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"Yes, but pray do tell, what is this prestigious club you would rather have me attend instead of this apparently taboo extra ciricular activity in which I wish to partake in?" I say, deciding to play mind games by utilizing my vocabulary in order to cause Misha to mess up the translation as much as possible."

The very word he uses to try to show off his vocabulary...
There are a few more things like felling > feeling or squell > squeal in the latest chapter.

Your rewrite is definitely better than the original.

We're still waiting for the actual conflict to start. Ben seems fairly adapted to his situation, much more than Hisao was when we first met him.

None of the things I'm about to mention are problems with the story, but they do conflict with canon. I don't know how important that is for you.
1. Hisao did not arrive at the school until June. He spent April in the hospital.
2. The Student Council is elected the previous school year, as shown in Shizune's Act 4 good end.
3. Hanako seems more like Hanako after the Hanako or Lilly good end, not like when we first meet her.

Again, this isn't a real problem with the story, but it conflicts with standard Japanese school: students stay in the same room all day; the teachers move from room to room throughout the day.

Mirage_GSM wrote:

"Yes, but pray do tell, what is this prestigious club you would rather have me attend instead of this apparently taboo extra ciricular activity in which I wish to partake in?" I say, deciding to play mind games by utilizing my vocabulary in order to cause Misha to mess up the translation as much as possible."

The very word he uses to try to show off his vocabulary...
There are a few more things like felling > feeling or squell > squeal in the latest chapter.

Haha, that was a stupid mistake, thanks for pointing that out.

griffon8 wrote:

We're still waiting for the actual conflict to start. Ben seems fairly adapted to his situation, much more than Hisao was when we first met him.

None of the things I'm about to mention are problems with the story, but they do conflict with canon. I don't know how important that is for you.
1. Hisao did not arrive at the school until June. He spent April in the hospital.
2. The Student Council is elected the previous school year, as shown in Shizune's Act 4 good end.
3. Hanako seems more like Hanako after the Hanako or Lilly good end, not like when we first meet her.

Again, this isn't a real problem with the story, but it conflicts with standard Japanese school: students stay in the same room all day; the teachers move from room to room throughout the day.

And here I was thinking I had done my research, but as I've already made that mistake, I'll probably just keep it the way it is.
And regarding the Hisao thing, I'm making it so that he was already there, and pretending they are just now starting the senior year, I had to alter it some, but that's the premise I'm using. And stupid me, I forgot about when the Student Council gets elected. I really should play through Katawa Shoujo again, the details are getting fuzzy...

At the time you're reading this, it's been a week or so since my last update, and I'm sorry about this. I unfortunately got banned for a week for breaking a rule on the forum I had forgotten about. That is why this chapter will go up later than when I actually wrote it.
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Chapter 5: Paranoia and Feminists

I'm bone tired after walking on my crutches all day by the time I reach the boys dormitory, and not to mention my shoulder is sore after carrying my bag the entire way.

The sun is now setting, casting long shadows along the school grounds, which is now reduced to only a few groups of students roaming around, most of the others have already migrated inside. They are more than likely hanging out with their friends in the main lobby, or maybe reading books, doing homework, and whatever else they feel like doing, within reason of course.

As I enter the boy's dormitory, I take note of what the other boys are doing. In the main lobby, there are a few televisions playing whatever show the TV stations happen to be broadcasting at the time, with several of the boys huddled around them bickering over what to watch. There are a few other guys reading in chairs spread out around the main lobby, many of them casting annoyed or sometimes even angry glances at the groups of kids arguing over what show to watch next or bickering to each other to change the current television station to another one. I briefly wonder why the ones who are reading just don't do so in their own rooms, but I shrug off the thought. People can do what they want, and why should they care about what I think about their logic? After all, I'm just a transfer student from America who doesn't have any form of reputation and I don't really belong to any group right now either, why should they give a shit about what I think? They shouldn't, hell even if I had either a reputation or a specific group I'm a part of, why should they care about what I think? They shouldn't, and they won't.

The room itself is pretty plain, for the most part, it just has the mentioned Televisions and chairs, not much else. There are a few windows and book shelves, and one of the TVs does appear to have a game console attached to it, it looks as if it is a PlayStation 3. I'm a little surprised it's not an Xbox, but of course I quickly remember Xboxs are mainstream in America, but Nintendo and Sony devices are dominant here, so I shouldn't be too surprised. I'm a little tempted to go play with the other guys on the console, but I myself am more of a PC person myself, and not to mention I suck at introductions, and I don't want to make things awkward and ruin their time. There is also a group of students playing what I believe are card games on a table in the back of the room, but I've never been good at card games, so I'm not attracted to that either.

All-in-all, there isn't anything I want to do in here so I make no move to join any of the groups, and no one makes any move to even knowledge my presence, which I'm a little grateful for, I really don't feel like talking to anyone right now.

I walk out of the main lobby and head down the hallways, looking for the hall housing the room titled 115. As I wander down the corridors, I notice they are much like the lobby, nondescript, bland walls, painted a dull grey, and in colour I can imagine they would be just as bland they are in black and white.

After a minute or two of hobbling my way through the corridors, I finally find my hall. It looks as if I will be sharing a bathroom with my dorm mates as there is a door labeled "Bathroom". I suspected nothing less, but I still hoped for private ones, as I hate public bathrooms, they really are my only major phobia. I quickly inspect the nearest room's nameplate, and to my pleasant surprise, it is displays the number "115".

Just as I am trying to fish my keys from my pocket, eager to relieve my shoulders of their burden, which is really starting to hurt, I hear one of the doors down the hall creaking open. I turn around a little awkwardly on my crutches to see who it is, and find myself looking at some kid with pure black hair, he is currently wearing very thick glasses that immediately makes me wonder if he can even see through them, because they are almost comically thick. There also appears to be multi-grey coloured scarf adorning his neck that doesn't make any sense, as it is pretty warm this time of year, and he also appears to have and umbrella in one hand. Said umbrella appears to have a sharp metal point protruding from the tip.

"Who the hell are you?" the kid with the scarf asks threateningly, his face having a look of severe concentration on his face, as if he were trying to make out details.

"He's probably partially blind." I think to myself, he has thick glasses, implying he has poor vision, but blind people don't wear those types of glasses, and if he has to strain to make out details, they probably don't make much of a difference.

"I'm Polk Benjamin, the transfer student from America, I'll be staying in this hallway for the remainder of the year." I am careful to keep my voice level, so far I'm getting the impression he isn't too stable.

"Stay there, let me see." He says, the threatening tone still present.

He suddenly steps forward, keeping his umbrella pointed at my chest, but not extending it, so he can see me clearly without having to lower it. He breathes heavily as he examines me, his breath reeks of the rancid scent of tuna, nearly causing me to hurl all over him. The point of the umbrella is on my chest, threatening to knock me over at the slightest push. I manage to keep my face blank, but my outwardly calm state is betrayed by a drop of sweat sliding down my forehead. How can I even consider being calm when some maniac with an umbrella is threateningly close to goring me with his umbrella, and he could probably kill me right here if he wants to, he definitely appears to be insane enough to at least try if he wants to.

He steps back, and I notice that his serious, almost maniacal frown is gone, and is replaced by a friendly smile. He tosses the umbrella to the side. I'm astounded my his sudden change in attitude. So far I'm almost positive he's paranoid and bi-polar. But I don't let my guard down, he certainly is very unstable, if I were to think any differently, I's either be a fool or insane myself.

"Sorry about that man, but you can never be too cautious with these damn feminists wandering around,." As he says this last part, his smile transforms into a disapproving frown, while I can't see his eyes, I'd assume they took a look of displeasure or hatred, given by the reaction of his frown and scrunched up eyebrows. Then I fully register what he had just said.

"Feminists? I can't say I'm familiar with them." I say, genuinely confused, I know what feminism is, but the way he addressed them, it gives the impression they are a life threatening group of extremists.

