Heya! Here's another story from lil' old me, this time revolving around Kogure. I received a challenge from Alexia (if I'm not mistaken) about two YEARS ago to write about him. She even gave me a starting storyline, and I must say it was a really fantastic idea! But then I had this other idea of doing it, so I followed my instinct. Gomen. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it anyway!
Kiminobu Kogure stared through the glass windows of the moving train he was in, dreamily watching the pouring rain outside. The tiny arrows on his watch struck 7.00 o'clock. His stop was coming up, and he checked to see if he'd left or dropped anything.
He hadn't.
His light briefcase was still with him, and so was the packed dinner he'd found time to buy on the way out of his office. Being an accountant of a fast moving and decidedly growing company, there was simply no time for him to even think of cooking.
He'd cooked his way through university, and was capable enough in that area. In other words, he could fry an egg without burning the bottom of the pan. Take-out, at that time, was not an option since the study fees demanded each and every yen of his pocket money and earnings. And take-out is still, Kogure winced, not an option now, as he still needed to settle the debts circling his new apartment.
But tonight he was desperate.
And he craved food that didn't come from his own kitchen.
Stepping lightly off the train, he moved quietly through the exit and walked to the nearby row of apartments, shivering in the cold night. The moon was full tonight, but despite its luminous beauty, Kogure was vaguely chilled.
He'd always been a coward, Kogure admitted with a slight smile. Even in school and college and university, he had been the soft, eager-to-please one. Always hesitant, always doubtful but always there whenever he was needed. He lacked Akagi's strong leadership and his equally strong muscles, but he could hold up his end well enough. He lacked Mitsui's dashing good looks and arrogance, but his looks weren't flawed either.
Average, Kogure decided. That would be the right word to describe him.
Taking the stairs instead of the lift, something the athlete in him insisted on doing, he made his way to the fifth floor. And got the shock of his life at the sight of a droopy old man sitting right on his doorstep.
Just then, the sky thundered, and the bright flash showed, for a scary instant, the tired, dark eyes of the old man as they stared at him. Kogure paled and if his legs hadn't frozen up, he was sure he would have jumped over the railings without a second thought.
"H-Hello," he choked out.
The old man continued to stare at him. Then he opened his mouth and drawled: "Yer Kogure?"
Kogure nodded quickly.
"Been waitin' for ye. Ain't got all da time in da world." The man stood up. He was short and barely reached Kogure's chest, but he was still scary. "C'mere, you stupid girl." He gestured roughly with his finger, calling into the darkness.
Then, slowly, out of the darkness, a small, slender figure emerged, giving Kogure another shock that took ten years off him. Her face was downcast, and very, very pale – almost ghostlike. Her dark hair tumbled over her head and dropped over her shoulders in thick bunches. Her hands were clasped over her stomach, and they were trembling.
Kogure wondered what either of those terrifying two had to do with him.
"We're frum de hospital. Dis girl's been in there fer ten years now. Crazy, more like it." The man grunted. "She's all yers now. Best make sure she behaves."
Kogure blinked. "What?"
The man squinted at him. "Well, aren't ye stupid?"
"What's going on?" Kogure protested, shocked to the core. "I don't even know who she is!"
"Best not ter ask me!" the man said huffily. "I was suppos'd ter send her here. Just dat. Ye wanna complain, ye go to de big bosses in the hospital. I ain't got nothing ter do with it!" He started to go, leaving Kogure gaping at him.
"Wait!" Kogure called out, panicked. "What's this all about? I don't understand! Who is she? What's her name? Why was she in the hospital? And why was she sent to me?"
"I told yer I ain't know nothing!" the man yelled. "Yer address wos given ter me, and I brought her here!" He reached into his pocket and brought out a dirty piece of paper. Taking a pen from his other pocket, he scribbled down some numbers and then shoved them into Kogure's hand. "Here. Ye call 'em and ask all ye want. I'm outta here." And with that he went off, muttering about stupid people and the trouble they kept giving him.
Kogure stood rooted where he was, staring at the rapidly disappearing guy. For another minute he stayed there, mind whirling. "I – what –"Helplessly, he looked around and then realized the girl was still there. Awkwardly, he tightened his grip on his briefcase. "Um, sorry about that," he apologised, realising how rude the exchange between him and the stubborn old man had been. "I was just shocked –"
The girl lifted her face up and Kogure's voice simply died away. Her face was paler than it had seemed, but her lips were very pink, and her eyes a startling deep blue, framed with long, black lashes. They stood out of her white face with a stark contrast. Her manner and movements were quiet and at that moment, she seemed just as helpless and vulnerable.
