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A few days without posting any writefaggotry? Check.

A completed multi-part sitting in my computer doing nothing? Check.

GrammarGrammer websites bookmarked and open in internet browser windows for reference during final proofreading? Check.

Hit it!

This one was a bit of a new experience for me. Original characters again(sorry, Yuri shipping of canon characters will return sooner or later), but this time a first-person perspective. Hopefully my grammar has improved at least a little bit. Enjoy!
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BD Reanimation: The Zombie
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“Mommy!”

I called out to my mother after wrestling the front door open. As usual, she was busy shuffling papers around in the office, in front of her computer.

“M-Mommy,” I choked out between teary sniffles. “Some b-big kids knocked me over and t-took my lunch box!”

So naturally, my mother sprung to the rescue and beat the shit out of those bullies who took my precious “Zodiac Avenger Team” lunch box.

“Yuki,” she replied, putting her hand over the phone's mouthpiece, “can't it wait? I'm busy. Honestly, I told you not to carry that around when you play. Now you'll have to bring your school lunches in a bag...”

Just kidding. My mom never gave enough of a shit about me to help out. Neither did my dad. They were too busy living the Japanese dream: hard work until death, slaving away for some faceless company towards no discernible end. The whole “happy family” bullshit was just a phase that they've already grown tired of.

After giving up on fetching band-aids for my battle scars, I cursed the existence of childproof medicine cabinets and went out to the front step to let the scrapes on my elbows and knees scab over in the outside breeze. Little did I realize that this woefully typical episode from my early childhood would change my life.

“Excuse me?”

Since I was too busy sulking, I didn't notice that a girl about five years older than myself had entered our yard and was standing before me. She swung her hands out from behind her back and presented my lost lunch box.

“Is this yours?”

“Y-Yes!” I replied with outstretched arms and reserved excitement. I didn't know whether the big kid was going to return my property or if she was going to play a sick game of keep-away with me.

“Don't worry about the others,” she said as she dropped it into my grubby little hands, “they won't bother you anymore.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Don't mention...Oh! Are you okay?” My memories started to go haywire as the girl took some band-aids out of her back pocket and tended to my wounds.

Now, I know it was a gray, overcast day that eventually rained. And I know that Haruka was only about eleven years old at the time, while I was six. Yet every time I relived the moment where I met my only friend, I always imagined the end taking place on some idyllic sunny spring day, sometimes not even in front of my house, with us being the way we were, six years later. Instead of some kid wearing a t-shirt and overalls, I remembered her almost an adult, wearing a flowing beige sun dress, matching the image that was last burned into my mind...

...

“Kato!”

A loud whisper from behind rudely interrupted my reminiscing. Suddenly, I was yanked back to class. Apparently there was a lecture going on because I somehow managed to take notes the whole period.

“What do you want, Rokurou?”

Rokurou was my neighbor. All bone from the neck-up, star of the badminton team, and a total juicer. He called me his best friend but that's only because he thought he could get a discount.

“You know what I want. The usual.”

Rokurou handed me a small wad of cash under the desk. After discretely counting it under the table, I gave him a care package consisting of one bottle each of human growth hormone and anabolic steroids along with a fresh syringe bound together with a rubber band and wrapped in tissue.

Shortly after clearing out for lunch along with the rest of the class, Rokurou placed his arm around me and spouted out his usual requests for special orders.

“So like I heard that there's a moss in Indonesia that you can brew into tea and...”

“No.”

“But dude, it's still legal!”

“You know how I operate. Meds only.” My chain of supply limited my inventory to prescription medications. No exotic flora without any applied medical use, not even reefer.

After separating myself away, I reached into my bag and fired up my MP3 player to listen to one of my usual songs. It was some fast paced techno-rave-dance-whatever song by a DJ in Belgium. Or was that Germany? Or was he from America? Who knows, I just downloaded it one day while randomly browsing around.

The fast-thumping bassline served as a substitute heartbeat. I don't have one of my own, you see. That's my disability. I died almost four years ago.

No, not literally. My heart does function, but the object known as “Yuki Kato” is an empty shell. I am a soulless automaton that walks the Earth without any real purpose, responding to stimuli using basic programming without any will providing motivation. Like electricity driving Frankenstein's meat monster, I rely on mindless rhythms to goad my legs into taking me wherever my conditioning says I need to go.

After I purchased a pair of box lunches from the cafeteria, I braced my lower legs for impact as I walked out into the hallway. Like clockwork, Emina Kinosaki collided with me, pretending to have lost control of her wheelchair.

“Hey,” I looked down and futilely chastised her. “Be careful, will ya?”

“I can't help it,” she giggled, “The grips on these wheels are just so slippery that I can't stop.”

“Why don't you just use crutches then? You've got one leg that works, right?”

Emina pouted and rubbed the stump below her right knee, then picked up her left foot to demonstrate how stiff and useless it was.

“My leg isn't any good. If I try walking more than a few feet, I could totally trip and lose it or even die!”

“Whatever. The usual spot today?”

“MmHmm.”

For some reason, Emina insisted on eating lunches on the roof of the main building. I wouldn't have had any issues with this if she actually used her leg to get around once in a while.

I placed the bag containing the lunches on the ground, near the bottom of the staircase and crouched down in front of Emina so she could latch her arms around my neck.

“Hands off my butt,” she said like she always did when I held her thighs up for support, “as much as I know you'd like to touch it.”

