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- Finally, a break.
- Arima exhaled in relief as she slumped down on the couch in the girls' dorm. After a few weeks of getting her own little girl brigade, well... It felt nice to actually unwind a bit. She had pretty much accomplished exactly what she wanted with basically no effort... Except in the last one, but, eh, she got Koiso eventually.
- Of course, she wasn't necessarily done. There were quite a few possibilities. Someone from that newer class could be fun, maybe... Or she could just try her luck on some easier people like Hayasa...
- She was getting ahead of herself. With a lazy sigh, she glanced over at the TV in front of her. Did she feel like watching something...?
- Before Arima could settle fully into her seat, she was alerted to somebody else’s presence by the muffled sound of high heels click clacking against the floor from behind the door to the girls’ dorm. After a brief period of silence, it creaked open, and those footsteps continued until the girl who was making them was in plain view, standing right next to her.
- Aimi looked over at Arima, standing there in all her dark black poofy dressed glory. With that infuriatingly polite smirk on her face, she brought a hand gloved in purple satin to her lips and giggled. “Why, hello there, Arima. I hope I’m not interrupting anything~” Her voice, as usual, was tinged with a sense of mischief.
- Oh. It was her. The weird one. Arima didn't pay Aimi much mind, only turning to look at her briefly and offering her usual sugary smile. "Hey, Aimi! Nah, you're fine. I'm just chilling out after a long day. Long week, really..."
- She turned back over to the TV, rolling her shoulders a bit before sighing. "Or month. I've been trying to get to know everyone, you know? So I've been rushing along, meeting a ton of people, learning what they like... it's really interesting how diverse our school is."
- Lip service, of course.
- Aimi gave Arima a quick nod, seemingly oblivious to the true meaning of her words. “Ah, of course. The alumni are all very...unique. And I see you’re watching…”
- She turned her head to the side and giggled once again. “Ah, my favorite show. Static.”
- Arima honestly couldn't tell if that comment was meant in earnest, or if Aimi was just a smart-aleck. Deciding to let it go for now, she shrugged, straightening in her seat. "I don't have much else to watch, so I just tuned in to a dead channel. Never was a big fan of TV. I'd rather be active and stuff."
- She blinked for a moment before turning her head back to Aimi, figuring she'd give her some attention. Not like she had much else to do. "Buuut, like I said, crazy month. Have you been up to anything lately?"
- “Oh, nothing much.” Aimi dismissively waved her hand, gaze now locked onto the TV. “You know, I bet you think I was joking. About the TV static, I mean.”
- Without looking back at Arima, she walked over behind the couch, crouching down so she was at her eye level. Her eyes darted over to her, perhaps to see if Arima was still paying any attention, and then back to the television. “There’s just something to be said about beauty in simplicity, right? It’s a wash of monochrome, endless droning noise, like billions of flies darting around in front of a window to another world.”
- Aimi gripped her hands on the top of the sofa, squinted, and leaned forward. “You know, they say that if you look closely, you can see shapes in the static. Like cloud watching. Why don’t you give it a try?”
- Ohh, great. Aimi was going on about... static. Arima at least had to give her credit for being imaginative, but... she seemed like the kind of person to go on about basically anything. In that annoyingly sweet voice.
- ... Still... As she turned her head back towards the TV, she couldn't deny Aimi had a point. The static was oddly nice to look at, and it had a little sound to accompany it. It wasn't like she had anything else to do, after all. Maybe indulging in Aimi's... whimsical rambling would at least be entertaining.
- "I went cloud watching with Akiko a week or two ago. It was fun." Arima giggled softly, keeping her eyes on the TV. Maybe she'd find some weird shape to at least humor Aimi, or something. "It is kinda nice."
- For a fraction of a second, Aimi’s eyes wandered over to Arima, with a...different look to them, an indiscernible glint inside, before settling back again onto the visual garbage on the screen. She laced her hands together, resting her chin onto her hands. “Ah, really? Well, then, you should be good at this game, then. Some people see simple shapes like circles, some people see more complex forms like...oh, I don’t know. Pawns or rooks.”
- She paused for what felt like just a little longer than usual, then continued. “And some see entire stories play out in their eyes, like a woman eating a lobster or a man scoring a goal in soccer. Your own mind is key to the perception of your world. Your beliefs plaster themselves onto the screen because you want to see them. Do you see anything?”
- Admittedly, if this was any other situation, Arima probably would have made some kind of excuse to get out of here, but... again, she didn't have any better ideas of what to do. So, she did as Aimi asked, adjusting her posture carefully to try to focus more on the screen.
- There... certainly were a lot of things she could see, now that she was looking at it. Maybe it was just her own perception of things, like one of those inkblot tests, but Arima could see occasional shapes popping in and out of existence. One second there was a circle, but then it crackled out of existence. Or a square that held together for a moment before going in all directions. This did seem like the kind of thing Aimi would like...
- ... Oh, right. Aimi was here. She hastily cleared her throat. "... Well, it never seems constant. Lots of different shapes, since the static changes," she managed.
- “Of course, of course.” Aimi muttered, her attention less on Arima at this point. “It’s like cracking open a human brain and seeing all the thoughts that swirl inside. A mind racing at hundreds of miles per hour, juiced up by some external force, shaken to the point of mental exhaustion. Thoughts that were once coherent now sprawl, twist and melt. No true form to be found except for the one you decide on.”
- She stared back at Arima, the look in her eyes now...different. That empty, awkward air of silence lingered before Aimi finally broke the silence with, “Arima, have you ever read ‘A Clockwork Orange’?”
