Iva.
“Which of the Seven Deadly
Sins is the root cause of evil?”
* *
* * * * * * * *
Paperwork.
Piles and piles
of paperwork rest on her desk. The woman standing at the foot of the door
sighs, a hand moving up to rub her temples in her own exasperation. The sight
of the papers only seemed to tire her out even more, and she felt a feeling of
dread sinks into her slowly. This is
great, just perfect. The sarcasm was loud, deafening. She grits her teeth
as she slowly walked to her desk, savoring each step of freedom that decreased
with the seconds that went by. They (the seconds) flew like wasps in the
summer, taunting her, mocking her.
Where there
even wasps in Tokyo,
she didn’t know.
She was sure
she didn’t care about their existence, though.
Amidst the
papers lay a long, rectangular, cream-colored folder. She cocked a well-cared
for brow. Now this spiked up her attention. She reached out for the object,
soon grasping it in her small hand and long fingers. Carefully looking it over,
her eye caught sight of a paper sticking out from the very inside. It was
white, it was business-like, and it had a name type-written on it.
The initial
sarcastic and exaggerated mood was replaced by a sense of God-forsaken dread. No, not another, she seethed. I just came from another one. He can’t
possibly expect me to –
“Permission to
come in, Miss A?”
Well, speak of the devil.
“Permission
granted, Touta.”
A taller, older
man walked inside, wearing a formal business suit compared to her green top and
black pants. His black hair was in its’ usual spiked style, brown eyes warm as
they met her weary green ones. A managed a small sigh. Touta was kind and
patient, yes. But she would throw a fit if presented with another dreadful
folder, another depressing…horrifying…
A wrecked case.
He noticed her
defeated expression.
“I take it
you’re sick.” it wasn’t even a question to begin with. Touta had an eagle-eye
view of everything and everyone, including her. It wasn’t unsettling, but it
wasn’t exactly comforting, either. He watched her, waiting for a reply.
“Not in
particular. Sick…sick is too negative of a term.”
“Entertain me,
then.”
“I find
‘tiresome’ much more suiting.”
“I’ll keep that
in mind, then.” He let a half-smile come to his face. “However, this job is
fully of nasty, unwanted surprises, Miss A. you, yourself, should know that
quite well.” His eyes watched as she sat and she crossed her arms over her
chest, having returned the folder back, looking untouched.
“Honestly,
Touta, I just want a crime-free weekend.” Empty eyes gazed at the calendar, “And
it’s Friday today.”
“Keep wishing.
A thousand paper cranes would work.”
“I’m not
patient. You know that.” he walked forward and sat on a chair in front of her
desk, watching as the woman ran a hand through her hair slowly. “Touta, if you
were to pick…which of the Seven Deadly sins is the root cause of evil?”
The Japanese
blinked at the question.
Not only was it
sudden, but it was also unrelated to what they were just speaking of.
“Er – the
Deadly Sins?”
She nodded, taking
out a memo pad and pen. She listed down the seven, descriptions of each
following.
·
Gluttony: Overindulgence in food and drink
·
Sloth: Laziness; complete lack of motivation to
act for one’s own good
·
Lust: Extreme desire, a need for pleasure for
one’s self
·
Greed: Overindulgence in material objects,
commonly wealth
·
Envy: Spiting others for objects you don’t have
·
Wrath: Anger with an intention to harm
·
Pride: An inflated sense of one’s own ego
“I take it
these are your own interpretations, Miss A.”
“Of course.”
“No educational
or religious basis?”
“I see these as
I see them,” came her reply.
How vague.
Touta’s brow
arched. Did she feel bitter, all of a sudden? Ignoring that, he thought of an answer
to her inquiry. Her question, that puzzling ask.
“…wrath.”
She wasn’t
surprised. A merely stared at him and looked him over from top to bottom. Touta
felt nude. It was as if she were inspecting him like he was meat to be sold to
hagglers. That only made him even more uncomfortable under her critical gaze. He
didn’t want to look into her eyes, they were too revealing for her own good.
Then, she
spoke. Soft, almost inaudible.
“Wrath is a
close second.” A finger twirled itself within a lock of her own black hair.
“But I choose pride.”
