New Flames- Chapter 4 (or: more food for more friendship)
Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2016 4:52 pm
Hello everyone! As a (sorta) rookie, I am ready to post some decent work!
Before you start, there are a few things to know about this story:
- This is a NEW story. There will be little to no characters from the original game. I write it so nobody will say "why is [character] not here?"
- I have little first person experience with the things I write. Should you find a mistake in the things I write, do not hesitate to correct me and I will be able to either retcon or acknowledge in-story my mistake. This is also the reason I use relatively "easy to use" disabilities and not complex and/or obscure diseases. My English might not be on point, so correcting me is acceptable.
- Criticism>approval. I enjoy people who say I write well, but those who provide me the reason why they liked it (or disliked it, or any mix of them) are giving me the greatest support.
- This story is made with love and more than a few pinches of artistic license. I can guarantee you that at some point I will outright defy logic (edit: "logic" means "the probable course of action that should be taken in situations in real life" and not an in-story logic).
- I tend to aim very high, which means I have plans for multiple paths. Should I not, for any reason, accomplish this ambitious, you have two choices in this matter- accept it, or write the path yourself. This forum is filled with people that say "but what if..." and I want to believe that people will take up my sword if they like the story enough. Yes, this is a bit egoistical, but what fun is a writer that can't aim for the stars?
-In the unlikely case you want to do anything further with the story than I do, please contact me. I will be elated to hear you do so and will give you the "thumb of god".
And a few things about the author (Just a small welcome because I'm new around here):
- I like to work with colors in my stories. It makes it easier to read them.
- I have a lot of free time.
- Yes, I use this nickname most of the time.
- I enjoy meeting people that enjoy the things I do, both on the Internet and in real life.
Read all of this? Alright. Let us begin!
I woke up from the coma a couple of weeks ago. I had been in it for about six weeks- At least that’s what the doctors counted.
When I woke up, it took me a few moments to even understand that I am, indeed, conscious- badly burned, but conscious. Things were a bit blurry back then, but I was shocked when I’ve seen my newest additions to my body.
My scars, spreading from my right chest in a loosely shaped sphere, from my lower cheeks to the upper belly, have even reached my hands. The hands, by the way, have suffered the worst, and a few fingernails were lost as they bravely defended my neck and heart (that’s what the doctors say). They are a grim reminder of what happened to me- A severe burn from a gas canister. Good thing all ten of them are still in place, or else I’d be shocked even what I already was.
Furthermore, I’ve inhaled quite a bit of the gas. My lungs were injured, and a shattered rib did not help them. This and the damage to the palms of my hands will make sure I can kiss baseball goodbye- unless I find a way to recover or migrate the damage. Migraines also started to appear, but they are relatively harmless- assuming I remember to take Aspirin for them when they kick in (it might not be actual migraines, but so far the doctor thinks it probably is, and I’m not going to question the man who’s responsible for keeping me functional). I also take a painkiller twice a day to reduce the pain from the burn and to reduce chances of a migraine outbreak, although it’s still present, and a careful replacement of specialized bandages made sure my recovery time would be minimal and no further damage would be done.
Still, I was very close to the canister. A police investigator has got to the conclusion that I was burned by the canister itself, which exploded into a fireball. Needless to say, I won’t be anywhere near gas canisters anytime soon if I can help it. My parents (and anyone who heard about the incident) told me I’m a very lucky person, and they prayed for my recovery- either to Jesus or to my ancestors, depends on which parent we’re talking about. As luck and faith would have it, it might’ve been what I need.
It could’ve also been all the letters I got that made me feel better- and some students came to visit their scarred fellow. It was pretty clear they were here for lack of better thing to do,though, as they didn’t come for the last two weeks, and I didn’t receive any more letters from anyone.
My parents care a lot for me- I am everything for them at times, but they work so hard I don’t get to see them often enough. They would spend a lot of money on the hospital, even sell the house if needed...
But here’s where my luck REALLY kicked in- the company who made the gas canister, fearing for a bad name, compensated my parents in return for their silence (they won’t tell me what company was it- and I understand the reason. After all, would you risk your child losing everything he received in a moment of anger?). Rather than money, my parents guilt tripped them into not only paying the expenses for the hospital, but also made the company enroll me in Yamaku High School, pay for my stay the entire time, AND pay 75% of the school related expenses. They said it would help me more than the money the company offered, and it was also worth more in monetary value. Not bad for a couple of lawyers who raises a son with newfound special needs.
