Beneath These Scars
Chapter 1
*CLACK*
So, this is the place then?
*CLACK*
Doesn't look too bad, not that I had too much experience with private schools.
*CLACK*
Nor with missing a leg either for that matter.
I look at the high school. Yamaku. The word fumbles out my mouth with some difficulty, but I attribute that more to my nervousness rather than my lack of language skills. Being a Canadian who can speak Japanese fairly well has earned a few raised eyebrows, but I always found the language interesting. That, and I hated french.
I look around, not sure what to think. The grounds are lush and green with near end-of-spring air. It feels more like a park than a school. It feels fresh though, better than the old wooden chairs and cracked sidewalks of my old high school. The school itself looks more like some old university than your run-pf-the-mill high school. I heard though that lots of old schools look like that, with grand white arch ways and worn brick walls and big metal gates. I guess it's true no matter which country you're from.
I walk up the stairs, my cane clacking along the ground as I stabilize my weight with it. I still haven't gotten used to the prosthetic leg the doctors had provided, hence my cane. You would think all the stabilizers and light-weight metals would make it easier to get used to, but in the end it may as well just be a pirate peg-leg for all the help it seems to do. I guess it's better than a wheelchair. I may have been relaxed and possibly lazy before the accident, but the idea of being bound to something as big as a chair just to move in my own house still bothers me.
I grimace as I remind myself of the accident. 5 months ago, a drunk driver T-boned my car while I was on my way to the movies. Me and my best friend. Car smashed us doing 100 kph, according to the police report. Smashed straight into the passenger's side. More than twice the legal alcohol limit in his blood. They found me in the passenger's seat, my right leg completely shattered beyond all repair from the force of the crash, the rest of my body bruised and scarred with a few broken ribs to top it off. My friend was not as lucky. Fate seemed to think it prudent for her to leaning over to retrieve a dropped cell phone just as the drunk driver hit us. The air bag deployed with enough force to snap her neck. If I'm glad for anything that day, it's that it was quick and possibly painless for her.
I spent the next 2 months in the hospital. Bone fragments littered throughout my leg. In the end, the doctors agreed that there was not enough bone to heal properly, and gave me and my parents a choice in whether to keep the leg or not. Keeping it would mean trying to remove every last bit of broken bone and using special metals as an alternative, but the muscle damage was extensive and I would have no control over it. The shattered bones also proved a problem, as there were so many pieces it would take several surgeries to remove them, and chances were that the smaller pieces could cause serious infection before they were found. In the end I decided the leg was too much trouble. The surgery was relatively quick as they only had to cut just below the knee. I then spent the next month in a wheel chair while I still recovered. It was during that time some complications arose with my recovery. My high school was not equipped the medical care I would need, but they did not want to deny me my education. It was then they suggested I would spend my remaining school days as a foreign exchange student to a special school designed to treat students with disabilities, such as myself. It was in Japan, but my Japanese was fairly decent and there were coordinators that would be able to help me. My parents went for it, and in the end I didn't see why not. My life wasn't getting better back home. So after a few tearful departings from my family and 20 hour flight, I arrive by taxi in front of the gates of Yamaku Academy.
I eventually reach the stairs of the main building and slowly pull open the doors to the main building. The large hallway is eerily quiet, save for a few far off footsteps. Class must be still in. So much for being on time for the first day. I heft my duffel bag and close the door. I look around the hall and spot the familiar character for "Office and Registration" down the hall and begin gaiting my way down. I reach the glass door and see a middle aged woman in a purple blouse sitting at a desk writing in some sort of ledger, paper piled in neat piles around her. I knock on the door. She looks up from her work, smiles and beckons me in. I step inside as she smiles, stands and bows politely. "Can I help you?"
"Y-Yes, my name is Ryan Getler. I'm the transfer student from Canada. I was told to come here first when I arrive?" I drop my bag and make a slight bow, remembering my manners. My japanese seems to be good enough at least for her to understand what I'm saying. She nods.
