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I have been lurking this fic and many more for a while now and I just wanted to say that I adore this fic! I loved that Hisao didn't have the typical heart flutter but instead just rammed a wall like a bloody torpedo.

Can't wait for this to continue!

Welcome to the forum Metalwood,

Hope that you enjoy being on the site and the other fic's that are on it.

Blackmambauk

Went back and cleaned up some typos and things that I can't believe I missed

Also fixed some more errors, namely two big ones. The first was Hisao mentioning that there are fireworks at the festival, then later expressing surprise when Saki informs him about them later in the chapter.

The other main error had to do with Rin. Originally, Saki was with Hisao when he first met Rin (at the end of the first chapter) but then realized that wouldn't work, because Saki didn't know about Hisao's condition and Rin asked him about it outright.

"Countdown" has been such an appropriate title for this whole act. Particularly since the last chapter—where Saki's cards were laid out on the table—there's been a rising sense of tension in the narrative. The inevitability of Saki's progressively dwindling quality of life weighs me down as a reader; even though we've obviously all known about her situation from the very beginning, prior to Hisao knowing about it there was the sense that it was out of sight, out of mind. But this chapter is the first one since the reveal and the effect of Saki's ataxia kind of just permeates the whole narrative. We're not allowed to forget about it anymore.

There's also a sense of... claustrophobia, almost to this chapter. I think it's the fact that there's just so much dialogue here, but only between two characters. It reminds me a little of Rin's route, actually. The world feels a lot smaller, and Hisao and Saki don't really do all that much. I think it's partially because the last chapter was so similar, with the two of them alone together, discussing rough subjects, that this chapter felt that way. I can't help but think that, if 4LS were writing this fic, they'd have included a bridging scene between these chapters, like something with Kenji or whatever.

It isn't like I think the story suffers for the lack of one, but it's an interesting thought to be sure—I kind of get the impression that Hisao really needed to talk to Guinan or something before this scene. It's almost a shame Takashi's such an asshole. Much like Rin's route there's been a sense that Hisao's world is shrinking.

Though this is a pedantic criticism that's probably only idiosyncratic to myself, It feels weird that Saki is quitting the art club, because her membership in that club is one of the few things we learn about her in the 2011 April Fool's post. I mean there's no reason she can't quit, but I guess it's mildly disappointing, if only because I don't think this story ever got much leverage out of her being in the art club to begin with. The scene with Nomiya will probably yield some satisfying drama but in general this felt like a character element that just kind of fizzled out.

Anyway, good stuff. Good luck with the next chapter.

I totally get the art club thing. I had some thoughts on it, along with writing in general, that I can't really put anywhere else so I will here (like about treating Hisao as an OC)

When you start with an original (or near enough) character, you can take them anywhere within the confines of that universe. You can define their traits, their personalities, their motivations, their actions, etc. There's so many doors that you can take when you first start - it's like looking at a blank piece of paper; the possibilities of what you can draw are endless.

Once you start to establish these things, you realize at some point that you close off doors and paths that your character or story might have taken. It always kind of saddens me...there are other things I would have loved to do with Saki, but I've come too far to change her direction now. That's not to say I think that what I might have done is necessarily better than what's ended up being written down...but it's those thoughts that inspire fanfiction in the first place, you know?

The art club was one of those. I know the art club was one of the established things from the April Fool's post, but from the way I read it, it just came across to me that Saki was in it more for the therapy aspect than she was for the passion of art itself. I had originally planned to do more with the art club, but as the writing progressed, I realized that simply wasn't the direction I was going with the story. If she's only taking art for therapy reasons, then having her both play the violin and be in the art club seemed redundant for that purpose. Plus, from an in-story perspective, if she's juggling everything between swimming, band, and the project with Chisato, the art club would probably be the first thing she would drop if she realized she had a chance of burning out.

Anyway, enough rambling from me. Just wanted to express my thoughts on something that I don't think a lot of writers know about when they first start writing a story or fleshing out their characters.

"Just last week she said she was going to go as Rockman for Halloween" Ah, that gave me a good laugh.

Great stuff as usual EBJ, though I severely disagree with anybody describing Hisao as "eye candy" (or complimenting the master of romance in any way, for that matter ).

zanntaggerung wrote:"Just last week she said she was going to go as Rockman for Halloween" Ah, that gave me a good laugh.

