#cinnamonwrites

He had never considered himself as being particularly good with children.

Shidou gently held Amane’s knee in his hands. Although he hadn’t really given it much consideration before, his thoughts were now focused on how raw the materials that Milgram comprised were. The bare, rough concrete could never bother him through his shoes, but now he was kneeling to match Amane’s height; the floor seemed to push and scrape through his pants and to his leg, still sore with a nasty bruise from a few days ago.

He couldn’t bring himself to really look at her, not when he had bumped into her and caused her scraped knee in the first place, not when he apologized for doing so, not when he got her a chair to sit in, not when he applied a few bandages, not even when he sent her on her way with one more apology. Could she tell how much of a liar he was? Perhaps she could, for he knew that Amane was a very smart child.

His eyes followed her general path towards the outside of Muu’s cell, where she was waiting with Jackalope in her arms. Petting him seemed to be their main shared pastime. It made sense to him that someone so delicate as Muu would naturally be the one who handled the rabbit the best. He couldn’t really look at her either

- she was a child to him as well -

so his gaze dropped to Jackalope before wandering again.

Shidou sighed and rose from the floor (his leg was screaming at him to get up). As he usually did when he had nothing in particular to do, which was often, he found himself on his way to his cell for a pack of cigarettes. He would almost always then move to wherever Kazui was and ask if he wanted to join in, which he almost always did.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Haruka in his cell sitting at the small table they each had. Yuno had pulled up a chair next to him. They were poring over a few books of some kind, Yuno pointing to the pages here and there and Haruka nodding along. The sight instantly brought the idea of a tutor and their young student to his mind.

It didn’t make that much sense, honestly. The difference in their ages was one of the smallest among them. But to him, Yuno’s wisdom and energy seemed to be years ahead of Haruka’s confusion and apprehension.

Haruka glanced up from the book, happened to look across the entire Panopticon, and all too suddenly made eye contact. Shidou’s immediate thought was to look away, but it was too late. Instead, he put on a gentle smile and waved. Haruka looked back down to the book, but he could see the grin on his face from even this distance.

Haruka didn’t seem as inquisitive as Amane. He probably couldn’t tell, and for that Shidou was very thankful.

He arrived at Kazui’s cell within a few more minutes and felt his shoulders relax. The man was the prison’s opposite of a child.

They took up their usual spots. Shidou handed him a cigarette, Kazui passed him his lighter when he was done, and they sat in silence.

“The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.”

The sentence (and its originator’s long Western name) had been present in one of the first chapters of their psychology textbook. They had read it, agreed with it, and moved on. Now, Es could only wonder why they hadn’t really noticed it before.

They didn’t have to wonder. All they needed to know was that they were Es, Milgram’s warden. All they needed to focus on was their work. There was no need to think of anything else. But more than all of that, they already knew why.

“Let’s try to learn about you!”

Hadn’t Muu said something similar? They couldn’t remember. Did it bother them, not knowing anything about themself? They didn’t even know that for sure anymore, and that did bother them. A little. Maybe.

Ah, they didn’t like this.

They opened their eyes to the near total darkness of their room. (Or, office? Eh, it was kind of both.) Sleep stubbornly refused to come. Guided only by the faint light out in the corridor, Es swung their legs onto the floor, stood up, and made their way to the dining hall.

Things seemed so much simpler in the beginning.

They didn’t go into the dining hall much, usually opting to eat in their office-room-thing. They went into the kitchen even less - Jackalope did the cooking, after all. But tonight, here they were in the pantry, rummaging through boxes of tea.

They had tried, perhaps just to satisfy the itch, to look up the possible benefits of different teas, but it seemed to be a topic too obscure or niche even for their extensive personal library. They had said they didn’t care, so it shouldn’t have bothered them too much. In any case, their hand picked out the box of green tea and a beige-colored mug from a cabinet.

...Wait, how do you boil water again? You just apply heat to it, right? Hopefully this was the right kind of pot… Hopefully they weren’t making too much noise…

They realized a little late that they should have used a kettle instead of a pot. Oh well, a kettle would have made that whining noise. But how would they pour the water into a mug…?

