Her more sane self from two months ago would have probably walked out long ago.
But, unfortunately, she was a different person now.
Time travel? Worldlines? Attractor fields? A time machine created somehow from an accidental crossing between a microwave and a phone and later her knowledge of memories? A direct internet connection from a random apartment to a research institute halfway across the world, which possessed secret black hole technology that had been hidden from the world for years? Technology which a group of teenagers had then somehow been able to use to compress memory data enough to be able to send it directly to the past? A CRT TV feeding electrons into the transfer as a makeshift lifter which would require exact wave specifics to function from an infinite number of possibilities, AND that TV happened to be present in the exact same building? AND this guy claiming to have an unexplained superpower that let him see across the timelines when no one else was able to, which would conveniently also be the only thing that gave relevance to it all, since no one would remember anything except him?
It sounded like something from a hardcore chuunibyou's fantasies.
The chances of all of this accidentally occurring were almost infinitesimally small. The old her would have attacked it without any hesitation. She would have broken the time travel story apart, both for her father's lost reputation and her own sanity.
...Part of her hated herself for that instinctive desire of still defending her father or his reputation, despite everything that had happened. It was a sign of weakness and overdependency she had to lose.
Kurisu put the thought away for now.
She kept listening because this man had saved her life. For that, she could at least temporarily indulge him. She asked polite questions as he went on and on about the workings of this phonewave thing, how that had come to be, how they'd eventually improved it to a timeleap machine, and so forth.
Unfortunately, it was dragging on and wearing on her patience. Any information on what she really wanted, an explanation for everything surrounding the murder attempt on her, was still nowhere in sight. Should she interrupt him? Ask for the most relevant answers right away? It had been weeks of fruitless searching and he was now right in front of her!
She gripped the lab member badge in her pocket. It kept her hand from shaking. It was just another coping mechanism to deal with her nerves, now on an all-time high from finally finding her 'savior', if that term was correct. She'd consequently allowed him to lead her away from the crowded street, certain that she'd get the answers, that her brain would go back to normal and most of all that the world would somehow make sense again.
...but then he'd led her to a maid café and her hopes had started to falter. And after meeting the strange pink haired girl dressed up as a cat, who'd led them to this office, assuring them that they wouldn't be disturbed because 'the manager worked for her anyway,' the world made even less sense. And if there was something she hated as a scientist, it was something not making sense. That meant that there were answers out there that had yet to be discovered, and questions to find them that hadn't been formulated yet.
Thus, Kurisu couldn't help but wonder why the girl would be working as a maid in a maid café if it were actually true. Then again, no one had thrown them out yet either, even though they'd been in here for well over an hour now. The girl had seemed so sure, too... so was it actually true or just some sort of prank or delusion?
The pink-haired maid was either a lot more than she appeared to be or she was completely insane. Or, you know, both.
Realizing that wasn't the most pressing issue, she again tried to focus on the young man before her.
Their eyes met.
And there it was again. The briefest of initial hesitations on his part, followed by an attempt to continue anyway. But his speech pattern invariably slowed down the longer they made eye contact and finally broke down somewhere mid-sentence. It had gotten worse the longer this conversation had gone on. He looked away awkwardly. If she didn't know any better she'd say there was a lot of sadness in his features as he did.
Sadly, that was still a more than she could say for herself, as her own emotions were nothing short of a complete mess.
Why was looking at him so difficult? There was an impulsive desire to look away from his tentative gaze. A fear. A deep uncertainty. But also mixed with happiness, a feeling of hope. A certain nervousness. But above all, an almost desperate need for something. A confirmation of sort, she somehow knew. But of what? No matter how hard she dug through her hippocampus, the answers kept evading her.
What were these feelings she felt? Was it attraction? The endless angst that girls of her age supposedly felt for their crushes and then obsessed on and on about it instead of doing anything productive? It wasn't like she'd know, spending most of her time in a lab either collecting or analyzing data.
Sure, she'd watched a lot of anime and could understand why certain characters were attracted to each other and were the definite one true pairings of their respective universes - not that she'd ever admit either of those. But to actually have those kinds of feelings herself, in reality, for a real person, out of pretty much nowhere...
It was so out of character for her.
It was also such an absolute longshot from when she'd met him. The guy had legitimately thought she'd been an assassin from some strange organization and had relayed that information into a phone that wasn't even on. That had been with zero provocation from her end. To fall for someone like that... if that were true, part of her was tempted to kill herself.
"That was before he saved our life," her Frontal Lobe reasoned.
"Then if this is some kind of rescue romance trope we're trapped in, why do I feel like breaking down time I look at him? Aren't we supposed to be happier and less emo?" her Limbic System countered, confused.
