DISCLAIMER: I do not own OreGaIru.
Chapter 1 – The current is wrong, but the rock prevails
I should have expected this. I should have known this.
But then again, this was the way the world worked, and I was nothing but a small goldfish fighting against the stream's rapid current—a very small organism with no other choice but to turn away and be one with the flow, be taken to wherever I was sent to.
Sometimes I wished I was a rock in the stream. Unrelenting. Unchanging. Moving slightly only from any kind of disturbance. Capable of withstanding what nature could hurl at me with keen resolve.
And then I remember that I was once such a thing—a stalwart earthly formation jutting out only slightly from the stream—but the memory of it was fleeting and unwanted now, because I traded that life away for that of a measly fish made to do as the stream dictated.
Now, this fish was lost in the throngs of people bustling forward and back in the streets of nighttime Tokyo. Without need for knowledge or forethought about my destination, my legs carried me in a sprint far, far away from her and from him.
I wanted to shut my eyes, cover my ears, and scream my lungs out. But I couldn't. I kept running and running, even while my lungs burned and my legs screamed. I drowned out the noise of the streets and heard nothing else but my frantic breathing and the tok-tok-tok of my every footstep.
Happiness never lasted long enough for me. Or perhaps it wasn't ever meant for me. Of course, I learned this the hard way when I parted ways with Yuigahama and Yukinoshita after our final year of high school. I had fulfilled their requests—Yukinoshita, her family; Yuigahama, her selfishness—yet in the end, I was once more the lamb upon the altar. I tried to think of other ways, I honestly did. But circumstances then denied me the chance, and I fell back to doing what I did worse.
They said they understood. I knew they did. But I grew scared of what they didn't say, and distanced myself until only goodbyes could be said and relationships were best left forgotten. Last I heard from Hiratsuka-sensei, they were still close together and well-meaning friends. I came to the conclusion that I was no longer a piece of that puzzle, and that I was better off discarded to the sideline.
The lights of streets blared in the periphery of my vision, trailing shadows behind me as if they were the very demons I ran from. Demons or not, they were only fuel to my desire to keep running, to keep escaping.
Perhaps it was ironic that the day had gone so well. Sun in the sky, skies all blue, corporate slaves toiling. Of course, I knew that it was the day I had saved up so much cash for, had prepared so much for after three years of a stable and happy companionship. Evening came, and as I walked up to her apartment dressed as good as Komachi taught him to, my stomach was aflutter with butterflies and the box inside my pocket felt heavier. The thorns from the roses I held slightly poked his palm as my grip tightened and relaxed. I took a breath then, steeled myself, and walked with courage up to the building.
And that was when the stream's current changed.
I saw her, my three-year girlfriend, having just stepped out of a sleek, black car I knew I would never be able to afford in a lifetime. And with her came the affluent blond I'd recognize anywhere, anytime—the world slowed as he leaned in to capture her lips, and she awaited it with a glazed look in her eyes.
The world slowed, and shattered. The collapse was all around me, debris falling here and there but never quite onto me. The tempest swirled around with a fury, and I was within the eye.
I didn't quite register the sight in front of me. Nor the rose stems I'd gripped too hard and drew blood from my hand. Nor the hitching of my breath.
The flow of time returned to normal, and there she was with the most shocked look I've ever seen her with. Fear, guilt, and utter surprise danced in her eyes. Confused, the man with her looked to my direction, and his expression mirrored hers.
"H-Hachiman, wait! T-This isn't what it—"
Whatever protest she would make escaped my ears, and my feet carried me away from the hell I had witnessed.
Her name became a blotch of black within my mind; tasted like ash in my mouth. The memories of the sound of her voice and the scent of her hair melted away into nothing but screams and burning paper. My mind cut off its links with her existence. My body turned away from her attempts of reconciliation.
But my heart broke, shattered upon the ground and pulverized into fine dust.
There was nothing else here for her, nor for Hayama Hayato. They did a fine job of leaving nothing.
The current was sweeping me away—far, far away from this wherever I was heading in this stream. No, that was wrong. I was going there, and then I had finally arrived; and awaited me there after years of solitude and actual joy was the denial of it all and the destruction of this joyful illusion.