"You know, the feminists! You probably encountered several of them so far. They are cunning bitches, leading you to believe they can trust you, and then stabbing you in the back! But not before making you do their dirty work for them!" He says this with a intense disdain and hatred, his face looking visibly furious at the thought of these so called "feminists".

"No I don't know." I say dryly, wanting this conversation to come to a close, as my shoulder is starting to burn from the weight of my bag and from the strap digging into my skin.

"You don't? I thought they had a major presence in America! They do, don't they? Of course they do! My intel is never wrong! You're just playing dumb! They even outnumber men over there now! And now they do in Yamaku as well! 60-40 split, man! That is total bull shit! There should never be more women then men! The more there are, the more control they have, the more control they have the more firepower they have for when they finally launch their bloody campaign against men! And if they have superior numbers and firepower, they will eventually overwhelm us! And then all of us possessing the Y-chromosome will be the personal slaves to those double X bastards' whims!" He takes several deep, angry breaths after yelling this, as he spouted all this information in the span of about 25 seconds, a little less than half of what it should take for a normal human to expend that much breath in one sitting, if he keeps this up he'll probably die from lack of oxygen or from severe amounts of carbon dioxide present in the air, and if the latter happens I'll be dead too, and I'll be pissed off if that happens to me.

I thought they didn't accept insane people here, but it seems that I might have been wrong. "Uhh... I guess?" I say, I have never been good at social interaction, and having someone rant to me in an insane manner isn't exactly a walk in the park for me either.

"I'm glad you understand." He says, his anger dissipating immediately, "Welcome to the war effort bro."

"Sure..." I say wanting to get away from this guy before he goes on another rant, "I'll be in my room..." As I say this I turn around, open up my door into my room in a bit of a daze.

"Sure, see ya later bro, and my names Kenji." Kenji says, seemingly appeased by the thought he had someone else to join the war effort, "And keep you curtain closed to thwart snipers! You're a target now! And keep your distance from that deaf bitch Shizune! She will rip your testicles off and slowly roast them over a fire before eating them! In front of you!" He yells those frightening words almost as an after-thought.

After letting my bag fall off my shoulder, I turn around and lock the door, just in case Kenji tries to break-in, he seems capable of it. After locking the door, I hobble over to my bed and sit on it, laying my crutches on the floor and observe the room.

It has the same bland, grey paint as the rest of the dorms and only has a one-person bed. My acoustic and electric guitars lie on the opposite side of the room, leaning on my amp for support. There is also a desk with my laptop on it, charger and mouse laying next to it, and a closet is next to it, presumably filled with uniforms. No door to the bathroom, for it is across the hall, I'll have to walk across the hall to reach it, that won't be a problem though, it's easy enough to sling clothes across you shoulder and then go across the hall, open a door, close it, and then put said clothes on a counter, and proceed to take a bath. I hate taking baths, but I can't take a shower, as it's hard to stand up and wash yourself with only one stable leg to support yourself.

I'm tempted to play guitar for a few minutes, but decide against it as I wasn't in the mood to play acoustic, and my electric would be too loud, and playing electric unplugged doesn't have much allure to me.

I head over to my laptop to play a game or two on my laptop, but just as I am logging on, I realize that I don't have the access code for the school wi-fi yet, and I don't want to play against the computer or by play myself, so I decide against playing. I'll have to get the code for it sometime soon, as the internet is the main way I communicate with my dad and how I get news.

With nothing else to do, I crack open "Brave New World" and begin to read it, I get lost in the words of the book for an hour or so before I start to get tired, so I mark my page, turn off the lights and lie down in bed.

I sigh and close my eyes,trying to get to sleep, and hope I don't get hit by my insomnia, as it has been acting up recently, but insomnia apparently fells like being an asshole tonight.
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Chapter 6: Facade

My sleepless night was one of long, tired misery. Insomnia generally has that affect on me, lack of sleep in general has that affect one everyone. I lie down there, in my soft, comfortable, but unnaturally foreign, sheets, for hours upon hours of restless, silent, wariness. And by the time dawn finally decides it's time to once again return to the land of humans, I'm still just laying there, inactive. And I am just as tired now as I was when I first decided to attempt sleep, if not more so. I give an audible groan as I sit up on the bed, shoulder muscles still groaning from the lack of intact, un-torn tissue because of the previous, active day. Far too active it seems, after all, I am still unused to having my shoulders and arms being the primarily used limbs in a day full of movement. But there is a more stressful type of weariness present, a weariness that lays not in my physical form, but inside the recesses of my mind. It is the weariness of keeping of keeping emotions under lock-and-key. The lie of me being a calm, collected individual that the rest of the world observes. Normally I keep this fake skin on easily, but after the sleep-deprived night, as well as the physical exhaustion from yesterday, have taken a toll on my self-control. I know this because I realize I feel my pit of bitterness and anger swelling up inside me, ready to storm the surface of my emotions at a moments weakness in my battle-lines of restraint. This bitterness and anger that I have grown accustomed to hiding and holding in over the years, bound and limited in the dark recesses of my mind. I kept it up the act at all times, even when I am with my father, my few, close friends, and hell, even when I am alone. I keep the feelings buried, try to forget them, but there are time like these where I can feel the invading whatever part of the brain regulates a human's emotions. I can't go out today. I can't let my cover slip, the anger and bitterness that will show will be interpreted as a sign of weakness, and weakness leads to exploitation, which leads to despair, and this chain reaction continues for a long time, until ending in one of two possible results.

One: The easy, cowardly way out, you take your own life.

Two: You suffer through a dark, insignificant, miserable existence where you let others control you completely.

If the religions of the world are correct in their beliefs, the first option is merely a quick and easy way out of life, and straight into the deep, burning pits of hell. I doubt this is the truth, but there is a definite possibility of this being true, so this is to be avoided at all costs. But the other option is no better, your life as a whole becomes a living hell, and is in some ways, the worst type of punishment, worse that any form of god could ever conceive, even within the dark and unholy recesses of the devil's mind. Perhaps that is why religious figures around the world say that blindly following them, even if it costs you your life, livelihood, and all things you value in life, because they believe if you suffer enough in life, the devil decides to let you skip on the pits of hell and arrive at the pearly gates of heaven. Of course they paraphrase this in words that are no longer used, and sugar-coat it, making it easier to deceive those they preach the "truth" to. But even if this is true, is it really any better? The only thing you accomplished in life was bend yourself to the whims of others, even though most of, if not all, the time you won't know their motives, goals, or anything that may give you a reason to not follow them. And governments are exactly the same as religious organizations, they would love it if they had total control over you, a weakness to exploit, and start that vicious cycle.

It is possible I'm wrong, in fact, I'm certain some government and religious leaders don't think along the lines I believe they do. But, I truly think the majority want total control over as many people as possible, after all, power over humans is what people truly want, there are no exceptions, there are those who resist the temptation, even when they have the chance, the rest get it, or become the ones manipulated. Oh, the cruel, cold irony of it all.

I'm positive my views would land me in a mental institution on places, probably executed in many third-world countries, because at the end of the day, humans find it nearly impossible to find the truth of anything that conflicts with their image of the world. And I'm no different.

And this is why I must keep up this facade, never show weakness. Always appear calm, collected, and seem like you know what the hell you're doing. And that is why I need rest, to keep up this facade, this lie, that my life has become.

And I do wonder, is this just another scenario of the fate I have tried so hard to stay away from? Probably, but it's my only idea at the time.

But, the skin was getting easier to wear. I even have begun to actually, enjoy myself, I like being with people, I enjoy reading, I enjoy playing video games, I like playing chess, and I sure as hell love playing gutair. I legitimantly enjoy myself. Maybe this isn't just a second, fake skin. I can't tell. I really can't, and that frustrates me.