All the things Kogure had wanted to say about how it was all a big mistake and that he had nothing to do with her died on his lips. One night, he decided. He'd let her stay one night and then the very next morning he was going to send her back to wherever it was that she came from and set things right.
"Um, come in," He opened the lock with his key and pushed the door open. He switched on the lights and the living room was bathed with yellow light. He didn't have much furniture, only the essentials. There was one sofa, one television, a coffee table and four chairs around it. "Have a seat," he told the girl as she quietly came in after him. "I'll… um, I'll make some coffee."
He placed his packed dinner on the table, wondered briefly if it would be enough for the two of them before he got out the makings of coffee. As the coffee machine whirled away, he picked up his phone and dialled the number he'd been given.
"Hello, this is Kanagawa Hospital," came a cheery voice. "How may I help you?"
"Hello," Kogure began, nervously twisting the cords around his fingers. "I am Kiminobu Kogure. Just a few minutes ago one of your staff dropped off a patient at my apartment, and I want to know if there's a mistake."
"What is the patient's name, Mr. Kogure?"
Kogure rubbed his forehead. "Her name? I don't know –"
"Kara," came a deep, breathy voice. "Kara Ubiki."
Kogure started, surprised the girl had somehow made his way to the kitchen and overheard. He smiled gratefully at the girl, who only returned his smile with a grave stare. "It's Kara Ubiki," he spoke into the phone.
"Please wait."
He heard the clicking of a keyboard keys in the background and waited as the computer processed the data.
"Ah, yes," came the operator's voice again. "Kara Ubiki has just been released today and returned to a family member."
"But I'm not a relative." Kogure informed her.
"Well," came the baffled reply. "I'm sorry, sir, but it states here very clearly that she was to be sent to Mr. Kiminobu Kogure. That's you, is it not?"
"Yes, that's me, but…" Kogure tapped a hand on the counter of his kitchen. "Can you check who her parents are for me, please?"
"Certainly." More clicking. "Her father is Mr. Yakara Ubiki and her mother is Mrs. Ruina Ubiki, or her maiden name, Ruina Watari."
Watari. Kogure sighed as memories flashed before him. Ubiki. Right. "That explains it," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Ruina Watari is my mother's best friend. I suppose Kara was supposed to be sent to my parents, but since my parents are no longer around, she gave the hospital my address."
"That would explain it, sir." The operator said soothingly.
"Do you happen to know where Mrs. Ruina Ubiki is?"
"No, sir. We only have your contacts."
Kogure pressed his lips together to keep the frustrated groan from coming out, aware that Kara was around. "I was told that she has been under your care for ten years. Exactly what is she suffering from?"
"Yes, she was admitted here when she was thirteen. She's a schizophrenic."
Kogure's eyes whipped to Kara's and he tensed. "I see. Thank you for your help."
"We do what we can." And with that the phone clicked and the line went dead.
Kogure cautiously replaced the phone and straightened himself up. Schizophrenic? He forced a smile on his face and looked at Kara. "So, what about dinner?"
Her lips trembled open. "You're sending me away." She said.
"No, no. I was just inquiring –"
"You're sending me away," she said again, confidently, her eyes wide.
"Kara-"
"YOU'RE SENDING ME AWAY!" With that shrill scream, she rushed back into the living room. Kogure darted after her, shocked. "I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! STOP DOING THIS TO ME! STOP! STOP!"
She was tearing at his cushions and throwing everything within her reach.
Kogure stood helplessly. "Kara, stop, please, I'm not sending you away –"
"AAAAAAAAAARGH!!" Kara sank to the floor, clutching her head. "STOP! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"
Impulsively, Kogure stepped forward and reached out for her. "Kara, it's all right. I –"
"STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY!! I HATE YOU!!"
He grabbed hold of her before she could jump up again. "Kara, stop it. Listen! Please! You're going to hurt yourself!"
Kara screamed again, her fists now punching at him. "GO AWAY! GO AWAY!" And then with one last scream, her eyes glazed and then closed. Her voice died away and she slumped against him, exhausted.
Kogure held her up and gently nudged her onto the sofa. Then, beat and shocked out of his wits, he dropped himself to the floor and stayed there, shaking his head.
Schizophrenia is a mentality disorder, where the patients hear this voice at the back of their heads, taunting them and making them do things they otherwise wouldn't. At least, that's what I know. Correct me if I'm wrong!
nothingtodo