The Poem for Everyone's Souls
Summary: An old man appears to bedridden Hisao Nakai, speaking of something that is now of the utmost importance to the young boy. The power of one's heart. 'I, the undersigned, chooseth this fate of mine own free will...'
Pairing: Hisao/Shizune
Rating: M (Eventually)
Chapter 01 - Blue Velvet
Hisao opened one eye at the sound of a woman's voice, singing as if in some far-off radio. His chest still felt heavy, with both scar tissue and emotional weight. His 'girlfriend', Iwanako, had left for the final time months ago (in tears, of course) - so it couldn't possibly be her. His parents had been signing paperwork and he felt that a nap was something well-deserved by that point.
"...What...?"
The hospital was not inclined to noise. Especially not music like this strange aria. The woman's voice seemed to be getting closer, crecendoing as a piano began to be audible.
Eventually, the newly-'disabled' boy opened both eyes, struck by the odd area he found himself in. It was a small blue room, and he was laying on the floor of all places. Chagrined, Hisao managed to pull himself up with relative ease - despite the sedentary lifestyle he'd adopted. The centerpiece of the room seemed to be the old man seated at a blue velvet couch, with a long, hooked nose that hung over his gloves.
"Where am I?" Hisao muttered, stupefied at the seeming translocation.
"Welcome...to the Velvet Room." The old man's bloodshot, nearly-pupil-less wide eyes shot open almost instantaneously. "My name is Igor...I am delighted to make your acquaintance." Igor looked rather like some sort of old manikin dressed up in a suit, he was bald up top and had a shock of monk-like long white hair dusting his head. His limbs also seemed bizarrely out of proportion, spindly little stick things. Igor sported a wide, toothy grin and a scratchy, high-pitched voice as well.
"...Nakai Hisao." Hisao gave a short bow, his eyes almost as wide as Igor's. He had no idea where he was, of course. His eyes darted over the small room, with a piano that seemed to play itself, an empty microphone stand, and a painter-less easel decorating the confines. "...What is this place?"
"This is the Velvet Room." Igor's answer was unhelpful, at first. "This room lies between dream and reality, mind and matter. Only those who are bound by a contract are allowed to travel here." The old man blinks once, a strange sight.
"But I've never signed anything...I've been in the hospital for months, Igor. You must have got the wrong guy, I'm just some crippled kid now...I'll even be heading to some school for the disabled, with a hospital on site." Hisao seemed to get more depressed as the reminder of his situation hit home. "What do you expect someone like me to do, even if I had signed something?"
Igor just smiled that wide smile. "It may mean that such a fate awaits you in the near future...After that, you will find yourself here once more. I can then explain the ways in which I can assist you further. For now, all I can tell you is that I deal with the strength of the heart and the powers of the human mind. Even if your body is damaged, it is what lies inside that has the true potential." He folds his hands on the table in front of him. "Do you believe that I can predict such a thing, Hisao-kun?" The old man cackles in that high-pitched voice, sending shivers down Hisao's spine.
"...No. All I've ever known is that it's impossible." Hisao asserts, somewhat confident of that, at least. Though, he seems uncomfortable, shuffling from side to side on the blue carpeting. "I don't even know where we are, let alone how I'd get back here - even if I did want to."
"...Let me demonstrate, then. Sit." Igor waves a hand, a chair materializing in front of the table. "I will show you the cards, and let them tell you of the struggles that lie ahead. Our time together is short for now...so this will have to be quick."
Hisao shook his head in disbelief, but took Igor's chair out of a desire to humour what had to be his subconscious. Though, he mused, his subconscious was certainly quite strange. 'Not to mention...that song is beautiful. It's too bad I'll never hear it again...'
"Let's begin." Igor murmurs, cards appearing on the table and arranging themselves into what Hisao could barely recognize as a tarot spread. "Mm...the first card..." The old man's white-gloved hand waves briefly, flipping the card nearest to me. "Each reading is done with the same card, but is always different. Much like life."
"The Tower in the upright position. This represents the immediate future. A terrible event is imminent." Igor notes, flipping another. "The card indicating the future beyond that is the Moon, in the upright position. This card represents hesitation, and mystery. Interesting, indeed. It seems you are on a journey soon, and a great mystery will be imposed upon you at your destination."
Hisao's brow furrows. "That doesn't make much sense."
"So quick to judge." Igor chuckles to himself.
"Well, I don't know what I can do about any mystery. I'm not any use anymore - nobody even bothers to visit me in the hospital, I'm not sure how I can be. If I was, they would still be here...wouldn't they?"