"Ah yes. Well Mr. Getler, we are pleased you have come to our school. My name is Ms. Yamichi, the schools office administrator. I will being showing around the school so you may familiarize yourself with the grounds, then I shall show you your class. But first I just need you to fill out these forms and we can begin the tour, ok?"
She hands me a small bundle of papers and a pen. I sit down and begin to fill them out. Jeez, how many papers do they need on me? I thought that it was all taken care of when I went through Customs and the school transfer program. Ah well. I fill in basic information, such as my birthday, hometown, etc. I also go through a list of previous medical history, such as previous doctors' visits, if I had the chicken pox, that kind of thing. Sadly, it's become second nature to be able to fill out these papers. It takes me awhile to fill them out, but eventually I hand over the papers.
Ms. Yamichi takes the papers and puts them away in her desk. "OK then, shall I first show you to your dorms so we can drop your bag off?"
"That'd be great, thanks."
We exist the room and out of the main hall. I follow Ms. Yamichi along a small path towards a second, smaller building to the right. She offers to take my bag, but I refuse. I may have a prosthetic leg and a cane, but I still have an arm to use. I thank her for the offer and we press on.
We eventually reach the building. "This is the Male Dorms. You will be staying here for the duration of your stay. We have a T.V. in the main room, and there are 2 bathrooms located on every floor. Curfew is at 10pm sharp." Ms. Yamichi then hands me a small key. "Your room will be 017, on the main floor. You can leave your things there and change into your school uniform, then I shall show you to the Nurses office. The Head Nurse will want to meet you."
"Uh ok, thanks." I reply.
I find my room directly across from one of the bathrooms down the hall on the main floor. They say it's for the convenience of people who can't get around as easily, such as people like me. I look down at my prosthetic and murmur "Maybe I can get handicapped parking too."
I quickly change out of my jeans and brown t-shirt and throw on my green slacks, making sure the fabric doesn't get caught in the joints around my knee. I then put on my shirt and roll up the sleeve mid up my forearms. I look into the mirror and do one last inspection. My brown, curly hair puffs out a bit. I'd been meaning to get a haircut, but with all the distractions of getting ready for the move it had slipped my mind. My face is a little pale and my eyes have a tired look, but I can't if its either from the jet lag or my habit of late-night movies/video games. I also have a slightly gaunt look, like my skin was made a little large for me. I recall I used to be a bit hefty until the accident. I guess I had lost a some weight during my stay, thanks to the hospital food and physio therapy exercises. Satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my school bag which I had prepared before the flight and stepped out of the room.
Ms. Yamichi was standing outside the door, busying herself by reading more notes. She seemed the type that would always be busy, even if it was her break. She glances up from her papers at the sound of my door opening.
"Are you ready to continue, Mr. Getler?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She leads me out of the dorms and along the side of the main building. I notice a large window and inside looks to be a small gym. Exercise machines dot the inside but it seems to be mainly comprised of mats and exercise balls and other low stress exercises. I remember some of the tools from my days in physio. Ms. Yamichi catches my glance. "That would be our gym. Some of our residents are still recovering, so we built the school with an exceptional gym so our students may continue their exercises to they can become stronger. We even have a small pool if your interested."
I smile. "Thanks, but I think swimming may be beyond my reach at this point. I'm still having trouble just walking with one leg."
"Nonsense. It may be cliché, but there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it. In fact, one of our track and field runners is missing both legs, and she is one of our best track stars."
I raise my eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yes, quite. Alot of determination in Miss Ibarazaki, I can tell you. But what I'm trying to say is not to limit yourself to what you think you CAN do, but only limit yourself to what you WANT to do."