But enough of that, I need sleep right now, and sleep I shall, insomnia be damned.
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Short, but It does show Ben's dark thoughts despite his exterior attitude, hopefully you guys don't mind the direction this story is taking, but this is where I wanted it to go since the beginning.
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Chapter 7: Pain
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The rest of the day passes in bed, I don't even get up to eat, why should I, when I'm not hungry? Eventually the bout of insomnia is over, with me victorious, and I manage to get a few hours of sleep before there is a knock at the door.

"Benchan? Are you in there? Where were you all day? School is already over!" Comes a voice that seems, at least to my ears, to try and be stern, but can't mask the natural bubbly tone is so often associated with it.

I groan as I recognize it as Misha. Damn, I wish she didn't come, I only had four hours of sleep in the past 24 hours at this point. But it was enough, my barriers seem intact now, I feel much better now that the pit of emotions has been put back in its place inside the recesses of my being.

"Coming." I say groggily.

I make my way towards the door, not bothering to get my crutches, it was only a few feet away and my shoulders still feel far too sore to support myself on crutches, so I simply hop over to the door without care whether or not it is with or without grace.

"Hello, Misha, Shizune," I say, I should have figured Shizune would be here too, so far they seem as if they are joined at the hip. I keep my voice level and calm, but let a little of my grogginess slip into it to let them know they woke me up. I doubt it'll make any difference though, these two seem like hardcore students, or at least Shizune does, and she seems like she's the one in charge, "what are you doing here?" I say, knowing damn well what the answer will be.

"You weren't at school today! And it's only the second day!" Misha pouts, her unnatural shade-of-grey hair framing her face in a cute way, the pout really only augmented her cuteness.

"I had a bout with insomnia last night," I say, still keeping my calm reasonable tone "I got next to no sleep until about four hours ago, then you woke me up." I feel a little bad for putting it bluntly, but generally that's the best way to get conversations over with quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Shizune is signing to Misha.

"Okay, but you had better be back tomorrow!" She points at me in a threatening way, but just as it was with her tone, she fails miserably, and signs what she said to Shizune, who nods, looking satisfied at what had been said. She's the one should keep in my field of view during conversations, and not to insult Misha, but Shizune seems like the brains of the outfit.

"I will," I reply simply, "good-bye." once I hear a "good-bye" from Misha, I close the door and head back to my bed, happily anticipating the comfort of my sheets.

Once I get to my bed and lie down in it, I sigh, content on how that went, and go back to sleep.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************My alarm clock reads 4:00 AM once I wake up. Dammit, I guess sleeping since around noon with only one short stop would get me to wake up early. I sigh and get up.

I quickly take a bath, still a little frustrated at my inability to take showers any more, as it is pretty hard to support and wash yourself on one leg after all. Well, it's better than having to have someone having to help me get a shower.

I am just getting into my uniform when the door handle turns, allowing the door to swing open and nearly scaring the shit out of me.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, making sure to keep fear out of my voice, and shoving down my initial shock down.

"Huh? Oh, it's you, the American. Ben, I think." comes a quirky voice.

"Yeah it's me." I manage to place the voice as Kenji's despite only hearing it on one occasion before, and I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief, I have heard about too many people getting murdered by psychopaths in showers for me to ever really be comfortable in a bathroom, especially a public one.

I manage to see him through the steam and notice something really unpleasant, something I wish I never will have to see again in my life.

His wang.

He is literally just standing there stark naked, not a stitch of clothing on him, except for socks, I manage to notice he is wearing socks before I advert my eyes, trying to unsee what can't be unseen.

"What the hell Kenji? Why are you naked?" It takes all my willpower to keep myself from yelling then and there. That would be a disaster, that would open the flood gates for the pit to storm the surface.

"I'm here to take a shower, why would I wear clothes?" He replies, aggravation making its way into his voice, I also take note that his eyebrows scrunch up, just adding to my suspicion that he believes this is a stupid question.

I just shake my head, grab my recently worn clothes, get my crutches, and hobble back to my room.

Once in there, I dump my dirty clothes on the floor, I'll find out where I go wash them when I get back later.

I grab my electric guitar, which is still in its case, put the strap around my shoulder, and throw my bag over my shoulder as well. This is slightly painful, but I only have to go a short distance with this, but I'll need someone else's help with the last thing I want to bring into the school.

I head outside, and knock on the bathroom door. I don't have much of a choice but ask Kenji to help me, no one else seems to be awake right now and I don't really know anyone else.

I hear shuffling from the other side of the door "Who's there?" comes Kenji's voice.

"It's Ben, I need your help with something. Can you help me out? I'll owe you one." I say.

"Sure bro, anything for a fellow freedom fighter." Kenji replies. He may be a nut job, but he doesn't seem like that bad of a guy, maybe I misjudged him.

I hear the door lock twisting to the right, the door handle turns, and the door gives a slight creak as it gives way to Kenji's slight push. A small amount of steam escapes the room it was previously imprisoned in, and hits me in the face, slightly startling me, but nothing that I can't easily hide.

"Thanks Kenji, I hope it isn't too heavy though, I need help carrying something into the school." I say.

"What is it?"

"An electric guitar amp, a small one, but it still is fairly heavy."

"No problem, my anti-feminist training routine keeps me as buff as a freakin' male model man! Except my muscles aren't artificial like the ones of those damn poster boys." he genuinely seems angry at his own mention of male models, and probably is even more so since he compared himself to them.

"Okay then..." I say trailing off, deciding not to question what ever he just told me, he'd probably just explain what he said to me, and I don't want to get a headache this early in the morning.

I turn around and open my door letting him in and show him my amp, it is a medium sized one, fairly easy to carry short distances, but as I can't really throw it over my shoulder with a strap, I need someone to help me carry it. The amp in question is black with about a dozen knobs with varying labels signaling each of their functions, all printed in English.

He grabs it and picks it up with surprising strength, maybe his "anti-feminist training routine" is more than him just bragging. "Show the way." he says, his voice showing no traces of strain.

Wordlessly, I turn around and begin the journey to an abandoned hall I had noticed earlier, and it is not the one with the chess club located in it, which I still need to visit.
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By the time I arrive at the hallway and select a room to put down my guitar and amp, I'm pretty tired, but a few minutes of rest should solve that. But Kenji looks just fine, hell, he didn't even break a sweat, and he carried the heavier load. I can't but be impressed at his surprising strength.

"Thanks Kenji, call me if you need help yourself, I owe you one."

"No problem bro, but I have to get back now, who knows how much damage the feminists could do to my intel if I don't get back there soon. See ya, and watch for those damn feminist spies, you never know when they're sneaking up on you!" He calls this last part over his shoulder as he runs out the door at a full sprint.

I shake my head at that, I doubt I'll ever understand him. My mind quickly looses interest in Kenji as I once again take stock of the room. It is the same, dull shade of grey that decorates the male dormitories, as well as the usual black and white, tiled floor that usually adorn schools hallways. There is one table in the middle of the room, along with four chairs. The amp is currently plugged into the wall, courtesy of Kenji, of course. The cables are in my bag, and even though I can only effectively use one leg, I should easily be able to get one of the chairs over there, set up the connector cable, and get out my guitar.

I ended up being correct, while it took more time and effort than it normally would, I got the guitar and amp set up and standing at the ready to start pumping out cords. However there is one problem, I'm hungry. I didn't eat all day yesterday, and on the first day I skipped out on dinner. But the cafeteria probably won't be open, as it is only 5:30 AM right now.

I sigh, I really should've eaten while I was awake yesterday, but of course I was paranoid about the "pit" making its way to the surface and letting all my anger and bitterness stored over years force its way out. Maybe I should relax more. No. I can't ever allow my guard down where the "pit" is concerned, I don't want to push every one away. I don't want to appear weak, where I let my anger get the best of me. And to keep it in check I need energy, which is why when my insomnia decides to come and visit, things get dangerous. I'll just lose myself in the music until 6:30, and then I'll head to the cafeteria, see if it's open, and head to homeroom from there, sounds like a plan.