Great stuff as usual EBJ, though I severely disagree with anybody describing Hisao as "eye candy" (or complimenting the master of romance in any way, for that matter ).

Aha, glad someone got it. It was inspired by this picture here.

For those who don't know, Rockman is the Japanese name for MegaMan

Anyway, I am going to try to have the last chapter of the act finished this weekend, depending on how my time plays out

Did think that reference of rockman was related to Mega man but wasn't sure til you confirmed it I forgot to bring it up in my usual commentary.

Either way it's brilliantly hilariously in character for Miki to go round at Halloween with the type of arm Mega Man has .

EBJ where have you gone? I love the story so far, it's by far the greatest one I've read on here. I really hope you continue with it.

I'm alive! Didn't have anything to post because I've been dealing with my annual bout of pneumonia for the last few weeks. Been to the doctor a few times and barely avoided a hospital stay. This happens this time of year like clockwork for me when the weather changes out here. We go from highs in the 110s to the high 60s in about three weeks.

At any rate, LtF's 2 year anniversary is just around the corner, and I'll have the next chapter posted on or before that date

Hope your illness eases up soon, never nice to be suffering from pneumonia for weeks on end and every year as well.

Ayy it's the 2 year anniversary for LtF! Hope you feel better soon EBJ!

(Also) Made an account pretty much entirely to tell you how much I love your Saki route. Really, I just read through the entire thing twice, absolutely in love with it, and Saki. I'm wishing this was more than just "a pseudo-route", as you've genuinely made me care about Saki as a character, or atleast your portrayal of her, and made me feel this story easily as much as the game itself ever did. There's a new contender in my top 5 female characters, with how well written and portrayed you've done this.

Thanks for all the time. effort, thought and care you've put into this. Hope you're feeling better, and cant wait for more <3

It's here! The finale of Act 2!

I've learned to not set deadlines to my writing as I never seem to be able to meet them anyway Hope it's worth the wait! This chapter clocks in at 9,500 words, making it the largest one to date.

Artwork by eguana on Deviantart.

Bonus points to anyone who gets the reference for the chapter name!

Act 2: Countdown

Scene 9: Kittyhawk

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Down by the art room,” Saki answers. “The teacher's office is across the hall from there.”

After the swim this morning, classes seemed to fly by. I'm not sure if it was because we didn't do much today, or if I wasn't fully paying attention, but either way the result is the same. Having Misha trying to make small talk with me when the teachers weren't paying attention a few times today also seemed to help.

As soon as the final bell let out, I gathered my things and made a beeline for Saki's classroom. I waited for the other students to pass, and caught Saki right as she was wheeling herself out the door, easily stepping up behind her to grab the handles of the wheelchair, asking her how her day was. We talked for a few minutes, passing the time while we waited for the halls to clear of students being let out for the day.

And so we find ourselves outside an office with a single, small placard on the door.

Shinichi Nomiya. Arts Department.

It seems like any other ordinary door, but given Saki's demeanor and our earlier conversation, there's an ominous feeling behind it. Saki visibly steels herself while looking at it, and struggles to rise to her feet. I hold the chair steady until she does, and hand her the crutches.

“Do you think he's back by now?” I ask. “I mean, classes just let out for the day a few minutes ago.”

“I hope so,” Saki says, her voice deflated. “I just want to get this over and done with. I'm not looking forward to this.” She raises her hand and knocks three times on the door.

There's no answer.

“Great,” she says under her breath, just loud enough for me to catch it. She checks her watch. “Band starts in a few minutes and I-”

“Well, it seems I have visitors. Hello there,” I hear a haughty voice say behind us. I turn and see someone heading towards us, or more specifically, the office we're standing next to. I can't explain exactly how I know this is the art teacher, but looking at him, it's something you just know from first looking at him.

The art teacher is an older man, his gray hair flowing in a disheveled mess around his head despite its short length. His face is lined deeply both with age and what I would guess is years of smiling, though the silver goatee he wears seems to contrast with this jovial image. He's soft around the middle, a paunch protruding over simple blue slacks. Most flamboyant of all, however, are the red-and-yellow tie and salmon colored jacket he wears, topped off with a small pair of pink spectacles that I can tell have absolutely nothing to do with vision and everything to do with appearances.