"Beats me," Frontal Lobe admitted, shrugging. "Emotions are mostly your thing. And it's not like we regularly get almost-murdered. I'm perfectly happy we're unable to cross-reference mental states. Now could you please get on with it? Thank him if you're still set on that and lose him ASAP, so we leave this mess behind and finally pull ourselves together. Personally, I can't wait to get back to the safety and comfort of a lab behind lots of high-security locks."
She shook her head. Part of her wanted that too, but getting a grip had proven a lot easier said than done. She'd been this way ever since her own father attempted to kill her two months ago. Maybe these feelings for Okabe Rintaro were just anxiety symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, resurfacing from being exposed to a stimulus related to that attack, in this case he himself, mixed with some faint hope that she could find closure.
A plausible hypothesis, but it didn't entirely fit. She was fairly sure that she should have been much more panicked or afraid if that were the case. The strange bit of happiness didn't quite fit, nor the overwhelming sense of loss, which had only grown stronger in time.
As she thought it, she could imagine Frontal Lobe continuously faceplanting itself against the wall of her cranial cavity, protected only from the bone by the fibrous membrane of the Dura Mater. 'Not this again,' it groaned. 'For the last time, let's look at this rationally. You feel we lost 'something important'. So... something like... oh, I don't know, forever losing the bond with dad, which was all we've ever worked for!? How can that possibly not be enough of an explanation!?'
'It just... feels like it's something else,' the structures forming her Limbic System replied. 'And it's not like there are no problems with your explanation, either. What about the visions?'
'Look at these idiots...' the prior brain structure scoffed. "Is that really the best you have? Well then, brace yourselves for this incredibly obvious hypothesis: we are experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations due to psychosis caused by severe mental trauma. For that matter, we ourselves could be auditory hallucinations.'
Kurisu had to concede the point. She could well be psychotic. It fit all too well with the sensation of losing her mind and nothing she'd done had managed to fix it. Not talking to the police psychiatrist, not EMDR therapy nor visiting the Radi-kan building as exposure in vivo therapy.
The only thing she hadn't tried yet were antipsychotic drugs, but then again, she hadn't told anyone about the hallucinations either. She wasn't exactly sure why; it was more of a vague feeling that if she'd write the hallucinations off as being false, if she took away those fragments of potential leads, that she'd give up that undefined something she felt she'd lost, even if that made absolutely zero logical sense. Plus, the prideful part of her found it hard to accept even potentially having such a diagnosis and found the prospect of having to take heavy medication to get though it both humiliating and horrifying. Thus, not telling the psychiatrist everything had been somewhat easy.
Dealing with her mother or her supervisor had been a lot harder. With them, it wasn't so much as not telling them about the hallucinations as it had been about straight up lying about how things were going. She knew that if either of them knew how bad all of this had really messed her up, they'd force her to leave, either by withdrawing the funding that allowed her to stay in the hotel or by refusing her request for yet another week of 'vacation extension'.
So she lied, often took their phone calls without the vidphone option so they couldn't see her face or the state of the room, did her absolute best to keep her voice straight and sent them some pictures of famous tourist attractions in the area, all to keep up the illusion that she was having a great time. It had apparently worked, though she suspected only because her mom hated her dad so much that she really wanted to believe he hadn't been able to inflict any severe or lasting damage on their daughter.
And with the psychiatrist, her mother and her supervisor out of the way, that left... absolutely no one for her to confide in. That realization somehow made the undefined feeling of loss hurt even more.
It conjured memories of things best left forgotten. Of a cold and dark hotel room and a betrayed teenage girl trying to cope with severe mental trauma with nothing more than a Upa pillow for direct company.
The urge to cry was rapidly resurfacing.
Okabe Rintaro, or Hououin Kyouma, or whatever the man's name in front of her was, hesitantly continued his monologue. She took the opportunity to take in his visage, grasping at any distraction that allowed her to keep her composure.
He was at least decently handsome, there was no real way around it. He was tall, dark and had a certain rugged charm about him. His almost but not entirely clean shaven beard and wildish black haircut combined with his lab coat, overly long belt and beige pants to give him somewhat of an actual mad scientist look. He made it work surprisingly well.
She tried to imagine him in some other outfit, strictly for scientific purposes. Something like... a black suit. And a red tie. She nodded approvingly. Yes, definitely a red tie. And maybe they could keep the lab coat, too?
Hmmm. Yup!
Frontal Lobe sweatdropped. 'Um, brain to thought processes, hello? What the HELL is happening? We were in a very dark place just ten seconds ago and now we're straight up fantasizing about dressing him up? This distraction is WAY too effective!'
'Shush, we're working,' the chorus of active thought processes replied. 'This lab-suit hybrid version is a DEFINITE 'nine out of ten would-do'!'
Kurisu whirled away from him much too quickly to escape notice, immediately took a large spoon of her now-cold salt-flavored ramen noodles, promptly choked on it and spilled almost all of it over the table.
