy did. Teens like us don’t have the kind of power anyway, this isn’t a magical girl anime.” The view makes sense with what the world has been putting him through recently, and it’s a view he has when had first arrived in Tokyo at that. He was almost ready to just bow his head as the rest of the students at Shujin had like a hivemind. Perhaps it wasn’t too unbelievable someone as unlucky as him would adapt to such a crushing mindset.

     Please respond Ohya, please respond Ohya, please respond Ohya….

near waited very patiently for the teen to formulate a counter argument, but internally the gears in his head were whirring away faster than ever. ❝ it’s not as unlikely as you think. ❞ if anything, the alternative seemed almost laughably naive— though in all fairness, personal experience had something to do with that. ( if the kira case proved to be one thing, it was a lesson in keeping an open mind. ) ❝ don’t misunderstand; i’m not trying to imply this is a power that can be acquired easily. more people would know about it if that was the case— there wouldn’t be a need to speculate. however... ❞

his hands itched for a familiar set of finger puppets, but near had only kept a few very specific ones following the resolution of the case. he had been under the impression the others were no longer necessary— and up until the phantom thieves’ debut, that had been entirely correct. ❝ a few years ago, i spent quite some time reporting on the kira case. if you aren’t already aware of what happened, allow me to refresh your memory. you see, the person responsible also had the ability to target people from a distance. all they needed to do that was a name and a face. ❞ he fixed his gaze back on the calling cards. ❝ the majority of kira’s targets were also criminals. now isn’t this starting to sound familiar? ❞ there was also the fact that the notebook allowed one to control their victims before death. ( within reason, of course. )

the only thing keeping near from believing a new notebook was directly related was the fact that none of the thieves’ former targets had died yet. that didn’t mean things couldn’t head in a similar direction, however.