AU: Sorry for the long delay, I know it's been nearly over a month since I last posted something up but with work and school put together I'm sure a lot of you can relate and understand that time is limited. I am still working on my other stories, FOTS is nearly done it just needs some major clean up and MM is very much still in the process of being finished. I know my plate is already full enough as it is, but I had this idea in my head and until it was made it just wouldn't leave me alone.
This story actually came about because of my time spent in school, much like the way my modern one came about from missing it during summer. I am still unsure about it; I'll let you guys be the judge as to whether or not I should continue. I actually found the inspiration to write this through VamphigherQueen's story The Ice Under The Sun. Good story, I liked, but what I liked the most was the whole concept of incorporating psychology into it so I'll give credit where credit is due and say that their story did make me want to make my own. Please know that I have no intentions of copying her work word for word; my story line is originally mine and is hardly similar to the plot she was going for.
Warning, title may or may not change. Now without further ado I present my next story in the making, a modern mystery that crosses the borderline to the world of supernatural and dips into the rivers of romance. I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: The Inuyasha characters are sole property of Rumiko Takahashi; I own nothing except for the story line, plot, and very few original characters.
Breaking Yellow Diamonds Chapter 1: Silence is Golden
"The quieter it becomes, the more you can hear."-Baba Ram Das
In the midst of a vacant hallway a pair of peach, short-heeled sandals rubbed away on the soft carpet rugs that covered the entire surface of the hospital's tenth ground floor. A floor titled on the elevator as the FA level, an odd way of numbering the system but who was she to complain.
The young woman in a pastel, orange pencil skirt and matching business jacket furrowed her dark brows at the plentiful silence that fogged the long lavished hallway. Her raven colored locks were currently tied in a low ponytail with the remains cascading over her shoulders, revealing just how curly her hair truly was. She was dressed comfortably casual, yet at the same time mildly professional; not that there was really anyone on this top level floor to compliment her on her looks.
She was advised that nobody would be walking along this floor; no busy nurses, no focused doctors, and no sounds of feet tapping away on hard tile flooring. Just silence.
Her scenery was also of the unexpected; her eyes gazed at features and items that weren't equivalent to her location. The walls were painted with a light beige coating; the carpets resembled the color of brown, crispy fall leaves, and the ceiling was accompanied by a few lights that dimmed the atmosphere around her. A few black leather couches and dark wooded magazine stands adorned the hallway including a potted plant or two; expensive accessories for an otherwise lifeless passageway.
This is a hospital…right?
Every other floor and hallway was painted to look like a hospital; white walls, white flooring, and the usual white tasteless rooms. So what in the world was going on with this hallway, this…FA floor? It looked like five star hotel compared to the other floors and hallways that modeled the rest of the building. Was it some sort of secret lounge? No, she thought, it wouldn't make any sense. She continued forward, trying to fight the loneliness threating to send goosbumps along her arms.
Everything was quiet, even the sounds of her feet scrapping against the carpet left but a hushed whisper against her ears. True, she didn't expect too many people, but as seconds came and went the soundless situation became almost too much to ignore without care; there was only so much silence one could endure before they began to grow cautious. There was something about this hallway that gave her chills, maybe it was simply the noise level; a level brought down into the negative zone when she began to notice that even her own heartbeat was becoming less and less audible.
She felt like she was in a horror movie, the setting was accurate enough; like some gruesome hotel film dealing with dead guests and victims getting locked in haunted rooms. Any minute now she was expecting to hear some anonymous voice warn her not to look over her shoulder, or for some ghostly figure of a decaying body come through from the walls; everything about this floor gave her the creeps. It was beautifully designed too, very precise and elegant; if it only wasn't so…abnormally quiet.
The only thing driving her forward was her deep curiosity, and the vowed promise she made to herself that she would give this case a shot, hoping to gain some more experience in field she had been studying for nearly eight years now; psychology.
Out of nowhere a cranking noise jolted her body straight stiff, making her turn her head back to stare down the eerie hallway. There've been numerous rumors about this bustling mental hospital being haunted; the usual ghosts creeping around the halls at night, and spirits of dead patients haunting the doctor's that failed to save them from their own unconscious actions.
To say the least, it didn't exactly brighten her day to hear that she was going to have to work around stories revolving around silly campfire tales, but she knew much better than to believe any of that silly nonsense. There was obviously a reasonable explanation for all this, there was a reasonable explanation for everything, and her only conclusion was that some of the immature patients perhaps decided to spice up their stay at the hospital and fill their dismal hours with senseless little pranks.
The cranking noise sparked a sudden fear in her again; a part of her actually considered simply running away right then and there, but the other part of her reprimanded herself for feeling such fear when, again, there was obviously a reasonable explanation for that noise.
Was there really someone else on this floor, she thought fretfully, but that couldn't-shouldn't be the case. According to the desk clerk who sat in peaceful security on the bottom floor with bright yellow lights, noisy phone calls, and endless other people; this so called FA floor was only supposed to house merely one and only one patient. Only she and patient 555, or so he/she was referred to in the case folder, were supposed to be on this floor. So then what was that-
The cranking sound came once again, only this time the sound progressively grew louder and louder; never had the young woman found herself so relieved when she heard the simple sound of an elevator door beeping. She let out a deep breath, just the buildings machinery, of course. She snickered; to think that she was actually beginning to take into consideration those silly ghost tales. She lifted her head just in time to meet a middle-aged man walked out the elevator; his uniform consisted of a muddy brown jumpsuit and a grimy cap with a colored darkness that could outrival all the dark wooded furniture in the hallway put together.
