“My spies tell me you haven’t been to the track or the pool recently, Hisao. Have you been sneaking in some exercise on the side?”
I laugh a little nervously. “Well, sort of. I’ve been walking everywhere…”
Maybe it’s his unassuming smile, but the sudden flash of steel in his demeanor catches me off guard. He rises from his chair, hands in his pockets, and eyes me with a look that makes me wish I was somewhere else—anywhere else. Maybe having a heart attack on the track would have been better than having to face him down.
“Listen, Nakai.” His smile is now clearly forced. He’s switched to using my last name—what is this, some kind of parental rant? “I know this is all a big change and you’re probably still reeling after only a few days at Yamaku, but I meant what I said earlier. You have to establish these habits early on or else you’re going to be playing catch-up for the rest of the semester. Midterms aren’t that far away; do you want to be dealing with this sort of hassle while you try to study, or do you want me to leave you alone?”
I don’t have to answer. The second option is infinitely preferable.
“I’m going to be riding you until I’m sure you’re being healthy. Every student here is under my care, even you. I've had a pretty clean record for the last 2 and a half years, but if you keep screwing around you’re going to be late.”
I blink. The last bit threw me off, but I’m almost afraid to ask. Seeing my confused expression, he explains.
“Late, as in the ‘late Hisao Nakai.’ ” He sighs, sinking back into his chair. “People tell me threats are effective in these sorts of situations, but I disagree.”
His eyes find mine and focus down like lasers. I’m discovering the nurse can be very driven when he wants. It’s a dizzying 180 from his normal demeanor.
“I think you’re a smart kid, Hisao. We have good students here at Yamaku. No one wants to just keel over, and I’m sure you’re no different. You have to exercise if you’re going to extend your life; do you understand?”
Reluctantly, I nod. Maybe it helps that he gave me a glimpse into his own motivation. Of course he doesn’t want anything to happen to me; otherwise it’ll look bad for him. I don’t like the idea, but it’s clear he’ll keep badgering me about it until I give in.
“I understand,” I say at last.
His smile returns and just like that the dangerous atmosphere in the room dissipates. He claps me on the shoulder like we’re old friends and then settles back, leaving me with whiplash from his sudden shift in mood. I wonder if this is his normal personality or an act he puts on to catch people off guard.
“I can see why you didn’t click with Emi,” he chuckles. “Though she was pretty stoked about getting a new running partner.”
I’m briefly remorseful about just walking off on Emi like that, but the moment passes. I’m sure she’ll find someone better and more motivated than me. I was never that fond of running, even when I played soccer in my old high school.
“So if running isn’t your thing, it’s got to be the pool,” he concludes. “Have you managed to get a look at it?”
I shake my head no, but before I explain further he snaps his fingers and starts off again. “Of course, no gym class. Well, it’s open from 9am until 5pm every weekday. There are spare shorts in the boys’ locker room, but you should get your own eventually.”
The nurse eyes me expectantly and I hesitate. Shorts, right. I was never very athletic, so at my last school I felt self-conscious sometimes in the changing room during gym, but now it’s different. Not only do I have the physique of a 4-month invalid, but there’s the chance someone would catch sight of the scar on my chest and I’d get roped into a discussion about it. Anytime someone had a funny birthmark or grotesque scar or what have you, the students at my old school would have a field day about it. I shudder at the thought of Misha laughing uproariously as she discusses my arrhythmia with Lilly or Hanako or Shizune. That settles that: if I have to change with other people there’s no way I’m using the pool. Only one problem—what do I tell the nurse?
[
ASK HIM IF THERE ARE ANY OTHER TIMES]
[TELL HIM YOU’LL GO (LIE)*]
“Any other times?” The nurse raises an eyebrow and thinks for a moment. “There are other time slots but they’re reserved for people who need physical therapy—and for that your parents would need to set something up with the school. We do have a limited staff and you don’t need therapy as such, so…”
A smile comes over his face and he holds up a finger, signaling me to wait. He turns and rummages through his desk, revealing drawers that are nearly as messy as the trash bin under his table. After shuffling several reams of papers he seems to find what he’s looking for: a dull-looking key that seems like it’s seen better days.
“This’ll open the side of the gym that faces the road. Once you’re in, everything should be open; security isn’t very tight here at Yamaku.” He laughs at some private joke, and then hands over the key. It feels cold and heavy.
“There shouldn’t be anyone left after 8pm, so it’s all yours.”
I nod and thank him. This probably isn’t the sort of thing he can do above-board; the lengths he’s willing to go in order to make sure I exercise are impressive. I’m left torn between thinking he’s a good guy or just really invasive. Maybe that was what I lost when I came to Yamaku: a huge chunk of my personal privacy. If this is what it’s like having someone from this school know about your heart, I’m fine never letting on. At least Rin hasn’t badgered me about it—yet.
“Oh, one more thing. I’ll need you to come in right after swimming so I can check up on your heart.”
The nurse calls after me and I turn to answer, but the second my attention leaves the path ahead I nearly collide with a small, legless object.
“Your turn to bump into me, huh?” Emi giggles and bounces from one “leg” to another. Her lighthearted expression is quick to fall. “You left me running on the track, all by my lonesome. Are you this cruel to all the girls, Hisao?”
The track star looks about ready to cry as her shoulders quiver and her face turns away. I feel a huge pit opening up in my gut and I rush to reassure her.
“I’m sorry, I was feeling really tired and--” she looks up at me with the most mournful eyes I’ve ever seen, and my heart breaks just a bit. “And I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t cry!”
Her melancholy mood instantly evaporates and she pumps her fists in celebration. “It never fails! You’re too soft-hearted, Hisao!”
