A Little Girl's Dreams
Dreams can be a funny thing when you're young. Children are so full of ideals and aspirations and visions of what they can be when they grow up. The untouched innocence and naivety is nothing short of breathtaking when you see them side by side with a jaded man. I've thought for the past few days that maybe jaded, pained people attract children. They have a sixth sense about adults and flock to one that is hurt, one that needs their friendship. Who needs to see the good that still lies within the world. You can see it when you look into innocent eyes.
When I was a child, I don't think I knew any of that sort of person, the kind who needs a little friend to keep their head on straight. I grew up in a rich neighborhood where everyone I knew was well-to-do. They could hide their pain and fix their troubles with material goods in the colonies, blissfully unaware of the plight of those abandoned on the earth. Everyone was happy and those who weren't convinced themselves they were. That was the way of things.
This view of the world shattered for me the day the rose-colored glass that separated me from the real world cracked. On a day just like any other, a phone call came, telling me one of those happy, well-to-do people was dead. Mine had been a world where even to a medical student people didn't die, not suddenly. Perhaps if they were very sick, but they weren't shot defending their eldest son. And that son didn't turn evil and that son's father wasn't frozen in status.
But that is a world that doesn't exist. My cracked glass crumbled into painful shards when I arrived home, as my father on the telephone had instructed. Domon, who's mother was dead, father was frozen for crimes against humanity and brother who had turned to world destruction, had returned.
The first time I saw him, dressed in a blue kimono and leaning against a tree watching in silence, he was knelt before his mother's grave, his head hung. I didn't say a word, only watched until eventually, he turned around. I smiled softly when our eyes met and his lips formed a silent gasp. We didn't have to be introduced. We had been separated for ten years, but those were the brown eyes of my best friend staring back at me.
"Long time, no see," I said as he draped red fabric over one arm and stood and turned in one fluid motion.
"Yeah," he responded, almost as though he didn't know how to speak. Though the Domon I had known in my youth was far from a quiet, contemplative boy, I didn't think anything of it when he failed to speak in sentences longer than a noun and verb. With the turn his life had taken, who could expect more?
I do remember the first full, unsolicited phrase he said to me, though. A small, cramped shuttle was all Neo-Japan had to send us to the Earth in along side our Shining Gundam and it was there that I learned the blunt boy I had known grew into an utterly tactless man.
"Gonna make yourself useful or should I just send you back to the colony now?" he asked with a particularly unamused expression.
"Excuse me?" I really believed he would treat me as a friend up until that point, but his question and demeanor were rude and patronizing. It wasn't that he was just shy and distant after all that he had gone through and our time apart, or even that he had changed so much; my presence was just completely unwanted.
"I don't need a partner to win a tournament; Neo-Japan already saw to that. If you aren't going to be useful, there's no reason for you to be here."
Taking a breath to suppress my own rage at being spoken to like that by someone I cared about, I replied, "My father told me about how you won the Colony Tournament, but that's not the same thing as the Gundam Fight. You need technical support for your Mobile Fighter as well routine health inspections. You can't go home at the end of the day; the Gundam Fight is a year-long investment. It's not the sort of thing anyone can do without a partner. A crew of several would be ideal, but most of the technicians at the Lab had reservations about being alone with you."
"I've heard their stories," Domon replied, his manner not softening a bit, "They say the Kasshu family has no honor and that Neo-Japan was foolish to put their good faith in me."
"Well, yes," I stammered, "I suppose." The truth of the matter was Domon had put it not only accurately, but with less polite coverings than anyone else was willing to. No one trusted Domon because he was a Kasshu and that left me, a medical student who liked to tinker with her father's mecha designs and a license to practice them both legally so new that the ink was still wet. My father thought I would be perfect for the job.
His eyes flashed. "Think I'm going to kill you in your sleep?" Domon asked, leaning closer. "Steal the Gundam and run, like the man I once called a brother?" We had been sitting across from each other on a circular crash couch, the kind that let everyone's feet gather in the center. Supplies were packed above us, all around the loop. We were instructed to follow a rather lengthy procedure to put ourselves in a deep slumber after a short time so that neither of us would have to use a bathroom and awake after the pod hit the earth.
At Domon's last question, he pitched forward entirely so that his hands rammed the upholstery on either side of my head forcefully. I stiffened and he could probably see fear etched all over my face because he sneered.
When he drew his hands away, each one was cradling a ration bar. We were given one for each of us to eat before initiating the sleep phase. I blinked and relief flooded my whole being. Nonchalantly, Domon tossed one to me.
"If I waited for you to give me something to eat," he drawled, tearing open the foil wrapper, "I'd be waiting forever." He took a bite and stared at me impassively as he chewed. Feeling embarrassed for being so frightened when he got close to me, I fingered the wrapper of my own bar, not yet peeling it open. Domon had finished his own bar in three bites, giving himself the nutrition required for several days at optimum health.
Done with the first step of the trip, Domon crossed his arms over his chest and legs knee over knee.
"You're muscles are going to be very cramped when you wake up," I warned, as I lowered the gas mask over his face. It was a stupid thing to say, as there weren't many other positions he could squeeze himself into in such a tight space, but as his official medic, I felt required to tell him so anyway. There was really no telling how soon after landing Domon would have his first fight.
