Real (A Suzu/OC Story) Chapter 16 Now Up

[Mirage_GSM]

We're not really supposed to vote for stories here, but if it isn't canon with this one, it isn't really a side story either, is it?

[The O.H.L.]

Very enjoyable read.

By the way you have the same simile twice fairly quickly. It's the one about brushing your teeth and drinking orange juice. It doesn't detract from the story, it just reads weirdly in my opinion.

[Mirage_GSM]

I think that probably was intentional...

[DanjaDoom]

Very enjoyable read.

By the way you have the same simile twice fairly quickly. It's the one about brushing your teeth and drinking orange juice. It doesn't detract from the story, it just reads weirdly in my opinion.

Gah, my bad. I decided to switch up where the simile was in the story, guess I forgot to delete the original one, heh

[DanjaDoom]

...both?

I suppose I could work both in...hmm

Again, sorry for the double post, but I figured this would be the best place to ask...lol

[DanjaDoom]

So, I finally finished this one up. Took me long enough, eh? Anyway, I apologize if this one gets weird at some points, it's pretty goddamn late as you can tell.
And check out my M&M story while you're at it. Comments are GREATLY appreciated, as usual. Hell, feel free to tell me my story is shit. I'll be happy to read it (I won't really but you get the idea).

Chapter 7: Dream (When You're Feeling Blue)
Goddamn my head hurts. Why’s everything so white?

Fuck, don’t tell me I died....

Wait, wait, I didn’t die. I see someone. A tall lanky woman. A short stocky guy. They don’t look happy. They look pretty bummed, in fact.

That’s mom...and dad. Why would they be sad? They’re looking at something. A machine.

No, dipshit, not the machine, they’re looking at what’s attached to the machine. A boy. Tall, dashing, nice sideburns and...well, yeah.

He looks like dog shit that fell off a moving train. There’s more than one machine. There’s a bunch, in fact. Tubes are coming from all of them, like some weird tentacle-robot-thing.

His breathing is ragged. There are tossed away strips of cloth, bloodied and ragged in the wastebin. I assume those are his doing.

I take a look at his eyes. They tell a story for the ages.

So you got drunk with your deadbeat cousin the family doesn’t talk about? He told you about this amazing, really high spot that you can totally see all of Hokkaido from while you were vacationing there? Well, you didn’t follow him did you?

YOU DID?!

Damn, you’re stupid. Don’t give me that look. You knew the risks, soldier.

Most people would die from a fall off a cliff that high. You got off lucky. All you got was that big-ass scar.

I move over to him with trepidation. He’s sleeping like a mutilated baby, his eyes locked shut with force.

I can practically hear every muscle tremble as I move closer and closer. Closer and closer. Closer, closer, closer.

I’m a step away. I can feel the heat from his pained, raspy breaths. It’s like standing near a pool of lava.

My right foot steps with finality onto the tile closest to his bedside.

I barely lift my other foot off the ground before he awakens, hand clenching around my throat with a vice grip. The tendrils of the machines rip and snarl from his body, his still unhealed eye seeps abominable blood down his arm, into my face.

Suddenly I find I can’t breathe. Suddenly the white isn’t so white anymore. It’s pretty black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It takes awhile for me to collect myself. I already took the liberty of emptying the contents of my stomach in a nearby trashcan. My teeth feel gritty, a fact that I’m desperately trying to ignore. It’d just make me sick all over again.

I’ve had that dream... nightmare almost everyday for months. Some days I get lucky and just have a dream about Yamaku having an underground harem. Unfortunately, those dreams are few and far between.

I contemplate just staying in bed today. It’s a tempting offer. I can barely see straight, especially with my bad eye; I doubt hearing the teachers cram the importance of our exams into my skull would help my condition.

The only calm in this storm of synapses is the thought of seeing Suzu again. We haven't talked much since that fateful night a week ago.
I can't say I blame her. Pouring your heart out to someone must be nothing short of exhausting. It wore me out just watching her.

Selfishly, her story has had an affect on me as well. To bear that much knowledge about someone isn't something to take lightly. It's a heavy, almost fearful task.
What's so special about me? Why do I get that unfortunate honor?

Screw it, my head hurts too much to think. Time for bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“S’that?”

She turns the television off and makes her way next to me on the couch. I can tell by the bags under her eyes that she’s been deep in thought.

“A therapist, honey. We think, given the...events that transpired, it’d be in your best interest-”

I stop listening. My mind is still lingering on that one word; therapist.

Therapy is for crazy people. I’m not crazy. At least I’d say I’m not. Then again, everyone else seems to think I am. If everyone else thinks you're bats-in-the belfry crazy, but you don’t, does that make you wrong?

“Aaron.”

This catches my attention. She rarely uses my name, unless she means business.

“I know this seems hard to comprehend now, but your father and I feel that this is something you need. Are you ok with it?”