When I think about it, I probably did see him at the festival from a distance. He definitely is the type of person to leave an impression the first time you see or meet him, the way he carries himself implies that he knows it.

The manner he puts off isn't dissimilar to the one Nurse does...but it's different, somehow.

We don't have a chance to answer before he focuses on Saki.

“Miss Enomoto,” he says, a bit surprised. “I missed seeing you at the club last week. I heard you had a mishap, but it looks like you're recovering well enough,” he finishes with a smile. “And who is your friend, here?”

I bow slightly. “Hisao Nakai. Pleased to meet you.”

“Shinichi Nomiya. I'm the art teacher here at Yamaku, although you've probably guessed that by now,” he laughs, breaking into a grin. “So what brings you two here today? Looking to join the art club?” he asks, directing his attention at me.

“Ah, no,” I answer, trying to be diplomatic. “I'm just here giving Saki a hand today.”

Nomiya turns towards Saki, arching an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

“Actually, Mr. Nomiya,” I hear her say, “could I have a few moments of your time? It won't take long.”

Nomiya frowns a bit at this, but quickly recovers. “Certainly,” he says, stepping forward to open the door. “Will your friend be joining us, or...?”

I take the hint. “Go ahead. I'll just be waiting when you two are done.”

Saki casts one last glance at me over her shoulder as she disappears into the room. My heart goes out to her. I can already tell from this short dialogue with the teacher that this probably isn't going to go over well.

After holding the door open, Nomiya lets it close behind him, leaving me alone in the hallway. After a few seconds, I can make out their voices through the door.

“What's on your mind, Miss Enomoto?”

“Well,” Saki says, her voice apprehensive. “I wanted to thank you for the last few years and for teaching me in the art club.”

“Well, thank you!” he replies enthusiastically. “I appreciate it...but I don't think you came here today just to tell me that, did you?”

“No, it's not,” Saki sighs, then pauses a few seconds before continuing. “I came to tell you that I'm going to be leaving the art club for the rest of the year.”

“Leave?” Nomiya asks, his voice going up with surprise. “What for?”

“I've enjoyed it, but...it's just not a good fit for me anymore, Mr. Nomiya.”

“Is that so?” he answers, his tone shifting. “Is there a reason you feel that way?”

“I don't really have much talent for this. I never have,” I hear Saki explain.

“Maybe if you applied yourself more like the other students, like Tezuka or Maeda, you would find that you do, my girl,” the older man replies, with more than a bit of cynicism.

“Ouch,” I mutter under my breath to myself, wincing. Even though there's a wall between us and I can't see what's going on, I can imagine the anger that Saki must be feeling at that statement, and the self control she must be exerting. Even if what he said might technically be true, at least, according to what Saki's admitted, the way it was said comes across incredibly condescending.

I wait a few more seconds to listen for Saki's reply, but Nomiya doesn't stop, having built up a head of steam that could easily power a locomotive. Saki told me he had a short fuse when it came to things he was passionate about, and whatever doubts I had that she was exaggerating vanish.

“Miss Enomoto, I lose plenty of students who decide that the art club isn't for them. They come to a meeting or two and then they're never to be seen again. I would expect this of someone at the beginning of the year or someone who just transferred in. But you're neither. You've been in the art club since you started coming to Yamaku two years ago. So, why now?”

Saki takes a second before speaking again. “This is my last year here, Mr. Nomiya. There are things I want to do while I'm still here at Yamaku and I'm running out of time to do them.”

I can hear the exasperation in her voice. I can tell she's trying to explain this in a way that the teacher can understand but finding it very exhausting to do so.

“You seem to be able to find plenty of time for that violin of yours.”

“You're right, Mr. Nomiya,” Saki instantly snaps back, with a furious intensity that makes me jump. “You and I both know the only reason why I'm in the art club in the first place. I'm not good at painting or drawing. I don't like painting or drawing. I'm good at playing the violin. I like playing the violin, so that's what I've decided to do.”

That escalated quickly.

