I could have sworn that I didn't need to be there. In that place. I wasn't supposed to be there, and yet I was. Sereitei Asylum. Among the insane, the crazy, the mad people of society. The psychologist had diagnosed me as "Borderline" which meant that I:
A. Was stuck there until I showed noticeable signs of improvement
B. Was officially labeled insane for the rest of my existence
C. I was doomed to be forever alone
I had been given a quaint room which I shared with a bald young man with a horrible temper called Ikkaku, and a small white haired child who had reserved himself to silence called Hitsugaya. I took one corner of the room, and we mostly kept to ourselves, preferring our own haunting thoughts to the company of someone just as insane, if not more, than ourselves.
I recognized that if it had not been for my outburst, I wouldn't have been in my current situation. I spent countless nights staring at the leak stained ceiling, wishing I had reconsidered… maybe, maybe if I hadn't reacted as I did I would be free…
I woke up every morning, not recognizing where I was. I had nightmares every night, so as to avoid them, I stayed up until I was too tired to even dream. That meant only two hours of sleep every night, but it was a sacrifice worth making to avoid dreaming of the past. Of the truth that happened so long ago and yet felt so recent.
My shrink was called Aizen. He lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of the asylum complex, and only came into the main part of the conference to interact and talk to his patients. I was one of his patients, as well as a feminine, pompous man called Yumichika. He was proud, and had been brought into the asylum for narcissistic personality disorder. The mental disorder was not necessarily the reason why he was there; I later found out that he tried to kill his family for not being as beautiful as he was. They only visited him twice, and then stopped once he made it clear that they "were too ugly to be in his presence". He now spoke to Aizen, not because he wanted to be cured, but because Aizen was the only person Yumichika thought worthy enough for the beauty to grace with his existence.
Hitsugaya was another of his patients, who spent hours simply staring at Aizen; and Aizen simply stared back. No one really knew what he was in the asylum for, since Hitsugaya never spoke. He had a slight frame and icy blue eyes, which he stared intently with, but never gave anything away. His emotions were non-existent. People speculated what he was in for. Murder? Attempted murder? Attempted suicide? Animal cruelty? That was what most of us were in for, apparently you were only declared mad once you tried to kill something.
However, there was Rangiku who made me realize that it could simply be from outbursts; I had seen her, three times a week going to get pills for her bipolar disorder by Isane, the residential nurse who helped Dr. Unohana with the patients. Rangiku was loud and insane when she wanted to be, but when she fell into depression, her wailing could be heard from all around the asylum complex. She had her own room, as did all the "volatile" patients.
It was during leisure time in the courtyard did I discover more about the patients at the asylum. I befriended a patient called Izuru Kira, and subsequently his previous friend, Hinamori, and together we spent leisure time, observing the other patients. Kira suffered from severe depression, and Hinamori I never knew. The most I knew was of her obsession with therapist Aizen.
One afternoon, across the yard, I could see Gin and Hatsumomo, presumably arguing as they usually did. Gin stood up from the argument and smiled at me. A cruel little smirk, as he walked towards the mezzanine.
Here's the thing about the mezzanine; it was a no go zone. No one knew who resided there, but no one went there. This rule had already existed before I had joined the asylum, and I never knew why there was this rule, but it was in place. Gin's confident movements let me know that he had no care for rules. Sick bastard, I thought spitefully. There was something off about that guy.
Suddenly there was commotion across the yard, where a fight had developed between Zaraki and a blind, and PTSD patient called Tousen. The brawl went on for several minutes before it ended with Zaraki severely punching Tousen, enough so that he passed out.
The assistant nurses ran to the fight and held Zaraki down, in a strait jacket. He did not rebel nor put a fight, and calmly let the assistants drag him away.
"Well… isn't that strange" Kira said sadly.
Tousen was carried off by the paramedics, with Isane at his side, inspecting his wounds as he was dragged off. It was cold now, and a few droplets of rain began to fall. I stood up and followed Hinamori and Kira back into the building. I suddenly realized the time, and excused myself as the other patients began describing the nature of the fight.
"Holy shit, what is wrong with Tousen? That man is as stupid as he is blind"
"Fucking psychotic fuck, attacking Zaraki Kenpachi? Really? Is he really that mad?"