I only nod with a pathetic acceptance of my fate. Once my mom and dad set their mind to something, they’re like pitbulls. They won’t let up their bite until they get what they want.
I know when they have me by the leg.

“I’m sure you’ll love him!” she assures me with a disingenuous grin. Does she really think I’d fall for that?

“He’s one of the leading experts of child psychology in the world! Plus, he’s got a beautiful place in Japan! You can stay with your relatives while you’re there.”

She has a joyful smile on her face. She’s always had a thing for Japan. It’s why she went for my dad, after all. I think I heard Uncle Shino call it “yellow fever” one time.

Her smile becomes mirthful as she hugs me, a warm and genuine hug. I hug back.

“I know you’ll be good,” she whispers in my ear. Her voice, once a familiar source of warmth, seems almost alien now. Most things do, nowadays.

“What’ll happen to Arashi?” I ask.

Her face creases with a silent fury.

“Your idiot cousin’s lucky he’s not in jail! Or dead, for that matter.”

I do feel bad for Arashi. It’s not like he meant for me to fall from that cliff.

I don’t like him or anything, but I do feel kinda, maybe a little bad in a cosmic sort of way.

Mom hugs me even tighter, as if fearful I’ll float away like a balloon if she lets go.

“You’ll get better. I promise you that.”

Her firm tone belies the uncertainty in her voice.

Somehow, I can’t take anything she says seriously anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Judging by the deluge of students roaming outside, classes have just let out for the day.

My headache has settled since my last nap, only to be replaced with an overwhelming exhaustion.

The windowsill supports my chin as I gaze at the population outside.

There’s the student class representative, who just gave a rousing speech earlier this week urging volunteers for the school festival. It fell on deaf ears, unfortunately. Well, I shouldn’t say “deaf,” since she’s...yeah.

Her pink haired partner is with her as always. I’d recognize that pink hair and booming laugh anywhere. They’re apparently in the process of scolding a kid for something or other. The pink-haired girl is about as intimidating as a chihuahua, so the kid looks more bemused than anything else.

A short ways away an armless redhead is carrying an empty paint bucket between her teeth, legs trudging forward with a disinterested gait. I’ve seen her a few times in the hallways. Her eyes remind me of Suzu’s; faraway and distant, yet strangely alluring and captivating.

It must be a green-eye thing.

I spot Hanako from class walking with a rather tall, blond girl. I recognize her as the class representative of the class from across the hall, the “C class” I heard Takashi call it, followed by a “get it?!”

No one got it, apparently.

After a while, the crowds begin to dissipate, until only a few stragglers are left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The way our bodies collide together creates the world’s most sinful symphony. The sweat from her collarbone waifs towards my nose; the ecstasy it creates only drives me further into her.

My body is experiencing a myriad of sensations; numbness, soreness, pleasure, tiredness.
But every time we lock eyes, I feel the proverbial battery recharge. She’s the only girl to have that effect on me.

I quicken the pace a little, and I’m met with hoarse squeals of pleasure for my troubles. Goddamn I love that sound. Her nails dig into my back and I can swear they draw blood.

Like a knife to the leg of a horse, this only strengthens my resolve.

I kiss her, and she returns the favor. I can practically feel my breath taken from my mouth like a vacuum. Her breath has a citrusy flavor to it. It tingles my lips and tongue.

We pull apart after a few seconds, though it may as well have been a few hours. Those eyes of hers never fail to make my blood rush. They’re like emeralds shrouded in a morning mist. I’m not worthy of looking into them.

She makes a series of breathless rasps which I realize are actually words.

“Fuck me harder,” she gasps. Her words are vicious and predatory, like an animal caught in a trap, fighting to break free of her constraints. Of course, in this case, neither one of us want to break free of this trap.

Her request is one I’m more than happy to oblige.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hoist myself up from my seat by the window, my chin sore and reddened from where I laid it on the sill. Darkness has now fallen over the campus, and not a soul remains outside.

Despite all this, I find myself wide awake, bright and chipper. I suspect that last dream has something to do with that.

It felt satisfyingly real. For lack of a better word, I felt a great deal of raw passion, excitement...

Love?

I mull that word over for a second. I’ve already established that I like Suzu. But love?

It’s a pretty big leap between those two words.

A shadow out of the corner of my eye snaps me out of my thoughts. Sure enough, a dark figure is prowling around outside of my window, hunched awkwardly in the treetops outside. As an expert in internet paranormal research, I quickly ascertain that whatever is outside my window is most likely a supernatural demon with a taste for teenage flesh and really, really big claws.

I suspect The Rake.

Fetching a baseball bat (I’m not exactly sure why I have that, I never play baseball) from the corner, I sneak over towards the silhouette ready to strike.

Once I reach the grotesque monstrosity, however, I discover that not only is it not grotesque, it’s not a monstrosity.

