(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)
When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.
It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.
"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."
"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."
"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."
"Eddie, c'mon-"
"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."
He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.
"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"
"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."
"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."
Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."
"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."
"No."
Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-
"Eddie? Gareth?"
Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:
"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."
She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.
"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."
Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?
"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"
She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."
His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.
"You're annoying."
He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…
It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.
His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…
"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.
"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."
"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."
She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.
"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"
Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!
"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"
"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.
(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)
Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"
"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"
"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."
"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.
She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."
Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…
Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.
"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"
Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.
"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"
"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"
Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."
Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."
"I had stuff I needed to drop off."
"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."
Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.
Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.
"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"
Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?
"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"
Holyshityesitis!
"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."
"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"
"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!
"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.
Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."
"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."
Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.
They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.
The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.
The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."
"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"
Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.
"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.
Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.
"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.
This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.
"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.
Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."
"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.
"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.
"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.
Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."
"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."
He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.
(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)
Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.
"I figured out where I've seen you before."
Eddie stiffens.
Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"
"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"
Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.
"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"
"November," Steve confirms, muffled.
"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."
Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.
"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"
"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!
"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."
"All parents do," Lucas says.
Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"
Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."
That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.
And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…
All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.
Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.
The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:
"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"
"Huh?"
"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."
The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.
"Yes, it is," Gareth says.
"It's not," Max says.
"It is!"
"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"
She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.
Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."
"Yes, it was."
"How do you know?"
She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.
Gareth screams, "WHAT!"
"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"
She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."
"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"
"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"
She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"
Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?
Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.
Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"
"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.
Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."
"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.
Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.
------------------------------
Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,
I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.
Thank you for reading 🖤
Part 4
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Hello! If it’s okay, I’d like to know your thoughts on the Trikoto theory (3+ alters). I think it’s a cool theory! And pretty likely, honestly. (Here’s a document about it in case you don’t know what I’m talking about. I didn’t make it, and I unfortunately don’t know who did, I just found it in another blog)(I really hope that link works lol)
Hey FF! I was wondering when you might send something in. Not the topic I expected, but I'm here for it!
I've definitely heard of this theory before. I can't say I know for sure where it originated, but I've always been under the impression that a blog called @bertrandcaillet started it as they're the first one I saw talk about that theory and they told me about it a while ago. They've since deactivated, though, so I can't really check with them to see if that's true.
I think the trikoto theory is interesting, and I fully agree with what's said on the document about how it would be nice if Milgram is showing a system with more nuance than just having two alters.
That being said, I personally don't believe this theory for a number of reasons. I'm going to do my best to explain why here. I do want to say going into this that while I do have extremely minimal psychology teaching (as in, undergrad psyc MINOR), I do not claim to be that educated on DID or similar struggles. So, anything that I say will be focusing much more on Milgram as a piece of media from a writing standpoint, because that's what I have much more extensive experience in.
I will say that I am very aware that most systems have more than 2 alters. That being said, I think I also remember from my psyc class that the average number is, like... 16? I'm not at my dorm right now and that's where my notes are, so I can't check, but I remember specifically thinking about it in the context of Mikoto and trikoto theory, so I'm pretty confident it's Above Three. That means that either way, it's not like we're doing The Most Common Number, so I think two versus three is largely irrelevant on that point.
For the sake of clarity, I'll be using the names in the doc (Akakoto, Midokoto, Aokoto), but I only personally believe that two of them (Akakoto, Aokoto) exist. I've taken to calling them Orekoto and Bokuto, but for this post, Akakoto and Aokoto it is.
At its base, my problem with trikoto theory is that I don't see a lot of evidence for it. Most of what I've seen has been talking about the implications of it if you assume it's true, but I've just never really been convinced in the first place. I'll just go through some of the main reasonings real quick:
The RGB Colors
I do acknowledge that I'm very much not a visually oriented person, so the color shifting is something I'm less inclined to notice. However, while the background of the room is blue and the train station and apartment are pretty green, I don't feel like there are ever really any red backgrounds (other than when the headspace becomes red as ooposed to blue). Because of that, I have a hard time believing that the backgrounds themselves contribute to the idea that there are three. I definitely think the red/blue coloration in the eyes and such are indicating different alters, but I don't think that specific fact supports there being three of them.