His hands were preoccupied with pushing the contraption that carried his cleaning supplies, one sturdy broom rested in his palm and a pattern of lines was seen embedding his seemingly bald head. Again, the woman sighed in contentment; thankful that she was now able to see another human being, even if her source of comfort was just an odd fellow fulfilling his duties as a janitor.
"Hello there," she called out, trying to be polite. The man turned his head in all different directions till his wide set of eyes finally landed in her path. His pupils narrowed, as if their distance apart was much farther through his eyes then hers. His hand went straight to his ear.
"Huh?" he called back, oblivious to her greeting. The woman held in a chuckle, trying not to see anything funny with the poor fellow's minor deficiency of sight and sound, after all he didn't necessarily looks like a spring chicken. She walked the few steps back until she was foot to foot with the short fellow; he was exceedingly short, but she made no comment on his size. A name tag sewed into his uniform labeled him as 'Jaken'.
"Good morning Sir," she greeted with a cheery face, "I was hoping you could direct me to Patient…eh 555's room, please. You see, the information given to me did not have their room number stated, only the floor number so…."
"Patient 555!" Jaken repeated, the intense scale of his eyes grew, if even possible. "I just thought that you might have been lost, what does a young thing like you want with a man like him?!"
"Oh, so it's a he," the woman picked up, jotting down the memo in the notebook that she carried by her side, specifically used for this case. "Well that takes care of that question, now as for why I've been called to see him. I am Doctor Toriyamu Hisukarin, a clinical psychologist, a pleasure to meet you," she smiled, holding her hand out for him to shake. A sudden look at his dirty fingers quickly had her hand retreating, and moving away to scratch away at her nose before the message of a failed friendly greeting was administered though his shiny bald head.
"A cliniwha-wha-wha?" Jaken mumbled.
"Clinical Psychologist," she corrected, her mind already processing the explanation she usually gave to any who asked about what she did for a living. "I study human attributes and behaviors to help them with any emotional sufferings and or mental illnesses they may have. The process usually involves weekly sessions, training exercises, medications that I prescribe…the works," she enlightened, her hands finding their way to each other as they linked behind her back. Her eyes were brimming with enthusiasm, her tone prideful when it came to announcing the work occupation she's spend a good portion of her life working at; a pinch of nervous tingles shot through her system however.
Jaken gave no effort to cover up his yawn; his interest in the young woman's profession was clearly a tedious subject for him, but of all the clients for her to have… "So you're just another fancy doctor huh, well pish-posh to that," he rudely commented yet Rin allowed it slide, her patience was abundant as her smiles. "What I don't get girl is why oh why out of all the cases in the city did you choose to accept his?"
"This is my first case actually; I just received my degree only a few months ago so this is my first real assignment where I am going at it all on my own, so I am a little apprehensive." Her fingers slowly began to fidget, a habit she's tried many times before to stop. "Not only that; but the data given about my patient is limited. That right there is very strange in itself but…well I was hoping that maybe you could give me the information I've been missing. It would really be of help?" she pleaded, her warm cinnamon eyes proved difficult to resist.
Jaken set his broom aside, letting out a long sigh before he lifted his cap to wipe away the sweat already perspiring off his head, reminding Rin of a large polished marble. "You really didn't answer my question, but if you want my advice then listen carefully to what I have to say…" His finger motioned for Rin to get closer, her ear near the rims of his lips awaiting with eager interest, maybe now she could get some more insight on her mysterious patient.
"STAY AWAY FROM THAT CREEP!" Jaken yelled, making the young doctor stumble back with a crooked mouth and her hands clamped tight over her ringing ears. "Listen girl, I know you are only doing your job but you're not the first doc that has tried to help that psychotic maniac in there and you most certainly won't be the last. Take my word for it and let this one go; find someone else who needs your help, one that actually has some hope of being cured."
Rin stood up straight, her eyes narrowed and her posture made her that much taller than her company, "Are you saying that you don't think I can handle it?"
"Exactly, take note of that, please!" he spat, making the good doctor hold back her devious plot of swatting him away with her leather work bag, like squashing a bug.
"I've been working with this mental hospital for over twenty-five years now," he enlightened, "555 came to us about eight years ago, and since then has come and go from different clinics, rehab centers…I even once heard he's done some serious time in the slammers, but he always ends up coming back here. Now I'm sure with your impressive degree you should be able to tell what that means."
Rin's eyes twinkled, none of the news seemed to frighten her the way it would a normal human being. She's worked with higher figures that have had experience conversing with the difficult ones, otherwise known as psychopaths. Through her ears she wasn't really hearing anything new, through her mind this was actually to be expected; it was a mental hospital after all and with that fact alone, as well as her having to be the one to meet her patient instead of the usual them meeting her, hinted out just how deep his issues were.
In a quick flash she was dotting down some notes, "Oh I see so he's been getting help for about eight years now? Did you notice any differences whenever he would return, any progress?"
"Haven't you been listening to me?!"
"Sure I have, you said he first arrived eight years ago and since then has come and gone from other rehab centers, clinics-"
"Did I mention the insane asylums," the old man abruptly added in.