“Mind telling me why you’re hanging in a tree outside of my dorm?” I ask, irritation seeping through my voice.

“I wanted to go somewhere with you.”

The way Suzu says it, like a kid yearning for an adventure, makes my irritation dissipate, but only a little bit. After all, I was robbed of the chance to use my bat.

“Where would you want to go in the middle of the night?”

She seems to finally have gotten the hang of tree-sitting, swinging her legs like a young schoolgirl while grasping a branch above for support. I take notice of a shopping bag, filled to the brim with some manner of clothing. Taking one hand of the branch, she carefully reaches in and produces a towel, which she proceeds to fling at my face.

“I want to go swimming,” she answers as she begins her slow descent downwards. “You know where the pool is?”

I nod slowly, vaguely remembering its location from a school map in the hallways.

“Good, I need to talk to you there.”

“Because we can’t just talk in my room like normal people?” I ask in protest.

She considers my words for a second, and for a second it seems she’s come to a breakthrough. My ears perch upward, eager for her response.

“Normalcy is overrated. Besides, I feel like swimming,” she answers dully.

I really should be more confused by this. After all, a narcoleptic girl was just sitting on a tree branch outside of my dorm room, asking me to sneak out in the middle of the night to swim. I suppose I'm just used to it by now. Swallowing my pride, I grab an old pair of swim trunks and follow her lead outside the dorm.

The walk to the gym is one that proves uneventful. We only spot a few staff members on patrol who prove to be easy to avoid, likely addled by sleep.

A sudden chill sends goosebumps up my arms. Wearing a thin shirt and swim trunks in the cool spring night seems like poor thinking in hindsight. I dread having to walk back in this weather all wet with pool water.

Suzu doesn't seem too phased by it. Somehow I picture her as the equivalent of a big dog who doesn't realize a bird landed on it's head.

Big puppy Suzu. How cute.

We halt in front of large, rather modern looking building, with giant glass windows dotted around the perimeter. I assume this is the gymnaisum.

"Looks locked to me," I say, a bit disappointed. I was actually looking forward to taking a dip in the pool, though not having to walk all the way back in the cold was a plus.

Suzu flashes a Cheshire grin and produces something shiny out of her pocket. "I've got it taken care of."

"Do I even want to know how you got those keys?" I ask worriedly.

She begins to move around back, and I follow her. "I'll give you a hint. I didn't kill anyone, have sex with anyone, or steal them."

"You... asked nicely?"

"Maybe," she responds. Somehow I doubt I'll get a straight answer from her. Best to just let it go.

The darkness makes it difficult to discern just what the inside looks like, but I can tell everything here is fairly hi-tech. Makes sense, given Yamaku's generous funding.

I can hear tell-tale sloshing emanating from down the hall, and sure enough, the lighting of the pool shines like a beacon, guiding us towards chlorine goodness.

Suzu sets side her bag and looks at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrow in confusion before catching sight of the contents of her shopping bag.

Ahh.

I dutifully turn and cover my eyes. "Just pretend like I'm not here."

Her clothes fall to the floor with a dull thud. It's taking a great deal of energy to not succumb to my male baseness and take a peak.

"All set."

I turn and take in the sight. It's a wonderful sight.

Her skin is as pale as the full moon, and it gleams with an almost supernatural light in the darkened room. The two-piece she's wearing accentuates her natural curves.
For lack of a better word, she's beautiful.

"What are you staring at?" she asks accusingly.

"Your swimsuit, what else would I be looking at?"

She's taken aback by my honesty. Saying nothing, she slips one foot into the pool, reeling it back in a flash once it touches.

"It's cold," she whines. I chuckle at her pointing out the obvious.

"It never occurred to you that water may turn cold in the middle of the night in spring?"

Before I'm able to dodge, I'm bombarded with the ice cold water courtesy of Suzu's foot.

Her face is channeling Miki in its impishness. "Pretty cold, huh?"

I grimace and remove my now soaked shirt. It's going to suck hard walking back...

With a wry face, I place a foot in. She wasn't lying, it's freezing balls. Against my better judgement, I wade my way into the water. A rather comical grunt escapes my mouth once I get about waist-high. Suzu finds that pretty funny, judging by the smirk on her face. It's a nice change of pace from her usual disinterested look, I find.

It's her turn to enter the pool. Once she's about halfway submerged, I decide to take some revenge. Sweet, cold, chlorine-filled revenge.

Not expecting the burst of cold water to her face, she yelps in surprise. It's probably the loudest I've ever heard her, even counting the time she yelled at me in the auditorium. It's so loud we both freeze up, fearful that someone may have heard us. The coast is clear, thankfully.

"You're a screamer, huh Suzu?... I mean, in a totally non-sexual way that would connotate anything... I'll shut up before my hole gets any deeper."