"Perhaps. Regardless, our time grows short...I will be unable to finish this reading now. The next time you come here, if you wish." Igor gestures with one hand idly. "The coming year will be vital in determining your fate. If the mystery is not solved...your future may be forever lost." Igor's voice seemed almost ominous at that. "My duty is to provide assistance to our guests, so that does not come to pass. We shall attend to the details of this arrangement another time, however."
Hisao attempts to protest, but feels his body growing heavier and heavier. "But..." He mutters, his eyes drooping. "What...future...?" He drops his chin, fading from the Velvet Room.
"Until then...farewell." Igor's eyes close silently, his hands bridging under his nose again as he stills - not moving a muscle as the room darkens to a rich black.
"Ah!" Hisao jerks up in bed, eyes flying open as he startles the hell out of his parents nearby. His ECG warbles unsteadily for a moment, before returning to normal. "Wh...where am I?" He glances around, before breathing a sigh of near-relief that he was somewhere he recognized.
"Hisao?" His father leaned forwards, pressing a hand to his son's forehead. "Are you alright? You were thrashing around a lot...Nightmares?"
Hisao's eyes flickered unsteadily for a moment, before he closes his mouth with an audible click and just nodded. "...Something like that." He agrees, not really offering any information.
"Well, if you're ready, we can leave. I'm sorry that the paperwork took so long. We had to fill out everything in triplicate." His father cracks a joke, before straightening up and leaving the room quickly. Hisao's mother takes over the business of getting the boy dressed and ready to leave the hospital bed - along with one of the nurses. "...Almost forgot what real clothes felt like." Hisao snarks to himself, having not precisely enjoyed the hospital gowns and provided clothes.
Walking down to the lobby, to Hisao, seemed as though he were waking up from a long dream. It had been six months since he'd seen the outside world. Suddenly, his chest ached - not a physical pain, but from emotion. He'd stop just before the sliding doors, blinking his eyes to let them adjust. With a deep breath, he'd ease the glass door open, wind whipping through his hair and nearly bowling him over.
"...I'm back." Hisao whispered to no-one, before pushing onward towards the family's transportation for the day.
It was a gate. A rather nice gate, wrought iron and likely quite old. Perhaps pre-War.
Hisao looked up at the large gate, a feeling of dread lodged in the pit of his stomach. "...This is it." He mutters to himself, the cabbie having unloaded his bag and left already. The teenager scooped up the single case and eased his way into the gate, feeling as though someone was laughing at him from far away.
A flash of blue caught the corner of his eye, but nothing was there when he turned to look. Seeing things, in addition to having heart problems? That couldn't be good, Hisao thought, walking mutely along the path towards the school. It...didn't look much like a school, to his untrained eye. Too green, like a park. There were birds here and there, and the grass was neatly trimmed.
There is nobody around. It feels a bit eerie to Hisao, having spent long months in pale green hospital wings. All of a sudden, he realized, he hated the colour green. The boy's hands tug at the uniform jacket he was given, wishing it was a different colour. Perhaps a shade of dark blue...
Hisao headed towards the school's main building, having been told someone would meet him there - even though he had no idea which entrance he should use. To keep things simple, he approached the closest one and pried it open, revealing a large main entryway and a somewhat messy-looking man in a long coat.
"You must be Ni..Na...Niki?" The tall man grins sheepishly, knowing it wasn't quite right. "Nakai." Hisao corrects, a dull expression already on his face. "So you are...I'm your homeroom teacher, Mutou. I also teach science."
The tall man - Mutou - extends a hand and the two exchange a perfectly mediocre handshake. Not hard or firm, but not soft either. Mutou checks his watch, before shaking his head. "Well...the head nurse wanted us to check in with him, but it's a bit late for that now. Class is almost ready to start."
"Oh...should I go later?" The somewhat-gloomy boy asks, tilting his head. "Yes, probably best. There's not time now, we need to introduce you to the rest of the class. They're waiting already." Hisao seems to let himself become introspective for a moment, nearly missing Mutou's statement. "Introduce myself to the class?" He pauses, before something flickers across his face. The normally rather milquetoast boy's face seems to solidify for a moment. "Yes. I think I will."
Hisao's voice seems to be much sharper for a moment, life dancing in his eyes again. For just a moment, Mutou seems to perceive something momentous was occurring. As though the old Hisao had turned up for that instant, the one described in the file as a bright, competent, sarcastic young man with a competitive streak.
The moment breaks as the teacher's watch goes off, letting Hisao shrink down to his now-customary near-slouch and trail along behind the older man. Neither of them speaks on the way there, which suits the two perfectly. There was planning to be done, words and thoughts rushing through Hisao's mind as he tries to compose some sort of speech.