With a fair bit of struggling, I picked up our lunches and labored my way up the stairs. Eventually, we reached the top landing, where I opened the door while simultaneously juggling Emina and the food.

As we ate lunch, I unplugged my ears. A risky move, since the music is all that keeps me anchored to the living world these days. While watching Emina blabber on about God-knows-what, I started to slip away. Suddenly, I was eight years old again and back in my home town, trying to catch fireflies on a summer's evening...

...

“Haruka?” I asked with a heavy heart, “Are you going to die?”

Haruka planted herself on a park bench to catch her breath. There would be no more bug chasing for her that evening. She was the thinnest and frailest I've ever seen her. Even her azure eyes and rich, mocha colored hair had lost some of their shine. She had just returned home after three or four months in a hospital. I didn't understand it at the time, but she was in no condition to be running around outdoors. But she did anyway.

“That's what they say, Yuki.” Her voice had been sucked out of its liveliness as well. “My heart is kind of messed up. There was a hole inside and they just patched it up, but that's not the worst of it...”

Haruka tried her best to explain things to me. Later, I figured out out that she had several congenital heart defects. Back then, she just had a ventricular septal defect repaired and was going in for heart valve replacement as soon as she was strong enough. Even if she survived that, she would have to live a life taming an abnormal heart rhythm through medication.

That day, I learned just how greedy I've been. I was just some wimpy little kid with apathetic parents. Haruka had it rough even before she was born. Her junkie parents cursed her at conception and have knocked her around since then. Things didn't improve for her until the previous year, when she moved in with her aunt after her parents were finally put away. And then her heart started to give out.

The whole time I've known her, she did nothing but protect me and shower me in kindness while I just used her as a crutch to keep from growing out of my crybaby ways. From then on, I resolved to return the favor to the older sister I never had.

“Haruka,” I announced while sticking my chest out proudly, “from now on, I'll protect you!”

“Oh really?” she gave a weak smile and replied. “From what?”

“Um, I dunno. From everything. I'm going to be big and strong and some day I'm going to marry you, Haruka!”

I covered my mouth as soon as I finished blurting out that last part. I don't remember if I was seriously planning on making Haruka my wife, although I will admit that she was the first girl I ever “noticed.”

However, instead of scolding me, acting grossed out, or getting horrified, she merely laughed with approval.

With new boldness being fueled by the lack of initial rejection, I faced her and decided to live out my then-prevalent daydream. Grabbing both sides of her face, leaned forward and gave my best friend the clumsiest, most awkward kiss ever inflicted inflicted upon a girl in the history of mankind.

Surprisingly, she didn't pull away or slap me like I feared she would. Instead, Haruka stood up, took me in her arms and held me against her chest to hear her heartbeat.

“Okay, Yuki. For you, I'll stay alive.”

...

“Yuki!”

Emina had finished her lunch and was ready to go back downstairs. Somehow, I managed to finish lunch as well. By now eating had become a totally involuntary function, much like everything else in my life.

I don't really know how I picked up the habit of eating lunch with Emina. I guess my putting up with her along with the time we spent together made us friends. Technically. Really, I wouldn't have cared if I was sharing my lunch with wild baboons instead.

“Can you push me to my room?” she asked after we cleaned up and reentered the building.

“What about class?”

“It's Saturday, silly! Did you forget?”

Forget? No. Not give a shit? Yes.

While piloting Emina's chair down the halls of the girls' dorm, I responded to the looks we kept getting from others with an unconvincing “not her boyfriend” smile. Eventually, we reached Emina's room.

...Room one-four-three.

...Haruka's room.

The sight of hallowed ground petrified me and sent my heart racing for the first time in years.

“Would you like to come inside?”

“N-No.”

Emina laughed. This was probably the first time she ever saw me nervous or at a loss for words. Even when I'm lost in the past, I usually can fake my way into continuing a conversation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she replied, somewhat saddened. “I guess I'll see you... Monday?”

Without answering, I swiftly exited the girls' building to return to my normal routine. The truth is, I keep pumping music into my brain to keep from remembering. Once, I was extremely driven to attend Yamaku High School. I kept making up reasons regarding educational opportunities and self improvement though understanding. You know, to get my parents to fund my attendance. In reality, I enrolled here to be closer to Haruka, to get a feel for her days here.

It's worked too well. Hardly an idle moment went by without her creeping back into my mind. I came here to remember, but now that I'm here, all I've wanted to do is forget.

My daily rounds brought me around to the on-campus pharmacy, near the nursing department's office. At the pickup window, one of my classmates from homeroom was complaining to the staff volunteer inside. Again.

“I'm here for a refill,” she said while unceremoniously dumping an half-full pill bottle onto the counter.

“Miss Tachibana,” the exasperated staffer replied, “Vicodin is a very powerful drug. We cannot enable your addiction by giving you more than your allowance.”

“That's not what I'm asking for! I don't want more, I want a new bottle. This batch isn't doing anything for me! These pills are duds!”

While the hysteric cripple continued to verbally abuse the poor girl, I slid my way into the door to the back offices. I had business with the pharmacist that the school contracted to supply Yamaku with drugs, which he did through various channels.

At the end of a short hallway, I reached an office with “Mr. Hasegawa” etched on the name plate. Since I was always an invited guest, I merely barged in on Yamaku's head pusher while he was in the middle of a business transaction.