I truly don't notice, or focus, on anything else while I play, all I pay attention to are the chords being struck on my strings, and the words broadcasted from my throat, right now, all I care about is the music. Music is one of the few things I have an absolute passion for, I may not be the greatest singer, and my guitar playing skills aren't at the level of many professional musicians, but they are enough to please my own senses, and that is all I care about. Many of the songs I play contain vulgar words in their lyrics, but I don't care to censor them. If I were to censor myself, that would interrupt the flow of the music that the writers worked hard to achieve, what kind of repayment would that be? And I doubt many people here know English, so the possibility of me being reprimanded for the use of foul language in the public halls is minuscule, and not to mention the fact that it is very early in the morning means that few, or any, would be wandering the halls at this hour, especially in one that appears to be abandoned, even at the busiest time of day.

The songs I play almost always have similar themes, dark, melodic, and have deep meanings, or least meanings that truly represent something other than want to "party all night long" or other themes similar to the one mentioned, otherwise known as the pop section of music that is so prevalent back in the sates, sure there are exceptions to this stereotype of pop music, but it does make up the majority. There are exceptions to the songs I play, after all, it is nice to play some songs that are just good head bangers.

Just as I predicted, nobody appears to have heard the noise, or just didn't come to investigate it, as the hour passes with just me and my guitar for company. With a small amount of reluctance, I put down my guitar, turn off the amp, sling my bag over my shoulder, which feels much better now, get on my crutches, and head out the door.

Thankfully, I remember the way to the cafeteria and head there, due to my nonchalant pace and the extra five minutes spent putting my things in the room I have already dubbed "the guitar room" I arrive at 7:00, and apparently that seems to be when the cafeteria opens, that is pretty convenient.

From the culture books I have read on Japanese foods, a common breakfast food is steamed rice along with miso soup, so that's what I have. Someone from the staff helps bring the food to a table I picked out. The table is located in a corner, and there isn't anyone else sitting there, which is reasonable since there are only a handful of other people here.

The soup and rice taste pretty bland, but not overly unpleasant to eat. I quickly scarf it down as my stomach has been demanding tribute all morning, and when I finally decide pay up, it quiets down, apparently satisfied for the moment.

I sigh contently and open by bag, and remove "A Brave New World" and resume where I left off two days ago, and am quickly sucked back into the amazing world Huxley created, a world filled with test-tube babies and where parents are unheard of. The latter causes the pit to boil, but without the mention of one the genders in specific, it cannot bring itself to try and take the surface. I put the pit back in its place with little effort, I am used to this by now, but it always feels so, unnatural. Like those feeling aren't meant to be kept in, but even if they aren't, I won't let them go. I can't lose control of it, no matter what.

I am about to finish up a chapter, and put of the book away when I hear someone sitting down in front of me. I quietly look up, and see a tall girl sitting down across from me. She her eyes are light grey and seem unfocused as she looks straight ahead, and at me, but she doesn't seem like notices me, how odd. Her hair is very light grey and goes further than shoulder-length, but I can't tell how far as the table obstructs me from viewing much more than her upper torso. Her complexion is pretty pale, and her facial structure has some semblance to that of Japanese decent, but also appears to be European as well, she is probably part-Japanese-part-something-from-Europe. I notice that she appears to be possession of a cane, as it is leaning against the table, some of the upper parts of the cane are visible over the table. and from what I can see, it is too thin to be for support, so I'd guess it's for navigation. I'd guess she's blind, as she doesn't appear to have noticed me yet, her eyes are unfocused, and she has a cane that looks suited for navigation, but not much else. This would also explain why she's here at Yamaku.

I close my book quietly, memorizing what page I'm at and lightly cough, to let her know someone is here without startling her.

Her eyes, while still looking unfocused, seem to acknowledge that someone is there, even if they can't see them.

"Hello?" she asks, her tone cautious and quite. I have to keep myself from chuckling, it may seem weird to other people if she starting talking to someone, which from her point of view, no pun intended, might actually end up being what she's doing.

"Hello to you too, my name is Polk Benjamin, the transfer student. How's it going?" I say this all keeping a friendly tone.

"Oh, hello Benjamin, my name is Satou Lilly. And I'm doing fine. I'm sorry to not have acknowledged your presence, I wasn't aware anyone was sitting here." Her tone seems friendly enough, and her speech is very proper, the latter is a little odd, as I usually don't converse with others like that, I prefer the more direct method of conversation, but to each their own.

"No problem, it was nice meeting you Lilly, but I should head to class now. See you later." I immediately wish I had worded that last part differently, but I don't hurry to apologize, if she's anything like me, making a big deal of her disability would just get her annoyed.

She doesn't seem to notice, that or she is just good at hiding it. "Farewell." she replies simply.

I grab my crutches, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out the cafeteria doors, headed for homeroom.
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I walk in the door at around 8:00, 30 minutes early. Hisao and Hanako are still sitting in the back, talking, just like on the first day of school. I nod to them and sit down head to my seat, set my crutches on the wall next to my desk, and sit down. I notice Hisao getting up and making his way over to my seat. I sigh inwardly, getting ready for the inevitable interrogation.

"Are you okay Ben? Why weren't you here yesterday?" He asks, and I'm a little surprised to hear genuine concern in his voice. Why should he care? He's only known me for one day. Maybe he's just one of those guys who cares about everyone he knows, even if he barely knows them. If so, then he is immediately in my good books, for some reason I can't help but feel respect for people like that, as long as they don't baby the person they are concerned about.

"I'm fine, and as for why I wasn't here yesterday, I had a bout with insomnia on the first night here, if I had gone to school yesterday, I would have passed out. I did manage to get sleep around noon yesterday though, so I'm fine." I put on a small smile for emphasis on the fact that I feel fine.

"Okay then, just making sure." He replies, showing a small smile himself before turning around and heading back to his seat to resume his conversation with Hanako. I observe that he holds her hand when he gets back into the conversation with her. Interesting, I had better keep that in mind for future reference.

I crack back open "Brave New World" and manage to finish another chapter before the class is mostly filled and the only one yet to arrive is Mutou, he does appear to be the slacker type. But he doesn't seem like that bad of a guy so far.

I put away the book as the teacher finally enters the room in a tired-looking walk, and as soon as he reaches the board, he grabs a writing utensil and immediately starts his lecture without missing a beat.

He is talking about subatomic particles and things of the like, thankfully I don't seem to have missed much from yesterday, though I will have to ask him for the homework from yesterday, and possibly about where I can get the school wi-fi code, I do miss my Starcraft league matches oh so very much.

The lesson passes fairly quickly and he hands out the assignment. Once he hands it out he sits back down at his desk and pulls out what looks like paperwork. That seems practical, if someone has a question, they go up and ask him, and while he waits for someone to ask him one, he does his own version of homework. I would probably do the same myself if I were in his position.

I notice that Misha and Shizune are looking at me expectantly as Hisao and Hanako drag their desks over to where they're sitting.

"Come one Benchan~!" Misha's voice proclaims, sounding just as energetic and cheerful as always, she also has her by-now-trademark grin to accompany her voice.

"One moment." I say. I grab my crutches and hobble over to Mutou's desk.

"Hey, Mr. Mutou, can I have last night's homework?" He hands me the worksheet without batting an eye, I am surprised he doesn't mention me being absent. "And do you know where I can get the school wi-fi access code?"

"Okay." He says in his by now normal detached manner, and he bends down in his chair, and I assume he opens a drawer in his desk, as I hear something open from behind his desk, then I hear it close, and Mutou comes back up, a slip of paper in hand. "Here you go." he says.

"Thank you." I say as I slip the piece of paper into my pocket, turn around, and head back to Misha and the others, and I notice they had the courtesy to move my desk next to theirs, that helps simplify things.

