My last fiction ended on an abrupt, yet perfect final note (I'm glad a couple of you agreed!), but you guys and this damned game, I swear to God. Makes me get creative. So I compromised.
Consider this a direct continuation of my previous story, Turn to Stone, except this one won't be a one-shot. (Is that what they're calling 'em now?) You don't have to have read it for this to make sense, provided I did things right, but it does kinda give a great deal of background.
As always, feedback of all kinds encouraged. Rip me to pieces and tell me my music is garbage.
EDIT: This was going to be called "Gold Needle" as a stupid reference to Final Fantasy (lawl cuer 4 turn to stoned ahahah), but I thought I could do a bit better and name it after a 'Strip song, but the title is VERY similar to an existing story on here that's very good and didn't even cross my mind till right now. I highly suggest that everyone read Leaty's Mean Time to Breakdown. (It's REALLY good!) I apologize for the confusing similarity of names, but DAMMIT.
***
Prologue: Turn to Stone
Chapter One: Touchdown Breakdown
Chapter Two: Evil Speaks
Chapter Three: Down There With You
***
"Your lies will have you on your knees
Your soul will pray to satisfy your needs
Your mind will burn your last thoughts
Now witness the only master you've lost."
-Leæther Strip, "Touchdown Breakdown"
Today's a good day. Hell, every day's a good day, but today's something else. Sun's out. Nice breeze. Not humid at all. Blue skies with just a hint of orange. Long shadows. A few conveniently placed clouds lazily drifting by, offering shade right when I seem to need it. A good day for calisthenics. A hell of a good day to get some sprints in.
As I'm working out the kinks in my hamstrings, I see a familiar face heading toward the track. It's Hisao. Oh, cool. I haven't seen the guy in a while. Well, outside of class, that is. Maybe Ibarazaki succeeded in roping him in to that routine she was practically plotting in secrecy with... Hey. What's his deal? He's looking kinda beat. Bummed out. I decide to jog over to him and find out.
"Hey, you. Why the long face?"
"Miki, I think I messed up."
And jeez, does he look the part. Depressed. Haggard. Tired. Yeah, that's it. He looks dead tired. Scared, too. Shell-shocked, even. Wait. Where was he coming from? Oh, dammit, dammit, dammit. He was coming from the girls' dorms, wasn't he.
What did you do, Hisao. What the hell did you do.
"Hanako. She... I dunno..." He sighs, hangs his head ruefully, and I can practically read his thoughts. Second verse, worse than the first.
"She just blew up at me. She said she hates me. She said she doesn't need anyone telling her that she's broken. She said she hates Lilly and I for treating her like a child. She said she hates me. She says none of us understand. I guess that's true. She said she hates me, Miki. She threw me out of her room, Miki. She HATES me, Miki."
Huh. Can't say I didn't see that coming. Wait. Wait. WHAT.
"Slow down a minute. She eighty-sixed you from her room 'cause you were treating her like a kid? Care to explain that one a bit?"
"Well, what was I supposed to do?" He's hysterical now, on the verge of tears. "She's so touchy, all the time. ALL THE TIME. I try to just get a little bit closer, and nothing. Nothing! I can't treat her like everyone else. She's so fragile. Miki, I sent her into a panic attack because I went out shopping for her birthday and I was gonna surprise her with the news but instead I wound up letting the cat out of the bag to Shizune and God-damn Misha and she up and goes catatonic on me and... Oh, hell, YOU saw it! It was like talking to an empty shell and I felt so BAD about it, so we kept the celebration small and then Lilly left so she's been really out of it and I TOLD her! I TOLD her I'd still be around to protect her and that's a good thing, right? Right?! But she's been stuck in her room for like three days, and I went to try to cheer her up and drag her out and get her some fresh air and maybe, just MAYBE, make her happy and she HATES me and I don't even know what I DID."
He's panting now. Almost hacking up a lung and frothing at the mouth.
"Um." It's all I can bring myself to say, really. Millions of thoughts are going through my mind at rapid speed, falling like rain and rushing to a flood of... Anger? Confusion? Sympathy, maybe? No, definitely anger. Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You. YOU.
"I thought I was doing alright, you know? I thought I was being everything she needed. All I wanted to do was help her. You know, protect her, and be there for her? I never wanted to hurt her, ever, and I don't know how I managed to do exactly that, I thought I was doing the right thing, and I don't even know how I feel about..."
"Hisao."