- ... Wait, was this familiar? Somehow, it was. Arima felt like she should know what was happening, as if the answer was on the tip of her tongue... but she couldn't really think of it. Eh. Not like it mattered. Hearing Aimi talk about twisting, and swirling... Well, that seemed more important. That and the static. They were, well... not boring.
- Still, amidst the steadily growing haze of her mind, she found a question, and answered slowly. "... I've never read it. That's... the book with the eye-pry-open things... isn't it?"
- “Exactly.” Aimi’s voice was reduced to a whisper at this point, much smoother and more pleasing to a tired ear. “The protagonist, Alex, is a sociopathic murderer who commits crimes for his own amusement, and to rehabilitate him they,” she held up her hands and clapped them together, cutting through the quiet ambience of the static, “plop him right down in front of the screen and show him scene after scene of horrific crimes.”
- She rose to her feet and took a single step to the left, so that now she was directly behind Arima, and continued speaking, her quiet voice winding downwards to her. “And they force him to watch just...like...this.” She slowly lowered her hands down to Arima’s face and very gently placed them around her eyes, spreading them apart in opposite directions. “And whenever he thinks of committing a crime thereafter, he gets this sickening churning swirl in his stomach.”
- She leaned downwards, and at this point her mouth was almost pressed up against Arima’s ear, each individual breath felt against her earlobe. “What do you think would have happened if he was given this, instead? Pure white noise? What images would his brain have conjured up? Nothing? Would he find peace or madness within his horrific, twisted, psyche?”
- This was... definitely familiar, wasn't it? Arima was expecting something. A reaction. Sure, there was slight shivering when she felt Aimi's breath against her ear, but... she didn't even move. And she wasn't even sure if she was afraid; everything felt... distant. Sure, she did instinctively try to blink a bit as Aimi gently kept her eyelids from shutting, but... she didn't do anything to stop her. The static was nice to look at, having practically consumed her vision by this point, and Aimi's touch was... pleasant, in an odd way.
- And sure, something about Aimi's whole spiel should have been alarming, right? It was a meta... a meta... whatever the word was. Before Arim could sort out what was happening, though, another question cut through her mind, Aimi's words practically seeming to come from around her, impossible to ignore.
- "I..." She struggled for an answer, but as she stared into the static, it felt like she was watching her own mind swirling around in there. That was what Aimi had said, right? "... I... don't know..." Her posture visibly slumped, her lips parting gently as she stopped trying. Thinking felt... hard, with the static and Aimi's voice dominating her brain. Too hard.
- “Well, I suppose that’s understandable.” Aimi replied, and let out a low chuckle that matched the seductive quality of her voice. “After all, you’d never understand the mindset of someone like that unless you were them. And you’re nothing like that, are you, Arima?”
- She placed a finger on the center of Arima’s forehead and very slowly slid it backwards, speaking all the while. “I suppose I’ll never know the answer to that question for sure. I’d have to splice your head open right down the middle, stick my hand inside, and just squish your brain around. But you wouldn’t like that, right? I couldn’t do something like that. No, I just have to trust you.”
- Removing her remaining hand from Arima’s face, Aimi took two fingers and closed her eyes. “I just have to trust you to take a look deep inside and tell me.”
- This felt... wrong... right? Arima had something important to hide... didn't she? The weak alarm bells going off in her mind were battling against everything else she could perceive, but it was a losing fight for sure. Aimi's rather threatening remarks failed to register as such in her mind, but... she couldn't keep going like this, right? She had to...
- ... Had to...
- Arima's eyelids fought against Aimi for only a second before slowly shutting, and at that moment, her entire body seemed to sag at once, as if she had exhaled a deep breath of air. Her head gently leaned to the side, resting against her shoulder, and she made no other movements besides the gradual rise and fall of her chest. It was as if Aimi had flipped a switch.
- A few seconds passed. Then, quietly, "... I am... like them... went around... hhhhypnotizing other girls for... fun."
- After that, the room went dead silent. Arima felt the pressure ease up on her eyelids, and the sound of Aimi’s heels filled the room. Even with her eyes closed, Arima could tell she was walking around the couch to face her, as the footsteps stopped just in front of her. “There we go. Was that so hard?”
- She waited for Arima’s eyes to open on their own, and continued. “For the record, I knew. I had talks with all of them. Akiko, Aiko...Kagerou...but it started with, well, Moriguchi. I found out she had been suffering from a headache, and the trail continued from there when I brought it up to Naomi. We all decided it would be best if you fessed up yourself! Given you, I figured that would be punishment enough - having the truth dragged from your lips so shamefully, so dramatically, so easily, your pride in shambles…”
- Pausing for a second, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. “To be honest, I’m not even entirely sure if you can hear me right now. Perhaps you’re still swirling around in la-la-land. But if you can, I have one message for you.”
- With that, she inched forward, looking down into Arima’s eyes, now swirling with confusion and frustration, and bore into her skull with a glare that could cut through tempered steel. There was nothing but burning, fiery hatred collected within her own eyes. For once, that sweet smile of hers dropped as her lips moved, instilling in Arima one final message:
- “Don’t ever do that again.”
- And just like that, her serenity returned to her. She grinned ear to ear and cocked her to the side. “Okay?”
- Without waiting for an answer, she walked right out of the room, leaving Arima in her daze.
- Throughout Aimi's whole spiel, Arima hadn't really reacted, just staring blankly at her. Sure, she could feel a dull sense of infuriation - especially considering she had been tricked by Aimi, of all people. But what was she supposed to feel? Shame? The world bent around her whims. It always had. What was there to be ashamed about? She just knew what she wanted.
- Still, that glare almost jolted her - enough that as Aimi was walking away, her muscles were still visibly tense. She stared ahead for a few seconds longer, blinking slowly.
- "....... okay."
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