“Ah, Kato,” Mr. Hasegawa greeted me from his desk, “what can I do for you, my boy?”

I took note of the pair of kneeling female legs and feet protruding from under his desk and give it no further thought. Mr. Hasegawa worked primarily in cash, but other goods and services were acceptable bargaining items for negotiation.

“I'm low on Codeine and Demerol. Uppers and downers are really hot right now, so give me some... I guess Diazepam and Dexedrine.”

“Those'll cost you.” Hasegawa mumbled as he opened a desk drawer and piled on some sandwich bags to fill my order, “We don't normally ship mind-fucks into this school.”

After forking over a small fortune to reinvest into my business, I continued my rounds and unloaded some inventory. Juice for the jocks, uppers for the bookworms, and downers for just about anyone else. Just after dinner, my dear, sweet neighbor hit me up for some candy. I despise pretty much everyone equally, but for some reason I really fucking hate Rokurou.

“Sup, buddy?”

“What do you want, Nomura?”

“Hey hey, that's no way to treat your best customer. Anyways, so the team is going to be inviting some girls over tomorrow. You know, a party before we go on the road. So I was wondering, do you got anything to, you know, thaw out a girl? Make her more agreeable?”

“You mean like Rohypnol?”

“Yeh-yeah! Some of that!” Rokurou replied enthusiastically.

“Forget it. I ain't selling you those.”

“How about some X?”

“My supplier doesn't carry that stuff. Good day.”

“Wanna hang with us anyway, with or without party favors? One of the girls coming over is a total butt-slut.”

After brushing Rokurou's mitt off my shoulder, another entrepreneur snatched him up.

“Excuse me, my good man,” Masashi slickly approached to salvage my spurned customer, “I hear you were interested in some roofies?”

Money changed hands and Rokurou scored himself a small plastic bag containing a sheet of blisterpacked pills.

“Yuki, buddy, something wrong?”

Masashi's stumpy hand replaced Rokurou's on my shoulder. The back of his palm had a circle of six cigarette burns in a circle, probably a mark of some gang he was a member of. The nail on his little finger had been grown into a long, putrid brown coke spoon.

“What's eating you? It ain't good business to turn down a customer, don't cha know. I know you've got roofies on ya.”

“I wasn't in the mood, Kataoka. What's it to you? You should thank me for giving you the business.”

Masashi Kataoka was a fellow independent pharmacist. Although we were ostensibly competitors, we still got our merchandise from the same source and did our best to cover different markets within the school. In any case, Masashi was his own best customer, frequently sampling his goods for “quality control.”

“Haha, you're alright, Kato. I'll be seein' ya round. Feel free to send any of your unwanted business my way!”

I'm not even sure why I didn't sell Rokurou the merchandise he wanted. Maybe that was my last shred of humanity reaching out. After a few more deals, I closed up shop and returned to my room and unloaded my goods and gear.

Against my better judgment, I took a long look into the mirror.

Yuki Kato. An average name for an average boy of average height and of average appearance. If the casting director of some TV show wanted a generic teenager, they'd probably come to me right away. Not that I'm complaining. With my textbook-normal appearance, I could slip in and out of any place and any situation. I don't attract attention anywhere I go, even as a normal kid in a school for cripples.

Beyond the image itself, the mirror displayed something else: a bitter young man who was squandering the gift of life, selling drugs and wasting any and every opportunity that came his way.

Haruka would have hated me as I am now.

If I really needed to, I could've ended it all. The snub nosed thirty-eight special I carry with me could put an end to my useless existence at a moment's notice.

So why don't I?

I'm scared, that's why. No, I'm not scared of the pain. If I do it right, I shouldn't feel a thing. Really, I'm scared of what I might find if it turned out there was an afterlife. Yeah, going to Hell would suck, but it's whom I might meet in Heaven that truly scares me into staying alive.

I retired for the evening on my chair at my desk instead of in my bed. I don't like sleeping. Whenever I do, I dream of things past, whether I want to or not. Whenever possible, I put off sleeping for as long as I can by staying out of bed and by reading or something. Nature eventually caught up with me and before I knew it, I was twelve years old again and reliving my most painful memories.

...

“Yuki,” my mother put down the phone and reported to me with no more emotion than if she were ordering fast food.

“...Haruka is dead.”

No, not literally. My heart does function, but the object known as “Yuki Kato” is an empty shell. I am a soulless automaton that walks the Earth without any real purpose, responding to stimuli using basic programming without any will providing motivation. Like electricity driving Frankenstein's meat monster, I rely on mindless rhythms to goad my legs into taking me wherever my conditioning says I need to go.

Yuki kinda reminds me of an old friend of mine. Always gloomy, doesn't even bother talking to anyone except his close friends. Thinking that his purpose in life is gone and he's just a walking corpse waiting to wither and fade

Mr. Hasegawa worked primarily in cash, but other goods and services were acceptable bargaining items for negotiation.

“I'm low on Codeine and Demerol. Uppers and downers are really hot right now, so give me some... I guess Diazepam and Dexedrine.”

“Those'll cost you.” Hasegawa mumbled as he opened a desk drawer and piled on some sandwich bags to fill my order, “We don't normally ship mind-fucks into this school.”

Wow, a black market in the school that sells drugs but do they have cocaine? Just asking.

Anyway, Yuki's story is quite interesting. I can't wait for the next one.