Hearing what she said - and how she said it - causes both shock and confusion. I'm shocked because of the equal parts fire and acid I hear in her voice when addressing Nomiya, a tone I never imagined Saki possessed, much less would use against a teacher. Maybe the harshness is genuine, spiraling off of the last few days and a history here between these two I'm not privy to...or maybe they're the words and tone of someone doesn't care how many bridges they burn as long as it brings an end to the conversation as swiftly as possible.

Regardless of the reason behind the outburst, all I can do is stare at the door, my jaw slack and my mouth open.

I hope for both their sakes it ends soon. Both of them wound up really quickly. The feedback loop these two are capable of locking themselves into isn't going to end well if it doesn't.

It takes a few tense seconds before Nomiya replies.

“The school had an arrangement with your parents. They are not going to be happy about this. Have you told them?”

(continued...)

His question is flat, completely devoid of the emotion he was just expressing. The sudden switch mirrors Saki's outburst, but seems to be far more dangerous. I don't think I'd want to see the look on his face right now.

“Yes,” Saki answers in kind, not giving an inch.

“And what have they said about it?”

No answer.

“I see,” Nomiya says.

I'm glad somebody does, because I'm totally lost. I'm left with little time to ponder it though as Saki speaks.

“I'm sorry.”

I hear the sound of a chair scraping on the floor as it's pushed backwards, and the heavy clump of feet coming to rest on the ground.

“So am I,” Nomiya says, his voice a heavy sigh.

“Thank you for everything the last two years, Mr. Nomiya.”

“Good luck, Miss Enomoto.”

There wasn't an ounce of sincerity in either of their voices with that last exchange.

It was an obligation of the social contract that one is expected to perform to get through life with some semblance of politeness towards your fellow human being, even if you can't stand the sight of them at times. Despite the fact that lines are crossed that you'll never be able to pull back from, and words are said you'll never be able to take back, you still are under an obligation to end on a formality, even if you both rush through that ending as quickly as possible.

At any rate, it accomplished what it was supposed to. Saki and Nomiya may never say a polite word to each other again, but I don't think that thought is on either of their minds at this moment. There's definitely a history between the two of them that goes much deeper than what I've just glimpsed into, but even I can tell that whatever it was, it's over now.

I try to shift my body to rest against the wall and assume an uninterested posture, as if I wasn't hanging on to every word that I strained to hear through the door. I doubt it will take more than a second for Saki to see through it, but the same social contract dictates I have to try.

With a click of the latch, the door opens, and Saki makes her way out on her crutches, her lips set in a thin, determined line. When the door closes behind her, the mask of her face cracks into an ugly mixture of anger and embarrassment. I quickly turn the chair to face her, and she doesn't sit so much as collapse into it.

Neither one of us says anything for a few long seconds. I occupy myself by fastening her crutches to the back of the wheelchair, trying to take as long as possible just for something to fill the awkward silence.

Crutches secure, I push her down the hall towards the elevators, content to just get her away from the situation as fast as possible.

“So,” Saki pipes up with a dry, bitter tone, “how much of that did you hear?”

I think about denying it, but I realize with a heavy sigh that there's no reason to lie about it.

“Enough.”

Saki doesn't answer, but the foul aura she's putting out is filled with so much pent-up frustration that I can almost see it radiating off her skin in waves. She looks like she's about to go ballistic if she doesn't blow off some steam.

Maybe I can help with that.

“Nomiya didn't seem to take that well,” I venture, giving her an opportunity to vent about what just happened before she explodes.

It works.

“God, you'd think I was his daughter or something and I just told him I wasn't coming home for the holidays,” Saki says angrily, her body language agitated.

“You seem pretty heated about the whole thing,” I point out, hoping that doing so will make her realize that she needs to calm down. I could simply tell her that she needs to calm down, but braver men than me have tried those exact words with much worse consequences than I feel like facing at the moment.

“You know, I wouldn't even care so much if he didn't seem biased. He claims to love art so much but it's like he sees no value in things he doesn't find interesting. There's more to the arts program here at this school that just the damned art club. We've got drama and band too, but you know what? That asshole hasn't shown up to any of the plays that drama's put on, or anything that the band does.”

“Not even during school functions?” I ask.

“Not if he doesn't have to. During the festival, he spent most of the time hovering around Rin's mural talking to anyone who came by to show an interest in it. Didn't listen to our recital, or even stop by the booths we were running. He's even trying to push Rin into doing some sort of exhibit thing or something. I overheard him talking to her about it last time I was there.”