“Too soft-hearted? Alright, then I take back my apology.”
“No, you can’t do that! This is your number-one chance to eat lunch with a cute girl on the rooftop, don’t throw it away!”
She looks about ready to use her puppy eyes on me again. I’m not sure I could survive a second attack. My heart might explode.
“Fine, fine. On the roof, tomorrow?”
Emi nods happily and slips past me, ducking into the Nurse’s office.
“See you later, Hisao!”
As I leave I hear the beginnings of conversation:
“So, sunshine, how’ve the prosthetics…”
I turn the key in my hand and consider it for a moment before slipping it into my pocket. 8pm tonight: that’s just a few hours away. I make it back to my dorm without incident and manage to dash into my room without running into Kenji. Maybe he’s like lightning, never striking the same place twice. Or maybe he just never appears when you’re thinking of him. I’ll have to keep him in my mind when I’m coming back to my room, just in case.
I sigh and fall back on my bed. My eyes trace the walls but find nothing more interesting than dried drips of paint to stare at. This style of painting is supposed to “add character” to a room while being fairly easy to do: all you need is a sponge and a bucket of paint. Unfortunately, the “character” just screams “hospital” to me. Lying here, I feel like I’m an invalid again. It makes me sick.
Books. I need books. Something to take my mind off the boredom I know so well. All the ones in my bags here I’ve finished already, and I hate rereading; when the plot’s spoiled, what’s the point? You can never get involved if you know what’s going to happen next. I can’t lose myself in a book the second time around, it’s just not possible.
Hanako. She’s someone who seems to like books as much as I do, so maybe she can recommend some good ones. Our interests might not align, but she’s bound to have read at least one good fantasy book. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Maybe she won’t run off this time.
I plan to sit up and do something, but every time I try to muster my strength the soft sheets beckon. It probably wouldn’t hurt to stay… here… for a while…
I sit up with a jerk, blinking as I try to get a sense of my surroundings. I don’t remember dreaming, but my heart is pounding like I’m running with Emi again. It must have been something more exciting than a guy lying on his bed al evening. Damn, that means my dreams are more interesting than I am.
I take the worn key out of my pocket and run my thumb over it. This is all I need to get into the pool, right? Just that and find a pair of shorts. A whole pool to myself—and speaking of that, I should probably check the time.
8:51?! I’d better get moving if I want to get a good night’s sleep.
I’m almost to the gymnasium before I realize I don’t have a towel. I almost turn back but something tells me I won’t make it to the pool if I let myself hesitate. I keep on walking and in another few minutes I’m standing in front of the gym’s large double doors. I try to peek inside but there’s no light. Next time I’m going to need a flashlight.
I try the door, but it doesn’t open. I pick out the keyhole from a distant lamppost’s light and insert the key.
Or at least, try to. It refuses to go in further than halfway and I fall back, stymied.
Oh. Right. The side doors.
I don’t have a good mental map of Yamaku yet, but I manage to find the correct side without too much trouble. This time the key works and I step inside the empty gymnasium. I can’t help but feel like I’m breaking at least ten rules (or twenty, according to Shizune and Misha’s standards), but I forge ahead. I’ve come this far, after all. May as well see it through.
The side door seems to have been made for staff or workers. The path it leads to winds by everything important but rarely offers unlocked doors. There are almost no lights on inside the gym, but the mostly-full moon provides enough light for me to navigate. I follow the corridors, taking larger ones when I can, and manage to only get a little lost before I find the men’s changing room. Inside it’s plain and unadorned: rows of lockers, some with locks and some without, then a small bathroom and showering area. Luckily there’s a light switch, and with the fluorescent bulbs’ help I manage to change into a pair of boy’s swimtrunks—slightly too large—that I find in the supply closet. I keep my shirt on and leave my bottoms folded inside a nondescript locker. Number 119: the same as my room, hard to forget. I hope.
I walk out into the dark pool area and pause, giving my eyes a moment to adjust. The water looks dark and cold, like the sort of murk a monster might come clawing out of, or crawling, or tentacle-ing. There are a lot of monsters from Japanese folktales that might be hiding in a quiet pool like this one, in fact, and that thought keeps me standing where I am. Maybe this was a dumb idea. I couldn’t find a towel; maybe I’ll freeze to death. The Yamaku climate isn’t that cold, but it can get breezy. Maybe they’d find me in the morning, an icicle that only made it halfway back to his dorm. Frankly, it might not take that long for me to die: the cold might just stop my heart quick as you please.
I’m about to turn back when the moon comes from behind a mass of clouds and suddenly, the whole pool is lit up like it’s on fire. Cold, pure fire. The beauty of the scene takes my breath away and suddenly I have never felt an urge so strong as the one compelling me to jump in. My resistance lasts a second longer, then snaps: I pull my shirt off, step close, test the water. It’s cool, not cold, and puts to rest any lingering doubts. I brace myself, prepare to dive, and—
A girl rises from underneath the water, paddling languorously, and takes a deep breath when her mouth clears the surface. The moonlight turns her hair and two-piece bathing suit to grayscale, giving her the appearance of a character straight from pre-50s film. She’s beautiful.
She sweeps her hair back from her face and sighs pleasantly, like she just woke from a good dream. Then her eye catches mine and she freezes, mouth falling open. It seems as if time halts with her: there is only the girl in the pool and me and her hair and the water streaming from her face and my discarded shirt and my scar.
Then the moment is over and time resumes, as it must.
*this choice leads to Kenji's Bad End.
, or her breaking an entering; I'm betting Nurse gave her a key as well.