So I'd been on hiatus/unofficial retirement for a while now, when I said, "I'm bored as fuck, I'm gonna replay every single Katawa Shoujo route," so I did exactly that. Then, miraculously, something happened; I wanted to write again. I can't promise that I'm back for good, but I'm here.
Let's get this trainwreck moving.
I raise my head, craning to look at the clock; it's three-thirty in the morning. Sighing, exhausted, I lay back down and try to sleep; nothing comes.
No sleep ever comes for me, unfortunately. My insomnia runs anywhere from three days to seven, and then I shut down until my body recharges enough to continue the cycle. It's just a sad fact of my life, on on top of the other.
My name is James Slae'im, and after a tournament accident over summer vacation, most of my bones have been replaced with metal. There's enough money to keep up with the blood transfusion costs, thanks to that tournament's winnings, but I can't help that I'm feeling down; I'll never be able to compete again.
Oh, we'll learn enough about me later. Right now, you're probably interested in whatever the hell is going around outside of my head. Sadly for you, that's a fat load of "nothing." Back to me, then...no? Just skip this whole damn monologue? Okay.
"There is one option open to him." The doctor said to the sleeping boy's parents. "A school in the northern part of the country, Yamaku, for children with able minds but physical burdens."
"Cripples." The boy's father replied. There was no sadness, no disgust, only fact. "The handicapped."
"Yes. There's an excellent medical team there, it's privately funded, and given your son's...special case...they may waive most of the fees."
That's how my fate was decided. Tomorrow...that is...today, when I'm cleared, I'll get to go home and take all of my things with me to a boarding school. Despite the fact that I'll be in unfamiliar territory, I'm not displeased; my dislike for my family is well-evident in everything we do together, and I'll be free of them for a while. All in all, not too bad.
I just wish it hadn't come with all these scars. They're fine, physically, but they're a painful reminder of things I'd rather not have to deal with. My condition will never be what it once was, I won't be able to do a lot of things until I get completely used to moving around in this body where metal has replaced almost all of the bones.
"What a pain in the ass." I mutter, using my imagination to pass the time with eyes closed, so I won't be as weary as I'd otherwise be; a trick I learned. Humming to myself, an old song I've known since before I became self-aware (according to my father, anyway,) I feed all of my negativity into the song, until nothing but inner peace is left. Not even my inner cynic, asking how I could ever have inner peace when I spent my life breaking people's bones, can break the void of emotion.
I hold it for as long as I can, feigning sleep until it's time to get breakfast. My day starts with two glasses each of orange juice and milk, a plate of all kinds of pancakes, bacon and sausage, and (thankfully) no medicine.
After that, I wait to leave the hospital; outwardly, I'm sad to leave behind everything I know and "love." Inside, I'm ecstatic.
Just a few more hours, just a little more time, and I'll be free. I'm waiting, but it won't be much longer.
The ride there was fairly nice. It passed quickly enough, my father speeding down the road as we listened to our music. I may hate the man, but I can't say I don't owe him for all the things that he's given me; among those is a taste for hard rock, which naturally branched itself into a love for metal.
When we finally arrived, a set of wrought-iron gates greeted us. They swung open, and my first instinct was to say, "I could bend those in half."
"You could." My father had said. I'm still not sure if he'd implied the unspoken have, that a time where I might fold metal had passed me by. Maybe he was just agreeing with me. I'll never be certain.
My brothers and sister had come with us, to see me off; my mother had decided to stay at home, rather than take another car. That was fine with me, since it meant one less false smile to give.
I lifted all of my bags at once when they offered to help me move in. It was painful to know that that would be my strength's limit for the time, but I knew that it would improve eventually.
My sister hugged me. "I'll keep them in line." She motioned to our little brothers. She was second-oldest, and the most serious of the four of us...except when it came to my passion for fighting.
My middle brother was next, punching me in the arm with just enough power for me to feel, but not enough to hurt; it was a thing that I'd taught him, a way we showed respect to one another.
My youngest brother spread out his arms, and I picked him up. "I'll miss you." He said. "Good bye." He hugged me, and I realized that he was the only one who I'd feel bad leaving behind. He looked up to me the way neither of the others did. Where my sister saw me as someone to regard with contempt on her path toward the future, and my middle brother saw me as a person who had far more power than he did, (to be feared and awed as such,) I was a god to my youngest brother. Nothing could stop me, because the eldest brother is impossible to bring down.
"I'll miss you, too." I replied.
My father said nothing to me, and I said nothing to him. That's how it always was with us; when he wasn't yelling at me, or attempting to beat me, (before I could beat him back,) when he wasn't pointing out my flaws, criticizing everything I did...he was silent.
The last time he saw me, I gave the disappearing car a salute.
Good riddance. Maybe, without me, they would lead better lives. Maybe not. I'll never really know. Either way, they were gone now.