Gripping the mug’s handle with their fingertips, Es lowered it into the pot of water and then moved it to the counter, where they wiped it down with a towel. Who knew that just making some tea would be such a hassle?

After mixing in the tea powder, they took their tea and sat in the dining hall.

They had chosen a seat on the end - picking one in the middle would have been weird, somehow - but that only let them see how long the table was without any people at it. They imagined the prisoners sitting down by their numbers, but in all reality, they probably sat as they liked. Who sat where? With whom? The ten chairs offered no answers.

It occurred to them that even if they wanted to eat their meals here, there was no chair for them.

Es looked back down to their mug of tea. It should have been sufficiently cooled by now. With both hands, they picked it up and took a small sip. Then they took a larger one, trying to wash away the lump in their throat.

They had no good words to describe its actual taste, only that it was mild. Oh, the aftertaste was slightly bitter. Maybe that’s normal for tea.

Improved memory, huh? They took another sip. They weren’t feeling it. Maybe it would have worked for someone else, but not them.

“...like it’s someone else’s…”

What had she said then? What was it about it that made them lose their cool like that? It wasn’t like they could even ask her; she had also forgotten it.

Their eyes glanced up towards the corridor.

“If you don’t walk faster, I’m going to step on you.”

Es chuckled to themself. They had been completely serious in the moment, but now...it seemed funny. Especially since Jackalope had reacted by screaming his tiny head off.

“...Huuuuuh?!”

Now that was funny to begin with. The fact that Yuno really did go and give him such a gloomy report…

Hm. Maybe this tea really did work for memory and things. Or was this just an example of that “placebo effect” they had read about?

“...the pain receptors in my shin simply transmit electrical signals to my spine and brain…”

Ugh, not him. Why’d they have to remember that? Think of something else, think of something else…

“That hurts! What are you doing?!”

Did they feel bad about that? No, they didn’t think so. He had needed it. It had helped them see a different side to him as well. It was creepy, but nice to learn.

That’s right. They liked to learn.

“I want to learn more about myself through them.”

“Es…”

Now that they thought of it, green tea has caffeine in it, doesn’t it? Well, it was too late now.

They walked back into the kitchen. After downing the last of their tea, they rinsed out the mug.

“...How pitiful.”

The pen in Es’ hand hovered over the paper, unmoving. The daily log form was only halfway complete, and yet Es had suddenly lost their concentration and could not recover it for the life of them.

They were prepared to face hostility from the prisoners. They were prepared to sit through long hours of nothing. They were even prepared to occasionally find fur in their food. They were not prepared to be assaulted by phantom melodies at random times without warning. To think that they thought they understood how hard their job would be when they had only just dealt with Haruka...

Abandoning the form, Es stood from their desk and left their room. They had tried waiting for it to go away before to discover that it rarely works. What they needed was to trick their mind into thinking of something else.

As though Milgram itself knew what they sought to achieve, such an opportunity appeared before them as soon as they entered the corridor.

“Mikoto? What are you doing here at this hour?” Es asked. “This corridor may be available to you outside of meal and shower times, but...wouldn’t you rather be talking with the other prisoners?”

“Huh? Oh, Warden!” His signature innocent smile sat on his face. “Yeah… I think I lost one of my earrings while I was showering. The others are busy, so I didn’t want to bother them. Could you help me find it?”

Es sighed. They shouldn’t be too friendly with the prisoners, but this was as good a distraction as any. “Alright. I’ll help you. Don’t expect me to do this regularly.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll ask someone else next time. Thanks a lot though!”

Es had decided near the beginning that showers would be used on a daily basis every morning, with female prisoners going first. Prisoners could opt out of showering if they wished, but not for more than two days in a row. As far as they had seen, Mikoto showered pretty regularly every other day. Hopefully his earring hadn’t had that much opportunity to move…

“Okay… I usually shower in this stall, so it should be… Huh. It’s not here.”

“Why this one?”

“Oh, well, Haruka likes to shower in that stall, because it’s closest to the door. He had some trouble with the faucet the first time, so I took the one next to him to help him out and, you know, make sure he didn’t have too much of an issue with anything else. He talks to me a lot, so I guess I just kept using this one.”

“I see.”