The Voice Changes
This might be a me issue, but I only really hear two different vocal inflections. I understand the point about there being some harsher (?) sounding vocals that don't have the growl, but personally, I still think the tone matches the one described as Akakoto enough to count. Similarly, the parts towards the end that are picked out for Midokoto ("I'm probably not to blame," etc.) actually sound more like Aokoto to me even if I do try to track the three voices.
I'm hesitant to go too hard in believing the different voices because to me, doing so would severely limit the amount of control Natsuki Hanae would have over the emotions he wants to put into the song. The vocalists in Milgram do a fantastic job at using specific vocal intonations to convey deep layers of emotions in their songs. I feel like it would be very limiting to only be able to use certain vocal effects (ex. growl) in specific places due to the limitations of the characters. If there are two, the two voices are far more separate, which gives more space for customization within the bounds of each voice.
This is also a little bit iffier on evidence, but there's the Es cover of MeMe. I don't know how much Yurina Amami knows about Mikoto's story and the entire video is in grayscale, so take all of this with a grain of salt, but to me, I feel like Es uses two voices here, not three. Notably, they even have a bit of vocal growl on the "switch" and on "split and half, make that heart beat," which are both squarely in the Midokoto tone. They do still have the two voice split, sounding a bit more apathetic and aggressive in the Akakoto parts and cuter in the Aokoto parts. To me, that signifies that there's suppose to be two voices going on, not three, but you could argue that that's just Es' perception of Mikoto, so it's not decisive or anything.
Mikoto Fighting Es
Yes, in his first audio drama, Mikoto is able to beat Es up until Kotoko stops him. Yes, that's inconsistent from what we've seen from Futa and also t2 Amane. I agree that that's because the Milgram rules only apply to one or more alters, and thus any others that may exist can get around the rulings. We saw this between trials, too, with how Mikoto (seemingly Akakoto at the time) was able to avoid being restrained despite his guilty verdict, likely through the same loophole.
(Side note: this implies to me that Milgram's system for restraining guilty prisoners is, like the protective barrier around Es, somewhat magical and isn't a physical thing. Thus, if we were to, say, vote Amane as guilty, I am fairly confident she would be unable to harm any other prisoners, as we've already seen the barriers are able to prevent her from attacking others. I still lean Amane innocent anyways, but I wanted to point this out.)
Anyways, I don't think that this is actually evidence towards trikoto theory because it works perfectly fine with just the two of them. Aokoto is the prisoner in Milgram and Akakoto isn't. This doesn't necessarily mean that Aokoto is the one who was fronting while the murder happened, though; the rules of Milgram just necessitate that the prisoner is involved in/related to a death. It can be indirect.
I think that that's exactly what Milgram is asking us with Mikoto. The question is, how do you fairly hold a system accountable? Can you blame one alter for the other's actions?
Milgram loves to complicate these, and I can see the appeal of a complication being learning about a third alter. Personally, I think it's much more likely that the route Milgram is taking is looking at how much knowledge the alters have about each other and asking how much Aokoto would have to know to make him an accessory to Akakoto's murder plans. It could go either way, though.
Some Bonus Points
I think the strongest piece of evidence brought up is the use of threes in Mikoto's design. Other than "they just liked it aesthetically," there isn't much of a counterargument I can make about it. My best one would be that they might be going for a "switching between black and white" type of thing, which would work better with more stripes, but that's pretty weak. I also had the idea that the first character of his name looks like three stripes, which might be a better or worse explanation! You get to decide, I have no idea.
The cake sells me less, though. It's true that Kazui's is a perfect 50/50 and that Mikoto's isn't, but that's because they're representing different things.
Kazui's is half and half because his song is called half, and it could also be a sign of how he and his wife didn't actually connect more in a marriage sense; they're still two fully separate people rather than being a unit.
Mikoto, if he has two alters, is still physically one guy. Mikoto is mostly sitting on the flower designs. I'd argue that the flowers are meant to show Mikoto as a whole: the connection point of the two alters.
That's pretty much all of what I have to say on the doc (in terms of the trikoto aspect, whether I believe it or not there's some good work done in character/lyric analysis that applies to two or three alter theories), but I'll go over some of my reason for why I actively believe there to be two, because there are some reasons.