"Sorry about that," I say as I slip back into my chair, "I had to get last night's homework from Mutou."

"No problem~!" says Misha, though this time I make sure to keep Shizune in my field of vision when Misha responds, to see her reaction and to tell who's talking.

"Shiichan says we should get to work on the assignment now!" continues Misha, or Shizune, I'm a little confused on how I should address when talking to them. That was obviously from Shizune, but Misha was still technically was the one talking, this could get confusing.

To save myself from addressing them in an awkward fashion, I just nod in the general direction of both of them and we all get to work on the homework.

It is pretty easy, and we finish with about 15 minutes to spare, I look around the classroom and see we are the first ones to do so. Looks we have the group that has a pretty good grasp on the subject. Or at least, me, Shizune, Hisao, and Hanako do, but Misha does have very nice handwriting.

Misha and Shizune start signing to one another, deep in a conversation none of us would have been able to follow, and Hisao and Hanako get involved in their own conversation. I merely look out the window, keeping a blank face, letting my mind wander, hearing what Hisao and Hanako say without really listening, just hearing the words used.

Hisao says something about Hanako going with him to meet his mom and dad.

Mom, that's a trigger word, that's not good. I feel the pit rising, attempting to break free from its restraints, but I keep it subdued easily. But then Hisao says it again, and then once more. Now the pit is three times stronger, now I have to actively fight against it, wrestle for control. I grit my teeth silently, struggling to maintain my blank expression. Then he says that word again, mom.

"Dammit!" I think in frustration, "the pit is really putting up a fight."

He mentioned the word yet again! Goddammit! The pit is starting to push, to rise to the surface, I can even feel some of the buried hate making its way to the surface.

"NO!" I yell at myself mentally. I need something to focus the hate on, it's the only way to get rid of it, something to focus on to subdue the pit. I choose my hand.

I press my fingernails against the palm of my hand, breaking the skin, but I don't let up, I need to suppress the pit! At this point I can feel blood trickling down my hand, the warm liquid making its way down my skin and hitting the floor once it separates itself from me, but it's not enough. I do the same to my other hand, I focus on the pain, try to subdue the pit. It STILL isn't enough! Even when I break the skin and have blood trickling down both of my hands, the pit still advances! At this point, my blank stare is gone, it is now filled with agony. A bead of sweat traverses across my face, and falls off my nose. I have no choice, I have to inflict more pain, I must redirect the hate that has escaped and keep my mind focused on the pain, to keep it off the thought of the trigger word.

As I think this, I feel a hand shake my shoulder. "Benchan? Are you okay?" Comes a voice full of concern, I recognize it as Misha's, but I don't look at her, if I do, then the pit will direct its anger at her, and I can't let it do that.

The pit continues to rise, I need more pain to focus it on, to redirect it. I really have no other choice. I bit on my bottom lip as hard as I can, and blood explodes from it as it splits open, dousing the front of my shirt in my own lifeblood.

"Ben!" I can't tell who it is at this point, my brain has given up hope at deciphering the tone or who the voice belongs to due to the pain. By now there is a sizable pool of blood at my feet, from my hands, which are now missing several layers of skin as blood pours from it, and from my bottom lip as my heart continues to pump blood northwards and into my head.

I hear voices, but the pain is too great for me to even decipher what is being said at this point.

I don't let up on my hands or bottom lip, skin and flesh giving way to body parts that it often works with to make a cohesive unit. My fingernails have dug up into my own flesh after penetrating the surface, the pain is unbearable, but I don't let up.

Of course I haven't lost enough blood at this point to endanger me, or even cause me to faint. So once I feel darkness surround me, I know I am about feint from the pain, not blood loss.

"But it was worth it," I think, as I fall from my seat to the floor, on a collision course straight into my own pool of blood on the floor. I beat the pit, and I will never let it win, I will never let it rise, I will not let it control me, no matter the cost. But there is a down side, I let my weakness show, and I let my facade slip, that might complicate things. But I will not let that damnable pit of hate and bitterness win, I will not lose to it. These are my last thought as my head connects with the puddle of my own blood.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

NOTE: Before someone mentions how Lilly leaves for Iverness in the cannon, since it looks like Hisao has taken the Hanako good path, don't worry I have an explanation for that later in the story.

Roamin12 wrote:NOTE: Before someone mentions how Lilly leaves for Iverness in the cannon, since it looks like Hisao has taken the Hanako good path, don't worry I have an explanation for that later in the story.

Dude, it's your story. You're already off canon, so don't worry about it.

And if Lilly left for Inverness in the cannon, that would make for one hell of a trip. Maybe they used one of these?

griffon8 wrote:

Roamin12 wrote:NOTE: Before someone mentions how Lilly leaves for Iverness in the cannon, since it looks like Hisao has taken the Hanako good path, don't worry I have an explanation for that later in the story.

Dude, it's your story. You're already off canon, so don't worry about it.

And if Lilly left for Inverness in the cannon, that would make for one hell of a trip. Maybe they used one of these?

Haha, Lilly taking a cannon to Iverness, that would be an interesting, now if I only knew anything about Photoshop...
And regarding the off-canon thing, everything I've changed have been pretty small things, just changing around high school year they were in, small things like that, but Lilly leaving, that was a major plot device, and I'd rather stay as on-cannon as possible.

Note: I have final exams next week and a few projects I have to finish up, so my time writing will be cut down quite a bit for the next two weeks, enough to still work on the story, just not as much as I would like to
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Chapter 8: Hippocampus

It is common belief that when you feint or pass out that you don't dream, you basically go catatonic, and usually that is correct, but not always. What is happening to me right now is a good example, when I my head first hit floor, and creating a small splash in the puddle of my blood, there was just darkness, but then my memories come to forefront, to occupy my mind while the rest of my body recuperates from the pain and damage and pain I wrought on myself. But unfortunately my hippocampus chooses some unpleasent ones, the ones responsible for one of my two known trigger words, the original one.
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It was cold that late, winter afternoon, it was cold and raining, just the way I like it. Cold is good for the brain and rain is relaxing. So relaxing that on occasions it can even overcome insomnia if they visit on the same night. The thing I didn't enjoy was the cold, bitter, dagger-sharp wind that accompanied the sacred rain.

The city is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a town I hate, there is nothing here but industry, while I love my technology and fast internet, I would be more than willing to take a hit in those departments in order to move somewhere in the country side, it is very nice out there, especially when it rains.

I am walking down one of the paths on the private school campus, one of the ones I was at when I had full use of my motor functions, just as I was turning 13. I am heading home after a long day of school, a day consisting of sitting alone at lunch, of sitting in the back of the class room, as far away as possible from others, and a day of presenting a project awkwardly, hoping to finish the presentation as soon as possible. And I can't wait until I can finally leave that hell hole for good.

I don't bother to get out an umbrella or a raincoat, that would get rid of the pleasant feeling of rain on my skin, I enjoy it enough to take off my almost-always present sweat shirt. The cold doesn't bother me much, I just hate the wind, but I can take that in order to get the full effects of the massage-worthy properties of the rain on my skin.

Despite the fact I would love to continue to enjoy the great weather, I know if I do I will catch a cold, so I quicken my pace to get home quickly.

There are a good amount of people wondering through the streets of Pittsburgh, though not nearly as many as there normally would be if it weren't raining, just another perk of the precipitation. There are neon lights adorning the sides of some of the tall buildings, their many shades of grey light reflecting off of puddles scattered around the pavement as I make my way into the more tightly packed parts of the city. As I get closer to my dwelling, the crowds eventually get denser, and the cars begin to get tightly packed on the road as stoplights refuse to give them passage through their intersections, and allowing others to continue on their journey towards their destination.

I finally reach the front door, the wind not as bad as it was previously due to other people and buildings blocking much of the wind, reducing its momentum and thus cutting down the effects of the wind-chill factor. I spend a few brief moments fishing my keys from my pocket and swiftly enter them into the locking mechanism, ready to turn them sideways and allow the door to swing open at my touch, only to realize that it is already unlocked.