Suzu chortle's at my display of awkwardness. Still a bit embarrassed by my innuendo, I fail to notice the water splashing into my face. It blurs my vision and stings the scarring on my face.

As Suzu prepares another splash, I quickly spring into action, firing back a volley of water myself.

It's a bit embarrassing, really, a couple of high schoolers giggling and splashing like five year olds. But it's worth it to see a genuine smile on Suzu's face. It's a cathartic experience, one that helps me to forget about everything.

No dreams, no falls, no exams, no headaches. Nothing but a narcoleptic girl with a penchant for nightly outings.

I'm so euphoric I don't even register at first that we've moved closer. Our playful splashing subsides a bit, as does our laughter. We look at each other, study each others movements like predator watching prey.

In most cases, though, I doubt the predator ever locks lips with the prey.

Our aquatic frolic has left the taste and smell of chlorine linger on our lips and skin. I couldn't care less what's on her lips at this point, really.

Thinking back, this was a foregone conclusion, really. It was more a matter of "when" than "if".

But damn if it wasn't a good payoff.

We separate after a while. We smell funny and our lips sting with bitter chemicals. I don't think things could have gone any better, if I do say so myself.

"We just kissed didn't we?" Suzu asks. I only nod.

She mulls over this revelation for a minute, clawing through the banks of her mind to find something to say at this moment.

"Cool." Out of a million possible things she can say right now, she says "cool." Suzu truly is a one-in-a-million girl.

Once again our teenage hormones distract us from the problems at hand. Namely, the bright, damning light shining in our faces.

At the end of the light is the face of a staff member, shooting us an accusatory glance and waving his key ring like a judge would his gavel.
Motioning for us to step out of the pool, we comply.

Well, no one ever said teenage romance was without its bumps.

[The O.H.L.]

Hahaha, Suzu was cute in this, but was it really safe for a narcoleptic girl to climb a tree?

[Mirage_GSM]

Depends on how bad the narcolepsy is.
Most people with that condition don't really fall asleep with no warning at all. Many are simply very tired all day, even if they slept the whole night and may even fall asleep when they try to stay awake, but falling asleep while walking around or physically exerting themselves is probably an extremely severe case.
In the other Suzu fic her condition is shown to be that severe, but maybe it is not in this one.

[DanjaDoom]

Hahaha, Suzu was cute in this, but was it really safe for a narcoleptic girl to climb a tree?

Not at all, lol. In my view, she does all that weird stuff to help fight off the sleep.

[DanjaDoom]

Sorry for the long delay, I'm currently shuffling through my regurgitated ideas to try and form a coherent story. Fun fun.

On an unrelated and late note, go Celtics.

[DanjaDoom]

Were you expecting a cute girl? Too bad, dummy! It's just me and another shitty chapter to fill the Suzu void in your heart!
Sorry for the long delay, everyone needs a minute to get the juices recharged and whatnot. Once again this one comes in at an ungodly hour. Probably why they always end up so weird...

Anyway, be sure to comment, even if you want to tell me how much you hate me and wished the doctor punched me back into my mom's womb. I'll 'perciate it.

Chapter 8: Can't Snuff The Rooster
“You’re sure?”

Mutou lets out an exasperated sigh. “For the hundredth time, Fukui, you can’t repeal a detention sentence. It just doesn’t work that way.”

Seeing my options thin out by the moment, I decide to take desperate actions.

“Mr. Washington would like for you to reconsider your course of action...” I say coyly, slipping a few crumpled dollar bills the teacher’s way.

“Are you trying to bribe me? With an American dollar?” he asks in disbelief.

I return the wad to my pocket with an embarrassed sigh. “Yeah, not my best idea.”

Mutou rubs his temples and places his coffee mug onto a coaster on his desk.

“What were you doing out so late in the first place?” he asks.

I bite my lip with worry. Mutou seems like a cool enough teacher, but do I really want to divulge the details of my love life to him? He doesn’t really look like the type to be interested in high school romance.

“Would you believe I like taking late night walks around campus?”

“No.”

I feel like I’m treading on very thin ice here. The methodical ticking of the clock doesn’t help my already nervous disposition. I try to offer another poor excuse, but am halted by a hand from the science teacher.

“Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just take a seat and... I dunno, enjoy yourself.”

I can’t tell if he added that last one as a joke. Nonetheless, I do as he asks and sit myself down in my usual seat.

Coffee slurp, keyboard tapping, clock ticking, cicadas chirping obnoxiously. Rinse and repeat. I’ve taken up doodling to pass the time. I have a feeling if this noise goes on my head will cause my art to degenerate until it’s eligible to be hung up in a serial killer’s art museum.

I suppose I should count myself lucky I’m able to serve my detention with Mr. Mutou. It saves me from being stared at like a delinquent by the other teachers. Something tells me he doesn’t give much of a shit about late night hooliganism.