It's been a good year and a half since I lost my hand. I'd like to think I've made a lot of progress since then. So I'm a little clumsier than I used to be, and maybe my penmanship is still kind of awful. But one thing I made absolutely sure to perfect was the ability to deliver a mean right hook to the face. His face. His spineless, heartless, fucking brainless face.
As he reels back and falls to the ground in a crumpled mess, concern briefly flickers through my mind. Aw, shit, he's got a heart problem, and that's an awful lotta blood. Another, even quicker flash of panic seizes me as well. What if someone saw this? Of course someone saw it. Dammit. We live in a fucking school. Everybody probably saw it. And even if it was just some joker that saw me up and deck this kid, the people he'd tell... Oh, man, the rumor mill in this school is going to go nuts. No, no, no. Even given the circumstances, this could easily be expulsion. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, GOD DAMN IT.
I grit my teeth and steel myself, pushing those thoughts aside for when the eventual handcuffs come out and I have a nice, quiet night alone to think about what the hell I'm going to do for the next couple of years. The bastard had it coming, and judging by what I can see of his expression that's not ground up into mincemeat, I think he knows it. He pushes himself up, spits a rather nasty glob of blood and saliva into the grass that's thankfully devoid of teeth, chuckles, and rises to his feet.
"I guess I deserved that, huh. Ow." He winces and wipes his rapidly swelling face with his sleeve.
"You're an idiot."
"I think I deserve that, too." He sighs. "I think I fucked it all up."
"Yeah, you did. Would you like to know how?"
He waves his hand lazily in dismissal. "No... I think I have that part figured out. I just... I have a lot to think about, is all. Ow. Talking hurts."
"So let's shut up and get your ass some medical attention before you keel over and die on me." Thankfully, he does. And we do. Double-time, looking every which way just to be sure.
The walk goes by without incident or interruption from anyone, which surprises the hell out of me, and gives me ample time to think. Not about the repercussions of the stupid, necessary thing I just did. That's pretty much a given. But also things I should have done a long time ago. Things I thought I should have done differently, but given recent events, might... Might not have been a bad idea? Still doesn't make it any better, or make me feel better, for that matter. Not even close. It actually makes me feel a hell of a lot worse.
"Miki." Hisao snaps me out of my train of thought and I realize we're standing in front of the nurse's office. He's got a weird look on his face. Well, the side I didn't mangle, anyway.
"While I can still move my jaw. Want, need to tell you." He spits on the tiled floor in a way that under any other circumstances would either be really gross or totally badass, then continues. "I think I've been a terrible person since I came to Yamaku. Since my heart attack."
Oh, shit. He said he had a condition, but I never figured he'd ever went into full-blown cardiac arrest. Yeesh. Kind of explains a lot, I think. No time for that now, though.
"I've been miserable. Not a day goes by where I'm not reminded every day about things I can't do that I used to take for granted. Not a minute passes where I'm not aware I could drop dead the next. And I don't think I've done... A single thing to change any of that." He pauses to spit again, this one more saliva than blood, which is a good thing, though I honestly wonder why I'm even noticing.
"Then I met Hanako. I think that's why I started being friends with her, really. I've been so afraid of doing anything about me, that she became my project, I guess. A way for me to not have to sit there and think about pain. About dying. Didn't realize I was messing up both of us. Worse."
So that's it, then. The guy tries to play Mr. Fixit to someone because he hasn't got the guts to take a look in the mirror. Well, fuck him, then. I saw who was in that mirror, smashed it, rearranged the pieces, and even though the slivers of glass were a bitch to pull out of my fingers, I'm happy with how she came out. I think.
He chuckles again, this time seeming less sardonic and much more genuine, which kinda weirds me out a bit. "I'm an awful friend, Miki. Don't wanna see Hanako. Not now. Not the way I am. Got some stuff to figure out." He slowly turns to knock at the door, then pauses, facing me again. "If you see Hanako, tell her she's absolutely right. Can you do that for me?"
Huh. Maybe that "fuck him" was jumping the gun a bit. Seems like he wants to do something about this, like he wants to turn it all around. Can't fault him there. I know from experience that Yamaku, more than anything else, is the best place to get that second, hell, third chance. I nod in earnest as we enter the nurse's office. And at that moment, all earnestness and whatever delusions I had cooked up to replace courage take the opportunity to leave me high and dry, I'm in trouble. The nurse takes one look at Hisao's face, looks at me, and abandons his nonchalant smile for a strange mixture of concern and a glare so intense that might as well be separating each of my molecules and splitting them one by one.