I frown at this, neither of my parents' cars are in the driveway, and if they weren't home they never would've left the door unlocked.

I open the door and enter the building to see it looks the same as always. From the point when I enter the door, there is a main lobby, leading to the computer room about seven feet to the right and the living room to the left, the computer room has a dull-grey carpet, a black rolling chair, a basic wooden desk, and then finally a quad-core computer, with a headset charging beside the computer. The living room has two couches and then a TV on the opposite side, with a coffee tabling splitting the room into a 1/4-3/4 land division ratio, with the TV ruling over the majority of the room. Once I take the path through the living room, there is the kitchen and dinning room, back-to-back. The dining room has the basic kitchen table with four seats and the kitchen is standard as well, a microwave oven, a toaster, an oven, a sink, a dishwasher, cabinets, fridge/freezer, and pantry. And beyond the kitchen is a hallway leading to the hallway with three bedrooms down it, two being currently occupied, and the third awaiting for the arrival of its new resident.

It would look exactly like it normally does, except that there is a note on the kitchen table.

I approach the table and retrieve the note.

It reads : "Kate is going into labor, get a taxi and be at Allegheny as soon as possible, money for the fare is on the counter."

Kate Polk is my mo-...mother. She has light grey eyes and near-pitch-black hair. She stand at about 5'10, and is probably one of the best people I know. She is kind, considerate, and pretty smart. She can be a bit absent minded, but then again so can I. But as we are all humans, we still have our downsides. Despite her normal cheerful personality, she can get into ruts of depression that has lasted as long as half-a-year, that I know of. Mother is also a little thick-headed, dad says that I get that from her.

And she has been pregnant for about nine months now, right on schedule.

I admit, I'm not sure I want a younger sibling, brother if the ultrasound is right. It is a lot of responsibility taking care of a child, and some of that responsibility will be dumped on me as I am the only one home a lot of the time. And I am not really highly anticipating the splitting headaches that will undoubtedly come from the tantrums that are certain to come.

Following the note's instructions, I head back into the small storm, and into the ferocious wind, to flag down a taxi and head to Allegheny General Hospital to meet my parents there, and potentially my new brother within the next 24 hours.

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What happened there at that dammed hospital was anything but a touching, happy moment that is so often portrayed in movies and other forms of media when it comes to child birth. There was no doctor telling mother to "push", there was no shining, golden baby that came out of my mother's womb, already clean. What happened there is something my mind refuses to allow my hippo campus drag to the surface, but not everything can be held back, and one memory manages to weed its way through my mind's defenses, and to the forefront of my sleeping mind.
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"If everything that happens is just part of some god's divine, cosmic plan," I think to myself in my room, "than this god isn't some being to be worshiped, it is something to be hated in the highest possible regards, but for some reason I can't bring myself to do that despite what has happened. I just watched my brother fucking die before he even had a chance to open his eyes, to meet his parents, just die, that's all he did in his short life. Die before having a chance to even formulate one single goddamn thought. Yet I'm not angry at this so-called savior. Why? Do I feel grief for the death my brother that lived for about three minutes? Yes, I do. But no anger at what has happened, or hate. No, the anger is there, just suppressed, but the hate isn't suppressed, because it isn't there, what he hell is wrong with me?" I got no sleep that night, and the cause wasn't from insomnia.
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At this point, my mind won't allow a single detail about what I found when I came back from school to find at home two weeks after my brothers death, but it can't keep one image from entering my mind.

The image of my mother's bloody form, the head having two sizable holes in each side, one larger than the other. Her grey matter splattered against the walls and floor, pieces of her skull scattered around randomly, there because of the sheer power a point-blank .44 revolver hallow point round contains. Her once bright and lively eyes, eyes that have recently been filled with nothing but despair and grief, now empty, lifeless. And her hand still clinging the weapon that took her life.

The shock and pain from the event nearly drove dad and I over the edge too, almost, but we stayed strong we aren't about to make the same mistake as mother did, we aren't about to end our lives over one of the world's trials and tribulations, we are stronger then that.

But a few years later, when I turned 15, I felt something other than happy memories and grief when I thought about mother, I felt anger, anger that she would abandon me and dad and take the easy way out of life, all over some bump in the road. Yes, it was a rather large bump, but a bump none-the-less, it would end eventually. But she couldn't take it, so she left us. I suppressed the anger and that's when I figured it out, the term "mom" was a trigger word, it was the first, but not the last.

Chapter 9: Recovery

After relieving those memories I try so hard suppress, I open my eyes with some difficulty and find myself in a bed with soft, cotton sheets.
The room is obviously one similar to that of a doctor's office, though not quite up to hospital standards, which means I'm at the school infirmary.I wonder briefly why they wouldn't put me in the hospital for passing out, generally passing out for more than an hour is a one-hundred percent grantee ticket to the hospital, no matter how minor the condition, injuries, or trauma may have been. And for another moment mentally curse myself at my weakness, I'm usually able to traffic the hate and anger in the pit easily, even with a trigger word being thrown around so much, but why did I have so much trouble in the class? I'm getting weaker, no doubt about it.

The room is pretty standard for a clinic, unimposing white walls, with plain white, tiled floors, with the usual desk with a computer that looks straight out of the 90's and a variety of drawers with labels detailing their contents stuck to them. Yup, pretty standard.

The pit is settled, apparently exhausted after its assault. The event that transpired before I lost consciousnesses suddenly comes back, and I wonder at its repercussions. Newton's third law of physics states the every action has an equal but opposite reaction, and over the years I have found that it applies to more than just the laws of physics, every time you make a decision, no matter how small it is, it will have an impact, similar to the butterfly affect in a way. And the repercussions for my lapse of strength in my barriers could be dire. After people seeing my harm myself, for seemingly no reason at all, will definitely alienate people, and the event will certainly be the center of gossip for at least a week, if the people in Japan are anything like those in the U.S., and I'm willing to bet they are. And I doubt the repercussions will be just social in nature. I will probably be assigned to a therapist or maybe hauled off to some padded room in a straight jacket, the latter is probably just my imagination, but it is definitely a possibility, no matter how low the chances are.

There appear to be no shackles or tubes attached to me, so I try and sit up, and find that I feel a little sore, but it's not too bad. I am wearing a patient gown, free of blood, and I definitely am not fond of it, it is very...breezy.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Comes a cheerful voice. I turn towards the source and notice a middle aged guy with dark hair and has eyes and a smile that resemble a fox. He has uniform on that quickly marks him as part of the medical staff, and I assume the nurse, despite the stereotype of nurses only being females, I am aware of a rising percentage of male nurses, so it really doesn't surprise me that much.

"Hello Mr...?" I trail off, wanting to draw his name out of him.

"Nurse, just nurse." He says it without his smile wavering, he goes by nurse, no first or last name given, how cryptic.

"Hello, nurse, and thank you for the welcome back. How long have I been out?" I'd guess at least a day, as my lip is starting to heal some, which usually takes three to five days to heal completely.

"One day and about, say, five or so hours, if I remember correctly." Nurse's smile is still there, even when telling me how long I have been out cold.

"And how much longer until I can leave?" I already know his answer, until I recover enough to operate one my own, or at least, as much as I can function on my own with one leg, which could take a few days.

To my surprise, his smile actually wavers some, "You'll have to wait until you can go about your day as you could previously. I have to make sure you didn't rip off your own hands." His answer is what I expected, his feeble attempt at humor, however is a little unsettling. A nurse at a school specifically for the disabled, cracking a joke about ripping you own hands off, no matter how terrible it was, seems pretty out of place.

"Very well than." I'm a little frustrated that I have to stay here for a few days, and no to mention that the pit has already asserted its will when it is only the third day of school, and the second I was there.