I smile slightly and nod. Satisfied, Miss Yamichi turns and continues to lead me. I appreciate what she said, but in all honesty it's nothing I haven't heard before. Since the surgery, people have been giving me the whole "you can do anything speech" over and over so much I can pretty much start a self-help book. While sometimes I agree with them, I'm constantly reminded that I was the one who lost a leg, not them.
Among other things.
We eventually reach a small, stone hallway beyond the gym. Various plaques and signs detail different names and different medical specialties. This must be the doctors wing where they do check-ups and the like. My suspicions are confirmed when we stop in front of a door labeled "HeadNurse" in a large, plastic plaque. Ms. Yamichi turns to be and bows. "I will leave you with Nurse will want to do a brief check-up and overview of your condition before we send you to class. I
will send for your homeroom teacher to come for you so he can explain your schedule and classes. If you have any questions, feel free to come see me in my office."
I bow back to her. "Thank you, I shall."
With that, Ms. Yamichi turns and shuffles out the door. I turn to the Nurses Offices.
*Sigh* Well, let's get this over with.
I knock on the door. A few seconds later I hear a cheerful calling. "Come in, if you dare!"
I furrow my brow. What, am I entering a dungeon or something? I turn the knob and limp my way in. Inside a find a small, untidy office. Medical notes litter his desk. I see and young man smile at me from his desk. Dimples can be seen on his cheeks and his his hair is quite maintained that only accentuates his youthful appearance.
His smile gets larger as he notices my cane. "Now now now. What brings the illustrious Dr. House to my office? Come to steal my vicodin?"
"Wait...wha?" I give him a confused look and wonder if maybe he'd been sampling some of the medical stock. I then look down and notice my cane. I admit that I tend to lean on my cane a little more than nessacary when I'm nervous or am in deep thought, and more than once people reference House when they notice. I guess House was even big in Japan. I ease up from my cane and smirk. "Well, now that you mention it, I did lose my vicodin contacts, so I'm gonna need a new guy. Interested?"
The nurse smile gets bigger as he shrugs "While getting teenagers high off painkillers sounds like fun, I'm going to have to decline." He then holds out his left hand. "You can call me Nurse."
I grab it and shake. "Ryan Getler."
Nurse smiles and grabs a near-by chart. "I've been looking into your records to brush up, but I wanna do a quick examination of your leg so I can see for myself."
I sigh. I never liked showing people my leg, or more accurately, my stump. I'm already used to the fact that I only have one leg, but when people notice, they tend to try to avoid mentioning running or walking or anything that has to do with my leg. Like the mere mention of it will send me to tears. I've put it behind me. I just wish people would stop tiptoeing the issue. But I see from the way Nurse behaves that it won't be an issue for him.
I limp my way to the elevated table, sit up and pull up my right slack, exposing the prosthetic. It's a higher end model, made of light weight metals and plastic rather than wood. The "foot" itself is heavier metal that allows me to swing it easier. I can take off the foot and have only a peg leg, but it's harder to walk around that way. While recovering from the surgery, I used a wheelchair, and hated the entire experience. My mom said it would take getting used to, but my grandmother saw how miserable I was in it and bought me my leg. It took me a month and a half to learn to walk on it properly, but I still use a cane when I need to walk long distances or walk up stairs. The cane helps with my balance and when I stand, as I have no feeling in my right foot. Makes standing a little difficult when you only have one leg to judge your distribution of your body weight. I finally remove the limb and expose my stump. 3 Inches below my knee ends in a smooth, ball-like dome. I've been told had their been more bones broken, then would have had to remove the leg above the knee, making it almost impossible for me to walk around. I guess I'm grateful for that at least.
Nurse leans down and inspects my knee. I've lost feeling below the knee, so I don't feel his fingers prodding certain points. He makes note of the area behind the knee, where the joint on my limb would help me bend. "You seem to have a bit of irritation here. You've been walking quite a bit, haven't you?"
I reply "Yea, jumping from plane to plane and custom checks makes me either be walking or standing around alot lately."