“SENSEI!”

A ringing, oddly cheerful yell pierces the silence like a bullet; it makes Mutou almost spill his coffee. My pink haired classmate bounds into the room like the world’s most colorful torpedo.

“Miss Mikado, I’m in the middle of something,” he grumbles.

The pink banshee gives him a confused stare. “But you’re just sitting here all alon-”

Her eyes fixate to me. I think it’s the first time we made eye contact with each other. It’s impossible to completely ignore Misha, but we’ve never really had a face-to-face conversation. Suddenly, she smiles in understanding.

“Ohhhh, I see! You’re taking care of a delinquent!”

I frown a bit at that “delinquent” comment. Then again, if I tried to smile like her I’d probably tear my face in half. She gasps and spins to meet Mutou, getting drastically close to his face.

“Sensei, can the student council borrow your delinquent for the day?”

He calmly continues to sip on his drink, obviously unamused by Misha’s antics but used to them by now. “He’s supposed to be serving detention right now, Ms. Mikado, not running around like an errand boy.”

“But sensei, you’re not just gonna leave two girls to do all that festival work, are you?” she asks. Her lips begin to quiver and her eyes practically double in size.

Mutou valiantly resists her extortion efforts. “You and Hakamichi will have to make with just the two of you, I'm afraid.”

“Pleeeeease sensei? We have so much to do, and so little time! We really need the help!”

Why she needs me so badly to help with council work, I have no inkling. Her giddy pleas to the teacher continue, and he’s clearly at a breaking point.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he groans. “Take him if you want. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone about this, alright? This is a one time deal.”

“DEAL!” Misha wails, threatening to tear the very fabric of the sound barrier. I realize after the fact that I haven’t even bothered to speak up in my defense. Too much exposure to Misha has a tendency to make you lost your train of thought.

She grabs me by the hand and yanks me from my desk. “We’ll take good care of you, Mr. Delinquent!”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I ask quickly.

“Nope!”

There’s some sinister underlining in that bubbly voice of hers that puts me on edge. I feel like I’m smack dab in the middle of some underground torture porn flick.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

She drags me out the door and down the hall, a pleased smile on her face the whole while.

“Have you ever used a saw?” she asks out of the blue, still with that unsettling smile on her face.

I choose carefully what to say next. I do have a decent amount of handyman experience, but if I say yes they may exponentially increase my workload. If I say no I may look like a wimp. Decisions, decisions.

“I’ve dabbled in it,” I answer.

Misha seems to find my answer satisfactory. “Good to hear! We’re a little short on hands to help us with our class project, so we take what we can get!”

“You make it sound like I’m some cheap slave labor,” I joke.

Misha chuckles apologetically. “That’s not true! We value all of our hard working members!”

“Since when am I a member?”

“Since I so graciously pulled you out of detention, duh!”

Ooh, she’s good.

“Thanks for that, by the way. But, I don’t think you’d want me for you council. Trust me, I have, like, zero work ethic,” I say. My excuse doesn’t seem to convince Misha much. I wasn’t lying about the work ethic part though.

“You never know until you try!” she answers.

I don’t even get a chance to retort, as we come to a halt in front of a door to the art department.

“Here we are!” Misha sing-songs. Inside, a forest of plywood and crumpled construction paper line alongside a makeshift path of tape.

I hear a rather chihuahua-esque growl from next to me, and see Misha begin to sign towards a previously unseen figure in the center. “Shicchan, I thought you said you would wait until I brought help to start cutting up the plywood!”

I’m well aware of the fact that the student council president is deaf, so I assume she’s yelling out the conversation for my sake. I’m not sure why, exactly, it’s not like I really care what the hell they’re talking about. I’m just here to waste away an hour of detention and possibly get some brownie points.

The aforementioned council president huffs out her cheeks and signs back, motioning towards her wrist and crossing her arms. I take that to mean we took too much time getting here.

Shaking her head, Misha fetches a pristine saw and places it in my hands. “There you go! Just start cutting up the wood in that pile in the corner-” she points towards the back,where a lone pile of material lay meticulously stacked-”and just cut along the yellow lines! Think you can do that?”

“Shouldn’t we be doing this outside?” I ask.

Another laugh bursts from her stomach as she pats me on the head like a dog. “Well, if you want to cut up plywood in ninety degree weather, be my guest!”

I glance over at the glass pane window, the heat from outside distorting the landscape like a wet painting. “Point taken,” I muse.

I soon set to work completing my task, shuffling through the discarded materials with admittedly little interest. Cutting plywood isn’t exactly the most riveting task in the world.

Besides, there’s one thing taking precedence in my head as of now. My first kiss. Sure, it led to us both being sent to detention, but you take your victories where you can get them.