"…Right, am I to assume that his problems began eight years ago or do you know if they are rooted even farther back than that. Also, do you happen to know what kind of treatment he received while away, maybe it can help me figure out why he always ends up back here?"
"If I had the answer to any one of those questions my uniform would be made of something a little whiter wouldn't you say?" he scoffed. "Plus, you really haven't been listening to a word I've been saying have you? The man is the definition of evil, a devil through and through!"
The man's words brought about a fidget to the young doctor's eyes, but regardless she kept her stance strong. "I would much rather like to see that for myself."
"He is the only one on this floor; the doctors and nurses prefer to keep their distance and their supposed to specialize in this kind of field! The last psychia-whatever that saw him left that very same week, some quit his case the very moment they step foot out of his room….heck I've even heard some cave in a matter of a minutes. Now I am going to ask you again girl, what does your big brain tell you about that?"
"That reminds me, why is he the only one on this floor; he's so far from everyone else, how would anyone get to him on time if something goes wrong? Is he dangerous to the other patients, and why is his information so short listed if he's been seen by so many specialist?"
Jaken palmed his forehead; the day he saw eye to eye with the younger generation is the day doves paid more respect to park monuments. "I thought you people were good listeners?"
"I am a good listener!" she rebuked, offended by his comment. She took a small breath, trying to calm her mind to better explain her reason for disregarding all the negativity directed to her new patient. Perhaps, she was putting more than her intended share of heart into this case; after all this was now her patient, and as such he was now in her protective hands. For that purpose alone she wanted to hear no such putdowns shot at him.
"Listen, while I do appreciate your concern, I also believe that it's highly unfair to automatically label a patient as 'incurable' just because of a few bad remarks given to them. Now, you don't have to give me the information, but regardless I'll still give this case a try. However, if you do than it would certainly make my first day a little easier. I'm curious about this man, and I want to help him. I want to see him leave this place and be out on his own; happy andhealthy." Her lips stretched out into yet another heartwarming smile, "So, what do you say?"
Jaken sighed, his eyes thinned out while a few muttered curses escaped but were left uncaught. "Do as you like, after all it's your time and effort being wasted not mine. I just hope to hear an apology come from you when you find out I was right about that guy all along."
"So…you'll help me?"
"Just don't give me any difficult question; there is only so much a guy in my position can know for a fact, and even less that he can remember, okay!"
Rin clapped her hands together in a joyous display of gratification, "I understand, I'll only ask a few basic questions." Her eyes travelled to her nearly empty case folder nestled in the crook of her arm, "Stuff that I would have expected to be in this folder."
The janitor crossed his arms, and fell to his bottom with his legs also crossed making him all the more smaller through his associate's eyes. "Ask away."
With a notebook ready and a pen in hand she asked the very first question that came to mind, the one she had wanted to know ever since she first laid eyes on the unusual scratchy, torn manila folder, "What's his name?"
"Nobody knows." Jaken shrugged.
The awkward silence from before came back just as soon as Rin thought it has vanished. "N-Nobody…Isn't that something the hospital should have filed away the moment he arrived?"
"Like I said before, I can only answer what I can."
After a short pause, Rin noted down the question to be asked again at another time, and went on to her next inquiry. "Do you know anything about his problems?"
"Isn't that for you to figure out, girl?"
"Well yes, but…since he's been here for a while I thought that there might be something to give me a head start. For example has he been exposed to any family issues, abuse, harassment, perhaps he witnessed a traumatizing event?"
"How am I supposed to know that?!" he babbled in fury. Honestly, what did he look like, a doctor; he bet his brown uniform and dirty hands were a dead giveaway.
A crease was formed in the middle of Rin's brows, her previous sentiments for defending her patient surfaced once again. "You judge him so definitely yet you know near nothing about hi-"
"Enough of your tricky tactics let's just get on with the questions," the grumpy man muttered low under his breath with an additional, "I'm sure that guy has witnessed more traumatizing events then a soldier at war."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her mouth bent.
"You're pushing; you don't want your facts to be based on rumors do you?"
Rin's cheeks pouted, but nonetheless she couldn't argue with a point like that, "Very well, then what about his family?"
"None that I am aware of," he swiftly answered while scratching away at his scalp.
"So, you are unsure?"
"Sure," he curtly replied.
Now it was Rin's turn to sigh, "You are sure being very vague about this."
"At least it's the truth," he countered playfully.
"Well then how about his appearance?"
"You're going to see him aren't you?"
The pressure she put on her favorite purple pen tightened; this man's tone was aggravating, and she was sure he was just messing with her. She had to calm down; even though his information wasn't as beneficial as she would have hoped it still gave her more knowledge than she had before. I guess I'm going to have to do most of the research on my own…
"Any special reason why he's the only one up here?" she moved on.
Jaken yawned, the mornings work began to settle into his eyes as he wondered if he had a few minutes to spare for a nap. "He started off in any normal room, as any other normal patient in need of mental care….but…after a few questionable incidences the staff decided to move him to a more solitary space on the third level."
Questionable incidences, "So, how did he end up on the very top?"
"Ugh, it's hard to tell. I remember the few occasions where the hospital's security would escort him out the building; I presume he was being relocated, maybe to a nut house of some sort. A few months passed and suddenly he was brought back, acting no different than the day he left. I don't know for what reason, but not long after his return he was relocated to a higher level. The routine of him coming and going eventually led him to the very top of this newly added floor, and for a good three whole years he's dwelled in his own privacy."
