http://katawashoujo.blogspot.com/2011/0 ... plans.html
Like the in-game routes, it contains mature content, some of it relatively early on, so be warned.
Art contributions are by Dubsdraw, Skrats and Emi's Waifu, and can be found throughout at relevant points in the story.
There is no Act 1 material, for now. I may choose to develop some in the future since that's the direction a lot of the other routes have gone.
Any feedback you have is both welcome and appreciated. I am a new writer and I have a lot to learn from the people here.
[edit] New Act 3 splash screen by Emi's Waifu. Bling bling!
Can you open your heart?
Table of Contents
Act 2: Balance
Scenes 1-2: "Stalkers," "Demons."
Scenes 3-5: "Labels," "Symptoms," "Programs."
Scenes 6-7: "Fears," "The Other."
Scenes 8-9: "The Three Ghosts," "Pieces of Paper."
Act 3: Shadows
Scenes 1-2: "Awaiting Release," "Reaching Out."
Scenes 3-4: "Quality and Quantity," "Lies."
Scenes 5-6: "Wards," "Illusions."
Scenes 7-8: "Spectres," "Divergence."
Scenes 9-10: "The Answer," "The Gift."
Scenes 11-12: "Paths," "The Visitor."
Scenes 13-14: "Shadows at Noon," "Prometheus."
Act 4: Mirrors
Scenes 1-2: "Precognition," "Mythology."
Scenes 3-4: "Magnum Opus," "The One That Hides."
Scenes 5-7: "The New Arrival," "An Omen," "Captivity."
Scenes 8-9: "Channeling," "Parallels."
Scenes 10-11: "Promise," "Filling In The Blanks."
Scenes 12-13: "Polarity," "Poems and Riddles."
Scenes 14-16: "At Home," "Ontology," "Tight-Rope Walkers."
Scene 1: Stalkers
As I’m leaving from my last afternoon class, I notice Rika just outside the gates, by the bus stop. Leaning against the wall with her legs crossed at the ankles, one arm around her waist, the other holding a cigarette at eye level. Her braided, silver ponytail is flung oddly over her shoulder and laying between her breasts. Nurse has cautioned us on numerous occasions about the dangers of smoking, but there she is, puffing her life away. She takes a deep drag on her cigarette and closes her eyes. For the first time since coming to Yamaku, I’m reminded of a group of girls from my old school who used to smoke by the school dumpsters at lunch. The word “bitchy” comes to mind. Though she looks the part in her current pose, I’ve never really thought of her that way. She just seems a bit lonely. Maybe this is how “bitchy” girls are when they’re not surrounded by their ilk? Like a lone wolf without a pack. Or maybe I’m just unfairly categorizing her having just now discovered her smoking habit. The thought makes me realize just how friendly most of the people at this school are. Rika sure does seem unfriendly, and I would have dismissed her as such had I never met her, but she’s always been rather kind to me, even if her manner of speaking can be a bit curt. On the other hand, nobody in the school’s social circle seems at all interested in reaching out to her the way they’ve been reaching out to me. Maybe there’s some history I’m not aware of.
It’s been about a month since I first met her in Nurse’s office. Rika and I had had appointments bookended occasionally and I’d seen her leaving when I was arriving. It turns out that she suffers from a heart defect as well, and there’s a great deal of overlap in our treatment plans. We have some medications in common. She even has her own “Emi,” a nurse-appointed ward of her physical exercise regimen – Miki, room 3-3's own track star. Nurse made a point of introducing me and Rika one day when her own appointment was running a bit late, and since then we’ve started to overlap a portion of our Nurse visits. A lot of his counsel is the same for both of us, so it seems a sensible way for him to save a bit of time. Nurse is nothing if not crafty, though, and I could never shake the suspicion that there was some ulterior motive in the whole thing. A “buddy system,” maybe, to hold us mutually accountable in the hopes that it’s good for our respective well-being. Or maybe he just thought we’d be good company for one another, in a more basic sense.
And then there was the festival…
“Can I ask you something, Hisao?”
I’m caught entirely off guard by the fact that she is aware of my presence. Has she been looking at me? I hope in vain that I haven't been staring.