While Mikoto inspected Haruka’s apparently-preferred stall, Es moved to the other end of the room. There were ten stalls in total, in case it was decided that the prisoners all shower at once. For a room used every day, it was remarkably clean. Jackalope probably took care of that too, somehow.

Nothing looked out of place. Nothing glittered in the corner of their eye or made a crunching noise under their foot. Each successive stall held more nothing than the last. Where could this thing have-

“Hey, what song is that?”

They looked up to find Mikoto suddenly next to them. It dawned on Es all at once how tiny they were compared to him.

“Oh, am I in your space? Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Just approach with more care next time. But what are you talking about?”

“The song you were singing just now! Something like ‘Nee nande ita ita itai no yamete’... Ah, I forgot the rest of the words already. It sounds really catchy though!”

“Catchy…?”

So they had been repeating the melody without even being aware of it? This was hopeless.

“I guess that you’ve said you’d be examining our crimes through songs… Well, it makes sense that at least one of them would eventually get stuck in your head in that case. Oh, by the way, I found my earring. Thanks!”

“I’m...glad to hear that.”

As they exited the shower room, Es worked to suppress a groan. They were only four songs in, but if this was what was waiting for them… They didn’t even want to think about it.

Not that they could stop themself.

The thing that Yuno likes best about herself is her ability to never get thrown off.

Her hands have woven multiple intricate styles out of her hair hundreds of times now, but even when she was new at it, she had never gotten confused or frustrated. She could coordinate outfits within minutes despite her hopeless fashion sense as a child. She had familiarized herself with foundation, eyeliner, lipstick, and all of makeup’s other intricacies. Anything that did not come naturally could be learned.

The night air was warmer than predicted earlier that morning, fitting perfectly with the light, flowing dress she had selected. But even if it had been cold as expected, she wouldn’t have minded. She walked in her high heels with perfectly measured pace and balance.

Tonight’s restaurant specialized in French cuisine. Yuno had been there before; it was perhaps his favorite establishment in Tokyo. He was always pursuing exotic things, she knew, and France was the attention of most of his fancies.

He had said that the meeting time would be at 20:00, and so that was when she had started getting ready. She arrived at 20:24, and still waited almost ten minutes before he found her at the entrance. She greeted him with a smile on her face, her “Hello, darling” delivered with perfect grace. Their patio table had already been reserved.

Staff gliding from place to place, softly clinking dishes and glasses, and light conversation created a gentle buzz throughout the restaurant. The lighting did its best to feel warm and inviting. The pleasant weather was relaxing and drew many people to sit outside. The only thing missing, with which the scene would have been perfect, was a sky dotted with stars.

As usual, he ordered the hors d’oeuvres, wine, and cheeses. The only thing she ordered was her own Poulet Basquaise, which was really just chicken with some mild peppers. Nearly everything else on the menu was far too creamy for her taste. It made her a little sick just thinking about it.

They began waiting. He asked her how her day had been, she said it was fine, and he began to talk about his three dogs and his new car and how beautiful she was tonight and yada yada. She already knew he would want her again, not that she minded.

“Are you alright?”

Yuno didn’t stumble. It had never been asked before and even as she answered she wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was still a perfectly normal question. Nothing to worry about.

The food came to the table. Her chicken was covered in red and green vegetables, a welcome sight compared to the mound of dubious white sauces that he got. She didn’t even want to look at it. She cut up her first piece and took a bite. She dearly wished she was holding a pair of chopsticks instead, shoving infernally hot ramen into her face.

The chicken hit her tongue with a pang, like she had gotten a whiff of some smelling salts. Her entire body felt wrong on a fundamental level. She knew that even this dish was cooked with dairy somewhere along the line, but it had never hit her this hard before.

She waited a few moments. She took another bite. Dear God, she shouldn’t have done that. She felt as though her very blood was trying to kill her.

“Are you alright?”

The question came again. She was suddenly aware of how sweaty her palms were.

“...Excuse me.”

Stifling her panic as much as she could, Yuno hurried to the restroom. She would have breathed a sigh of relief in finding it empty if every breath didn’t feel so heavy.

She made a beeline for the nearest toilet and heaved, the acid burning her throat. She hadn’t smelled this pungent odor since elementary school. The nausea didn’t go away, but the exhaustion still came down in a wave. Tears welling in her eyes, she fumbled her hands toward the handle and flushed the toilet. She barely made her way toward the sink and rinsed her mouth. She looked up into the mirror.

