Shadows, and Those Who Step Into Them
Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2012 11:48 pm
(Author's Note: In it's basest form, this will be a story that begins one year after the original cast graduates, and the majority of characters that appear will be of my own design. The setting is still the same, in Yamaku Academy, with the town surrounding it. I'm going to be trying a third person view, though I may change it up if the situation calls for it. Thanks in advance for reading.)
Part 1, Chapter 1- What's In a Name
Sounds of tires sliding to a halt fell short in the hubbub that was Monday mornings of the typical high school campus. Scratching out the fact this was far from the normal high school, the doors of the dark blue minivan that had just pulled up to the gates of the campus slowly began to open. The door eventually opened completely thanks to modern automated mechanics, which revealed a young man slumped back in a wheelchair. Light from the sun hit him square in his eyes that were covered by rather small, oval shaped glasses. After muttering some profanities under his breath, he hit a switch on the inside of the van's doorframe.
A small ramp began to extend onto the sidewalk that the van had parked by. This was evidently to allow the boy to exit safely, thanks to the wheelchair he had to use. He propped up a suitcase that was placed in the seat next to him and carefully began sliding it down the ramp, over the curb, and onto the sidewalk. He pumped his fist at what he believed to be quite the feat. When he was sure that his luggage wouldn't topple over or anything of the like, he began to disembark himself. The way his hands moved over the wheels, forward, and back again was clearly a natural process that was developed through years of experience. The wheels of the chair rumbled faintly over the small parts of metal that were brought up on the ramp.
The boy by was no means the definition of perfect physical health, but he wasn't sickly looking either. Ochre brown hair was neatly combed down on all sides of his head, just between his eyebrows and eyes in the front and down to his neck in the back, and his eyes were a rather dull hazel. He wore the school's standard green uniform for males without taking any sort of liberties to it of his own. Despite being confined to a wheelchair, he was still taller than most people would think.
"Makoto, are you going to be able to find your way around on your own?" a female voice called from inside the van. She sounded both excited and concerned.
The young man, evidently named Makoto, turned around to face the van he had just exited. "Yeah, I'll be fine, Mom. Don't worry about me," he replied, with as much excitement as a son who was annoyed at how overbearing their mother was could muster.
"You know I'm going to worry about you! Don't just write me off as your chauffeur!" her voice had taken a heel face turn to one of frustration.
"Sorry. But seriously, I'll be fine. I'll call you later on tonight, promise," Makoto said as he waved with a smile. The van slowly pulled away from him. He stayed and watched it leave until it was out of his range of vision. A sigh escaped his mouth as he extended the handle to his suitcase and began making his way through the gates.
The school's name was Yamaku Academy. According to all the research that his family had done on it, it was made especially for students who had physical disabilities. One of the main differences from other high schools was the fact that it had a nursing staff that was active 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. His family believed that the school would be good not only for his physical health with the amount of health services that were available, but his mental and emotional health as well to be around peers who might be able to empathize with him.
"Now that I think about it, that was really prejudiced of them to make a decision with that as a deciding factor. I suppose they thought it was a good idea to put one broken toy in the pile that has the rest of 'em. Gee, thanks Mom and Dad!"
Makoto shook his head at the thought. He knew his parents were trying to help him, but it didn't make it any less frustrating to be going to a school because his parents thought it was best. The only reason he went along with the idea in the first place was because he thought it would make them happier if he was out of their hair. He had more pressing matters than wallowing in self pity, though; he had to drop off his stuff in his dorm room.
It took him a few minutes to navigate through the sea of people and eventually find the male dormitories. Carrying a suitcase certainly didn't make the task any easier, even moreso that it was taller than he was sitting in his wheelchair. He was grateful to see that the building was wheelchair accessible. "Then again, I guess it's to be expected with the premise behind the school, and whatnot," he thought. He managed to make his way to the door of the building with his suitcase intact, and opened it without expecting much.
Surprisingly, there was somebody else in the dorm when Makoto entered. He nearly fell forward out of his chair from the abrupt stop he made. The person before him looked to be about his age, and was clearly male. He wore the uniform fairly similar to how Makoto wore it, but unbuttoned the top and bottom two buttons. Dirty blonde hair skirted across his eyes, which were bright green. If he and Makoto were able to compare height with ease, the other boy would be roughly 3 inches taller.