Looking back now, it was painfully awkward. I think Suzu may be just as big a stranger to this whole “intimacy” thing as I am. Hell, the last “girlfriend” I had was some french girl i met in a chatroom for a few weeks. Not my proudest moment.

I suddenly become aware of hot, bubblegum scented breath on my neck. I barely turn my head before my eardrums are brutally accosted.

“Thinking about your girlfriend?” Misha sings with a face ripping smile.

I narrowly avoid lopping off one of my fingers. “ I don't have a girlfriend!” I argue.

She locks eyes with me, unconvinced.

“Really? So you just happen to hang out with three girls every day and there’s absolutely nothing going on?”

“Hey, boys and girls can be just friends, alright?” I counter.

“Please, you’re in high school! So, which one is it? Miura the track star, Kapur the star student, or the, uh, sleepy girl?”

“It’s not Suzu!” I blurt.

“Aha! So it is Succhan!”

“What? I just said it wasn’t!”

“She was the only one you mentioned! So obviously, it’s her you’re dating! My logic is infall-... falamle?”

She hurries over to Shizune. “Shicchan, what does this word mean?”

I’m thankful for the reprieve from the nosy Misha. I swear, every girl I’ve met in this place is part of some hive mind. They all want to know about every little detail of your life. This place really is just like home.

“-infallible!”

Misha takes the liberty of plopping her behind next to me as I resume my duties. Oh God, what now?

“Have you taken her out on a date yet?”

I think I liked it better when she didn’t talk to me.

“No.”

“What? Why not? That’s the first thing a boyfriend and girlfriend should do!”

“She hasn't been my girlfriend for... long.”

Her honey eyes sparkle with suggestion. “Ohhh, so it’s one of those relationships?”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked with a raised brow.

“No need to hide it, mister! How many times have you two had sex? I’m sure it’s pretty oft-WAH! YOU’RE BLEEDING!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nurse taps his pen incessantly against his clipboard, studying me like one would a dissected frog. The bed crunches as I squirm. He looks from the board to me in a strange pattern.

It’s all very unsettling.

His face breaks into a wide smile. It’s even more nerve-wracking than Misha's, and that’s saying something.

“Luckily for you, the cut wasn't too deep. Just clean it for a few days and you should be fine!”

I exhale my breath. At least I won’t be losing a limb in addition to my dignity. Hopefully no one saw Misha trying to carry me to the Nurse.

I nurse my tightly wrapped pointer finger. It’s currently an off-color shade of purple and red. Like year-old play-doh.

“Oh, almost forgot!” the Nurse exclaims. He still has that damn smile on his face.

He sidesteps over to his desk, producing a nondescript squirt bottle.

I recognize it almost immediately.

“How fortunate that you picked today to come here! Well, not fortunate, but, you know...”

He places the container in my non-injured hand. Scar ointment. How wonderful.

“You haven’t forgotten to apply it, have you?”

“Nope, put it on everyday like clockwork.”

“Positive?” he asks with skepticism.

A silent grunt of annoyance escapes my mouth. “The day just wouldn't be complete without rubbing this wondrous, stinging formula on my face.”

Taking the hint from my less-than-jovial disposition, he heads off to overlook some paperwork that suddenly came up.

Left alone, I stew in my thoughts for a bit.

I don’t like being reminded of why I’m here.

The scar, the scrubbing, it’s all become a very monotonous routine. That’s the way I like it. It gives me at least some sense of normalcy.

In a way, I’m taking the power away from my scar. I've accepted that it’s probably here to stay, at least for a while. I've accepted that my motor functions will be a bit off.

But it won’t become me. I won’t accept that.

There’s rustling outside the door, followed by an exasperated voice. This one’s followed by a much softer voice. The first voice begins to argue some more, but eventually sighs with resignation and opens the door.

I catch a glimpse of the person entering and quickly turn to my side, pretending to sleep.

“You don’t have to pretend to be asleep.”

I inch my head up slowly, taking a peek over my shoulder. Suzu was nice enough to not only come visit me, but bring me a popsicle. It’s definitely a first.

“I thought it was pretty convincing.”

“I can read your life force,” she answers. Her smile is supposed to come off as sweet, but with her eyes it’s actually kinda creepy. What’s with people smiling like that today?

“I don’t know whether you’re joking or not...”

She pulls up a chair and takes a seat by my bedside. “Me neither... Anyway, I brought you popsicles, Captain.”

I take the frozen treat and politely take a bite. I don’t have much of an appetite.

Suzu happily chomps away, tapping her feet at the floor in a rhythmless pattern. Does she not remember what happened last night? Or just not care?

I decide to continue the conversation regardless.“How did you find out I was here?”

“Misha told me.”

My gut tightens. “Who else did she tell?”

Suzu thinks on this for a second. “ Just me, I think. Then again, she was in a hurry, so maybe she was off spreading the news...”