It was raining heavily that autumn, and I walked through the asylum halls, listening to the song of the asylum. Loud screams of pain, inflicted upon the victim by their own brains, betrayed by their twisted minds. Rangiku had spent the night crying, and was now in Dr. Unohana's office discussing an adjustment in her medication. Isane had told me that Aizen had caused her to have a flash back, and Ichimaru Gin had only intensified Hatsumomo's reaction to the memory.
I walked cautiously to Aizen's office. After what I had heard about Rangiku that day and the fight with Zaraki and Tousen, I could sense that something was amiss in the asylum. I knocked gently on his office door, and heard the usual irritated grunt, as well as two other grunts, one delighted, the other contemplative. I opened the door and found Ichimaru lying down on the chaise long I usually dominated, with the blind Tousen beside the window. Aizen was at his desk, with his hands under his chin.
"Ah, Tousen, weren't you mushed by Zaraki?" I asked absent mindedly. What the fu…
"Pleased to meet you, Renji" Gin grinned, and pounced on me, holding me down while Aizen, with one swift motion, set a bottle of vodka on fire. Molotov cocktail. My skin crawled at the sight and I shouted, however, Gin, Aizen and Tousen had already escaped. With one swift motion, Aizen tossed the bottle into a nearby store room, and the fire blazed through the hall. He had already left before the flame reached the end of the corridor. I felt the lick of the flames on my back, and yelled in pain.
There was commotion all around me, but I passed out before I could realize what was going on. From all the pain, I found solace in the darkness.
It had been 5 weeks at the asylum. I had finally developed a daily routing; wake up, eat, read, eat, leisure, eat, sleep. This went on for days on end; the only thing to break the monotony was the arrival of him. In my travels in India as a kid, there was a word for an attractive new man: Kukkad. That is what appeared that day, during sport. We all stopped our game to stare at him with gaping holes for mouths. I suddenly had the insatiable urge to fall to my knees and worship this man. He walked strong and tall, with purpose enough for all the humans in existence. His grey eyes were cold, staring emptily across the field as he passed by. His hair fell in long, silky strings of ebony that graced his shoulders and framed his sculptured, angular face. As he passed, I caught the scent of cherry blossoms, and though it was early winter, I could smell the lovely perfume of a warm spring day among the sakura in Japan. He was… exquisite.
Later at dinner, he arrived again, escorted by one of the resident shrinks, Ukitake. The white haired kind man had been therapist to Ikkaku; with improvement, Ikkaku's outbursts became less frequent, however no less violent. I barely noticed him though; I had my eyes focused on the graceful creature by his side. I stared at him, hoping to absorb as much of him as I possibly could. For a moment, he turned his head and stared back, and I turned away, blushing slightly.
"Good evening to you all, I am here to announce the arrival of our new residential therapist, after the departure of Aizen. This is Kuchiki Byakuya, who will be taking over for Aizen's old patients. Please make him feel welcome" Ukitake smiled warmly and exited, tailed by Byakuya, who simple nodded to the assembly and departed, but not before we made eye contact once more. I blushed again,
"The fuck are you blushing about?" Ikkaku asked rudely through his mashed potatoes. I threw my plastic spoon at him and retorted, "None of you f-ing business, a-hole!"
The next day we found out that Byakuya was going to take over as Yumichika, Hitsugaya, Rangiku and my therapist. We would each have an hour with him every day, and extra time if needed. We all knew; you don't ask for extra time, ever. It was an unwritten rule, an unspoken agreement between patient and therapist, that you never took extra time. Extra time meant that you would actually be talking to the therapist. Only the extreme nutcases stayed in for extra time, which is why to avoid social discrimination, no one took extra time.
We stood in a line, and Byakuya examined us skeptically, reading our thoughts, I guessed. He took his time inspecting us, and when it was finally my turn to be scrutinized, he held my chin and tilted my head so I could look into his eyes. His icy eyes investigated and probed me, and like that, he let go and walked away.
"I will be seeing you each later today. An hour each, unless you really need, the extra time" he said, the last bit sounding like an inside joke. We were all familiar with the joke, but it was devastating rather than funny. He dismissed us, and we scattered, me going towards the lake side. I was the only place anyone could think in this asylum, however there was a tall electric fence surrounding the lake. Apparently, a patient tried to drown in the lake, so their barred it off. I however still took pleasure in the calm water that was sometimes disturbed by mandarin ducks or dragonflies that settled gracefully upon the water taught surface.