She seems pleased by my surprise and leers at me with a mysterious glint in her crimson eyes, and a neutral, Mona Lisa smile. She’s mentioned to me before that her red eyes and white hair are the result of a pigment deficiency, and that she’s “nothing to be afraid of.” The phrase has since had the opposite of the intended effect. Then again, maybe it was intended. She certainly fancies herself something of an enigma.
She sighs impatiently at my lack of response, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “I was just wondering. Can you feel your own heartbeat?”
I’m a bit taken aback. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She adjusts her position against the wall and knocks some ash off her cigarette.
“I’ve asked people before, and Nurse, too. Most people only feel their heart beating when something is out of the ordinary. When they’re afraid, or excited, or they’ve been running. But most people never think about their hearts. They don’t have to.”
“I don’t know how to answer that, Rika. I’ve only ever had the same heart, so I’ve got no frame of reference here.”
“But you do feel it beating, all the time? And you have to try not to notice?”
“I guess you could put it that way.”
She finishes her cigarette and flicks the butt on the ground.
“Sorry if that was a weird question. I was just thinking about something Nurse told me once about heart palpitations. When normal people feel their heart beating, they’re terrified. They spend most of their time not knowing their heart is even there. But I feel every beat. You do too, don’t you? Even before coming to Yamaku, before you knew what was wrong.”
It feels a little strange that Rika is opening up to me like this. We’ve only known each other for about a month, and even though we may have spent time together at the festival, we're hardly what you'd call a couple, or even very good friends, for that matter. I’ve heard from other people that she isn’t typically assertive when it comes to making friends. She seems to think that there’s something different about me, though. I must admit I feel the same way about her. I’ve had a hard time relating to a lot of the people here, with how obvious their disabilities are. It’s funny how crippling ours are by comparison, how much more debilitating, how hidden. I put my hands in my pockets and lean up against the wall beside Rika, closing a bit of the distance between us. She stinks of cigarette smoke, and the smell is enough to make me cough.
“I guess it just seems pretty normal to me,” I say in response to her question. “I always took it for granted before my first heart attack that what I felt was normal. Once I went on the medications I started feeling healthier than I’ve ever felt. But yeah, I still feel it. Now that you mention it, I feel every beat. I... kind of wish you hadn’t pointed it out to me.”
She grins at this. There’s something sadistic about her expression as I talk. She seems to be in one of her darker moods right now, though I’ve already grown accustomed to this side of her and know better than to think anything’s amiss. I can tell she’s being playfully morbid so I decide to push the envelope a little bit.
“Have you ever seen the word ‘Death’ flash before your eyes, in big, red letters?” I ask.
She raises her eyebrows at me, looking a little impressed. “I guess you know where I’m going with this. Do you think that’s such a bad thing, though? Living in the company of death? Isn’t that why people go on roller coaster rides, or go bungee jumping? People crave death, Hisao. It’s human nature. If you think of it that way, we’re the lucky ones. Every day is a thrill ride.”
For the first time since meeting her, I find myself thinking about how lonely Rika must be. Her perfect frankness belies a feeling of intimacy that ought to take months of friendship to cultivate, but here we are, two casual acquaintances, discussing human mortality like a couple of bearded philosophers. She talks like she’s reading out of a book. It almost sounds rehearsed. Has she had this conversation before? Could this be why people avoid talking to her? The subject of “death” can stir up a lot of strong emotions in a place like Yamaku. It ought to with her, and with me, too. And yet the two of us are chatting about it as candidly as ordinary folk might discuss the weather.
Before I can reply, she spots the city bus as it’s approaching.
“Headed into town?” I ask.
She gives me a sidelong glance and shrugs.
“Sometimes I like to go see a movie after school. It helps keep my stress down.”
So she likes to go to the movies alone. I’d be surprised to hear it from anyone but Rika.
“In that case, would you care for some company?”
The bus pulls up and opens its door before she can answer. Rika gives me a coy grin.
“Asking me on a date when I don’t even have time to refuse?” She takes my hand for the second time since the festival and gives a girlish wink before dragging me onto the bus with her.
“You’re a better stalker than Death himself, Mr. Nakai.”
Scene 2: Demons
We disembark from the bus deep in the city's commercial district. Rika takes my arm and I follow her lead. It feels refreshing being in the city for a change, after being walled up at Yamaku for so long. Brings back memories of the old days. And it doesn't hurt having a cute girl on my arm. We probably look like a couple of delinquents, walking around downtown in our school uniforms.