"You make it sound like he hasn't had a visitor in quite a while," she observed.
"I would say that is about correct," Jaken agreed, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket; his personal morning wake up call.
"Not even from the doctors or nurses?" The hand holding her pen began to involuntarily shake, unsure whether to label it as fear or excitement, for all she knew it could have been both.
"I'm sure there are security cameras to check on him, as far as food and luxuries it's beyond me how they supply him with that, but as for visitors then nope; none that I've seen." With a lighter flicked and a cigarette freshly lite Jaken took his first small huff, "Last visitor he had was someone like you, and as expected that person quit, even after everybody thought she would be the one to finally break through his demeanor. Since then nobody has really bothered with him."
"So, if nobody has really bothered with him in these last two years then how do you know he hasn't developed any kind of change?"
Jaken blew out a cloud of smoke, and began shifting his position, "I don't; nobody really does. Still though, so many malicious rumors cling to his name or eh…number; because of that everyone just prefers to imagine that no such man even exists in this hospital. It's been that way for years and yet somehow new stories about him sprout up from the mouths of other patients; it never stops."
In addition to a few grunts, Jaken lifted his body off the ground and made his way back to his cart while simultaneously looking at his watch. "I wouldn't put any money down that he's changed, according to everyone else around this hospital he's still the same sinful beast he was when he first…Well there goes my ten minute cigarette break!" he grimaced as he lifted his shoe to rub the lighted ashes against his hard boots, ultimately putting the cigarette out.
"Well I guess I better get back to work, I'm pretty sure some dolt has already made a mess in the cafeteria."
"Wait," Rin reached out, "I need to know where-"
"His room is the one at the very end of the hall, room number 9," he pointed out.
"Oh," she pulled back, wondering if this wasn't exactly his first time giving out directions like that, "Thank you for all your help Mr. Jaken."
"Call me Jaken," he suggested, "Saying my last name like that makes me feel old, and at my age you don't want to be reminded of how far along you're getting in your years."
"Oh, of course Jaken and you can call me Hisukarin. You can even go simpler and call me Rin if you want; most of my friends refer to me as that."
"Very well then Rin, but you're still just a foolish girl to me," he teased, for some reason she didn't mind her new nickname so long as it carried that hint of playfulness. "Just don't go pushing that mad man too far," he advised; his tone wary, his knuckled bunched. With one last agitated look he turned around as he began pushing his cart back to the elevator, making Rin question what in the world made him come all the way up to the top of the building in the first place. She could have asked, but instead another question sprang forth; a far deeper topic she wanted to discuss.
"Wait!" she called out again, Jaken stop just as his hand was about to press the button near the elevator door. He did nothing more but curtly turn his head toward her, his face already dreary knowing of the upcoming day's work.
"What exactly did you mean before when you said 'questionable incidences'?" This was a strange topic for her to poke at. Normally she wouldn't bother with little things that obviously sounded like more jibber jabber ghost nonsense but in this case, the way Jaken spoke those words, so delicately; she couldn't help but be a little curious.
"Nothing, just mindless tales that have spread throughout the hospital," he answered as his finger pressed the lower level button which followed by an echoed 'ding'.
"Could you tell me anyway?" She persisted, "Not from worker to worker but…how about from friend to friend, Jaken," she beamed.
Jaken felt his wrinkled cheeks flush, oh she was good. He cleared his throat, "Well…how should I phrase this…before he came along this hospital was the best of the best. Lives were rehabilitated nonstop; countless people were cured within a month or less before being sent back to their families. Oh sure, there were a few loses; some were unpreventable like patients dying from some hopeless disease or gruesome suicide disaster. Although, if I had to estimate the death rate back then I would say it was around 11%, pretty good, huh?"
Rin nodded; her ears were wide open.
"Then, eight years ago on the day of May 5 he arrived. Everyone looked at him as if he was just another nutcase needing to be cracked, and for the first few days he was looked after like any other man in need…but…then one day something very strange happened to the patient that was stationed across the hall from 555's room."
Rin swallowed the lump in her throat; somehow she already had a clue as to what Jaken was getting to, but she couldn't be too sure.
Jaken shuttered, "The man was found dead in his bed," he whispered, tapping away at his broom's handle as he waited for the elevator door to open. "The man's name was…something…his full name escapes me….everyone usually referrers to him as victim number one. He was just found one morning dead as a doornail. A heart attack is the only conclusion that the doctors were able to come up with, but most people believe there was more to it than that."
"They believe 555 was to blame; am I correct?" Rin assumed.
The old man opened his mouth to reply, but the resounding noise of an elevator beep brought his attention back to titanium doors. "Guess that's something you'll have to figure out for yourself, my dear. That unfortunate coincidence was only the first of many terrible flukes that followed soot, but the one that really took the cake…well…I'll tell you that story providing that you continue on with this case after today," he smile with a faulty truth in his eyes as he pushed his cart into the small square room.
"Wait, you can't just leave yet," Rin protested, "What about-"
"Look we'll continue this discussion another time, but right now I have to get back to work," Jaken refuted as he made his way past the door; in a split second his head came back out, "Unless you would like to switch jobs with me that is."
A deep and severely disappointed frown marked Rin's otherwise sweet face, her answer obvious through her stare. The overdramatic expression caused a fit of giggles to slip from Jaken's tongue, "Pff, as if I would ever switch places with you, then I would be the one in the same room with that maniac. Catch you later," he said before shooting his head back into the room just as the elevator door was about to crush the outline of his skull.