A dead friend of mine once said, "fight until you win, or fight until you die. Either way, fight." They were words I lived by after he died in a match. As I toured Yamaku, seeing all manner of teens with various physical disabilities, I realized that his message would fit perfectly with this place. Everyone here didn't let their handicaps stop them, they fought to make the world a better place for themselves and those they cared for; some of them would die, because of the nature of their conditions, but they still fought and would keep fighting.
I would fight alongside them, befriend them. Possibly even love a few of them. What could tell me, barring the future? It would be interesting to find out.
On my way, a few of them caught my eye. Five...no, six, she was just hiding behind that blonde. Seven?
Whichever number it was, they were the ones who stood out most. The blind and the hiding, the deaf and the loud, the full-limbed pair...and maybe just one other one. Maybe.
I continued walking, never approaching anyone, eventually setting my things down on a dry field of grass to lay down and stare toward the sky. There was a distinct "thud" beside me after a few minutes, and my peripherals picked up a red-headed girl mirroring my actions.
"This looks interesting."
"Yeah."
"I wondered why you were doing this. So I did it too, to see." Her speech, almost monosyllabic, takes a long time to come out. "It's nice."
"You talk slowly." I observe.
"I'm not...good with words. Usually. Or people." There's a bit of an edge to that last word, but I leave the subject where it is. We've just met, there's no reason for either of us to get into her life's story.
I do wonder, though, about how her arms went missing. Maybe I'll find out, maybe I won't.
"I need to get going, but it was nice to meet you. I'm James."
"Rin."
As I get up and leave, the thought strikes me that maybe she talks slowly because she's always thinking. It's hard for me to talk and think at the same time, so why wouldn't that apply to others too?
As I finally finish unpacking my things, I idly realize that I chose a room with nobody else on the floor and nobody in the room directly beneath mine.
My quasi-legendery luck seems to be holding, again, even though it let me down at a time when I needed it most.
It was a long three months in the hospital, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone...I can still use my body, though. There's always a bright side, as the saying goes. Sometimes it just takes a little looking to find.
A little looking, and a fast recovery after a whole hell of a lot of pain.
I begin my exercises, just the way I learned them and taught them to myself, loosening my body and preparing to work my muscles. I transition through the forms of my art slowly, perfect stance to perfect stance, practiced ease showing through even though I will never be able to do them as quickly as I once could. I think on what Rin told me, about not being good with words or people.
I'm not too great with either of those, either. I can certainly fake eloquence, but it's still faking...and I'd rather punch people than talk to them. I used to make a habit out of it, actually.
Still do, kind of. If it were someone else, I might call it sad.
I finished one style's movements, then moved to the next; of my ten black belts, my favorite was Jeet Kune Do, but I always saved that one for last. When I finally finished with the exercises and forms, the moon was out and curfew was in effect...not that I cared. I never care. Rules are for the people who follow them, not for people who don't obey; the only law I adhered to was brute strength, and I was the strongest.
I go to the bathroom and return, foregoing sleep so that I can meditate. It's a simple thing for me to do, anymore, and it's very much what got me through the months in the hospital. When I meditate, there is nothing. in that void of thought and feeling, there exists a single flame; it's smaller than a candle's light, but a flame it remains...all my thoughts and words and actions, all of my feelings, all that I do, is fed into that flame within the void. The flame does not grow, it simply fuels itself on what I feed to it and continues to barely exist. Even in the flame, there is nothingness. When I have achieved the void, in a fight, I do not lose. I defeat them quickly, powerfully, my movements fluid and my ability amplified.
Then I let the flame grow, consuming everything, until the void is filled by fire and can be called a void no longer. When the blaze covers the space in my mind, I do not lose. I cause as much damage and pain as possible, breaking bones and rupturing organs with quick and simple blows.
After the fiery holocaust recedes, I'm left with emptiness and clarity, and don't have to act in order to think as well as I do while moving. The thought strikes me that I have begun yet another fight for my life, a fight against my metal bones and lack of blood-making marrow. I can't lose, or it will mean my death.
I do not lose fights, fortunately, and I don't plan to end that trend with this one.
Fight until you win, or fight until you die.
I always win.
Okay, here's the important part. My idea here is to do all five "main" routes in Katawa Shoujo and see them through to their ends, but considering that that takes a long time to write and plan, I'm thinking of doing it two ways or just doing Rin's and Hanako's routes (since they're my two favorite girls.) I also considered a Miki route since I like tomboys, but I think that may be best left
Which of the following should I do?
A: do all five routes in a straight-forward style (write Emi's route and finish it, then Hanako's, then Lilly's, then Rin's, then Shizune's, or some such order)
B: as A, but with a Miki route as well
C: do all five routes in an alternating style (write one chapter for each route, then a second chapter, and so on)
D: as C, but with a Miki route as well
E: only Rin and Hanako
F: only Miki
G: just pick one route here and do the rest as separate stories you noncommittal son of a fuck