"Get some shut eye, alright?" With that he walks out the door. I hope he brings me some lunch later, I will probably get hungry soon enough.
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I wake up to hear some knocking on the infirmary door, and the door swings open before I answer, whoever it was just letting me know someone was coming in, not asking for permission to enter, not that I had any authority to give said permission.

"Hello, Ben," it's the nurse, entering the room with his ever present smile "I brought you dinner," I notice that he has a tray in his hand, the other one is his pocket, why he would carry a try of hot food with one hand is beyond me, "and you have two guests."

I crane my neck to look past him and see two familiar figures standing in the door way, Kenji and Hisao.

"Sup man?" that was Kenji, his voice somehow managing to be cheerful despite the circumstances.

"Hey, Ben." and that was Hisao, his eyes show that he is a little shaken, not surprising since he saw me cause much bodily harm to myself in the middle of class.

"Hello, Kenji, Hisao," I say nodding to each one as I address them, my bottom lip which is still in the process of sowing itself back together, garbbles my words a little bit, "thank you for visiting."

"No problem bro, but you need to eat, get your strength back." says Kenji, his smile being replaced by a frown.

So I eat the simple plate of rice they brought me, it tastes bland, not that I really care too much, I'm just glad they brought something to eat. As I am eating, I notice for the first time that nurse slipped out of the room without me noticing, he is a sneaky one.

Just as I am finishing up, I notice Kenji and Hisao are in a conversation, or sorts.

"Dude, I tell you, scar face is dangerous, you have to be careful around her, I'm sure fire is her specialty, so always have an escape route anywhere you go with her that can protect you from the smoke."

Hisao visibly grits his teeth, "For the last time Kenji, she is NOT part of any feminist conspiracy!"

"Just be careful, okay bro?" Kenji obviously doubts Hisao's reassurances.

I cough a little, letting them know I know that I have finished, and to save Hisao from more of Kenji's rants. "Thanks for coming to visit guys." I say, not just out of courtesy, but out of real gratitude. It's kind of relieving that someone would visit despite me only being here for few days, even if they were only visiting out of curiosity.

"No problem man, us men have to look out for each other, right?" Kenji may seem to be a little crazy and possibly could have skewered me on the first day with his umbrella, but he really did seem to have my back.

Hisao says nothing, and once again, I'm not surprised. He saw what happened first hand, I imagine he still can't wrap his head around it, someone tearing their nails into the flesh of their hands to the point where they were almost ripping off their own inner tissue? And busting their own lip, both in the middle of class? That's probably unheard of.

"But, why did you do it? I heard about what happened from...a source." Kenji continues. Dammit Kenji, why'd you have to bring it up so soon?

This "source" is undoubtedly Hisao. And how do I put what happened to words? I can't tell anyone about the pit, it is something I must deal with on my own, if I can't deal with my own problems, then that mean I am weak, and weakness starts that dammed cycle. Even if I were to tell them about the pit, would they understand? No, they wouldn't. I must not tell anyone about the pit, that isn't a viable option.

"I'd rather not talk about that, it's a personal problem." I say this without any trace of doubt in my voice, my face impassive, it was true enough.

Kenji gives a shrug, letting me be. Hisao, however looks frustrated, I guess he wanted to know my reasoning, but doesn't want to try and pressure me into telling him, I doubt doing things like that aren't exactly in his nature. That's a relief, it will save me a headache or two.

"And I appreciate it if you guys were to let me rest for a while, thank you for visiting." My tone, while friendly, also tells them to back off.

After Kenji's over-friendly goodbye and Hisao's half-hearted one, they leave, and I go to sleep, my mind going over the exchange, it definitely could have gone better, and could have gone worse.
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No one visited the next two days, and my lip had mostly healed during that time and my hands had regained enough strength to support me on my crutches, so nurse turned me loose after a few more odd jokes and actual comments that were somewhat relevant.

It's about 2pm, there are only two more hours of school and then I have tomorrow off, it's kind of pathetic that I only have one complete day in six days of school, and I really don't want to head right back into classes, so I choose to go the gutair room instead, I yearned for my dear gutair so very much back in the infirmary.

I make my way there, my leg and arms a little wobbly after several days in bed, and encounter only one person in the hall, who ignores me, and I respond in a likewise manner.

I arrive at the room and sit down and just sit there for an hour, doing nothing, just resting my mind wandering and thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

I check my watch, it read 3:30 pm, only 30 more minutes until everyone gets out of class, and then I remember why I came in here in the first place.

I set up my gutair and amp, and find myself strumming "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day. (

The song's intro is mainly played on acoustic, so to get it as accurate as possible, I flip off the distortion option and begin the song, it isn't as authentic, but it is as close as I can get it without my acoustic at the ready.

"Summer has come and past, the innocent can never last. Wake me up, when September ends." I sing the opening lines of the song, in English, and am immediately lost in the music, not even one thought crosses my mind as I play the gutair and sing, nothing else matters as I play.
*********************************************************
By the time 4:20 rolls by, I am ready to start the last song before I head back to my dormitory for the rest of the night. I contemplate what I should play for a moment.

I really don't want to end it on a heavy-hearted note, but neither do I feel like playing something necessarily light-hearted either, so I settle on a happy medium.

"He's a stranger to some and a vision to none. He can never get enough, get enough of the one, for the fortune queen, but it's hard to amend. How it ends and begins. On his face is a map of the world." I sing after strumming the first 30 seconds or so of gutair and begin to play "From Yesterday" crafted by 30 Seconds to Mars, in English of course. (

I continue the song, once again getting lost in the lyrics and chords, not caring if anyone hears me.

As I am warping up the song I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, at least for a moment before I hear a pair of hands clapping softly.

I give a small groan as I sit back up and open my eyes to see the intruder. I quickly recognize Lilly, what with her European facial structure and cane, but I'm a little curious why she came in, even if she heard the music.

"I'm sorry for dropping in without invitation, but I heard the music and came to investigate, I hope I didn't interrupt...?" the tone and trailing off of her voice at the end means that she would like to know who she's talking to.

"It's Ben, and no problem." I reply.

She looks a little surprised, I'd guess that she heard about what happened at class on Wednesday, but she doesn't mention it, which I am grateful for. "That song was nice, the lyrics were in English, correct?"

I could think of why she would think so, with me being from America and all that jazz, and it was obviously not in Japanese. "Yes, it was sung and written in English." I confirm.

"I thought as much, and if you don't mind me asking, what song was that?" She asks.

"From Yesterday, the band is 30 Seconds to Mars, if you want to know who they are." I answer.

A thought comes across my mind and I decide to test it for a moment: "Do you speak English?" I ask in my native language.

"Yes, I do, how did you guess?" she replies fluently.

"It was an educated guess is all." I say, once again switching to Japanese, it really was a random theory and guess on my part, but it looks as if it is true.

"Well, it was nice talking, but I'll get out of your way now." I continue. I grab my crutches, turn off my amp, grab my bag, and just as I start to head out the door, "Would you like to have some tea with us?" comes Lilly's voice.

I raise an eyebrow as I turn around to face her, "Us?" I question.

"Us, but only if Hisao and Hanako are there at the moment, if not then just you and I." she elaborates.

"Sure, I don't see why not."

Lilly gives a small smile, "Please follow me." fall into line behind her after she exits the room, and we quietly make our way down the bland hallways, only broken by the tapping of Lilly's cane and my crutches meeting the ground.

After a short walk down the hallway and a few turns here and there, and we arrive at...the chess club.

"The chess club?" I question, eyebrow raised in surprise and curiosity.

"Yes, Hanako, me, and Hisao, are the school's chess club, but we are one person short of being able to compete in competitions." She turns to the direction of my voice and gives a small smile "Don't worry, we won't try and pressure you into the club like I'm sure Shizune and Misha have tried to do to you regarding the student council."

