damned_institute | Day 44: breakfast

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Day 44: breakfast

Yuffie had died.

No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…

Had it all been some kind of hallucination?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.

The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.

Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…

[Closed to Sheena]

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Glancing up when someone joined her, Momo nodded to the greeting and gave a small smile. "Good morning."

Though she did not know this man's name, she had seen him around before. "We've not had the pleasure of meeting before. I am Vice Captain Hinamori Momo," she introduced. "Hinamori okay, though. There's little need for the rest of all that.'

Yeah, the name was definitely familiar. Arts & Crafts, wasn't it? He'd seen in on the bulletin many times, and had seen the woman herself standing near it on more than one occasion. It looked like they were both the type to watch who was posting.

"Robin Prower." He returned her greeting with a nod. "No titles here, and just Robin is good." Matt caught Sen out of the corner of his eye, but worried very little about who'd ended up sitting with her. That man was too old to be competition. "You've been here longer than me, haven't you?"

"A pleaser to meet you, Robin-san," Momo replied with a small bow of her head. She was happy the burns on her face had healed to superficial wounds. The last thing she wanted was someone she didn't know asking about her injuries. Thankfully, Robin didn't seem like the type.

"I believe I am one of the longest tenured here - almost four weeks now." She paused and gave a tiny laugh. "That's somewhat depressing to say out loud."

Four weeks. That was something, given how long just the time he'd spent here felt. It also meant she was a good contact. She knew people and people knew her. She hadn't been someone Homura asked her to keep an eye on, however, and his plate was going to be full enough now that L was back.

"Eh. It just means you have experience." Though what good experience in this place as for you he couldn't be sure. Yeah you knew the institute better, but it wasn't like you could put that on your resume. "For what that's worth..."

He stabbed at a piece of french toast. "So what did you do before you were brought here?"

"Yes. Experience."

Experience in watching her friends die. Experience in seeing people she cared for suffer. Experience in falling completely to pieces. Experience in putting those pieces back together. In some ways, Momo felt like she'd lived an entire human life in these last four weeks.

"I am shinigami, Robin-san," Momo replied. "Second in command of my Division, I had a lot of duties - most of them military in nature though meant for the spirit world as opposed to the living world."

Whoa, wait a minute. Step back.

Matt blinked quite a few times at Momo, not at all sure how he was supposed to take this new bit of information. The mental images he'd been putting together of ugly-ass shinigami ('Bob' came to mind) were shattered spectacularly. As much as he just wanted to say she was lying, it was actually more common in this place for crazy statements like that one to be true. (They had divisions?)

"A shinigami...?" His confusion had to be showing on his face, so there was really no point in holding back on the question. "You mean like..." He motioned writing something out on his palm, pantomiming using a Death Note. If she really was a shinigami, it should be easy enough to tell what he was trying to do.

The small shinigami drew her brow down as Robin pretended to write on his palm. The she tilted her head and gave a small chuckle.

"The paperwork associated with my rank is irritating, but yes, I am a death god," Momo replied, completely misunderstanding Robin's intent. "It's okay if you don't believe me. Not many do."

Paperwork? Was that what they called it? That hadn't exactly been the answer he'd been expecting, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the small woman across from him. "No, no. I believe you. There's not much point in lying about that sort of thing, after all."

Nevermind that he lied about his own name on regular basis, not even getting into other things.

"How many of you are there here, if you don't mind me asking?" He was sure he'd seen mention of those divisions before.

It was nice to be believed so easily by a human, and she gave Robin a warm smile. "That's what I think, but you'd be surprised how many don't believe. I've gotten used to it."

Momo picked up a chunk of apple and munched on it as she thought. How many shinigami were there among the patients? "Let me see..."

Focusing on the various reiatsu she felt Momo counted. "Seven, as far as I can tell." She paused a moment. "No... eight. There are eight shinigami here."

Eight of them? Matt ran a hand through his hair. Was 'Bob' the odd one out, then? None of the others had made what they were so clearly known on the bulletin. But then, it would only make sense that the one who'd dropped the Death Note was one a bit off from the others. After all, there hadn't been numerous Kira's on record before the one he'd dealt with.

And the fact that she was eating an apple... Matt stared blankly for a moment. What was the deal with that, anyway? At least she wasn't obsessing over it, filling her plate with nothing but.

"Huh. And you're all familiar with each other?"

With the way Robin was staring at her, Momo was starting to wonder if she had something on her face other than the superficial burns. She didn't recall eating anything that would have left something there.

"I can sense them all, but I don't know all of them," Momo replied. "I've worked with a few and one I've known most of my existence." She cocked her head. "Why do the matters of the shinigami interest you?"

That was interesting to note, that they didn't all know one another. How many shinigami were there, then, that this was possible? Enough to be able to keep track of the life of every mortal on earth? Or was it not just earth they were counting, but every planet or place represented by the patients here? Now there was a concept he would have liked to see Mello pace over.

"Who wouldn't be interested?" Matt began cutting up his french toast with the side of his fork, not having bothered with syrup. "I've just run into another since I've been here. You two don't seem much alike, though."

"I suppose you're right," Momo replied. "I guess it's just odd to me given most humans lack the capacity to even see us. I may have gotten used to that. This place... it's changed things. As I'm sure you already know."

Just because the shinigami Robin had met wasn't, to him, a lot like Momo, didn't mean the one he was referring to was one of the outside shinigami. If one were to stand her and Zaraki-taichou side-by-side, no one would think them alike. And yet, both were shinigami.

She smiled again. "I'm not like many of my fellow shinigami. The one you met - what's his name?"

Matt gave a light snort. "I'm not sure, actually. He was using the alias 'Bob.'" But both of them knew that wasn't his real name. Unfortunately, Mello had never known the name of any other shinigami aside from the one he'd interacted with. He was fairly certain, however, that this one had been important somehow.

This girl seemed far too friendly to be from a group of beings that stole life from humans by writing their name down in a notebook before their time. That was a difficult topic to just breach with someone, so he decided to be cautious for now.

"Bob..."

Really? Bob? That was a Western name, so it was most certainly not one of the Gotei 13 shinigami. No one she knew would use such an alias.

"I'm sorry, but that's not one of the shinigami I am personally familiar with," Momo replied, "He is either one of the others or perhaps one of the shinigami that recently vanished." She gave a wane smile. "I can feel when they leave. It is somewhat jarring if I'm paying attention at the time."

Chewing on another piece of fruit, this one watermelon, Momo tilted her head at Robin. "You seem to be handling spending your morning meal with a death god fairly well. I commend you, Robin-san. Most of the humans I've spoken to about it seemed a little... spooked."

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Day 44: breakfast

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