“Really?”

I'm not saying anything of substance, simply letting Saki rant on. I'm not paying attention to retain the information, but I am listening for cues to ask a question or make a statement that will keep her venting. I do hear that her anger is burning itself out, which was the whole point of starting this discussion in the first place. With a final grunt of frustration at the injustice of Nomiya, the art club, and the universe itself, she lapses into silence.

We eventually make our way out of the building and into the sun, finding ourselves on one of Yamaku's many winding concrete paths that snake their way around and through the campus. I'm about to ask Saki where she wants to go next, when she speaks up.

“God, I don't know what's more embarrassing, Hisao,” she says, defeated. “The fact he got to me, or that he knows he got to me. I was so angry, so I snapped, and then when he mentioned my parents...”

Something in the way Saki's voice trails off tells me something. I'm not too sure of it, but after all the time we've been spending together, I have to be learning how to read her at least a little bit, right? I take a stab in the dark.

“You haven't actually talked to your parents about quitting the art club, have you,” I say hesitantly. It was not a question. I somehow feel that I'm right, but I don't really know anything about Saki's family, so I don't have any idea what I'm implying. Only that it's something unpleasant at best.

Saki confirms my suspicions with a shake of her head.

“Why not?” I ask, simply.

Saki sighs. “When I first came to Yamaku, my parents insisted I be put into occupational therapy. There are some good programs here at the school, but Nurse suggested that the art club would be perfect. That was pretty much it.”

I nod slightly, starting to make sense of what she's talking about. I spent enough time in the hospital to know the difference between occupational and physical therapy. Occupational therapy is more specialized, dealing with things like motor control in the hands and limbs, where physical therapy is more generic. I never had to deal with the first, but I'm definitely familiar with the second. In that context, it would be hard to argue the art club wouldn't be beneficial. Except...

“But, you have the violin, right? Why couldn't you have just taken band?”

“It wouldn't have done any good. My parents heard what they wanted to hear.”

“You didn't say no?”

“'No' is not a word that my parents hear very often. Let's just leave it at that, okay?”

“...alright,” I say, dropping the issue. My curiosity is definitely peaked, but I know better than to press it. “Band, right?”

“Mhmm,” Saki says, checking her wristwatch. “Gonna be a few minutes late, but...you know,” she says, already dismissing the entire unpleasant conversation from a few minutes ago with her former art teacher. “Practice lasts about an hour...you don't have to stay. Chisato should be there. You've already done more than enough for me today.”

“I don't mind,” I say, taking a fork in one of the paths, steering us in the direction of the auxiliary building that houses the band room. I know the way by heart by now, for no other reason than it's the same building Nurse's office is in. “I have a book from the library I was planning to read. I'll just wait in the foyer until you're done.”

I come up towards the line of trees planted in front of the building, their leaves casting shade over the dirt islands they inhabit in the concrete. It's only been a few weeks since I first saw them, but with the season in full swing, they look a lot more robust and colorful than they did the first time I wandered through here, lost on an errand for Misha.

Come to think of it, this is where I first met Saki...a kindhearted girl who took pity on a poor soul who was lost in every sense of the word. I chuckle. I'm probably being melodramatic here, but it does seem like a lot of time has passed between then and now, though in reality it's only been a matter of weeks.

“Why'd we stop?” Saki asks, shaking me from my thoughts.

“Oh,” I say, coughing quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment, not even realizing that we have indeed stopped. “Just wanted to take a moment to look at the trees. They're looking beautiful this time of year.”

“Wait until you see them in the fall when the colors start to change.” Saki says. “They'll look even better. I like to just come out here and sit under them sometimes.”

“Can't wait,” I respond, breathing a quick sigh of relief, pushing her forward again.

We continue on and arrive at our destination, through the lobby door into the foyer. It's just as I remember, with the chairs and padded benches scattered haphazardly under that obnoxiously bright mural on the far wall. There aren't as many students here this time as there were when I came through, which is fine by me. There's a cluster of unoccupied chairs near one of the doors, and I make a plan to grab one of them once Saki's situated.

“Which room is band in again?” I ask, unsure.

“Over there,” she says, pointing off to the right. Ah, that way does feel familiar.

(continued...)