"Well, it's only a mild irritation. I would suggest that you ease up on walking for a bit. Maybe tighten the knee joint so it won't bend so much, and keep from irritating the area. I'll have a wheelchair sent to your room in case any further complications arise."
I nod. "Thanks. I thought I had it tightened up before I left, but so many customs checks wanted it taken off every time I went through. Guess they thought I was walking on a bomb."
Nurse's face booms with a wide smile. "Well so long as it doesn't blow up here. I don't think the administration would appreciate a lack of wall in my office. Would make having exams in here very awkward."
I chuckle and begin to re-attach my leg. I begin to realize I like this guy. He knows what he's doing, and doesn't try to avoid my disability like others do. I make sure it's nice and tight before stepping down again. Satisfied with its position, I grab my cane and my bag and turn to the door, hoping to leave now before Nurse remembers anything else. "Well, if that's all..."
"You well know that's not all, Mr. Getler."
Damn.
I turn and see Nurse with a serious look on his face. He remembered all right.
His tone darkens to a more serious note that I can't help but notice. He seems like the kind of person who doesn't take this tone very often, but you better listen when he does.
"I understand you may not want to discuss it, but your epilepsy should not be ignored. Nor should it be taken lightly. Now when was your last attack?"
I grip my cane tightly. God, I hate this. "You already know, it's in my file."
Nurse's face becomes slightly more taught. "Yes, but I want to make sure you remember, in case there may be side-effects or brain damage. We're still not entirely sure how it's effecting you, and I want to be sure we can figure out if there will be any long-term effects."
God-dammit. "Fine. 6 days ago at my house"
"How bad?"
"My hand shook quite a bit. I think I zoned out a bit too."
"How long?"
"About 10, maybe 15 seconds. Something like that"
"Notice anything strange before the episode?"
"Yea, a tingling in my hand before it started. I seem to get that tingle before I have an episode."
Nurse nods, makes a few notes on a clip board, then looks up. "Are you taking your medication?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes mom."
Nurse chuckles. "If I was your mother, then you and me would have a very intense discussion about your attitude followed by some mouth washing."
I smile. "Thank goodness for small miracles then."
Nurse smiles again, makes another quick note, then sets down his clipboard. "Now, I realize that the episodes are getting less and less severe, but we still need to keep an eye out, ok?"
My smile drops. "Alright."
Nurse looks at his schedule posted on the wall then back at me. "I want to set up weekly meetings with you. Nothing largely taxing like this mind you, just a quick check up. So long as you keep up with your medication, I believe they should die down to something more manageable. I also want to know about any small episodes during the week. Anything major, like total black outs or seizures longer than a minute and I want you to come see me as soon as you can, alright?"
I nod.
"Good. Then I think we're done here. Your homeroom teacher should be here for you soon, so you can wait just outside. I'd give you a sucker, but I ate them all just before you came."
I laugh a bit then wave my goodbye. Nurse smiles his big grin as I close the door behind him. I lean against the cool, stone wall and grip my cane tightly. Talking about my episodes is something I hate doing, no matter who it is I'm talking to. The leg I've more or less dealt with. It was something I could control. Something I could fix to a degree.
But not my epilepsy.
"Mr. Getler?"
I open my eyes to and look to my right. A tall, pale man looks at me with mild concern and curiosity. His clothes hang off him as if they're 3 sizes too big. His hair is messier than mine, like he woke up and didn't bother to brush it. He looks at me with calculating eyes, sizing me up. I smile and make a short bow, but I forget about my cane and it pokes me hard in the ribs. I grunt and rub my side. Still haven't gotten used to bowing it seems either. "Hi. Yes, I'm Ryan Getler."
The man ignores my faux pas at a traditional greeting and just smiles. "My name is Mr. Mutou. I am your home room and science teacher. Can you understand me well?"