"Hey there" a small voice said from behind me. I tilted my head to the right to see a small black haired girl in a yellow summer dress stare down at me. It was late autumn, and she looked strange, out of place, with a smile and yellow dress. She seemed like an alien concept, something I would never understand, and yet so desperately wanted to. I smiled back slightly and said, "Please, join me" I tapped the damp dirt beside me.
She sat gracefully beside me and was quick to introduce herself, "Kuchiki Rukia" she offered her hand. I took her small palm into mine and frowned, "he has a wife?"
She giggled, a happy little sound, "No, sister! My sister had been his wife; however she died so he adopted me as his sister"
I was surprised by the sudden chunk of information and said, "Sorry about your sister. I have no family if that makes you feel better"
"No it doesn't, but thanks anyway" she shrugged. We sat quietly as a mandarin duck walked towards the fence and was suddenly electrocuted. Both Rukia and I laughed.
"What's your name?" she asked between peals of laughter.
"Renji, Abarai Renji" I laughed, wiping away a tear. She smiled again and got up suddenly, this time not as graceful; "See you some other time Renji, I live here now, so that other time will be soon, bye" and she ran off suddenly.
I stood up, stretched and checked the time. Three hours until my first appointment with Kuchiki Byakuya.
Byakuya settled into his new office and frowned deeply. It was so indescribably inadequate; he had to close his eyes just to stop from having an outburst of anger. He bit his lower lip. There was nothing for him and Rukia anymore, this asylum was his last resort, before he found himself having to give her up and moving into a homeless center. After his refusal to re-marry, his noble family had exiled him, refusing him or Rukia any wealth, any money to sustain some sort of lifestyle. But he didn't let that get him down.
He straightened up and coughed. He was going to prove himself, not break down the way they said he would. With a timid knock on the door, he quickly picked himself up and said, "Yes Renji, please come in"
I stepped in carefully into the Minotaur's layer. He sat at his desk with a blank expression. I approached and sat on the chaise longue, as I always did with Aizen. It had not been discovered what had happened with Aizen, Gin and Tousen, to explain what they had done. My burns had healed, but it was still painful to lie down on my back. Nights were uncomfortable, cleaning and dressing the wounds unbearably painful, but still, it was better my back than anywhere else.
"Good afternoon" he greeted formally, not a hint of emotion on his stoic features. His forehead glistened with sweat, and he looked slightly disheveled, but the rest of his features betrayed nothing.
"Hey" I said shortly and lay down on the couch. I felt the other man stare at me so I turned to stare back, "Are we going to get over and done with this or not?"
"To be honest with you, I don't know. Will this ever be over? Will your mental disorder ever be over? Says here you are borderline. The only mental disorder that actually has physical proof of its existence. Shows up on CAT scans. Mental disorder is incurable, you know that right?" he asked boldly, unsure of how I might have replied. I wasn't sure how I'd reply. Everyone walked around my disorder; no one ever confronted me with it before. It kind of pissed me off…
"So what the fuck am I doing here? What's the point of even talking to you, or this asylum, or life in general?" I snapped
"Is that why you attempted suicide, because you didn't see the point in living?" Byakuya asked, his eyes shining slightly with a glimmer of self-confidence. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"That… that was…" I had no explanation for what I done. I refused to think about it, because it would only destroy me. I closed my eyes and re-opened them to stare at Byakuya.
"I understand," he said, "That's why you are here, so we can deal with that and move in with our lives, no matter how badly we want to end them"
We spent the next hour talking about redundant things. My favorite color, favorite food, and music I listened to, friends, hobbies. Simple, social formalities. At the end of the hour, we had gone through all the easy stuff, I knew tomorrow would not be as easy.
I stood up to leave and as I did I heard him say, "Just because mental disorder is incurable, does not mean it's not manageable. I'm here to help you manage, this asylum was made so I could access you, and the point of life is to make at least one person come to your funeral,"
I turned slightly and smiled at him, though his face remained neutral, his eyes softened slightly. That must have been his form of a smile.