As she trails off into her own thoughts, I grasp my face in my hands. Leave it to Misha to tell the entire school that I almost sliced my finger off. I think I may have been better off staying in detention. Nice, safe detention.

Suzu is still licking the popsicle, sliding her tongue down and down, putting her lips over it to suck it all up and... wow.

“Do I have something in my teeth again?” she asks, leaning over me to check herself in the mirror over my bed.

Our proximity makes answering her a bit difficult. Her chest is only inches above mine.

“N-no, your teeth are perfectly fine, nice and white, as usual, you know...”

I cringe inwardly at my awkwardness, but Suzu doesn’t seem to take notice. As she reels back, she stops short of getting off of the bed. As if I didn’t need any more reasons to freak out, she lays down on the bed next to me, lightly forcing my body sideways to give her more room.

I feel like I’m getting fitted for my casket. Suzu simply lays there, oblivious to the thick awkwardness hovering above us.

“We should talk.”

Talk? How many talks does this girl want to have? She has to run out of things to talk about eventually.

“About what?” I ask, playing along for the sake of my sanity.

She shifts a bit, laying her head against my shoulder. Now we’re being fitted for “his and hers” caskets, apparently.

“You.”

Me...

“I’m not that interesting.”

“Not many people are.”

“I’m sure there are much more interesting people here than me.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But to be honest, I don’t really care about many people. Well, except for Molly and Miki. Those two are pretty nice. You’re pretty nice also.”

I smile with mirth, locking eyes with her. “I’m honored that you think I’m so interesting.”

There’s more than a slight shade of red in her cheeks as she smiles back.

With some difficulty, I hoist myself up to a sitting position on the bed, Suzu following my lead.

“Where do you want me to start?” I ask her.

She inspects the contours of my face, rubbing her hand over it. I’m no longer shaky in her presence, I find. If anything, I’m comforted. Like seeing a ghost, only to discover that it’s your beloved aunt, come to check up on you from the other side.

The warmness of her hand let's me know that Suzu is very much alive, though.

“Start with this,” she says with a detached awe. I break away self-consciously. I’ve never been one to get intimate about my damage. Mainly because no one’s ever rubbed my face like this, but I digress.

“It all started when I was a wee lad...”

She looks surprised for a bit, then gives me an annoyed smack against my shoulder when she catches my amused smirk.

Clearing my throat, I continue. “It was a little while ago, actually...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dude, don’t be a pussy man, just come with us!”

I glare at him, pushing aside his drunk carcass to get another can of pepsi.

“Fuck you man, I’m not a pussy! It’s late as shit, I’m dead tired, I’m gonna go to sleep soon."

He groans in exasperation and begins to shake my shoulders. God he reeks.

“Have you not noticed that all the adults are asleep, or what? If we don’t head up there now, we’re gonna regret it for the rest of our lives!”

By “we” he means his drug-fiend friends, whom he managed to get down here by sweet talking my aunt with those puppy dog eyes of his.

“Or until tomorrow morning, when you’re all too hungover to remember?”

He waves his hand dismissively, nearly stumbling over from the sudden movement.

“Fine, then just stay here and don’t have any fun... and don’t talk to Fuyumi.”

My ears perk like a dog. “Fuyumi?”

“Yeah, you know, that girl you’ve been lookin’ at all night? The one with ‘dem hips?’”

She does have some nice hips on her. “Who cares? There are other girls out there.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with mock disappointment. “That’s a real shame. Because I heard that she’s really interested in seeing you...privately.”

I swallow down a hard breath. I just know Arashi can notice the blush I have on now. It’s giving him a sadistic smirk. Dammit, I’m falling right into his trap.

Hormones are a killer.

“Alright, I’ll go with you... for a little bit.”

He brightens up considerably, throwing an unwanted hand over my shoulder. His hat still looks as stupid as ever.

“That’s what I wanted to hear cuz! I’ll go get the guys, and we’ll be outta here!”

It takes him awhile to round up his passed out compatriots. After everything’s set up, we set off into the night, the dim lights of the vacation house growing even dimmer as we go farther.

It’s like a scene from a cheap zombie movie. Dozens of drunk university kids, bleary eyed and disheveled, stumbling along the trail like a conga line of the undead.

A few of them yell out some joke I don’t understand. Maybe my Japanese is rustier than I thought. I’ve had more than a few drunken ‘gaijin’ chants since I came here. It hasn’t exactly been the most comfortable of vacations so far.

Arashi leads the pack, sweet-talking a young girl who’s shown a remarkably low tolerance for alcohol. Then again, she can’t be more than 90 pounds. His “girlfriend” is only a few feet behind them, but in her almost half-dead state, I doubt she’d notice if an atomic bomb went off next to her.

On second thought, I should probably lay off the bomb jokes while I’m in Japan.