...Shit.

She tidied herself up and went to apologize to him for leaving early. No, she didn’t need a ride, she lived close by. Her pace going home was faster, but still measured and rhythmic. Her whole body was shaking. Where had this come from?

As she passed by a convenience store, she had the realization that she should have bought tampons around five days ago. Then she realized that she hadn’t had any cramps for at least three weeks.

...Shit.

She walked inside. She had never paid them any attention before, but now the small pink boxes glaringly stood at the front of the store, completely unashamed of their purpose. She sighed. If she was right, she would deal with it, but it was going to be a major pain in the neck.

Their name is Es. They are the guard of the prison called Milgram. That is all they remember. Jackalope seems to be their superior, so they do what he tells them to (when he tells them to do anything in the first place), but they aren’t sure. Jackalope also said once that they “look” to be 15 years old, so that’s what they say if any of the prisoners ask, but again, they aren’t sure.

Es knows how to patrol. They walk the grounds every morning before the prisoners wake and every night after they go to sleep. Milgram isn’t that large, but it’s enough to help burn off the nervous energy that never seems to go away completely. They know the layout. There are almost not any more rooms than absolutely necessary.

Es knows how to file reports. They don’t file reports to anyone or anything, not really. They tend to just sit in a drawer in their desk. But they fill them out, one after the other, to pass the time. There are different types of reports for various purposes: daily logs, interrogation logs, task completion, prisoner misconduct, crime judgment…field trips? It seems Milgram was once busier.

Es knows how to interrogate prisoners. Well, the report forms call them interrogations, but the word doesn’t feel right. They rarely feel that force of any kind for any reason is necessary. The prisoners are (for the most part) well-behaved. It bothers them a little, they think. Still, an interrogation is easily the most interesting part of the day, when they’re scheduled.

Surprisingly, Es knows how to grow plants. At the very least, they’re learning to. They had found a tiny bag of old seeds in an unused corner of the kitchen on patrol one night. Jackalope didn’t seem to think much of it when they brought it up with him, but small sacks of dirt started appearing by their door since then. Sometimes it comes in jars.

They didn’t actually expect the seeds to grow into anything, given their age. But soon, on the nightstand by their bed, there sat four jars filled with dirt, tiny green shoots starting to poke through the surface. The plants have become their…hobby. That word feels right. It’s somehow calming to take the gloves off and get their fingers messy.

They don’t care much what the sprouts will become. Just having them grow is fine for now.

Es wakes up, patrols, and eats breakfast. They file reports, tend to their plants, sometimes have a snack, and file more reports. They eat dinner, patrol, and sleep. Interrogations occur early in the morning, far before their usual wake-up time.

It’s a simple existence. It’s empty, but not unpleasant.

Mt. Silver is cold. Temperatures usually remain in the negatives, only breaking into positive single-digit numbers on a few summer days. Snow and hail fall year round. Unprotected, people fall victim to frostbite, hypothermia, and death within a matter of minutes. Red had never really been affected by the cold, as far as he can remember. Even as a young child, winter days felt the same whether he was going out in coats and scarves or a t-shirt and shorts. The only time the cold had ever threatened him was the day he tried to take a nap in the snow, but that’s a memory for another day.

Mt. Silver is high. It rises nearly five miles into the sky. The peak is almost perpetually smothered by cumulonimbus clouds, which release the constant precipitation. Careless people slip and shatter bones, or simply fall and die. More careful people rarely care about more than surviving the climb and descent themselves, so bodies are left to be buried under the snow. None of that’s much of a problem for Red, though; he had already climbed up, and he doesn’t plan on going back down anytime soon.

Most importantly, Mt. Silver is isolated. It sits right in between Kanto and Johto, with only a single road off the beaten path really leading to it. It’s been deemed so dangerous that it is blocked off to all but the most powerful Trainers and skilled survivalists. Even if it weren’t, all of the aforementioned factors, and abnormally powerful Pokémon in addition, deter most everyone from it anyway. Since coming up, Red had only seen one other person: a boy a little younger than him. That boy became the first in years to defeat Red in battle, only to leave as quickly as he came.