I was initially mad when I discovered about the school- An entire school for Cripples. I would spend an entire year learning in a closed institution with the limbless, the sick, the wounded and the suffering; a fitting place for me, eh? My parents told me that the school is filled with smart people that were just dealt a bad hand in life, and there are many facilities that should make me feel better. While I was… much less than supportive (even yelled at my parents at one point as they tried to reassure me), the points they made were solid, and I eventually conceded defeat in this matter. After all, I can hardly open a jar without being in pain about it or wearing my special gloves. That doesn’t seem very healthy to me. Unlike many of the students in that school, however, I will live a long life, with the “years lost” due to the burn being negligible.
This is also an expensive and prestigious school (as much as a “cripple school” can be prestigious), so they told me to be the best student I can be. I would do it with ease, but there is a problem with this. Just a little one, though:
I’m not the head of the class, Despite my best of intentions. It’s not like you can base your score on English alone (Which, due to my mother being half American and spending nearly twenty years there, means English is my second native tongue) for every single grade. Don’t get me wrong, though- I rarely fail any class, but with my migraines and the gap it will not be any easier. This will be a ‘most magnificent challenge, which only the elite may pass’- and as they aren’t around, I’ll have to do it in their stead.
Oh, and the hospital? Mostly alright, I guess. Even if the people are cold and my roommate is a little eccentric with his head trauma, my (relatively big) family visits me often, and I have a laptop to pass the time. Even my American grandparents came- with a lot of western treats. They have told me about America and about how they do and how badly they miss me. They are really open, and I love it- I really appreciate the openness of the western culture towards people, even if it seems to be a little excessive (the strongest wind is left unseen, my dad always says). My “American values” are a reason why I might be at odds with some of the more conservative people, and why I know many western references while missing a few local ones.
Occasional visits aside, I was bored. I tried to read books, but they seem to be unable to draw me, like they do to others (we’re talking books over the internet, of course, as regular paper will hurt me like nobody’s business if I carry it improperly). The TV is a little stale, and eventually even the internet gets boring. Video games COULD be a good idea, but I’m used to playing the fast paced ones that make my fingers tire down quickly enough and the slower ones are not my spot of tea.
Still, I found some films, shows and animes to be a great idea. Some in English, some in Japanese, and even one in German. They take you into another reality that might get you to feel a little better about yourself. It’s a sort of a guilty pleasure at times, as it shouldn’t be alright to escape reality in order to immerse yourself in things like romance animes. I also listen to a lot of music, which requires neither a focused mind nor good fingers.
While I was monitored quite a bit in my early days here, it seems that with each day that passed I was a bit freer. Eventually, the doctor filed my tickets, and told me I can go home.
A few days, a packed suitcase and a small goodbye party later, though, I am here- at the gates of Yamaku Academy.
Before you start, there are a few things to know about this story:
- This is a NEW story. There will be little to no characters from the original game. I write it so nobody will say "why is [character] not here?"
- I have little first person experience with the things I write. Should you find a mistake in the things I write, do not hesitate to correct me and I will be able to either retcon or acknowledge in-story my mistake. This is also the reason I use relatively "easy to use" disabilities and not complex and/or obscure diseases. My English might not be on point, so correcting me is acceptable.
- Criticism>approval. I enjoy people who say I write well, but those who provide me the reason why they liked it (or disliked it, or any mix of them) are giving me the greatest support.
- This story is made with love and more than a few pinches of artistic license. I can guarantee you that at some point I will outright defy logic (edit: "logic" means "the probable course of action that should be taken in situations in real life" and not an in-story logic).
- I tend to aim very high, which means I have plans for multiple paths. Should I not, for any reason, accomplish this ambitious, you have two choices in this matter- accept it, or write the path yourself. This forum is filled with people that say "but what if..." and I want to believe that people will take up my sword if they like the story enough. Yes, this is a bit egoistical, but what fun is a writer that can't aim for the stars?
-In the unlikely case you want to do anything further with the story than I do, please contact me. I will be elated to hear you do so and will give you the "thumb of god".
And a few things about the author (Just a small welcome because I'm new around here):
- I like to work with colors in my stories. It makes it easier to read them.
- I have a lot of free time.
- Yes, I use this nickname most of the time.
- I enjoy meeting people that enjoy the things I do, both on the Internet and in real life.
Read all of this? Alright. Let us begin!
I woke up from the coma a couple of weeks ago. I had been in it for about six weeks- At least that’s what the doctors counted.
When I woke up, it took me a few moments to even understand that I am, indeed, conscious- badly burned, but conscious. Things were a bit blurry back then, but I was shocked when I’ve seen my newest additions to my body.
My scars, spreading from my right chest in a loosely shaped sphere, from my lower cheeks to the upper belly, have even reached my hands. The hands, by the way, have suffered the worst, and a few fingernails were lost as they bravely defended my neck and heart (that’s what the doctors say). They are a grim reminder of what happened to me- A severe burn from a gas canister. Good thing all ten of them are still in place, or else I’d be shocked even what I already was.
