Philanthropy

Otacon: Today, we've learned some things about dates, numbers and verbs.
And about how anime deals with historical aspects!
Otacon: That too. I must say conversation was difficult.
It was. We need to study harder on our vocabulary.
Otacon: Well, anyway, here's a new chapter. Thanks for the...almost twenty hits yesterday.
We don't know who you are, but thanks for reading, or even clicking!

***


Three

From that day on, we were together for days, non stop. He said it was because I needed help, and he needed mine. We fled to someplace warmer, after we’d called out for help and got it in the shape of a helicopter and a girl flying it. We were dumped on top of an empty apartment in Miami or something. I didn’t know the details until he asked me to check something on the internet.

The fridge was stuffed with food. They’d been expecting us.
‘This is my hideout for now,’ he told me.
‘But is it safe?’ I asked, surprised. ‘I mean, there’s a road in front of the house…’
‘Don’t worry.’

It was a big apartment, with ugly modern furniture. He told me he hated modern furniture when he sat down in the ugliest chair in the room. But he had to admit it was very comfortable.

It was really, really weird. Here I was, talking about everyday things as modern design, with a man I barely knew, who had killed in front of my eyes, who had taken me here, to a place unknown to me. I felt like a hostage. But I didn’t mind it. I didn’t mind him killing strangers, or kidnapping me. I felt strangely at ease. I trusted him. He was my friend.

‘Do you mind me taking you here? Doesn’t it feel like a kidnap or something?’

Can you read my thoughts?

‘No, I don’t mind.’

‘Had you ever seen someone being killed before?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’m sorry.’

I didn’t know what to say. He got up and made us some dinner. I tried to help but only stood in the way. All I could do was hand him some plates. When I watched him cut the meat and the vegetables, I was scared of him for the first time since he’d recued me. He handed the knife the soldier’s way, I guess. It was like he cut the stuff with hate, but not exactly hate. Duty. Strict and perfect. Aware of the way the once living creature was sliced in half. I knew he’d never hesitate to kill. But I never told him about it. I just ate what he’d made for me.

We sat on the balcony and ate in complete silence. I noticed he was watching me, and it made me nervous. My food fell off my fork 80% more than usual. After ten minutes he’d already finished his dinner and got up. I heard water running as I watched the evening sky. Different shades of blue drifted through the air. The sun was almost down.

A little machine landed on my lap. I made an unintentional movement in shock, making me drop my cutlery. I heard his laughter from behind the corner. I took the machine in my hands. My codec receiver.

*
‘When will you be leaving?’
‘Tomorrow at nine AM.’ He studies my face. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘I’m thinking of that time you gave me your receiver. That’s where it all began, really.’

*

Every human being is social. No one ever really manages alone. Those who claim to be able are liars.

I used to live by myself ever since puberty. I claimed not to care, too. But I missed my sister, who was my best friend, and my parents. I never really knew who my mom was. But you can miss even the ones you don’t know. And after the accident where my dad died, well, Emma never really got over it. Same with me. So I left home and tried to live a life. I should’ve known, though, that I’m hopeless at living. All I could was work at that stupid company. Without that company, I would’ve known nobody, and I wouldn’t have had food. So I had to stay there. Until he dragged me out, in quite the extreme way.

I told him about my family and the company, forgetting to mention the codec. Somehow the conversation started when he asked me something about my shoes.

‘Where’d you buy those?’
‘Oh… I don’t remember. They’re really old. My sister picked them for me.’
‘You have a sister?’
‘Yeah. She doesn’t talk to me anymore.’ And so on.

‘Did you have an apartment from ArmsTech?’
‘Yeah, in one of their buildings.’
‘So…What did you do when you weren’t on the job? Making your own designs? Creating robots?’ He laughed. ‘I really don’t know anything about machines.’
‘Well, I was on the internet most of the time. Watching anime.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Japanese cartoons. Animated manga, um, comics.’
‘That’s what you did all day?’
‘Yes. But it’s not boring at all!’ I defended myself. ‘Japanese cartoons aren’t just aimed at children, but at every group imaginable. They’re on TV all the time. Everyone watches them! Some characters are really interesting. It’s better drawn than western cartoons, too. And the Japanese have the best sense of humour!’

*

He got all worked up whenever he spoke about his favourite Japanese cartoons. His eyes started to shine and his face became all red. He actually tried to make me an obsessive fan, too. And when he noticed I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about – mentioning things like ‘OVA’ or ‘moe’ or something - he tried even harder. It was so funny. It made me laugh. He took half an hour to explain the concept of ‘otacon’ to me. I got tired of it, literally, and asked him whether he would want to help me using the codec. He agreed to assist me and made his code name ‘otacon’ with a big grin on his face.

I had been lucky to find someone so easily. I needed someone with technical knowledge, someone to monitor my every move and the moves of my enemies. A loyal ‘servant’ behind a computer screen. And guess what? I found Otacon. A man who could, for some reason, forget the life he had been leading before our meeting, as if the philanthropy was better, and based on his stories, maybe it was. A man who blindly trusted me after three days. He didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know who he was. Did it matter? I don’t think so.

***