In short, Mt. Silver is the perfect hiding place. There’s no one here. There are no questions he can’t answer here. There are no microphones being shoved in his face here. There are no cameras focused on him here. There are no crowds following his every move here. There are no eyes gawking at him here. There’s nothing here. Red has hidden himself well.

But maybe Red is hiding a little too well.

Maybe Red doesn’t want to hide. Maybe he wants to climb down. Maybe he wants to see Pokémon besides Golduck, Ursaring, and Sneasel. Maybe he wants to feel grass beneath his feet. Maybe he wants to show Professor Oak his Pokédex. Maybe he wants to walk into his house and hug his mother. Maybe he wants to see Blue.

No, he definitely wants to see Blue. He wants that more than anything. He wants to see what Blue looks like at fourteen years old. He wants to hear Blue’s voice. He wants to see what Pokémon Blue has been training. He wants to know what places Blue has been to. Maybe he wants to know how Blue feels about him. Maybe he wants to know if Blue has…met someone.

Has he? It’s an interesting thought. What would Blue like in a girl (because, in all probability, it would be a girl)? Would he be serious or casual? Would he dote or need space? Would he get over breakups quickly or slowly?

It shouldn’t matter. As long as Blue is happy, Red is happy, even if he’s happy without him. It shouldn’t matter who Blue is happy with, yet here he is, pining like he has been for eight years.

And Red has been pining, he knows that, he knew it ever since Blue yelled at him to stop talking and slammed the door in his face. He knew it whenever Blue would approach him from across the street and boast about whatever new thing he had done before he did. He knew it every time someone would comment on how cute he would be with Green or Elaine, oh how oblivious they were. He knows it now, on this mountain far removed from civilization, away from cities and towns, away from people, away from Blue.

...Okay. I’ve lived in buildings with thin walls before, but this was ridiculous.

It was the beginning of a new semester at the university I had somehow managed to get myself into. Of course, that meant that students were hustling to and fro, moving themselves and their stuff into their dorms and making all sorts of noise.

I was starting to wish I had moved in with them.

But no. Here I was, at 1:00, lying flat in my bed, listening to each new rustling or thumping noise that came from the wall beside me every few minutes or so. I had moved into an apartment exactly to avoid this kind of thing, only to be intimately acquainted with it. Truly, this was hell on Earth.

~

My alarm blared through the air as the pink sunlight peeked through the window. Groggily, I reached out a hand to shut off the noise. I heard something clatter to the floor instead.

When did I fall asleep last night?

I was forced out of my bed with a sigh to pick up my phone, still squawking at me. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I heard another sound from the other side of the wall. But this one was alive - it was a groan.

“Who the hell’s getting up at this time of day…?”

The voice was young, masculine, and seething with annoyance. 

“Big talk coming from a guy who stayed up all night.”

“Wha-! Th-that’s none of your business! You’re invading my privacy!”

“Well, asshole, I don’t know if you noticed, but you can hear me too.”

“Whatever! ...Why’re you getting up this early anyway?”

I didn’t answer him.

I started moving around to get dressed, deliberately making more noise than I needed to. Whoever that guy was, he could suck it.

~

The clock read 17:00 when I opened my eyes. The sunlight was starting to get an orange tint.

When did I…? Oh, right. I had been practically delirious by the time I came back from my first day of class. I had closed the door behind me, flopped onto the bed, and blacked out.

And it was all his fault.

“Thanks a lot…” I said aloud. “I’m going to be perpetually sleep deprived thanks to you.”

No response.

Come to think of it, I wasn’t hearing any noise at all.

I rolled over and knocked on the wall. Silence.

Energy began to course through my body as I realized that my neighbor was gone. I was alone, and when I was alone I could do anything.

Sure, that thing right now needs to be studying, but I can do it.

~

The heavy sound of a closing door jolted me awake. Sound started to pour from the other side of the wall again.

Straining my eyes, I looked at the clock. It was almost 00:30.

“...You...hypocrite…!” I spat, my voice still weak from having just woken up. “What are you doing out so late?!”

“None of your business! Fuck off and go to sleep.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I was doing. But not anymore! Not with you around.”

“That’s a you problem.”