"Howdy, neighbor!" the blonde boy said with a wave. There was an airy rasp to his voice that would only be missed by someone who was short of hearing. "You're the last to arrive, and since you and me are the only two first years, the administration told me to stick around and make sure you got situated. So I get to miss the first class of our first day of high school. I owe you a bit of thanks," he mused.
It took Makoto a few moments to realize his dormmate was only messing with him. He gave a faint smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry. It was a bit longer of a car ride than my parents had expected."
The blonde boy gave Makoto a playful slap on the back, then held out his hand to him. "I'm Ken'ichi Zetsumei, but you can call me Ken. And you are?"
Makoto took Ken's hand and shook it absentmindedly for a few moments before realizing that he had been asked for his name. "Makoto Kusari," he replied with a nod. "So, ah, what room am I in?"
Ken took a few steps forward and gestured to the third door on the right from the entrance. "Right here, my man. And I'm-" he took a moment to point to the the door across from the one he had just addressed, "right here."
"About as close to roommates as the school would allow then, I'm guessing?" Makoto asked. He knew from the research his family did that every student got their own bedroom, unlike the dormitories found in university campuses.
A silence hung in the air. Finally, Ken broke the tension as he tapped his foot and thought of a response to Makoto's question. "Yeah, about that... When the administration told me to wait up for you, they also told me a bit about your condition. They want me to help you get ready in the morning, and stuff."
Though Makoto had expected something like this to be arranged, it still didn't help his already waning self esteem. "Oh. Yeah, that's cool," he said quickly. He tried his best not to let his disappointment be audible in his voice.
"Alright then. Let's get you settled in, shall we?" Ken walked back over to the door to Makoto's room and opened it.
The room wasn't much for the eyes. The walls and ceiling were a dreary yellow, and the only window in the room, on the left side, was just big enough to let in a miniscule amount of sunlight even with the blinds opened. The bed looked comfy enough, though, and a shelf in the corner of the room was big enough to hold all of Makoto's knickknacks and then some. "The goods outweigh the bads, I suppose." he thought.
Makoto rolled his suitcase towards the bed and, with a little bit of effort, managed to haul it on top of his bed. Ken was whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't think much of it and opened up the suitcase to make sure that none of his belongings were messed up in the journey there. As expected, everything was just as Makoto had packed it.
"I'm gonna get going to class. You're in 1-2, right?" Ken asked as he stepped towards the doorway. Makoto replied with a distracted nod as he tossed some clothes onto the bed. "Alright, well, we're classmates then. School starts in about 10 minutes, so you probably wanna hurry up, bro."
"Got it," Makoto shut his suitcase and faced Ken. He looked a bit conflicted, kicking his left foot back and forth against the ground as his eyes darted from the ceiling to the window. "Something on your mind, Ken?"
The blonde boy was startled back into reality. Thoughts were definitely distracting him. "Well, I just don't think it's fair that I get to know about your condition while you don't know mine," he explained. His furrowed brow told Makoto that doing this alone was making Ken nervous. "So, I'll just tell you. I'm missing a piece of my right lung."
Makoto blinked, realizing that that explained the reason why his voice sounded so awkward. "I guess I'm not the only one who's uncomfortable with the reason why they're here. Good to know. Not to mention that this Ken guy is decent enough to be honest with me about something so personal," he thought.
Ken gave his new friend a thumbs up as he stepped into the dorm hallway. "Alright, I'll see you in class. Don't be late!" he grinned as he walked out of view. The sound of the dorm's entrance door opening and shutting soonafter signaled that Ken was on his way.
Alone with his thoughts, Makoto rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "Everything happens for a reason, right? I mean, that's the belief that my parents raised me on, but I've always had my doubts. I've always been the kid who gets left out because of the way I am, and I might say that I've pretty much come to terms with that. I guess the thing that really gets me, though, is when people don't even give you a chance just based on appearances. You're forced to wear something negative about you on your sleeve, and people disassociate themselves from you as a result. Maybe my folks were figuring out how I see the world and thought it might help if they send me here. I dunno."
After he was done venting to himself, Makoto exhaled and made his way out of his room and out of the dorms. The main building was a few hundred yards away from the dorm, so thankfully it wouldn't be that long of a trip. He reflected on his recent thoughts as he made his way to the school.