A few bodies ahead of me is Fuyumi. Damn, she’s a cutie. Pointed cheeks, a pixie nose, shoulder length hair. Her body’s not too shabby either.

If what Arashi was saying is true, then... nah, who am I kidding. I can count on one hand the number of times Arashi’s been honest in the past. Aunty and Uncle would rather think that their son is a straight-A angel who scored perfectly on his entrance exams, despite evidence to the contrary practically screaming in their faces. The rest of the family just calls them “delusional” and leaves it at that.

Arashi yells out something unintelligible, and the rest of the group responds with equally unintelligible babbling. Evidently we’ve made it to the top of the hill.

I have to hand it to my cousin, it does look quite nice up here. The night sky is like a borderless ocean of stars and constellations. Coming from a city, especially an American city, it’s definitely a sight to behold.
My dear cousin has abandoned all sense of tact and has started swapping spit with his new arm candy. Once again his “girlfriend” doesn’t notice.

A cool breeze has begun to blow over the hillside. Coupled with the bright lights from the luxurious country homes, and it’s like a postcard. A postcard with drunk people, but a postcard nonetheless.

Arashi is moving precariously close to the edge, the unknown girl clinging onto his arm like
an inebriated boa.

Seeing the chance to make him owe me, I make my way closer towards him, not eager to explain to my relatives how my cousin died like an idiot in the pursuit of poontang.

As for the rest of the group, they’ve broken out into a bad rendition of some pop song I’ve never heard of. The only light source is the night sky above and the house lights below.
I can’t imagine anything up here ending well. I want nothing more than to head back, but if I leave him, then more than likely someone’s going to end up dead in a drunken mess.

“Cousin, come over here and look at the view!” he howls. I can see from this distance a faint light from below, like treasure shining underneath the door to a dragon’s lair.

Others begin to move over to the edge, and a few “oohs” and “aahs” can be heard over the chaos.

With trepidation, I step forward, my heart racing with every forward movement of my foot. I’m overwhelmed by a lingering cloud of wrongness. I make it to the edge after a surreally long walk to the edge, and discover what’s over the edge. A lake. A sparkling diamond of a lake, bordered on its sides by a deep forest. It’s almost intoxicating to witness. Like a long forgotten Ark of the Covenant we were never supposed to discover.

My brain feel like it’s set to burst over with...stupid juice. Yeah, stupid juice. Or something like that.

I can hear crumbling.

Crumbling is bad. Crumbling is very bad.

Arashi has moved away from his special friend and moved to place an arm around me, cheering towards the night sky over having conquered the hills of Hokkaido. I instinctively push him out of the way as the crumbling grows even louder, knocking him away from the edge and onto his ass. He jumps to his feet, looking ready to throw punches. I try to explain, to tell him to just stop yelling. It’s making my head hurt.

Is it just me, or is he growing taller? That or I’m shrinking.

His rage dissipates. It’s replaced with a rather funny look. Like he just got punched by a boxer. He yells something, jumps down to stomach, reaches out towards me. In my last minutes, I gain enough sense to reach out to him, try to grasp his hand. It slips out like a wet noodle, flailing limply against the raging wind.

I get one last look at their faces as I tumble unceremoniously downward. It’s obvious a few of them are stumped as to what’s going on. e last sound I hear is a scream as I descend downward.

Luckily, I passed out before that branch scratched my cornea.

….....................................................

Now I’m hearing a lot of yelling... loud... very loud.......

Way too loud.....

That’s a lot of lights... I see Arashi, yelling at someone. He looks pissed-pants terrified.

I think he’s crying. That’s kinda funny in a not funny way....

Holy shit my head hurts. Like someone used it for batting practice....

The yelling hasn't stopped, I find. Arashi is the worse. Something about me being his cousin, how he’s “fuckin’ dead, man.”

He sounds like a girl when he yells, all high-pitched like that...

I try to laugh, but it feels like my mouth is splitting at the seams when I do.

Now I’m the one crying....

I shouldn't have come up here tonight.

[DanjaDoom]

Quick question. How old is Hideaki? (for story purposes)

[Dippeggs]

I'm guessing like 7 or 8 years old, but I'm not really sure at all.

No one seems to comment on your story update, which is weird. Keep up the good work man.

[DanjaDoom]

I'm guessing like 7 or 8 years old, but I'm not really sure at all.

No one seems to comment on your story update, which is weird. Keep up the good work man.

It's cause everyone hates me *commits sudoku*

Really? I could've sworn he was like 12-ish. Ah well.

[Dippeggs]

I'm guessing like 7 or 8 years old, but I'm not really sure at all.

No one seems to comment on your story update, which is weird. Keep up the good work man.

It's cause everyone hates me *commits sudoku*

Really? I could've sworn he was like 12-ish. Ah well.

I think if he was 12 he definitely wouldn't be wearing the stupid clothing he wears.