Furthermore, I’ve inhaled quite a bit of the gas. My lungs were injured, and a shattered rib did not help them. This and the damage to the palms of my hands will make sure I can kiss baseball goodbye- unless I find a way to recover or migrate the damage. Migraines also started to appear, but they are relatively harmless- assuming I remember to take Aspirin for them when they kick in (it might not be actual migraines, but so far the doctor thinks it probably is, and I’m not going to question the man who’s responsible for keeping me functional). I also take a painkiller twice a day to reduce the pain from the burn and to reduce chances of a migraine outbreak, although it’s still present, and a careful replacement of specialized bandages made sure my recovery time would be minimal and no further damage would be done.
Still, I was very close to the canister. A police investigator has got to the conclusion that I was burned by the canister itself, which exploded into a fireball. Needless to say, I won’t be anywhere near gas canisters anytime soon if I can help it. My parents (and anyone who heard about the incident) told me I’m a very lucky person, and they prayed for my recovery- either to Jesus or to my ancestors, depends on which parent we’re talking about. As luck and faith would have it, it might’ve been what I need.
It could’ve also been all the letters I got that made me feel better- and some students came to visit their scarred fellow. It was pretty clear they were here for lack of better thing to do,though, as they didn’t come for the last two weeks, and I didn’t receive any more letters from anyone.
My parents care a lot for me- I am everything for them at times, but they work so hard I don’t get to see them often enough. They would spend a lot of money on the hospital, even sell the house if needed...
But here’s where my luck REALLY kicked in- the company who made the gas canister, fearing for a bad name, compensated my parents in return for their silence (they won’t tell me what company was it- and I understand the reason. After all, would you risk your child losing everything he received in a moment of anger?). Rather than money, my parents guilt tripped them into not only paying the expenses for the hospital, but also made the company enroll me in Yamaku High School, pay for my stay the entire time, AND pay 75% of the school related expenses. They said it would help me more than the money the company offered, and it was also worth more in monetary value. Not bad for a couple of lawyers who raises a son with newfound special needs.
I was initially mad when I discovered about the school- An entire school for Cripples. I would spend an entire year learning in a closed institution with the limbless, the sick, the wounded and the suffering; a fitting place for me, eh? My parents told me that the school is filled with smart people that were just dealt a bad hand in life, and there are many facilities that should make me feel better. While I was… much less than supportive (even yelled at my parents at one point as they tried to reassure me), the points they made were solid, and I eventually conceded defeat in this matter. After all, I can hardly open a jar without being in pain about it or wearing my special gloves. That doesn’t seem very healthy to me. Unlike many of the students in that school, however, I will live a long life, with the “years lost” due to the burn being negligible.
This is also an expensive and prestigious school (as much as a “cripple school” can be prestigious), so they told me to be the best student I can be. I would do it with ease, but there is a problem with this. Just a little one, though:
I’m not the head of the class, Despite my best of intentions. It’s not like you can base your score on English alone (Which, due to my mother being half American and spending nearly twenty years there, means English is my second native tongue) for every single grade. Don’t get me wrong, though- I rarely fail any class, but with my migraines and the gap it will not be any easier. This will be a ‘most magnificent challenge, which only the elite may pass’- and as they aren’t around, I’ll have to do it in their stead.
Oh, and the hospital? Mostly alright, I guess. Even if the people are cold and my roommate is a little eccentric with his head trauma, my (relatively big) family visits me often, and I have a laptop to pass the time. Even my American grandparents came- with a lot of western treats. They have told me about America and about how they do and how badly they miss me. They are really open, and I love it- I really appreciate the openness of the western culture towards people, even if it seems to be a little excessive (the strongest wind is left unseen, my dad always says). My “American values” are a reason why I might be at odds with some of the more conservative people, and why I know many western references while missing a few local ones.
Occasional visits aside, I was bored. I tried to read books, but they seem to be unable to draw me, like they do to others (we’re talking books over the internet, of course, as regular paper will hurt me like nobody’s business if I carry it improperly). The TV is a little stale, and eventually even the internet gets boring. Video games COULD be a good idea, but I’m used to playing the fast paced ones that make my fingers tire down quickly enough and the slower ones are not my spot of tea.
Still, I found some films, shows and animes to be a great idea. Some in English, some in Japanese, and even one in German. They take you into another reality that might get you to feel a little better about yourself. It’s a sort of a guilty pleasure at times, as it shouldn’t be alright to escape reality in order to immerse yourself in things like romance animes. I also listen to a lot of music, which requires neither a focused mind nor good fingers.
While I was monitored quite a bit in my early days here, it seems that with each day that passed I was a bit freer. Eventually, the doctor filed my tickets, and told me I can go home.
A few days, a packed suitcase and a small goodbye party later, though, I am here- at the gates of Yamaku Academy.