We arrive at a rather out-of-the-way cinema. The matinee is a double feature, two Japanese horror films from two or three of years ago. I don't care for horror films, but I find it a little amusing how neatly they fit Rika's personality. Rika takes point and buys our tickets for us, and as I try to object it occurs to me that I didn't bring my wallet. Strangely enough, despite our outfits, the cashier doesn't check either of us for identification. I wonder if it's because she comes here often?
We enter the theater, which is relatively small and surprisingly crowded, though the seats and the decor all look brand new and upscale relative to the cheap ticket price. The people in the audience are mostly couples in their 20s, with a few groups of friends. I'm pretty sure we're the only high school students here.
"Do you mind if we sit in the front?" she asks in her rhetorical style, giving me no time to object. We take our seats and I'm impressed with how roomy and comfortable they are.
"I should have figured you'd be into horror movies," I say to her, and she smirks.
"I like a good scare. It's good for the soul."
"Bad for the heart, though."
"I'm not a slave to my body, Hisao," she says emphatically.
The "coming attractions" appear on screen. They're all for movies that were released before I came to Yamaku. A few of them I remember seeing with my old group of friends. The thought saddens me a bit.
I glance at Rika. She's resting her head impatiently on her left fist, leaning away from me, her legs crossed, her long white braid hanging over her shoulder. Her pale skin looks eerie and luminous in the otherwise dark theater. Her bright red eyes are unblinking, staring at the screen, a strange mixture of enthusiasm and boredom.
The feature comes on. It's a film I saw when it came out, a jumpy shock-horror film about demonic possession. Even though I've seen it before, I easily lose myself in the rhythms of shocks and gasps emitted from my fellow moviegoers. About an hour into the film, Rika suddenly clasps my arm, almost causing me to jump out of my seat.
"Be careful," I hiss at her, "You're going to give me a heart attack."
In the low lighting I can faintly discern a strange expression on her face, one I've never seen before. Her eyes are half closed. I notice that her hand is trembling. She wordlessly puts my hand on her chest.
I feel her heart thudding rapidly. She gazes at me intently, her lower lip quivering, but with a strange semblance of calm.
The intimacy makes me lose track of the film, before our attention is broken by a blood-curdling scream. Our eyes widen and we sustain eye contact.
"Hisao..."
She clutches my wrist and speedily moves my hand down to her thigh. She is heaving desperately for air. I am terrified but can't rouse myself from her spell. What is she doing? My heart churns. My loins stir. I'm terrified.
She inhales sharply and moves my hand up beneath her skirt, placing it on her smooth, soft thigh. I caress her with my fingertips and her eyes widen even more.
"Don't stop," she says.
"Are you sure?"
Her brilliant red eyes gape at me. Her mouth hangs open. I move my hand up her thigh and she shudders in what I can only hope is ecstasy. I'm at a loss for words. But the intimacy between us is undeniable. Everything that's racing through her mind, the urgency of the blood pulsing through her body, our mutual fear of the unknown. I'm afraid. She looks afraid, too. More frightened than I've ever seen her. Her complexion reddens. She looks so... alive.
She squeezes my hand between her thighs. I caress the groove between her legs. Her body goes rigid as she emits a stuttering gasp, in no way undiscernable from the gasps coming from the moviegoers around her. As for me, I feel as though I've been holding my breath for an hour. I maneuver my hand deeper between her thighs and discover a moist spot on the front of her underwear.
Just what is going on?
Another movie scream fills the air. Rika reaches up and clutches her chest worryingly. Her thighs squeeze my hand. I hear a third scream, and a fourth. One of them is hers.
She clenches her eyes shut and her legs goes limp. My own heartbeat starts to diminish as I see that whatever demon has taken hold of her is now gone.
She's breathing. She's breathing. It's okay.
I start to breathe, too. She strokes my arm reassuringly and narrows her eyes. One deep breath.
We watch the rest of the movie in relative serenity. Nothing in the movie fazes either of us any longer. The scary part is over. We're alright. But a thousand questions are racing through my mind. I can't remember the last time I've been so afraid, so filled with adrenaline.
I feel her warm breath on my ear as she cryptically whispers something to me.
"Thank you for being here."
Scenes 3-5