With a deep sigh Rin listened as the elevator worked its magic and sent Jaken on his way down to some other distant level floor, leaving her to boil in the heated silence once again.
"Room number 9, huh," she mused; her head looking down the hallway for any doors that would give her a starting number to go by. There was only one door located on the right at the very end of the hallway. If it weren't for the already unusual feel that came with this top level floor than it would have been a very surprising discovery to find that only one room accommodating this spacious ground; surely there could have been more added.
However, after everything given to her about her single, disturbing patient; finding out there was but one single door on that level wasn't all that difficult to swallow. Yet, whose brilliant mind went to work on numbering the hallway. There was only one room and of all the numbers to pick it was preposterous that they would choose a random number such as number nine; at least ten would have made it seem a little more sensible, complete.
Does it have some special significance?
She didn't know; only a few minutes into the challenge and already she felt like she was losing before the game had even started. It was infuriating, she hadn't even come to the page where she and her patient met face to face, and yet she suddenly felt like she had such a hopeless disadvantage in the position she was in. There were no medical records of him, no actual records period for that matter; heck she didn't even know his name. All she had was some flimsy old folder that held little to no information whatsoever. Something was very wrong with this situation, and the closer she walked to door number nine the more her knees began to wobble.
Why am I so nervous?
Nervous, she repeated; she stepped out of her car that very same morning with a look of hard determination plastered on her face, and a blazing fire set for battle sparking in her eyes. Now, as she read the white inscriptions of FA09 on the top center of the dark, wooden doorframe all she felt was uneasy weakness settling into her heart, and a growing fear expressed through her shaken eyes.
Her hand reached for the door handle, her reflection shined against the gold polish before her fingers covered the icy knob completely. It was ridiculously cold, that was the first thing she noticed; no different than gripping a frozen block of ice as it stung the pads of her fingers. Just what kind of environment did they put him in, she thought, a hospital room or a storage freezer?
Suddenly it then became apparent as to how sweaty her palms were. In an instant her hand accidentally slid against the handle's surface; as if there was some slippery residue on her fingers. She wondered if the occupant on the other side of the door had taken notice of someone metalling with his solitude, surely he must have. After all, what else was there to listen to when you were population one in a room labeled by random numbers and letters that made little to no sense.
Her hand pushed the handle down, but the door was kept unopened. She hesitated, wondering what was keeping her from the simply pushing the light weight door open so that she could take a first look at her oh so devilish patient. She got the uncanny feeling that she was being watched, but that couldn't be. Even if her patient was creepy enough to peek at her though the door, there was neither a key hole nor a peep hole for him to look through…so why did she feel such an intense wave of starring upon her. It almost felt like the door that separated them wasn't even existent, and perhaps there truly was a murderer standing opposite side of this entryway.
I need to have a look though…just to see for me own eyes.
With that in mind she slowly began pushing the door, but in an instant she felt like a sudden slap was administered to the back of her head. "Oh, how could I be so rude," she scolded before she let go of the handle completely and bunched up her knuckles to lightly give the door two firm knocks.
Geez Rin, the first thing you learned in school was to treat your patience with respect and here you are about to go into his room unannounced. What if he was getting dressed; what would your professors say?! How she wished her teachers, supervisors, professors, any kind of higher rank specialists were there with her. This was her first shot at taking a case on alone, and it would be a lie to say that she didn't want someone else there with her to give her the few pointers she knew she was going to need.
I need to get ahold of myself, she breathed in; trying to recapture some of that confidence she felt she had a firm grip on before she came across that know-it-all janitor. Maybe, what he said did spook her harder than she liked to imagine. He's just a grumpy old man, perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. I can do this I just need to remember what I learned; for goodness sake helping people out should be second nature to me by now.
"Sir," she called out in a quality that may have been broadcasted a bit too loud from her side of the door, but she didn't want some embarrassing situation to happen just because they had a miscommunication. Her reassurance in having this case under control again finally began to surface through the stern coolness in her voice. "Sir," she knocked again, "My name is Doctor Toriyamu, I'm a psychologist and I've come here to help you. Is it alright if I come in?"
No answer, not even a peep. A sudden dread of worriedness washed over her, she hoped this wasn't some suicidal case where the patient ironically decides to end their life just to escape the nagging constriction that only a doctor can pull off with their excessive personal questions. Wouldn't that be a fine first day on the job, she shivered.
Again, she knocked twice with the same firm thumps. "Sir," she said, wondering if he actually would respond to his number instead. "I really hate to barge in on you, but I don't think we can really begin out session if I'm talking to you from outside your room. Please, if you aren't ready for me to come in yet I need you to tell me right now," or at least give me some sort of a signal, "…Alright, I'm coming in now," she warned just as her hand yet again pushed down on the door handle.
In a swift motion she had the door open, and before she could even register the sight of any accommodations in the room she felt a cold rush of air strike her right through her skin. The familiar chill of running across a winter wonderland minus the cozy coat, boots, and gloves was igniting all around her body. Her stomach automatically began to quiver uncontrollably; never before had she been so grateful for her choice of clothes that day. Her business jacket would suffice for the time being, but her bare legs and feet would only have to suffer the intense frozen wind that soaked into her skin; at least until her two hours were up and she could leave this freezing icebox known as a room.