"I guess pretty much everyone here wears their problems on their sleeve in one way or another. Hopefully that'll make making friends and understanding people a helluva lot easier."
(I'll try to have Chapter 2 up tomorrow. Critiques are welcomed.)
Part 1, Chapter 1- What's In a Name
Sounds of tires sliding to a halt fell short in the hubbub that was Monday mornings of the typical high school campus. Scratching out the fact this was far from the normal high school, the doors of the dark blue minivan that had just pulled up to the gates of the campus slowly began to open. The door eventually opened completely thanks to modern automated mechanics, which revealed a young man slumped back in a wheelchair. Light from the sun hit him square in his eyes that were covered by rather small, oval shaped glasses. After muttering some profanities under his breath, he hit a switch on the inside of the van's doorframe.
A small ramp began to extend onto the sidewalk that the van had parked by. This was evidently to allow the boy to exit safely, thanks to the wheelchair he had to use. He propped up a suitcase that was placed in the seat next to him and carefully began sliding it down the ramp, over the curb, and onto the sidewalk. He pumped his fist at what he believed to be quite the feat. When he was sure that his luggage wouldn't topple over or anything of the like, he began to disembark himself. The way his hands moved over the wheels, forward, and back again was clearly a natural process that was developed through years of experience. The wheels of the chair rumbled faintly over the small parts of metal that were brought up on the ramp.
The boy by was no means the definition of perfect physical health, but he wasn't sickly looking either. Ochre brown hair was neatly combed down on all sides of his head, just between his eyebrows and eyes in the front and down to his neck in the back, and his eyes were a rather dull hazel. He wore the school's standard green uniform for males without taking any sort of liberties to it of his own. Despite being confined to a wheelchair, he was still taller than most people would think.
"Makoto, are you going to be able to find your way around on your own?" a female voice called from inside the van. She sounded both excited and concerned.
The young man, evidently named Makoto, turned around to face the van he had just exited. "Yeah, I'll be fine, Mom. Don't worry about me," he replied, with as much excitement as a son who was annoyed at how overbearing their mother was could muster.
"You know I'm going to worry about you! Don't just write me off as your chauffeur!" her voice had taken a heel face turn to one of frustration.
"Sorry. But seriously, I'll be fine. I'll call you later on tonight, promise," Makoto said as he waved with a smile. The van slowly pulled away from him. He stayed and watched it leave until it was out of his range of vision. A sigh escaped his mouth as he extended the handle to his suitcase and began making his way through the gates.
The school's name was Yamaku Academy. According to all the research that his family had done on it, it was made especially for students who had physical disabilities. One of the main differences from other high schools was the fact that it had a nursing staff that was active 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. His family believed that the school would be good not only for his physical health with the amount of health services that were available, but his mental and emotional health as well to be around peers who might be able to empathize with him.
"Now that I think about it, that was really prejudiced of them to make a decision with that as a deciding factor. I suppose they thought it was a good idea to put one broken toy in the pile that has the rest of 'em. Gee, thanks Mom and Dad!"
Makoto shook his head at the thought. He knew his parents were trying to help him, but it didn't make it any less frustrating to be going to a school because his parents thought it was best. The only reason he went along with the idea in the first place was because he thought it would make them happier if he was out of their hair. He had more pressing matters than wallowing in self pity, though; he had to drop off his stuff in his dorm room.
It took him a few minutes to navigate through the sea of people and eventually find the male dormitories. Carrying a suitcase certainly didn't make the task any easier, even moreso that it was taller than he was sitting in his wheelchair. He was grateful to see that the building was wheelchair accessible. "Then again, I guess it's to be expected with the premise behind the school, and whatnot," he thought. He managed to make his way to the door of the building with his suitcase intact, and opened it without expecting much.
Surprisingly, there was somebody else in the dorm when Makoto entered. He nearly fell forward out of his chair from the abrupt stop he made. The person before him looked to be about his age, and was clearly male. He wore the uniform fairly similar to how Makoto wore it, but unbuttoned the top and bottom two buttons. Dirty blonde hair skirted across his eyes, which were bright green. If he and Makoto were able to compare height with ease, the other boy would be roughly 3 inches taller.
"Howdy, neighbor!" the blonde boy said with a wave. There was an airy rasp to his voice that would only be missed by someone who was short of hearing. "You're the last to arrive, and since you and me are the only two first years, the administration told me to stick around and make sure you got situated. So I get to miss the first class of our first day of high school. I owe you a bit of thanks," he mused.