Now I'm a little surprised, Hisao is in the chess club, who would've thought? He didn't seem like a strategy game kind of guy, and neither did Hanako, maybe a game or two could remove the awkwardness of what happened a few days ago. I'm also pretty surprised that Lilly knows about Shizune's efforts to get me into the council. I'd guess Shizune has already tried the same thing more than once, I wouldn't be surprised.

I smile myself, and it's genuine, I guess the repercussions for the pit's uprising could be rectified. "They have, and I might join at some point, if that's okay with the three of you."

"We'll see about that." Is all she says before she opens the door and lets me into the room, I realize what she said about "We'll see about that", I guess she doesn't mind things like that being said around her, just as I don't care if someone mentions colour around me, I have never had the ability to see it, so I can never miss it.

Inside the room is one table with four chairs off to the right of the room, in front of a window that lets light from the sun in. On the opposite side of the room is what looks like a counter for cooking as there is a small oven, microwave, sink, and coffee/tea maker. I also notice two of the chairs are occupied by non other than Hisao Nakai and Hanako Ikezawa.

They both hear the door creak open and look up, and seem surprised to see me standing in the door frame, out and about.

I smile a little and raise one hand in greeting, my hand stretching out fully with a little difficulty due to the bandages on them, "Hello, Hisao, Hanako, nurse let me out today a few hours ago."

"That explains why you're here, to an extent. But, uh, how did you come across Lilly?" He asks, his curiosity piqued.

"It's more like I found him," interrupts Lilly before I get a chance to speak, "I heard him playing gutair and singing in a room not too far from here and found him in there playing a song."

As I nod in confirmation, Hisao looks at me curiously, "Singing?" he says a little awkwardly, "That's something I wouldn't have expected." Hanako nods in agreement.

I laugh at this, laugh hard. I had gotten that reaction so often that I consider it hilarious at this point. They look at me oddly as I recover, a little breathless, and still chuckling a little.

"If I had a 100 yen for every time I heard that, I'd be rich by now." I say, modifying the saying a little to make sense to them, I doubt they know what an US dollar is worth.

Hanako smiles a little, "You get that often?"

I chuckle a little, "All the time."

Hisao now looks very curious, "Can you play in front of me and Hanako some time?"

Personally, I hate playing in front of people, but refusing would be rude and unfriendly, so I agree to it despite thinking to myself to try and avoid that.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go make us some tea." Lilly says, and heads over the the kitchen portion of the room. I almost ask something about how she will make tea as she is blind, but Hisao and Hanako make no move to stop her, so I let her go without questioning her.

I take the empty seat next to Hisao who is sitting right across from Hanako, as they engage in a conversation. I just lean back in the chair, and listen to their conversation, and I can't help but think this is just like when the pit broke out a few days ago, they are talking and I am listening, it is a similar set up, and it unnerves me a little. The thought is pushed out of my mind as Lilly arrives with the tea.

We drink it quietly, seems as if none of us like talking while drinking or eating, I know I don't. The tea is actually quite good, I have always loved tea and I expected this to be average, but it definitely lives up to my standards.

After thanking them for the tea and after about a half-hour of small talk, I excuse myself and go to my dorm, where I flop down on my bed, crack open a book, and do nothing else until I fall asleep to the soft patter of rain outside.
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Stupid projects, that took a lot longer to write than I originally thought it would.

I'm really digging the story man, even if it's kinda confusing me because it's not cannon. You also still have a few grammatical errors here and there, but with each post I notice less.

Keep going with it, I'm looking forward to reading more!

Yes, it's interesting, although him being out for 2 days seems a bit long? Lots of insomnia, I guess? Anyway, I 'm curious to read what comes next.

I agree with Beoran: You don't pass out from just pain for more than a day. Doesn't happen, or the spanish inquisition never would have gotten any confessions
Besides anything - be it pain, injury or any other medical condition except for sleep deprivation - that knocks you out for more than an hour will punch you a direct ticket to the nearest hospital - probably intensive care - while they figure out what's wrong with you.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I agree with Beoran: You don't pass out from just pain for more than a day. Doesn't happen, or the spanish inquisition never would have gotten any confessions
Besides anything - be it pain, injury or any other medical condition except for sleep deprivation - that knocks you out for more than an hour will punch you a direct ticket to the nearest hospital - probably intensive care - while they figure out what's wrong with you.

Beoran wrote:Yes, it's interesting, although him being out for 2 days seems a bit long? Lots of insomnia, I guess? Anyway, I 'm curious to read what comes next.

Ugh....Yet another hole in my research...although I don't remember me saying two days, one day and a few hours right? Yeah, I'm sure that's what I said. Well, I messed that part up anyway, but I do have my reasons for making it last that long, well, just one. A day is long enough for a busted lip to start to heal some, that was my reasoning. But, I guess I could have figured something else out, it's too late now, although I'll try and be more careful in the future.

Dippeggs wrote:I'm really digging the story man, even if it's kinda confusing me because it's not cannon. You also still have a few grammatical errors here and there, but with each post I notice less.

Keep going with it, I'm looking forward to reading more!

Glad to see my normally god-awful grammar is improving somewhat. Oh, and what's confusing about it? If you wouldn't mind, could you point what is confusing out? Just for future reference in case I should make some things clearer in future chapters.

Roamin12 wrote:

Mirage_GSM wrote:I agree with Beoran: You don't pass out from just pain for more than a day. Doesn't happen, or the spanish inquisition never would have gotten any confessions
Besides anything - be it pain, injury or any other medical condition except for sleep deprivation - that knocks you out for more than an hour will punch you a direct ticket to the nearest hospital - probably intensive care - while they figure out what's wrong with you.

Beoran wrote:Yes, it's interesting, although him being out for 2 days seems a bit long? Lots of insomnia, I guess? Anyway, I 'm curious to read what comes next.

Ugh....Yet another hole in my research...although I don't remember me saying two days, one day and a few hours right? Yeah, I'm sure that's what I said. Well, I messed that part up anyway, but I do have my reasons for making it last that long, well, just one. A day is long enough for a busted lip to start to heal some, that was my reasoning. But, I guess I could have figured something else out, it's too late now, although I'll try and be more careful in the future.

Eh. I gave it a pass. I've seen people feint from exhaustion, traumatic stress, ptsd, low blood pressure, tickling, and phobias.

If you're worried about it, just reword it. Have him pass out with no explanation, him assume it was from his 'weakness' with no explanation beyond that, or even assume it was from PTSD.

You could have Nurse propose a reason aswell. I mean he sees lots of handicapped students. It's easily possible for him to guess why he feinted even if he didn't know the exact trigger.

Daitengu wrote: Eh. I gave it a pass. I've seen people feint from exhaustion, traumatic stress, ptsd, low blood pressure, tickling, and phobias.

If you're worried about it, just reword it. Have him pass out with no explanation, him assume it was from his 'weakness' with no explanation beyond that, or even assume it was from PTSD.

You could have Nurse propose a reason aswell. I mean he sees lots of handicapped students. It's easily possible for him to guess why he feinted even if he didn't know the exact trigger.

Thanks for the suggestion! Although I left Nurse's reasons out, it wouldn't make much sense that he would tell him why he didn't send him to the hospital, at least it wouldn't in the conversation they had. But I did change it some and hopefully it helps a little.

Roamin12 wrote: Thanks for the suggestion! Although I left Nurse's reasons out, it wouldn't make much sense that he would tell him why he didn't send him to the hospital, at least it wouldn't in the conversation they had. But I did change it some and hopefully it helps a little.

Well, and I doubt he would talk of such things in the presence of other students. It'd require a lot more rework than you'd probably want to do. I was just trying to throw out several options for you to pick, should you decide to modify that section. I know sometimes I get fixed in one route without seeing other potential routes. Though it would be professional of the nurse to require Aaron to see the councilor regardless. Considering present company, the Nurse could just call him later and schedule it over the phone.