"Oh, for the love of... Miura, you know better than ANY-"
"It's okay," Hisao interjects, "It's my fault. I, ow, had it coming."
While not seeming to calm him down or convince him in the slightest, it's at least enough to shut the nurse up and get him right to business. "Miura," he says tersely, "Would you please excuse us and wait outside? Don't. Go. Anywhere."
Wouldn't think of it, boss.
Seconds pass like millennia. Thoughts race by like bullets, some grazing my head and leaving my ears ringing, some hitting me right between the eyes, ricocheting around the inside of my skull and scrambling my brains until I can't even feel anything and I couldn't even tell you what a bullet even was or what I was even using it as a metaphor for anymore, then another rapid-fire burst of old woes, old fears, and even older demons.
A few scattered glimpses of childhood brawls and scraps. Slaps and scratches evolving through the years to chokes and kicks to the side of the head. Stupid, pointless things like insults and keep-away. Serious, important things like extortion and protection. Days spent ditching class in favor of the school of hard knocks, giving as many lessons as I got. Realizing way too late that I might have had a problem. Figuring it was too late to go against the flow. Fighting tooth and nail to get out. Realizing that I might have just gotten right back in. Bleed. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Somewhere above me, I hear the ticking of a clock. Steady. Even. Like a pulse, maybe. What are those things that piano players and stuff use to keep time? I forget what they're called. But it's like that. I focus on it as I'm being ripped to shreds by my mental firing squad. Each wave comes on slower and slower. Each blast from the past hitting harder and more vividly. Each ticking of the clock feeling somehow heavier and louder.
Ratatatatat.
That girl I knocked over on the playground because she had no friends. The first time I coerced someone into doing something I wanted. The first time I got in a legit fight.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Kapow. Zoom.
That guy I utterly destroyed when he got a little too fresh with me. The guy whose arm I broke when he didn't get fresh enough. The guy that would've succeeded were it not for the only time I've ever been glad to be surprised by the cops.
... Tick. ... Tick.
Ziiiiiip. Fwooooosshhhh. Zzzzziiiinnnnnnnggggg.
Punching, punching, punching, again and again, until there wasn't anything left to punch with. Continuing to punch anyway, again and again, until a different set of bones collided with a stud in the wall. Screaming, again and again, because holy fuck what the hell did I just DO -
"... With a saline solution. Not all the time, but enough to make sure everything's nice and disinfected."
Goddamn it. I nearly jump out of my skin as the door opens and the nurse goes over things my idiot friend has to do to keep his face from falling off. Speaking of which, aside from a bad bit of swelling and a bandage, said face isn't looking as grim as I'd figured. I'd ask him how he's feeling, but I have a pretty good idea of how that's going anyway.
"Miura, I'd like to see you in my office now. Nakai, you're free to go."
Hisao gives me an awkward wave and slowly heads off, probably to get some sleep. There you go, champ. You earned it. I follow the nurse into his office and take a seat. I'm all stressed out and my legs are glad for the reprieve, and I'm surprised to find that my hand's killing me a bit. Amazed I didn't put the poor kid to sleep. But anyway, I'm likely screwed. Here it comes. I look up at the nurse, who's regarding me with the worst kind of look. The look that says "You are worse than dead. You are worse than shit. You are dead shit."
A new mantra replaces the bullets and ticking clocks in my head. Don't cry. Don't cry.
"Miura. What you did was nothing short of asinine. What in the hell were you thinking? No, wait, I can clearly answer that one for you. You obviously weren't thinking much, if at all. You could have done far worse than simply given him a nasty cut and some light trauma. And even then, did you stop to consider the consequences of assaulting a student on campus? You cannot afford this. I can't believe you, out of anyone at this school, would do something so reckless."
Don't cry. Don't cry. Please, dammit.
"Miura." His fingers clench the bridge of his nose, like he's got a massive headache. Don't blame him. "Your friend was kind enough to inform me of what happened. And while I may disagree with your methods of handling the situation..." He pauses and gives me a reluctant grin. "I think you did the right thing."
"What." I nearly pass out, both from shock and from forgetting to breathe because I'm honest to God terrified right now, and something tells me that I should be even more afraid that I'm not as screwed as I thought I was, or to the extent that I thought I was. No. This might be worse.
Don't cry. Don't you fucking dare.