ShadowHunter23 wrote: Wow, a black market in the school that sells drugs but do they have cocaine? Just asking.

Probably. Not from Yuki, though. His sole supplier only deals with prescription drugs, and cocaine is very rarely used in modern medicine.

One of the girls coming over is a total butt-slut.

Aaaaaand I know where kosher's going to include Emi in this fic.

Goldilurks wrote:

One of the girls coming over is a total butt-slut.

Aaaaaand I know where kosher's going to include Emi in this fic.

E_Line was worried that the pair of legs sticking out from under Hasegawa's desk belonged to her. Unfortunately, this story takes place a little more than a year after KS: Act 1. All the path girls graduated already. Unless Emi got held back for lack of poplarity. Anyways interesting inference there. I shall save it for later, maybe.

And now onto the second part. Here, we get a good look at the creepiest villain I've come up with yet.

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BD Reanimation: Internment
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“Calm down, Yuki. Haruka has been sick for a long time. We knew this was coming.”

Behold, my mother, World's Worst Grief Counselor. I swear, she's got like Asperger's or something.

Adults should take a psychological examination before they're allowed to have children. All my parents did was keep me from being naked, homeless, and starving. For the six most important years of my life, it was Haruka who raised me. All while raising herself.

Sometimes I replay this memory with me eloquently breaking down my parents, giving them an epic tongue-lashing with watertight arguments, insightful wisdom, crystal clarity, and soul-crushing truth.

Of course, it didn't happen that way. Instead, I shouted a few obscenities at my mother and ran upstairs, got mad at myself for still being a dumb little kid, and cried into my pillow. When I saw Haruka last, I thought I was grown up, I thought I had finally caught up with her. Some man I turned out to be, crying like a baby when faced with the inevitabilities of nature.

Eventually, my dad came upstairs to give me his own brand of comfort.

“Sorry about your friend, Yuki. Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

Friend? Friend?! Haruka wasn't one of my friends, she was THE friend. She was my sister, my mother, my teacher, and my...

...

My Sunday alarm woke me up at eight o'clock. I was still in my chair, holding my arms close to my chest for warmth.

Had the dream continued, I would've revisited the worst part, when my parents casually discussed her departure over dinner. Officially, Haruka died of cardiac arrest resulting from her arrhythmia. However, it was also stated that she was probably undermedicating herself. Some of the grown-ups even suggested that she committed suicide.

No, it couldn't be. She said she would stay alive for me. She promised. She was healthy looking when I saw her last. Everything I remember of her as a child had returned, along with the nubile beauty of maturity.

As I forced myself back into a state of walking catatonia, I looked at my stash of pills on the dresser and laughed. All the brain-fixers money could buy was at my fingertips. If I really wanted to, I could probably medicate myself into being a completely different person. Or at least overdose, killing the parts of my brain that contained the memories of my childhood. I must have been some kind of masochist for not doping myself into happiness.

After getting cleaned up for the day, I left the school and went into town for breakfast and business. After an unusually prosperous day, I returned to the school pharmacy to restock.

To nobody's surprise, Yoshiko was lined up at the drug window, no doubt ready to complain about her developing a resistance to painkillers. I crept into the back rooms and found Mr. Hasegawa in the lab, filling out legitimate prescriptions.

In a striking demonstration of visual camouflage, Hasegawa shed his usual pinstripe business suit for scrubs and a white lab coat. The portly drug kingpin was now just a bald, fat, old man with a regular salary.

“So, I take it the uppers and downers really were a big hit?”

“Yeah. I'm not out, but I figured I should come back and get more before I get caught empty handed.”

“That's good business sense, son. Wait a moment. We just got a new shipment of meds and I have to prepare them for distribution.”

With mechanical efficiency, Hasegawa fetched several different boxes from a stockroom and sliced them open. From inside each, he opened up white plastic jars and carefully put equal amounts of drugs from each into a sorting tray, mixed together the round, white pills from different sources and carefully doled out carefully counted allotments into opaque medicine bottles.

I paid attention to Hasegawa's well practiced method. If I make it out of high school alive, I might consider a job as a pharmacist. Yes, A drug dealer. Funny, huh? With genuine curiosity, I asked Hasegawa some career related questions, which surprisingly enough, he answered.

“So why are you mixing the pills from four different boxes?”

“Actually, what I'm doing is the same thing that our colleagues in South America do with their merchandise. I'm cutting in fillers. See this box here? That's the good stuff from the school's preferred supplier. This one over here is surplus from various hospitals. Technically, they're expired, but as with most drugs they're still pretty much good. These over here are from a company in China. Almost as good as the real thing, most of the time. And finally, this box here contains placebos. You know, sugar pills that they use in clinical trials.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Well, even for middlemen such as ourselves, Drugs are expensive unless you're at the source. You see, the school watches the medication budget closely. If I could save money by diluting these medications, I could use rest of the budget the to buy more profitable items without having to go out of pocket.”

“First rule of business,” he added. “'Never spend your own money.'”

With morbid admiration, I smiled and nodded at at Mr. Hasegawa's advice. Wondering what kind of poor sap was going to get ripped off by his scheme, I picked up one of the bottles and read it.

“Flecainide?” I asked. “What's this stuff do?”

“It's for cardiac arrhythmia.”

Almost as if my own heart was defective, I froze, choking on the smart-ass words I was going to follow up with had the answer been something different.