She took in her surroundings, noting down how there really wasn't much to look at. For starters, joining together with the cold condition of the room Rin was a little taken back by the level of darkness around her. She reluctantly shut the door, her last source of light blockaded on the other side of the wooden frame along with all the courage she had stored up to handle this eerie case.
It was cold, it was dark, and to top it all off the silence was still invading the air around her. Had it not been for the feel of something soft under her shoes than she would not have been surprised if she was suddenly led to a top secret cave floor of some sort, course she knew she was just being silly. Though the room was dark her eyes quickly began to adjust, and with a little effort on her part she began to make out the small abundance of furniture.
A surprisingly large object, which she only assumed was the bed, was seen located on the wall left from her; the dashboard was smack dab against the center while the bed extended to the middle of the room. Easy enough to spot, as was most of the other objects placed in a neat order around the room. She saw a small nightstand located on the left side of the bed, whether or not there was a lamp she could hardly tell (course she wouldn't mind taking a look).
Then on the wall located to her right, she made out a fairly normal sized desk with an equally normal sized chair tidily tucked under it as if it's never once been moved, much less touched before. To her relief she was able to recognize the distinct figure of a small desk lamp; the silhouette form of the lamp's chain that could easily be pulled to light up her world beckoned her closer. There was a bookcase located to the left of the desk, maybe a drawer or two located on the right but only the shadowy outline of the lamp called out to her.
"Sir, are you there?" she distinctly said, and for the third time in a row she received no answer back. Her body began to slowly move toward the desk, and her hands came up to feel for anything that was beyond what she was able to make out in the dark. Satisfied when she felt a firm hold on the wooden chair she then set her course for the lamp chain, an easy enough thing for her to reach but just as she felt the cold chain entwine between her fingers her body stopped, her mind petrified beyond words.
What if there was a specific reason as to why all her calls have been left without a response, and thinking back to her previous thoughts of suicidal patients she suddenly disliked the idea of any light in the room. Regardless, she took a deep breath and pulled the chain with all hopes streaming to one colossal conclusion. Please, don't be dead. Please, don't be dead. Pleasedon'tbedead!
Click…click…clickclickclick
"You can't be serious!" she droned as her frantic hands desperately tried to bring life into the burned out bulb.
"What, does none of the electricity work in this light forsaken WAAA-" she hysterically hollered when a sudden invasion of light shined from the wall in front of her, ultimately dragging her voice right out of her throat. Soon, the scream that left her blue in the face was covered by the frozen palm of her own hand as it clamped tight over her mouth to keep herself quiet.
Much to her relief there was no corpse lying still in a chair ready to greet her; however, she did get the surprise of her day when the beam of light revealed a silhouette figure sitting on a window seat precisely parallel from where she stood. It was the first thing her eyes captured when the white light met her straight in the face, and ironically all she wanted now was to go back into the dark.
Her rapid heartbeat progressively began to calm, and soon she made it a point to take her hand away from her mouth so that she may take a closer look at the shadowy profile before her. The man she presumed was her patient sat perched on the bare window seat; his back leaned against the angled wall while his legs stretched out along the base with his left side completely facing her. His head was turned the opposite direction as he stare out passed the large frame of glass that overlooked a splendid view of the city. She released the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.
All that commotion she overreacted from had to have been merely the sounds of him opening up the drapes to his room, she imagined, and the light simply came from the natural rays of sunlight outside. Of course, and here I got scared over nothing.
Well, perhaps 'nothing' wasn't the proper word to use at the moment because judging by her company's appearance he was far from just nothing. His attire consisted of clothing she felt she only saw when she took rare trips to festivals, shrines, or back when she studied up on her nation's history. From what she could see it looked like a plain white kimono was draped around his upper body, the silk fit perfectly to his torso which expressed his very lean figure. Then she noticed the ancient styled hakamas that he wore to fit around the lower half of his body, the silk just as white as its upper counterpart.
Last, but certainly not least her eyes were instantly drawn to the dramatic length of his hair; it poured down from his head like a lustrous, bright waterfall as it escaped her sight when it vanished behind his back. The exact color was a challenge to describe, his sunbathing hair almost seemed white through her eyes, but she concluded it must have been the bright intensity of light that made her see that illusion and that his natural hair color was something relative to a blonde. That had to be the only explanation, even if he was one of those people that enjoyed dying their hair there was now possible way he could have colored all of his hair and made it look that perfect; she repeatedly told herself it had to be blonde.
It wasn't so bizarre to see his kind of style being worn in her time, especially with her nation being as historical and fashionable as it is. Although, she expected something a little more modern to be given for his appearance, something more suitable to his situation like a simple silk pajama suit and plain short haircut, but a kimono made for royalty and hair the span of a limo…Remember, you're not exactly here to become his spectator for a play, maybe this is part of the reason why he needs help.
"Um, thank you for letting in some light. I doubt we could really get much done in the dark; my handwriting is already messy as it is," she expressed through a series of nervous giggles, not that there was really anything to laugh about, but what better way to start off on a good level than with a friendly commentary; or so she thought. Her audience was hardly amused. He made no comment back, by all means he didn't pay not one ounce of mind to her.
With careful strides she began walking the few short steps to him; her situation reminded her of the discovery channel programs where researchers would walk at a tender pace as to not scare away the animals they were studying. Remember, she thought, make the patients feel comfortable and at ease in your presence. For sensible reasons she felt as if reaching out to him too soon with much force might cause some panic attack to take effect and she would soon lose him under the bed.