Finished with that, I pulled out the on-board computer console to prep Domon for his gas-induced sleep. Travel between the colonies and the earth can be extremely bizarre. Sending just the Gundam in it's capsule can take as little as ten minutes from launch to splashdown. Traveling by shuttle, with all the modern conveniences can take from an hour to a day, depending on the service, departing point and landing site. Longer trips are usually the sort that are resort gambling, letting the rich throw their money away after a 'charity' trip to benefit the impoverished people of the earth. The estimated time for a trip consisting of a Gundam and its crew is roughly three days. We travel slowly because no one ever thought to fit the pod with better temperature protection. The cold of space and heat of the atmosphere won't bother a Gundam, but it will freeze, then fry the crew if we're not careful.
When my fingers finished tapping the keys, I told Domon to count backwards from one hundred. If I did this correctly, and I was certain I had, he should be asleep before hitting ninety-seven, if he had an extremely high drug tolerance then ninety-five.
I didn't hear any counting, but pushed the computer console back into its armored cubby anyway. The next step was the nutrient flow IV, just to make sure he was at optimum health. As expected, Domon didn't stir when I pricked his skin. A small blood sample spurted out, which I collected in a tiny packet before setting up the fluid exchange.
"Domon Kasshu," I muttered as I ran the designated checks on his blood sample, "Type O, oxygenation levels normal, blood-alcohol level high, but manageable. No traces of liver, kidney or bladder infection. Blood sugar, normal." I closed my medical kit and leaned back, wishing I was doing these things for the first time on a real patient as a doctor in hospital or clinic. Mr. Kasshu, our records indicate that despite being drunk, you are perfectly healthy. Please don't hesitate to call us for your next medical inquiry. The receptionist will handle your bill.
"I would have begun an internship this fall," I said softly. The only reply I received was the rhythmic rise and fall of Domon's chest as he breathed deeply. I thought I should probably put myself to sleep soon as well, or else I'd get cabin fever.
Talking the blood sample kit out again, I rolled up my sleeve to take my own sample from the inside elbow, instead of the veins along the top of my hand like I had with Domon.
"Rain Mikamura," I sighed, "Blood type A, oxygenation levels normal, blood-alcohol level normal. No traces of liver, kidney or bladder infection. Blood sugar, low."
Setting up my IV was difficult with one hand, but I managed. I had to recalibrate the settings to allow extra sugar inflow so that I wouldn't pass out the moment I woke up or start shaking. My arm hurt a bit after that and I really didn't want to start jostling it to set up my gas mask until the pain lessened.
"You probably don't remember this," I told my sleeping companion, "but when we were kids, I had a crush on you." His comment about me giving him something to eat had sparked a memory that had gone ignored for eleven years; that and moaning about my lost internship, friends, boyfriend, life, et cetera, were the only things that came to mind to talk about and since the former was far less depressing, I chose to focus on that.
"I remember this one time," I continued, "we must have been about nine. I was reading this old manga my mother had dug up from somewhere, where a girl gave a boy she liked a homemade lunch. My parents told me it was an old, outdated custom, but in it's day was really romantic. Well, a few of my friends in school had 'boyfriends,' and I was always kind of jealous. I didn't really understand then that having a close, guy friend like I did was leagues above their boyfriends in name. But kids follow the pack and I wanted one, too.
"It took a long time to convince my mother to help me…" I trailed off. This story even took place before my mother got sick. It's an emotionally-defunct existence when someone who lost her mother as a little girl was sheltered from death. I swallowed hard and continued, "But she finally did."
"We found this great recipe and practiced three or so times before wrapping it up like real bento. That's what they used to call it," I clarified. "We put it in a little oval-shaped wooden box, with rice on one side and some other little things on the other… I don't even remember what."
"We used to have school half a day on Saturdays and didn't eat the school provided lunch then, so that was the day I planned on giving it to you. We stood on the steps of the school, waiting for Kyoji to pick us up like he did everyday. I should have given it to you then, but I was so nervous. When Kyoji finally came, I just shoved it into his hands and ran. I ran straight home, to my room and just cried because I was so sure the two of you must have thought I was crazy.
"But you didn't. No matter what happened then, we were always best friends." I was quiet for a moment and realized that I didn't feel the prick in my arm so much anymore so I carefully leaned sideways to program my gas mask. I gave myself five minutes before I would be put to sleep so that I could properly adjust the mask. It was easier than I thought it would be and I had four minutes left on the clock before the blinking red light would tell me to start counting backwards from one hundred.
I tried to get comfortable in that time, but I really couldn't. The truth was, I had thought about Domon a lot while he was gone, but in my wildest dreams, I never thought that he could have changed so much. Probably the only thing that hadn't changed was that I always thought of him as my best friend. For him to come home was a dream I always harbored. I suppose the funniest thing about dreams when you're young is the ones you don't let die when you are an adult.
"One hundred."
"Ninety-nine."
"Ninety-eight."
"Ninety-seh…"
Sore de wa…Gundam Fight! Ready? Go!!
Disclaimer: Oh, really, what do you think?
Author Notes: Eh, I got nothing to say about this one.