“Can't someone die from not having the right dosage?”

“I guess it's possible, Kato. But let me tell you something. There are two kinds of crippled kids that show up here. One is your usual kind, you know, albinos and wheelchairs. They really don't NEED to be here, but it's just nice for them at this school. Then there are the ones who take pills like these. They're already on their way out. For them, this isn't a school, it's a hospice to give them some pleasant memories of youth before they bite the dust. So what if some sucker dies from taking my meds? I've probably done them a favor by letting them go down in their prime instead of lingering on for a few miserable years into adulthood before croaking.”

Instead of picking up a new supply, I hastily excused myself to the toilet, just as Masashi was finished shooting up in there. My skin was dripping in sweat, but no amount of undressing or air conditioning could cool me down. My heart was pounding its way through my ribcage, but no amount of adulterated heart medication could calm it. I tried vomiting away the fire that was burning inside, but nothing would come out.

After spending a few decades washing my face in the sink of Mr. Hasegawa's bathroom, my breathing returned to an acceptable pace. I looked into the mirror and saw a different being inside compared to the night before.

My skin was pale and clammy. My hair was dripping with hot sweat and cold tap water. My jaw dangled from my skull, letting saliva flow freely from my mouth. I have never looked so close to death in my entire life.

”...it appears that Haruka was undermedicating herself...”

“If I could save money by diluting these medications...”

“So what if some sucker dies from taking my meds?”

I murdered Haruka. I might not have tampered with her pills, but by perpetuating the side job of Yamaku's longtime pharmacist, I might as well have fed her rat poison myself.

Nearly four years ago, I died when my heart, the one inside Haruka's chest, stopped beating. Four years ago, I became a zombie. Nothing to live for, but nothing to die for either. I should have joined her while I still had a soul.

When I opened the door and emerged back into the hallway, my vision filled with a hazy fog of detachment. My mind was more distant from my body than it ever was. Somewhere out in the outside world, I ran into the junkie cripple who always complained about her painkillers, which I now know were probably replaced with placebos and expired Chinese pills as soon as she came to this school.

“Hey Tachibana,” I asked as I steered myself towards the direction she was traveling in the hallway, “did you get your drugs replaced?”

“Nah. They'll never budge, no matter how many times I complain. I just told the girl to not bother refilling me anymore.”

“If you need Vicodin, I have some to spare.”

I was ready to offer Yoshiko my entire inventory of painkillers in some vain attempt at atoning for the tampering of her own medicine.

“No, I don't think I really need it anymore. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was developing a habit. Sometimes you just gotta work through the pain, ya know?”

“Oh. Okay. See ya.”

Working through the pain, huh? With no pills? I've been trying to do that for years and I've been doing a really shitty job at it. All I've done with my life was merely exist. I guess a broken heart is harder to fix than broken legs.

Later in my room, I spaced out in front of an electric fan. I didn't need music to keep my mind blank; the revelations of the day did plenty to shatter my idyllic past and keep them from resurfacing for the time being. On my dresser was a loaded revolver and enough dope to kill a herd of elephants. Without having to spend any real effort at all, I could go and foam at the mouth while I simultaneously scattering my brains across the wall. So why was I still alive? Was there some unrevealed purpose to my continued existence?

My melancholy vegetating continued unabated throughout the night until it was interrupted by some commotion from Rokurou's room just after curfew. I had forgotten about the lacrosse team's party in the common area. The last thing I needed for a night like that was a bunch of dumb fucking meat heads partying next door and ruining my self-pity.

After shaking my limbs back into usefulness, I left my room and went next door to tell Rokurou and whoever to kill the music and let me rest quietly. I had my heater tucked into the waistband of my pants. As self destructive as I might have felt, the last thing I wanted was to get my ass kicked.

“Goddammit Nomura, I'm trying to sleep...”

It's funny how the brain processes sights like the one I saw. Certain safeguards come up to momentarily blot out your vision and awareness to keep an already stressed mind from overloading...

Sorry guys. Just so you know, this chapter has a fair bit of violence, including sexual assault.
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BD Reanimation: Exhumation
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With my mind processing my peripheral vision first, I saw a wheelchair folded up in the corner, then some girl's clothes scattered across the floor. I blinked a few times to focus on what my brains were concealing from me: Emina, as limp as a rag doll and undressed down to her panties, with Rokurou wrapped around her, clumsily trying to get her underwear past her knees.

“Unf. Wait your turn, bro. I haven't even started yet.”

Have you ever heard a spree killer describe their actions as being something of a blur? Like their instincts took over while they remotely watched their own actions as if someone else was committing it? This was not one of those times. I've lived every waking moment for the past four years in a state like that. This time, I was fully in control of my faculties for the first time in in years.

You would've never expected a scrawny kid like myself to be able to drag a buff athlete out of his room with his pants down, but I guess that's what adrenaline does to you.

...And having a gun pressed against his temple also helps.

“What the fuck do you want, man?” Rokurou whined at me with snot, spit, and tears running down his face. I was at least kind enough to let him pull his pants up. Slowly, he backed away from me down the hall with his hands up.

“I-I don't know.”

Really, I didn't. With my piece aimed right at his nose, I crept closer, matching every inch of his retreating.

“You want money? I got cash in my room. You can take back what you sold me this week. I haven't used it all.”

“Don't care.”

“You want Kinosaki? The bitch is all yours. She's out cold if you want her.”