When my feet finally gave out, when my lungs finally caved, I fell to the pavement kneeling. Tears flowed freely down my eyes, and I screamed out into the night.
I want something genuine, was what I had once wished for. The world showed me that the genuine life meant for me was wracked with nothing but pain, loss, and illusionary happiness.
A blinding light erupted from the periphery of my vision—I didn't care, I was in too much of a dazed state to register anything at this point. I wanted to be out of Tokyo, to be back with Komachi and my family, to return to Chiba and amend my friendship with the two who I should have never left behind.
The light came rushing forward, consuming me with brilliance and the sound screeching tires. My last coherent thought as I was sent flying through the road was that perhaps I wouldn't survive the shattered ribs, punctured lungs, and bleeding organs.
Perhaps in death, there lay my happiness.
My vision faded, and the memory of that dog, the limo, and Yuigahama shouting surfaced ever so slightly like the whale coming out of the vast depths of the ocean.
Hikigaya Hachiman's life was wrong, as expected. Perhaps it has come to an end.
When I had woken up lying in a hospital bed, there was the slight disappointment in the back of my mind that I was still alive.
Bandages covered me here and there. An arm and a leg in a cast. Throbbing pain from all over my body. Tubes hooked up to me. The beeping of nearby machines. The scent of antiseptic in the air.
I turned to look around, and much to my surprise, Komachi was seated beside my bed. The little angel was asleep, but the tear stains on her face spoke much of the ordeal she had gone through with what had happened.
Right now the stream was calm, unmoving. The flow was stopped, and I was allowed a stagnated stay within the small pond.
Then came the necessary information so as to jumpstart my thoughts: girlfriend cheating, Hayama with my girlfriend, me running, getting into an accident.
Despite the calm over my breathing, a sob came and soon, with it, the tears. I've never cried ever since grade school, and the closest thing to breaking such a streak was when I bared my heart to Yukinoshita and Yuigahama in the warmth of that room. But now, freely I wept and lamented that I was a man of low worth that the girl I had learned to love had come to know that she was worth too much for me.
She truly was, and I knew all this time that I was unworthy of her. But it never changed the fact that I had done my best to change that, to become someone worthy of another. The effort, after everything I did, had been for naught.
I wonder how long she'd been planning to break up with me, to decline me and to run into the arms of everyone's Prince Charming.
The sobs stopped soon enough, yet the tears haven't. A rustling came from my side, and a bleary-eyed Komachi faced me.
"Onii-chan...?"
I could only look at her, the desperation in her eyes and the grief was as clear as day. The fact that I was awake rocked her awake, and when her eyes widened in realization, I was tackled into a hug by my lovely little sister.
"Onii-chan, you're awake! You're finally awake! I thought—I thought... Two weeks now and you haven't..." The coherence of whatever she had been saying dissolved into tears and wailing. She grabbed ahold of me as if I were driftwood that would save her from drowning into the sea.
"Yeah, I'm here. Don't worry."
The sound of the door opening registered, and as I looked in its direction came the sight of someone I didn't expect to see.
Even if she's already had years of work ingrained into her, the Hikigaya matriarch didn't look a day older than her middle twenties with the body to compliment such beauty. She radiated a cool visage that eclipsed that of Yukinoshita's, and eyes that would make lesser men shake with fear. She stepped towards the bed, dressed in black capris, a white blouse, and a grey cardigan. The few times I'd spoke with my mother, it was all business—school performance, tuition, work, finances. We were distant, and that was the story ever since I was in puberty.
Now, her eyes were devoid of ice, and they were bloodshot red for some reason. Her usually indifferent expression was laced with relief, joy, and surprise. Before I could say anything, she had come rushing towards the bedside and hugged me and Komachi close to her.
A breath hitched in my throat, and there was nothing I could say at that moment—perhaps there was just nothing to say.
"You've woken up, Hachi. We've been worried sick."
The way her voice cracked in the end, stifling the sobs that threatened to come, made the dam burst and I held on to Komachi and my mom with my good arm—as if they would vanish at any moment and leave me alone and broken.
After what felt like hours, we separated and talked about what happened.