It was the smoothest cover-up in the history of cover-ups.
She'd just have to keep coughing, wait out his flabbergasted stare and trust her Frontal Lobe to get things back under control so she could forget about all these inappropriate images and feelings. After all, her brain had never let her down before. Mostly.
She could feel her Frontal Lobe critically analyzing the visual data passed on to it by the occipital lobe and the connecting neurons, doubtlessly reaching the conclusion that he was way overhyped.
'...Why isn't he a 'ten out of ten'?' the supposed general manager of her brain's functions went on asking, unsure.
Kurisu froze. Treason! Treason everywhere!
'He's a bit scrawny for his size,' a random thought process replied. 'Still hot in the proper outfit though.'
'Why does that scrawny bit sound so ironic to me?' a second one wondered.
'Who cares? What really matters is what lies beneath that shirt!' another one unhelpfully supplied.
This had to stop.
'Guys! I'd rather be emo than listen to speculation on his abs!' she furiously thought, trying her very best not to let her imagination get the better of her.
'We didn't say anything about abs?' numerous thought processes pointed out.
'Eh? But... No, I mean, what else is beneath his cloth- gah! Just, please drop it, okay? Please?' she begged.
'Suit yourself. Actually, speaking of suits...'
She facepalmed, groaning in frustration. Okabe watched her as she did, awkwardly scratching his head. He obviously had no idea what was going on. Good thing, too. This line of thought should never see the light of day.
'Please don't nightingale over him too hard?' Kurisu tried, admitting partial defeat. 'The jury is still out on whether he's a creepy psychotic stalker or not.'
'If you really believed that, would you be sitting here in a closed off office with him, just the two of you?'
'I wouldn't, which is why I'm so worried! I'm really confused by the amount of trust we seem to give him, considering we know almost nothing about the guy. I'm telling you, something is really off here. This isn't natural!'
'Sure, sure! Now what about a blue suit to go with the red tie?'
A deeply hidden and apparently not quite repressible part of her noted that the blue suit version of him resembled Phoenix Wright from the ace attorney series, only with more realistic hair and hazel-colored eyes. That gave him some extra cuteness points. Wait... speaking of said lawyer, there was something-
'Objection!'
The world shifted. Waves upon waves of Déjà-vu constricted her vision.
She was in a conference hall. Her name was already being introduced by the host. Outwardly she tried her best at appearing calm.
Inwardly she was sweating, neurotically going over all her notes one more time, planning out each and every word in advance.
All she had to do was hold a lecture, she told herself. That was all. It would last thirty minutes, tops. People did this all the time all over the world. She just had to represent her department's and consequently entire university's prestigious name to a hall filled with men and women who were all older than her, some at least twice her age, and with many more years of scientific experience each. And all this on a complex theoretical subject like time travel, no less, which wasn't even her own field of expertise.
No biggie!
What could possibly go wrong? At best she'd merely do as was expected of her. At worst she'd make a complete fool of both herself and her university and forever prove the critics of her thesis right in that she was just an overhyped tool of her department.
Ok... maybe think about something more positive. Like... how she'd done this before?
Oh wait, she had no prior experience whatsoever.
Well, at least she hadn't come all the way from America specifically for this, then?
Oops, that was EXACTLY why she was here, minus the bit with her father.
'This isn't helping,' she told herself as she dragged her feet over there. Why couldn't anyone else have done this instead of her!?
The host handed her the microphone. She fumbled with the standard, then tested it, hoping against hope that some catastrophic technical issue would arise that gave her just a little bit more time to get ready.
It worked perfectly, of course. Just her luck.
The first lines came out stumbling, uncertain. She passed herself off as inexperienced, trying to get a bit of goodwill from the crowd.
It worked somewhat and she quickly shifted to the actual subject. At least they were underway now; all she had to do was go through the carefully planned slides one by one, provide the approved and memorized commentary and-
"Objection!"
She froze. One man stood at the back of the hall, dramatically pointing at her and loudly challenging her claim before the first minute had even passed.
It was a shock when she recognized the speaker. It was him, Hououin Kyouma, or whatever the delusional pervert she'd just met called himself. It apparently wasn't enough that he'd groped her in public under the ridiculous excuse of being surprised at seeing her alive, in plain view of at least some of the other attendees here, no less! No, of course it wouldn't be. He'd also wanted to ruin the presentation itself, huh?
Seething rage took hold. It helped her focus and grounded her in the here and now, pushing all doubts and other considerations aside. She was going to destroy him!
She took all that anger and very, very carefully ordered all her thoughts into battle formations. All the information on all eleven prevalent theories on time travel. All the possible counterarguments to it being implausible. The responses to all the counterarguments. ALL OF IT, so that no matter what he said, no matter what side of the argument he'd be on, she'd be ready.