Oh. Maybe that's what I wanted.

“D-Don't c-call her that.”

Hah, some tough guy I am. Playing “Dirty Harry” but stuttering like I was upset little kid facing some bully again. Some things just don't change.

“I-I'm sorry, man. I won't try nothing with her again, I swear.”

“No. You won't. Because if you do, I won't kill you. I'll fucking disembowel you.”

There. That was better. By then, I slowly chased him down the hall to the top landing of a staircase.

“I won't bro. I swear. I'll do anything you want.”

“I know. And by the way, Rokurou. Be careful with those stairs.”

“What stai-GLUH!”

While his attention was diverted, I grabbed my gun by the frame and swung it around, crashing the grip against the side of Rokurou's head. Immediately, he wobbled and stumbled back, then tumbled down the flight of stairs, probably taking three or four more blows to the head on his way down. When he reached the first landing down, I looked into his concussed eyes and made a shooting gesture with my middle and index fingers to make him aware that he was alive only because of my mercy.

As much as I'd like to think that I was totally in control of the situation there, by that point, I admit that I had ran out of ideas. I just pistol whipped my hallmate and there was a mostly naked girl drugged in his room. If it was just between Rokurou and myself, I would just shrug it off and deal with the shit storm as it fell.

For some reason, I didn't want Emina to be collateral damage here. I still don't understand why.

Back in Rokurou's room, I scooped up Emina and brought her back to my room and laid her on my bed, then retrieved her clothes and wheelchair. I even took the wrapped condoms that were lying around back with me. Nobody would know there was a girl here. With a handkerchief, I rubbed down Rokurou's drug stash. I always used gloves when handling my merchandise, but I couldn't risk that idiot taking me down with him.

With my work done, I went back into the hall and confirmed that Rokurou was still alive. Using a coarse voice, I reported his “horrible drunken accident” to one of the dorm's emergency phones.

I spent the rest of the night in my chair, while Emina dozed off, wearing one of my t-shirts. I guess I spent the evening keeping watch, ready to fight off... I don't know who... while Emina recovered. Earlier that evening, I wouldn't have cared less if a meteor came down and killed me. But for the time being, I needed to stay alive till morning.

Occasionally, I was roused out of my open-eyed resting by the sounds of school staff rummaging through Rokurou's room. I think at one point, even the local police came by to search it, presumably after the others found his 'roids. Oddly enough, nobody came by to question me. Just in case, I hid my merchandise and weapon up in the crawlspace above, through a loose ceiling tile. I even had an alibi to explain Emina's presence. She was my “friend” and she just got really sick at the party downstairs, so she just crashed in my room to recover.

When the exhausting events of the day finally caught up with me, I slipped away quietly and returned to the time when I last shared a dorm room with a girl. It was Visitors' Day at Yamaku and I spent the day getting shown around the school by Haruka.

During the evening, she shared her plans for the future with me. She was going to become a chef. Even though she had recieved acceptance letters from schools as far away as Switzerland, she was going to return back to our hometown to study. The school wasn't a place for her to die. Rather, the school brought her back to life. Everything was going to be like they were before she got sick...

“Y-Yuki?”

I woke up a full twenty minutes before my five-thirty alarm to Emina sitting on my bed, confusedly calling out my name. I wasn't cold this time. Sometime while I was asleep, she must have placed a blanket on me.

I got up to face her, but she kept looking away.

“Can you take me back to my room?”

“Y-Yeah.”

I wheeled her out in the cold, predawn air, then entered the girls' building using her key. Not a word was said between us. It was probably better that way; I didn't know what could be said. Hell, she probably thought I was the one who tried to rape her.

Just like last time, I stopped at the threshold of her room to drop her off. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for everything that happened, but I just couldn't.

“A-Are you tired?” she asked as I turned around to head back to my own room. “You probably shouldn't go to class today.”

“Yeah, I probably won't.”

“Um,” Emina indecisively inched herself in and out of the doorway, “if you want, you can rest in here. I don't think I'm going to show up either.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I... I don't want to be by myself for a while.”

The overbearing gravity of Haruka's memory added to the sober atmosphere inside the room. After leaving voicemail messages for our homeroom teachers, we took up our positions, with Emina in her bed and myself in a chair next to her. Even if she offered to share the bed with me, I wouldn't have done so for my own reasons, as well as in consideration for what she went through. Anyways, I preferred sleeping in chairs to the floor, as she may have already noticed.

“Goodnight again, Yuki,” Emina emptily said with a troubled half-smile. Slowly, I returned to that very room, four years ago. The night of Yamaku's Visitors' Day.

...

Around one in the afternoon, I groggily got out of the chair to use the restroom. Emina was still asleep in the bed I grew up in. Somehow, she reminded me of her. Yet, they looked nothing alike. Emina was a little twig without any of Haruka's curves. But, cut Emina's hair short and they looked enough alike when asleep. Well, no, they would still look totally different.

What they shared was a calming tranquility around them that they sprinkled about when awake, but unleashed completely when asleep. Was that why I've tolerated her until now?

If you asked me a few days earlier if I would've done what I did for Emina, I would've said no. I only swore to protect Haruka, no one else. Yet, when I think about it, I must've secretly wanted to protect Emina too. I never trafficked in date rape drugs, but I did carry them around and had nothing against selling them myself. So why didn't I sell Rokurou any? And the lacrosse team throws parties all the time. They've never bothered me before, so why did I have an unnatural urge to interfere?