"Hello there," she gently stretched her arm out, "My name is Doctor Toriyamu Hisukarin, I'm a psychiatrist and I've come here to help you. Before we begin is there anything you would like for me to get you?"
Silence was her answer, that same silence that's been warped around her for the past couple of minutes. Her hand lay un-shook as she continued to stare at her patient's left shoulder while his arms seemed to be crossed under layers of wide-spread sleeves, and it looked like he had no plans of uncrossing them any time soon. With a shallow sigh she brushed away his lack of cooperation; all in all she didn't fine his quiet demeanor a complete surprise, after all had he been the total opposite he would have answered her way before when she was knocking on his door. Perhaps he was mute; there have been plenty of cases where people lose their ability of speech in result of a traumatic event.
"I hope you don't take this offensively, but are you able to speak?"
Again she was engulfed with a familiar dead stillness; there was a tension in the room that was begging to form, her lungs struggled for air.
"Are you unable to speak," she gulped, "Or is it that you simple do not want to talk to me?" In all truth it could be either or, but being the one almost in hands reach with this quiet man Rin felt her thoughts resting in the latter of the two options. Something in her mind convinced her that he did hold the ability to speak, but to whom he chose to speak to definitely didn't include her. His shell was much sturdier than she imagined; like fighting a wall with a hammer this case was already proving its worth in difficulty.
To cure a patient you first need to know what is wrong with them, but before you can diagnose them you have to get to know them, and before you get to know them you have to make them feel comfortable around you, and before you make them feel comfortable around you some sort of communication has to be shared. The first steps must be taken but so far she felt like she was getting nowhere; he obviously didn't want her here and furthermore he didn't want to talk to her.
In fact, judging by their first few minutes spent together; she concluded that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.
"Don't you want my help, don't you want to leave this place?" she asked. She should know the answer to that, what patient wanted to be kept within the confinements of a cramped hospital. With this one though, she had to wonder.
She didn't know whether or not she would get a response, so you could imagine her shock when she noticed the first signs of him turning his head. Her eyes lit up, it would be the first time she would get to see his face, and as his cheek came further toward her she gawked at the red coloring blemishing his near-close-to-perfect skin. True, she wasn't expecting someone with false teeth and liver spots, but at the same time seeing his unwrinkled cheek bones had her realizing that she was neither expecting a very young man either. A young man with who looked like he just went head to toe with a chainsaw; his cheeks looked like slash marks were slicing straight through the skin. Is that normal?
The more she stared the more his facial beauty was revealed to her, the sun glistened against his fair skin, making certain features harder to interpret than others. The mysterious blue blur placed upon his forehead, the red markings marinating his otherwise flawless skin. Beautiful, he was absolutely beautiful. Everything about him left her in awe, a long time familiarity of what she thought was similar to a heated blush crept up to the rim of her ears as her eyes sampled the sharp angled chin and high facial features he possessed along with a touch of youth hiding in the small mounds that formed on his cheeks. Perfect, so breathtakingly perfect however…
It was those eyes. Chips of yellow diamond framed by a fan of long, dark lashes.
Cold like her environment, and yet at the same time as bright as the sun beaming through the window.
So distant, like mountains to a cityscape.
So challenging, like a lion to a poacher.
So dishearteningly brutal…like…like as if he saw her as the lowest piece of trash in the world.
She looked away almost instantly, being stabbed in the chest by a pair of piercing gold irises that sent all the messages she needed to receive. He despised her through that look of his, detested every fiber of her being. His demoralizing stare proved his hatred toward her, she, a woman he only met just few minutes ago.
Her hand rose to clutch at the skin coating over her aching heart, never did she remember being looked at with such a degree of hatred. That look…she only wished she knew why he looked at her with such abhorrence, such resentment. What did she ever do to him?
The feeling of being loathed began to sink in, like a stomach virus that twisted her insides. Her determination went straight down, as well did her rump when she felt her backside hit the base of the wooden chair that she unconsciously slide out from underneath the desk. What course of action was she supposed to take now, she wondered. He has yet to answer any of her questions, he more than likely will continue to ignore her curiosity throughout the rest of the session so what was the point?
He said all he needed to her.
Her mind began to wander off, yet another small habit she preferred not to do while working but for now she let her eyes ramble across the shadowy room. It certainly did look like a five star hotel; same brown carpets with beige walls and dark cherry wood furniture. Even the bed looked fresh and clean with its charcoal grey blanket and chalk white pillows. Then she spotted the drapes which was also as grey as the blankets on the bed; an otherwise gorgeous room for a seemingly motionless creature. How sad, and what was even sadder was that she couldn't pinpoint what exactly she felt sorry for.
Her eyes darted down to the notebook in her hands. Prior to her visit she had jotted down some notes she had hoped to answer after the session was over; written in neat italicized letters the word 'Progress:' was spelled out evenly along the white notebook page. She had hoped to be getting somewhere by now, she should have seen this coming; creepy silent hallway, creepy silent patient. Of course, logic at its finest sense.
'Progress:…none'… She scribbled down, her chicken scratch did perfect in conveying her emoticons, but at the same time her smooth pattern of perfect handwriting was now left unreadable.