Reason 1: The Song Titles
The doc explains what the meaning of MeMe is in trikoto theory, but it definitely still works with two, more obviously so. That's not evidence, though, because the trikoto theory has a viable explanation too.
I have no idea what they'd be doing with the song title Double, though. I guess it would be a play on somebody being someone else's double, meaning they're someone like them, which is no doubt part of the song title either way, but I think it's difficult to ignore the meaning of Double that means, y'know... multiplied by 2, or:
But that could very easily be a diversion and we haven't seen the second video, so I'd let that slide. However, that brings me to the bigger problem:
Reason 2: Upright Versus Reversed
AKA, the tarot cards.
Tarot cards can be read two ways, Upright or Reversed, based on the orientation of the card when it's placed/picked up/whatever. I already went over in my original theory (which is pretty outdated, I could do a way better job but I wrote that one literally first out of my milgram thoeries and I hated not having a good name scheme for the various alters) why I believe Akakoto to be the Hanged Man (Upright) and why I believe Aokoto to be the Hanged Man (Reversed).
I struggle to imagine why the devs would pick tarot, something that clearly has two meanings to it, when there are actually three alters. Maybe it'd just be to throw us off the scent, but it feels a bit too intentional to me.
Plus, if it was meant to throw us off, I'd expect we'd get a different metaphor/symbol for the second MV (as we have been with pretty much everyone). However, the association between Mikoto and "reversible" things has continued into trial 2, even before his MV has come up.
I say this because of his trial 2 cover song: Reversible Campaign. Funnily enough, I actually thought this song would go to Kazui before it was announced as Mikoto's, but then I looked again and understood why they wanted it for Mikoto.
My thoughts get confused and fight with each other
Very Mikoto, works for either two or three alter theories. However:
I just want to waver between black and white
It's turned me upside down
There's more that seems to paint Mikoto's mind as a dichotomy, not a... trichotomy? Is that a word? I don't actually know.
The Song Lyrics of MeMe
This is sort of an extension of the above part, but there are also definitely song lyrics in MeMe that sound like they're heavily implying two. Again, you could argue that that's trying to throw us off the scent, but some of them are, in my opinion, actively difficult to justify for trikoto theory.
Split in half, Make that heart beat
I cannot for the life of me understand why any of the three alters would say "split in half" if there are three. I guess if any of them were aware of one of the other alters, but not the other? I don't think that's what was being argued, though, sorry if I missed that.
I’m already the fake one
Little harder to argue this one because I don't know how definite versus indefinite articles work in Japanese, but saying the fake one really sounds to me like there is one fake and one real. If you were just having a moment of existential crisis, in most situations, I think you'd opt for "I'm already fake."
The Mirror
This is sort of the same argument as the tarot cards, but there's also the use of mirror imagery in Mikoto's MeMe MV. Mirrors have two sides and are a reflection. You could use Haruka logic and say that it depicts self reflection, I guess, but considering the reflection acts differently, I think it's much more likely that this is meant to show the two alters.
Conclusion
Hopefully this all made sense? I respect trikoto theory and I could easily be super wrong about it (see also: my original opinions on gay Kazui theory and police Kazui theory), but I've just never really been sold. It's possible my opinion would change if I saw evidence that I felt worked better for trikoto than... twokoto? theory, but personally, I feel like most evidence I've seen for it is still better explained by there being two alters. Let me know what you think, though :)
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SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.
She has your eyes.
“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.
AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.
INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.
“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best.”
“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”
“I’ll live.”
SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”
EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.
RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.
“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”
“Is that really all you have to say to me?”
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Where are you going?”
SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”
She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.
PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.
AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.
HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.
VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.
“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”
“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”
Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.
YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.
YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”
INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.
SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.
YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.
“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”
RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…
VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.
“You could say that you’re sorry.”
“Say that I turned out all right.”
“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”
Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.
PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…
YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”
SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”
Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.
VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.
YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”
Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.
“I love you.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.
YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”
SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”
YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”
SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”
YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”
SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”
She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.
YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”
SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.
DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…
LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.
SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.
LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.
There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.
AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.
VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.
RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…
SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”
RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.
VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.
“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”
“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”
“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”
SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.
“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”
EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.
VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.
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