Come to think of it, why did I even hang out with Emina, even going as far as buying her lunch all the time and carrying her up stairs when she could just hop up them herself? I've betrayed Haruka by finding a new friend. Still, there had to be something more to this. Something I didn't understand yet. Maybe something in a different dimension drew me to the new resident of Room One-Four-Three. There's no way I could've known that she lived in Haruka's old room.

Despite my questions, the state of clarity I achieved the previous night had not diminished. No more pulling my own puppet strings from afar. I was now back where I belonged, inside my own head and fully in command of my body. With grim alacrity, I strolled down the halls of the girl's building into one of the restrooms.

“Hey! You can't be in here!”

“Fuck you.”

I washed my face and looked in the mirror again. No flat, lifeless photo this time. No crushed and defeated lost soul either. There was something new and different in the eyes I saw looking back at me. It was life.

Haruka was dead. Emina was nearly destroyed. Rokurou was probably at a hospital, in a chemically-induced coma. Countless others were no doubt dead, disfigured, or despondent. By some twisted miracle of misfortune, I was somehow brought back to life. Mr. Hasegawa's secret world had claimed many victims. And it would claim at least one more.

Once, I was the boy who merely existed. Too indifferent to live, but too scared to die. No more. Now, I've got something.

“Haruka, I'm coming.”

Wow, if you equate this Yamaku with our original one, it would have to be impossible no matter what (While Shizune would get her own immature self to some deep shit - I supposed you guys know what kind of horrible things would happen - At least Lily or Rin would have had the entire scandal swept down the drain). This is good.

Xuan wrote:Wow, if you equate this Yamaku with our original one, it would have to be impossible no matter what (While Shizune would get her own immature self to some deep shit - I supposed you guys know what kind of horrible things would happen - At least Lily or Rin would have had the entire scandal swept down the drain). This is good.

Yeah, things really went to shit at Yamaku in the months(?!) after Shizune&Co graduated.

No violence here! However, this chapter might be kinda squicky if you think about it.

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BD Reanimation: Autopsy
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The fluorescent lights and the absence of cheerful people drove the point home that I was in another world. Even though Haruka said it was okay, I still felt on edge. A boy in the girls' dorms? I thought I was already over the belief that gender specific facilities held some sort of mystical ability to repel intruders. I got over that years ago when I accidentally stumbled into a women's restroom at a train station and managed to avoid the lightning bolts of divine retribution that I felt would follow.

“Are you okay, Yuki? We're almost there.”

“I'm fine. Are YOU tired?”

Truthfully, my feet were killing me. I had new sneakers on and I must have developed blisters on my little toes from the miles upon miles of walking the school grounds and visiting all the exhibits for Visitors' Day.

Years ago, I would've asked Haruka to carry me, but I know it's not good for her heart. That and well, I did outgrow that kind of thing a long time ago. I had been doing my best to show her that I wasn't a little kid anymore. I wondered if she believed me.

Eventually, we got to her room. Haruka did her best to add flavor to her bland, hospital-like dorm. Even with the garish posters and comic books scattered about, it felt about as homely as the room of an austere business hotel. Haruka noticed my disappointment and emptied out the tote bag full of prizes and mementos from the Visitors' Day activities.

“Ah, here,” Haruka slid the souvenir photo of us at the school gates into a frame and placed it on her dresser. “NOW, it looks like home, eh?”

I nodded, even though she looked more like my sister or something with her arms wrapped around me from behind. I tried my best to look macho but ended up looking like a beleaguered little brother. Despite appearances, it sure didn't feel like she was holding me like a sister would.

Honestly, I was as uncomfortable as I looked in the photo. For at least the last couple years, every time Haruka and I would touch, I would feel an anxious grip wrap around my heart. Without context, it was a sensation that would be cause for panic, yet whenever Haruka was at fault, I would be craving more. I think I've gone insane. Was I in ...love?

“Okay, Yuki. No peeking!”

Once we settled in, we changed into our pajamas in preparation for bed. With our backs to each other, I kept trying to sneak peeks though her wall mirror. It wasn't the first time I've seen that much of her, but we were children then. This time, it felt different. Every square inch of unclothed skin felt like a mortal sin, a taboo to giddily enjoy in secret. And enjoy, I did. The shorts that I wore to bed was a thin material that did nothing to conceal my excitement. Thankfully, she ran off to use the restroom before she could see me, giving me time to relax.

After we took turns cleaning up for the night, Haruka and I sat on her bed and chatted. We've probably had sleepovers dozens of times, but I couldn't bring myself to bring much to the conversation that night. While she went on and on about her adventures at the school and her plans for the future, I merely sat there, worried that if I opened my mouth for more than a couple sentences, I would blabber on like an idiot and somehow ruin things. That, and I was fixated on the sudden realization that Haruka didn't wear bras to bed.

“So what about you? It's been so long since we've had this much time together.”

“I uh, well... Same old. Nothing new.”

“Aww, there's gotta be something. I've been talking about myself the whole time... hmm, hey Yuki, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Me? No way. No girl would...”

“That's not true,” she smiled, “you've become a real cutie. I'll bet you break all the girls' hearts back home.”

I took a deep breath. If there was any time to nip these feelings in the bud, now would be it.

“I um, there is a girl I've liked for the longest time. She's perfect but... it wouldn't work out between us. There's no way she feels the same for me.”