He laughs, albeit a strained one. "That boy's been needing some sense knocked into him for a while now. I guess you managed to hit part of his brain back into place. He's promised to actually get motivated and take care of himself. A training and dietary regimen and daily appointments to take vitals and adjust dosages if need be. On a much more personal note, though..."
Aw, dammit.
"I think you made the right call in regards to the situation between Nakai and Miss Ikezawa. Granted, maybe a stern talking-to would have been much more appropriate, but let's just chalk this one up to serendipity."
"What's that?"
"Oh, ah, everything working out for the best." He takes a seat at his desk and drums his fingers absentmindedly. "You're in their class correct?" At my nod, he frowns a bit. "So you were privy to the episode some time ago?"
"Yeah. Is, well, was she okay?"
Here he stumbles a bit. "It's hard to say. I'm not much of a neurologist, myself, but now? Maybe this incident between the two of them is for the better. For both of them, really." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Are you friends with Ikezawa?"
Now it's my turn to sigh. "I dunno, Nurse. When I transferred here, I tried, you know, getting to know her and hanging out with her. Not out of pity, nah, but I just wanted to be, well... Better, I guess. You know, than before." He nods. I think he's the only one that does, and I'd like to keep it that way. "And it was cool and I got to really like her around, but about this time last year, she..."
Something hits me. "Hisao said he was getting something for her birthday. Today might be her birthday. Oh. Oh, shit. Sorry," I quickly apologize for my language, but he's unfazed. Rather, he's got that amused, mildly intrigued smile of his that kinda makes me mad.
"Did what happened to her, you know, burns and all, happen on her... Well, you probably won't tell me. Patient confidentiality and all. Right. Either way. Makes sense."
That damned smile widens just a bit. My suspicions confirmed, at least I think so, in the shittiest way. That's awful. Really fucking awful. And I think I've forgotten my mantra some time ago, because I think a few rogue tears made their escape when I wasn't paying attention.
"She basically told me to leave her alone, so I guess I just did." I whack my wrist against my thigh in frustration. "Dammit. I haven't talked to her in a whole year."
Miki, you had better stop that fucking crying right now, or so help me, I will give you something to cry about.
"I dunno. I just miss her."
The nurse rises from his desk and hesitantly places a hand on my shoulder. His face is twisted up in all kinds of paternal weirdness. I can tell he's not good at this kind of thing, but it's working nonetheless.
"I think everything will turn out just fine, Miura. You've got a good head on your shoulders, even when you're trying to knock off everyone else's, and maybe she'll see that, too." His hand goes back to his pocket and his demeanor instantly shifts back to his signature blend of business and party. Hahah. Doctor Mullet. That's amazing. "Now let's get a look at that hand for good measure. Can never be too careful."
A few prods and squeezes of my knuckles, fingers, and whatever the actual bones in your hand and wrist are called, and he's pretty satisfied. "Nothing wrong. Surprising, given Nakai's thick skull." I can't help suppressing a giggle between sniffles, and he grins in response. "Good. Good. Now you've given me quite the bit of paperwork to do. Damage control and what have you, so you're all set to go." I get up and make my way to the door, when I stop and interrupt his scrawling of illegible things on way too many different colored documents.
"Hey, Nurse? Thanks. For patching him up. For not calling the fuzz. For... Well, you know."
He grins again. "It's what I do. Now get outta here and let me work in peace," he moans in mock annoyance, sniggering as he handles the wonders of medical bureaucracy. I leave his office and close the door behind me.
As I make my way back to the track, I realize I'm simply too exhausted and a little too bummed out to be running, so I decide to call it a night and head back to the dorms. Once again, I find myself tuning out the outside world and getting lost in a maze of thoughts. A maze with paths that seem to criss-cross and loop infinitely. A maze with no exit and a single dead end.
Man. Hisao tried to baby her, and they both justly got burned for it. Owch. That's a terrible way to put it, huh. But what did I do? I did the exact opposite, and what did I get? Well, nothing, really. Nothing at all. And if that's not wrong, how the hell is it supposed to feel right?
Before I know it, I'm already in my room, stupidly staring at my bed, which happens to be taunting me with its false promises of restful sleep and pleasant dreams. Not fucking likely. I shrug and resign myself to flopping on it unceremoniously, mind racing with flashbacks of close calls both recent and from a lifetime ago, of instant replays of various things and faces broken in half, and of tiny smiles and long, dark hair.
Forget the mantra. I'm alone. I'm alone, and I can do what I want.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a good day. Hell, every day's a good day.