“Well…! Ugh.”

The perfect comeback died in my throat a stillborn.

I lay back down, heat pooling in my cheeks and neck. The sheer audacity of this guy was too much. I was forced to lie there in my suddenly uncomfortably hot sheets and listen to him shuffle around his apartment doing who-knows-what. The minutes dragged by.

I heard the signature rustling of bedsheets from the other side of the wall at around 1. The regularly timed shifting noises started up again.

“...You know I’m waking up at 6:30 again this morning, right?”

“Keep that shit to yourself.”

~

Fall was approaching. My classes seemed determined to murder me. My diet consisted almost entirely of cup noodles and whatever enhancements I could get my hands on. My sleep schedule was ruined.

But so was his, so it was still a win in my book.

I stared at a blank document on my laptop screen, and it mockingly stared back. Technically, this essay hadn’t even been assigned yet, but my professor was cool and gave us a sneak peek. I figured I might as well write down a basic outline for later.

But instead, faint sounds of clanging metal and stuff blowing up were leaking through the wall. Something bumped against the wall with more force than usual.

“You little…! Ugh, I hate Meteor spammers…” The slight gravelly quality to his voice made it sound good for things like screaming and ranting. Or maybe it got that quality from screaming in the first place. I wouldn’t put it past him.

For whatever reason, my neighbor hadn’t stayed out irresponsibly late today, instead evidently opting to play games. By the sound of it, he pushed a button, and a tiny “Leave it to me, now!” played.

Hold on.

I closed the document, giving up on it for today, and hopped onto the MMO I knew he was playing. There was no way I could mistake that awkward, stilted delivery.

“What sector are you in?”

“Yellow, trying to beat down some- wait, what?!”

I quietly snickered to myself. “What’s your username?”

“W-why would I tell you?!”

“So I can come kick your ass.”

“Not if I can kick yours firs- No, wait, go back! You play Bring It On too?”

“Uh… I guess, yeah, I do.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“Um…” I tried to think back to how I first picked up the game, but my brain had other concerns. I expected that he’d be at least a little surprised, but why is he getting so hung up on it? “Maybe, about, five months ago? Pretty close to launch, I remember… You?”

He answered with pride and without hesitation: “Launch day, exactly.”

“Damn. Still kicking your ass.”

I couldn’t help but smirk as he grumbled and gave me his username.

_____________________________

Red still remembers the day he lost Blue. They were ten years old. He hadn't even realized that anything was wrong, at first. He had invited Blue to play the previous day, but he didn't show up when the time came.

He went to Blue's house that evening. His sister answered the door.

"Hello? Oh, Red? What is it?"

"...Where's Blue?"

"Well, uh... I'm not-""I'm here."

Blue suddenly appeared from within the house. Dismissively waving her away, he stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"What?"

"You didn't...come over."

"So? I didn't want to."

"...Why...why not?"

"None of your business! Just leave me alone!"

"But..."

"What?"

"Maybe...maybe Mom ca-"

"NO!" Blue suddenly screamed.

"Bl-"

"Shut up, SHUT UP! STOP TALKING! STOP PRETENDING LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!"

"Blue?" His sister called from inside. "What's going on?"

"Quiet, Daisy!"

Blue whirled back to Red, about to shout something more.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and slammed the door in Red's face.

Red stood dumbfounded for a moment, still as a statue in front of the door. Then his legs carried him away from Blue's house, his stomach churned, his hands threw open his own house's front door, his lungs ached, his feet pushed him upstairs and into his room.

Slamming the door, his body crumpled onto the floor. His limbs were completely numb, his chest heaved and shook, his heart felt like it was going to burst, his eyes were hot with tears, and his voice let out cries and wails. But his mind was still in front of Blue's house, unable to perceive anything but Blue's angry face, Blue's deafening voice, Blue shutting him out. His mind was unable to think of anything but why, we're supposed to be friends, what did I do wrong.

In the following years, Red would battle against Blue again and again. Their friendship would be tossed aside, largely forgotten, in favor of a mean-spirited competition. They would go down in history as the most iconic rivals there were. In the more distant future, Red would come to understand why Blue had exploded at him.

But at that moment, all Red understood was that he had just lost his best friend.