Haruka pouted, then brushed my cheek with the back of her hand.

“Aww. Oh well. Sorry to hear that. Don't worry, someone else will come up.”

“What about you? Any boyfriends I should worry about?”

“Well, a few dates here and there, but none of them really impressed me. Every time a boy tried getting with me, I'd end up comparing him to this one guy I like and am kinda saving myself for and found them lacking.”

She laughed at herself, “I guess I'm hopeless too, eh?”

There, I did it. I closed the door to Haruka once and for all. Finally, I could put to rest all those fantasies and yearnings. I indirectly issued a surrender, while she revealed that she had a man on her mind and was even considering giving herself to him. We were done, finished, never going to happen.

“Hey Yuki, I loaned my futon to someone and she still hasn't given it back. You're okay with sharing the bed, right?”

Crap. Sharing a bed, with Haruka? We had both grown to the point where we couldn't share a bed of that size without getting close. Who would've thought that the greatest test of my manhood would be to resist temptation while sharing a bed with the one whom my heart hurts for.

As we laid on the bed, the cold midnight air crept in through the open window and displaced the simmering summer heat. Without putting any thought into it, I inched closer to Haruka for warmth. For space, we were both sleeping on our sides, with my back against the cold wall and her facing away from me.

The dark room was silent except for Haruka's breathing and the rustling of leaves from outside. She was asleep, so there wouldn't have been any harm to getting closer. Slowly, I crept across the bed with glacial speed. Millimeters seemed like entire continents.

Finally, I reached my destination and got closer to Haruka than I could have if we were awake. The sweat in her hair was free of artificial fragrance or scented products; my nose was filling up with her and only her. With my left arm, I tentatively placed my forearm against her bare shoulder, not being bold enough to hold her with my hands.

With my body lightly pressed up against her, I felt like I was holding her from afar. In my mind, I entertained some lurid ideas. She wouldn't notice a hand slipping down the front of her nightgown or maybe even pulling her hemline up past her waist...

“Mmm... is that you poking me?” Haruka sleepily swatted away some invisible flies and scooted her backside away from me.

I silently cursed my unexpected display of excitement and pressed my back up against the wall. I was fucked. Forget about ever getting with Haruka, I just jabbed her butt with my accidental erection. Things were going to be awkward in the morning if she remembered any of this.

Some rustling next to me spelled impending doom. Haruka was waking up and was no doubt going to make me sleep on the floor. To my surprise, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me closer, our bodies touching to a degree that took my breath away. With her hands, she guided my palm to her chest, just above her heart. I tried keeping my palm hovering away from her skin, but she pressed it against her and I could feel the long, curved scar on her chest. Her heart was racing.

“Yuki... that girl you like. The one you told me about earlier. Who... is she?”

“She's you, Haruka, I'm sorry...”

Haruka rolled over and faced me, smiling.

“Don't be. It's okay to feel that way. Because I... I feel the same about you.”

“B-But we've been friends for so long. Won't this ruin things?”

“Yuki, I think we're beyond having to worry about those kind of things. The love we've shared so far isn't going to go away, it's just going to grow.”

With her hand in mine, I took a long look at my best of friends. For the first time, I saw her flaws. She was breaking out in acne on the edges of her forehead. In one of her armpits was a scab from shaving. A surgical scar carved a long, shallow valley, marring what I imagined was a perfect breast.

Haruka wasn't impossibly perfect anymore. She wasn't some unattainable idol on a pedestal, nor was she an unspeakable taboo. She was just a girl, just like how I was just a boy. I didn't have to look up to her anymore. I no longer had to fear the mysterious will of the goddess she became as a teenager. We were finally equals.

”Hey look, Haruka, my hands are bigger than yours.”

I peeled my palm off Haruka's and traced my fingers along the scars on her chest. They had returned to her normal skin color and were fading fast, just like our childhood together. But that wasn't a bad thing. I had finally caught up with her. I was finally strong enough to protect her from the world, or at least hold her in my arms in ways I couldn't before.

Earlier that day, I prayed that things would stay the same as before; but now, I knew they couldn't be. Everything was going to be different between us from now on.

She gave me a faint smile, the kind she gives from the bottom of her heart, whenever our minds were in the same beautiful place. Without any need for clarification, I leaned forward and kissed her. And this time she kissed me back.

Slowly, we pulled apart, our lips sticking to each other for as long as they possibly could.

“I love you, Haruka. I... I... Will you be my...”

With tears of happiness accumulating at her closed eyelids, she took a deep breath and replied.

“I love you too, Yuki. Yes, I will stay by your side. Forever.”

I swear sometimes I can see the anime version of fanfics I like flashing around inside my head. Another short but nice chapter.

Wow. Um. That's...I'm having trouble finding the right words. I'm always impressed by how human your characters are. So lemme just say that this is very well-written, and I look forward to seeing the eventual conclusion.

He's such a lucky guy....
And she dies.... dies! nooo hoooo.....
This really is touching.

Its an interesting story, I'd say fun read but that doesn't seem like quite the right phrase.

Xuan wrote:I swear sometimes I can see the anime version of fanfics I like flashing around inside my head.

Same here.

Anyway, the story seems to be taking a turn for the best. Yuki's seems to be starting to see his purpose in life which would render his "resurrection" in the end and perhaps Emina could be Haruka in another body.