A desperate remnant of self-control told her the safer and more professional option would be to have security remove him. To just get on with the lecture as planned.
No way. It was personal now! She was going to push this as hard as she possibly could, given the circumstances. She'd keep dragging him into this 'lecture', and Every. Single. Example. she'd use was going to include him suffering some scientifically revelant yet horrific and exceptionally lethal fate, such as jumping into a black hole.
She inwardly smirked evilly and narrowed her eyes, gesturing the security guard back.
"Fine then, let's change the format to a discussion."
Over the remainder of the thirty minutes, Hououin Kyouma got completely owned.
She didn't hesitate even once; it was pure, unadulterated, scientifically-valid slaughter.
Revenge had never tasted sweeter.
Kurisu blinked, forcing herself back to the here and now.
The visions didn't scare her as much as it initially had. This was actually a pleasant one compared to the ones that usually came. But that wasn't the important part - the important part was how vivid this one had been. It was crystal clear and actually had sound to go with it, much better than the usual vague or muted ones.
That lecture, she had cancelled it after the attack on her. But that just now, that had been way too much like an actual memory, as if it actually had happened. It also didn't quite match Okabe's story.
'Yeah, so what was that he told us again about how we met in the supposed other worldline? 'We had a pleasant conversation about time travel theories'?' Limbic system scoffed, temporarily distracted from her previous conundrum. 'Pleasant, my ass!'
'Okay, so his looks... and possible abs aside... maybe we should go with the earlier plan, you know, the contingency in case we somehow became attracted to him from that to... whatever this is? I'm sure I saw a sufficiently high building to jump off of over there,' her Ego pointed out.
"Not funny, and not helping!" Kurisu herself interjected. "It's bad enough that parts of my brain are talking to each other without parts of my psyche joining in, too!"
"Hmmm? What was that?"
Okabe Rintaro stared at her.
Kurisu facepalmed. That happened a lot around this guy. "Tell me I didn't say that out loud."
"O...kay? You didn't say that out loud, Christina."
"That's not my name!"
Rather than replying, Okabe was content to let the silence stretch itself, clearly waiting for something to happen. He somehow had the nerve to grin, of all things.
The image of Hououin Kyouma from the memory overlapped with Okabe Rintaro sitting in front of her. It was definitely the same man.
This guy.
A lingering sentiment of fury cut through all confusing thoughts and feelings of pain. If nothing else made sense, she could use anger. She understood anger. And she knew she was being lied to. She took a deep breath and channeled said emotion from the earlier memory. This was as good a time of any to start before the awkwardness routine rebooted itself.
If he wanted to purposefully keep twisting the truth, if it could even be that, that was fine.
If he wanted to keep ignoring the huge invisible elephant in the room between them, that was fine.
She'd just drag the answers out of him, right now.
"Okabe Rintaro, what are you hiding? Why is it so hard for you to talk about me?" she continued, crossing her arms.
His smirk faded. He even had the decency to look taken aback. "What do you mean? I told you already - you were a fellow lab member, my assistant actually. You worked with us from the start. Your safety was my-"
"First, I'm not your assistant! I know I'd never accept becoming an assistant of someone with no scientific credibility at all."
He flinched. "Ouch."
"Secondly, that answer had no relevance to my question whatsoever," she pressed. "It's incredibly obvious misdirection!"
There was an ever so slight hesitation as he grabbed for the Dr. Pepper bottle to his right. It was still empty, just like the previous five times. Just like the rice omelet with giant ketchup letters reading 'Nice catch, Kyouma-san!' still remained untouched after he'd hastily smeared out the words. He was obviously just stalling to calm his nerves.
"Lastly, you're a really bad liar. You don't hesitate about anything in this story except when it's about me. You describe everything very in-depth and colorfully, who everyone was, what they did and why. Everything about it seems well rehearsed, as If you've told it many times. But whenever I come up, or my role in this, you start to falter. You begin breaking eye contact and glancing off. You get nervous. You don't know what to tell me. You keep asking yourself how much you should say. Am I wrong?"
Silence.
"Why, Okabe? What can't you tell me?" she tried again.
"And why aren't we using honorifics when we address each other? Isn't that something reserved for very close friends or family?" Frontal Lobe wondered.
"He's just an infuriating idiot. He doesn't get honorific privileges. Especially not if he can't even say OUR name properly!" Limbic System scoffed.
"...As expected of Christina, my genius assistant," he mumbled.
"Stop adding '-Tina'! And stop dodging the question!"
"..."
Frustrations rose and she became genuinely angry. Angry at not being given what she needed; an answer that was content to stay confined to his hippocampus. He didn't give it and she couldn't reach it. That started a sensation of helplessness which quickly spiraled out of control.
Memories of familiar hands strangling her. Feelings of utter horror, shame, regret and confusion. Memories of a 'savior' vanishing into thin air.