He says this very slowly and somewhat loud, as though I was deaf. I appreciate the gesture. It's bad enough changing schools for my condition, let alone a language barrier thrown in the mix. I nod. "Yes sir. Nice to meet you."
Mr. Mutou smiles, satisfied with my language skills. "Well you certainly have a good concept of the language it seems."
"Yes sir. I've been studying since I was 12, though I never thought I'd be using it."
"Well if you ever need any help with anything, please feel free to see me after class. I want to be sure that we help you succeed in every way we can. Now if you would follow me please, I will show you to class."
With that we head down the hallway along the back corridors to join the main hallway. My cane clacks along-side Mr. Mutou's quiet footsteps. I forgot to put the rubber stopper at the end of it. Still packed away in my bag I suppose. I glance at my watch. I only seem to have 2 hours until the end of the day. I decide I might try to explore the grounds a bit before I go to my dorm to unpack.
In a matter of moments we stop in front of a simple wooden door. I black plaque labels "3-3", both in plain white characters and small bumps I assume are braille. Small windows on the sides show a simply furnished class room. Wooden desks dot the area as a small number of students work on individual papers by themselves.
I then start to notice my hands are sweaty and I'm thristy. Epilepsy? No, these usually what happens after an episode. Is it hot in here? No. Then why am I all sweaty and hot an... Then it hits me. Goddammit, I'm nervous! I realize that I'm basically the biggest advertisement for a 'fish-out-of-water' story. I'm missing a leg and shake uncontrollably and have to go to a new school because of it. Add on to the fact that I'm in a completely different country and have never used more than a sentence of Japanese before coming here. This is like dropping a single penguin in Australia and seeing if it will thrive or not.
Well, what'd you expect? A big smiling teacher who gives you an A+ for just trying? You wanted this. Now do it
Mr. Mutou notices the pale look on my face. "Are you ok Mr. Getler?"
I notice the concerned look of his face. Crap, he thinks I'm having an episode. "Yeah, s-sorry. Just kinda realized where I am right now."
Mr. Mutou smiles a warm smile, the kind I feel he practised just for situations like his. I admit it seems to work. "Don't worry. You're not the first you have these feelings, and I'm certain you won't be the last.
This was a big change for you, in more ways than one I'm sure. But you're doing quite fine. Now shall I introduce you?"
I furrow my brow. "Do I have a choice?"
Mr. Mutou nods. "If you would like, you can just slip in and do an introduction when you feel more comfortable. Whichever you prefer."
I look between him and the small window on the doors side. I see more students working and make out more of them. I notice one girl is missing her left hand while another boy has a bandage over where his ear should be. My eyes then notice someone in the back row. She is huddled over her desk, working intently on her work. Her long, dark hair covers half her face, and I notice something odd about her right hand, like it wasn't made of skin or something. Then I shake my head. Considering your right leg is more aluminum then flesh and bone, I don't think I can start nit-picking peoples issues.
*Sigh* "Nah, it's not like they won't notice me either way. May as well make a proper introduction."
Mr. Mutou nods at my answer. "Alright, I'll call you in when I have their attention." He places his hand on the door knob. "Welcome to Yamaku Academy, Ryan Getler." And with that, he opens the door and walks in.
Several students look up at the interruption.
Mr. Mutou clears his throat, calling for everyone's attention. "Class, I have an announcement."
Oh great, looks like he's making it official.
"You all know of the transfer program we have recently enlisted..."
Maybe this was a bad idea.
"...and that our class has been selected to home the new student."
Maybe I should think of something clever to say.
"Now I would like you all to help..."
Crap. I have no idea what to say to them.
"...give a warm welcome..."
Get a hold of yourself dammit! It's a classroom, not a Emmy nomination.
"...to our new student..."
No turning back now I guess.
"...Ryan Getler."
Well, here we go.
So this is my first attempt at a fanfic. I have a few more chapters in the works, just getting things organized. Will try to answer any questions you may have. Hope you enjoyed it so far!