I was in a traffic accident. The internal damage had threatened to take my life away, but fortunately I had been rushed to the hospital quick enough. It took some few hours before my family had been contacted, and I was surprised when mom and dad dropped out of all their work and rushed here to Tokyo along with Komachi. From what mom has told me, dad was currently making headway with the needed finances for me, and so wasn't here at the moment.
Two weeks. I had been inside the hospital for two weeks, without any sign of waking up. During that time, the damage to my body had healed at a pace faster than the doctors could have predicted, but the lack of any consciousness was jarring, to say the least. Komachi had been on the verge of hysterics the whole time.
Truth be told, I was feeling a ton of guilt. I had minimum contact with my family for the past few years I wasn't in Chiba. Something bad happened, and here they were rushing to my side as it was only natural to do so.
"Hachiman. Don't even think about it."
Urk. I forgot—my mother could read me like an open book.
"I don't blame you for your behavior—even your father doesn't."
It was still a sight to see; her usually stern demeanor was softer than I could recall, and her usually icy eyes were tinged with warmth. She was peeling an apple for me as she spoke, yet for some reason I could also feel her peeling away at my very core.
"We know we haven't been there for you and your sister as much as we would've wanted. We've always thought that the two of you have been doing a great job of growing up as mature as you have."
The knife's movement stopped, and she turned to look at me.
"I don't blame you for the lack of communication. It was naturally the conclusion of my and your father's actions. I would apologize, but some things are just better off done than said."
She was right. Her and dad's distancing from us had perhaps been what contributed to me pushing them away and maintaining fairly little contact with them. Truly, the only time humans ever learn to value things is when it goes on to the brink of disappearing forever.
"I saw the box, Hachi." A warm smile made its way to her face. "Who's the lucky girl? You've never introduced her to us."
The fleeting peace came to a halt, and I could already feel the storm swirling around me in gradually strengthening gusts. "There's... no one. At least, not anymore, mom."
She raised a brow, and the apple was once more left forgotten. "Do you mind explaining?"
"She... Well, she found someone—"
As if to mock me, as if to spite me further and salt my wounds, the sound of the door opening had me and my mother turning to its direction (Komachi had fallen asleep earlier), and my eyes couldn't believe who was at the door.
It was her.
It was her.
The bile rose from the pits of my stomach, and my vision narrowed into a dark tunnel. My breathing became arduous, and numbing sensation spread across my body.
Too soon. Too soon.
But in the end, the stream continued to flow and I was the little fish blown away downstream, well away from whatever peace I could find.
Sometimes I wished I was a rock in the stream. Unrelenting. Unchanging. Moving slightly only from any kind of disturbance. Capable of withstanding what nature could hurl at me with keen resolve.
And then I remember that I was once such a thing—a stalwart earthly formation jutting out only slightly from the stream—and the memory of it began bubbling and roiling from the depths of my mind at the sight of her. Suddenly, the fish in mind was dead, and my vision shifted to that of the rock's perspective. Everything felt right again. Everything felt like... that room, where the scent of tea lingered, and where the sunset was always a welcome sight to my loneliness.
Hikigaya Hachiman's life was wrong, as expected.
Perhaps it has time to bring that statement to an end. And it begins with the confrontation with Isshiki Iroha.
I admit, this wasn't what I had in mind as I was writing the next chapter for Schrodinger, but the idea just wouldn't leave me. The concept of this is based loosely on a friend's life situation at the moment, and me writing this is a dedication to how she's facing the problems she's encountering right now. Wherever she is, I hope that she remains strong.
Life has been hectic recently, and writing Schrodinger has become quite a bit more challenging because I've hit a rough patch with my family, and depressing thoughts are all I could pen down right about now. As much as updates would be more infrequent, I can assure you guys that I will not give up writing on anything—including Schrodinger, of course—and that I will push forth with the same vigor in whatever I come up with.
Right now, I just need a little time to confront the things that are happening, and handle them with care. To those of you who also feel lost, down, or whatever it is that makes the sky look grey for you:
Don't give up on being carried wherever the stream wants. Be the rock, and be as stalwart with your heart in what you strive to do.
See you again soon, guys. Thanks, and as always, feel free to review.