What am I supposed to do now? Give up…
Her head hung low, her mind still undecided as she gazed at the reflected light that shimmered against the carpet. Her patient continued to ignore her, his head turned back when he was finished demolishing his enemy and his posture was yet again secure as if he was replaced by a statue. Her eyes looked up to him; his golden treasures blocked by the sun's rays once again. Treasures…more like weapons. She didn't even try convincing herself that those were contacts, no, she felt like those eyes cut straight through her body. They were real, eyes the color of gold; who knew such a thing could exist.
There was too much light facing him it made it almost impossible to read his facial expression, then again it was not like he had any to convey. Too much light, she found herself scoffing at the irony. It was only a few minutes ago that she wandered aimlessly in the midst of darkness until…
Her breath hitched.
Until he opened the drapes for me.
That's right, she thought delightedly as her head shot up straight. He was the one that opened the drapes; he was the one that took the time to shed some light in for her to see. He didn't have to do any of that; he could have let her walk around pointlessly like a moron until she decided it was best to leave, but he chose not to. He may not welcome her presence, but in the exceedingly smallest of ways he allowed her in. Perhaps there truly was life given somewhere to this cold, silent man before her.
Either that or she could be just a naïve, stupid girl who completely fell right into his trap; frightening her with those eyes of his would certainly be a source of entertainment for any psychopath. Her head sagged low once more. Did he truly hate her that much?
Was this the reason why he was given up on by everyone?
Was he this distant to everyone?
Did he give that exact same look of bitterness to everyone?
If I give up now, am I just going to be added to the list of …everyone?
She wondered if there would be any who'll take up the case after her. She wondered if they would have a better chance than she did, maybe they won't be as frighteningly intimidated by 555's ruthless stare as she was, maybe their years of experience will make them perform mind-blowing methods to get 555 to talk; methods she would have never dreamed of going about doing.
Maybe, in the future, some other beautiful psychiatrist will come waltzing down the hallway. Her face will be stunning, her body a catch for all men. Her reputation will house only the best of her accomplishments, and her awards would be plentiful as she opened the door labeled FA09 to begin her work with 555. She wouldn't give up on the first day…no, she would return day after day with different styled treatments in the hopes that one would pay off and allow her to breach the mind of a man whose lived in solitude for the past three years.
Why couldn't she be that kind of psychiatrist?
After many backbreaking months the better woman will finally succeed in curing her patient, she will have the privilege of hearing her patient's true name being spoken from his once silent mouth. She will have the opportunity to get to see him smile, laugh; take his next steps into the world as he thanked her for all that she has done. She never ran from him like everyone else; she never betrayed his trust like everyone else, she never gave up on him…like everyone else.
Who am I…to be that kind of psychiatrist? Why can't I be that kind of psychiatrist?
The warmth in her coco colored eyes lit up, like igniting a flame that was on the brick of dying out. She turned her head to her favorite purple men, and then to the leftover writing she had written in her notebook. At the bottom of the page a dark letting of 'Positive Feedback:' lay written in the case that she needed a reminder that there were two sides to every coin.
Her brows narrowed, and her posture straightened against the chair. It was going to be a long day, she imagined as she grabbed hold of her pen; it was going to be a long day, an exhausting week, a heart-wrenching chaos all bundled into an exasperating life ranging between a few months to eternity.
There were positives sides to all of this though, and one in particular she thought of created a shimmer of happiness across her small smile as she scribbled 'Positive Feedback: alive and breathing' across her paper. In some cases, this situation could have been much, much worse.
"So, why don't I tell you a little bit about me first, would you like that better?" Her eyes darted toward him, ready for the encounter against his deadly set of eyes. An encounter which failed to be presented. "You don't have to respond if you don't feel like doing so. We'll work on our communication, okay."
Who am I to be some amazing, talented, accomplished psychiatrist?
She didn't know the kind of adventure this man was going to bring to her, she honestly didn't know as to whether or not she going to be able to handle it. For all she knew she could fail miserably. Yet, one thing she did know was that she wasn't yet ready to give up; for her sake, for his sake she was going to present more effort to this case. After all, he was the one who gave her the light she needed to see, whether or not it was intentional made no difference to her.
Who am I to be some amazing, talented, accomplished psychiatrist? Rather…
"We have plenty of time so no need to rush," she said, missing the small flinch of his elbow. "After all," she smiled, "I'll be here again tomorrow."
Who am I not to be?
AN: End of ch. 1, surprisingly this was intended to be longer but I didn't want to drag out the scene longer than needed, but I hope it was enough to satisfy for now. I know I can't make quick, once a week updates like others but I'm trusting my length of chapters will compensate for my lack of quicker updates.
Overall I hope everyone who read enjoyed, it took a little bit of work to make it but I had fun the entire way! Plus, my major has boarder-lined into psychology, so this makes it twice as fun for me. Sesshomaru's character will at times be either, as best as I can get, in character and other times he might be OOC, it depends. As of right now it's hard to tell if whether or not I give him a POV, after all if I did that where would the mystery in figuring him out, right :)
Anyway, I have another story I need to continue finishing and another I need to work on so lots to do for the weekend. Thanks so much for reading, reviews are appreciated to any who want to tell me what you thought and as to if I should continue with this story or not. Hope you all have a splendid day, till next time look out for the update of From Oxfords to Sneakers.
PS: There actually is a relation between Sesshomaru's room number and the Inuyasha anime, think any of you Sess/Rin fans can figure it out ;)