It took Makoto a few moments to realize his dormmate was only messing with him. He gave a faint smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry. It was a bit longer of a car ride than my parents had expected."
The blonde boy gave Makoto a playful slap on the back, then held out his hand to him. "I'm Ken'ichi Zetsumei, but you can call me Ken. And you are?"
Makoto took Ken's hand and shook it absentmindedly for a few moments before realizing that he had been asked for his name. "Makoto Kusari," he replied with a nod. "So, ah, what room am I in?"
Ken took a few steps forward and gestured to the third door on the right from the entrance. "Right here, my man. And I'm-" he took a moment to point to the the door across from the one he had just addressed, "right here."
"About as close to roommates as the school would allow then, I'm guessing?" Makoto asked. He knew from the research his family did that every student got their own bedroom, unlike the dormitories found in university campuses.
A silence hung in the air. Finally, Ken broke the tension as he tapped his foot and thought of a response to Makoto's question. "Yeah, about that... When the administration told me to wait up for you, they also told me a bit about your condition. They want me to help you get ready in the morning, and stuff."
Though Makoto had expected something like this to be arranged, it still didn't help his already waning self esteem. "Oh. Yeah, that's cool," he said quickly. He tried his best not to let his disappointment be audible in his voice.
"Alright then. Let's get you settled in, shall we?" Ken walked back over to the door to Makoto's room and opened it.
The room wasn't much for the eyes. The walls and ceiling were a dreary yellow, and the only window in the room, on the left side, was just big enough to let in a miniscule amount of sunlight even with the blinds opened. The bed looked comfy enough, though, and a shelf in the corner of the room was big enough to hold all of Makoto's knickknacks and then some. "The goods outweigh the bads, I suppose." he thought.
Makoto rolled his suitcase towards the bed and, with a little bit of effort, managed to haul it on top of his bed. Ken was whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't think much of it and opened up the suitcase to make sure that none of his belongings were messed up in the journey there. As expected, everything was just as Makoto had packed it.
"I'm gonna get going to class. You're in 1-2, right?" Ken asked as he stepped towards the doorway. Makoto replied with a distracted nod as he tossed some clothes onto the bed. "Alright, well, we're classmates then. School starts in about 10 minutes, so you probably wanna hurry up, bro."
"Got it," Makoto shut his suitcase and faced Ken. He looked a bit conflicted, kicking his left foot back and forth against the ground as his eyes darted from the ceiling to the window. "Something on your mind, Ken?"
The blonde boy was startled back into reality. Thoughts were definitely distracting him. "Well, I just don't think it's fair that I get to know about your condition while you don't know mine," he explained. His furrowed brow told Makoto that doing this alone was making Ken nervous. "So, I'll just tell you. I'm missing a piece of my right lung."
Makoto blinked, realizing that that explained the reason why his voice sounded so awkward. "I guess I'm not the only one who's uncomfortable with the reason why they're here. Good to know. Not to mention that this Ken guy is decent enough to be honest with me about something so personal," he thought.
Ken gave his new friend a thumbs up as he stepped into the dorm hallway. "Alright, I'll see you in class. Don't be late!" he grinned as he walked out of view. The sound of the dorm's entrance door opening and shutting soonafter signaled that Ken was on his way.
Alone with his thoughts, Makoto rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "Everything happens for a reason, right? I mean, that's the belief that my parents raised me on, but I've always had my doubts. I've always been the kid who gets left out because of the way I am, and I might say that I've pretty much come to terms with that. I guess the thing that really gets me, though, is when people don't even give you a chance just based on appearances. You're forced to wear something negative about you on your sleeve, and people disassociate themselves from you as a result. Maybe my folks were figuring out how I see the world and thought it might help if they send me here. I dunno."
After he was done venting to himself, Makoto exhaled and made his way out of his room and out of the dorms. The main building was a few hundred yards away from the dorm, so thankfully it wouldn't be that long of a trip. He reflected on his recent thoughts as he made his way to the school.
"I guess pretty much everyone here wears their problems on their sleeve in one way or another. Hopefully that'll make making friends and understanding people a helluva lot easier."
(I'll try to have Chapter 2 up tomorrow. Critiques are welcomed.)