Author's Note: First off, spoilers for those who haven't finished the first volume of this manga series. Secondly, wow. This pretty much came out of its own with little input on my part, but I particularly like it because it's from Komiya's point of view. Though he's dying in this short piece, I love the way he thinks. Always, enjoy and review if you have time. ^^
Disclaimer: I do not own "Wild Adapter" in any way, shape, or form, and though I'd like to say that's a lie, it's not. Minekura Kazuya holds all rights to the manga, as well as the publishing company and lots of other people I'm forgetting at the moment.
[Written on September 24th of 2003 and last edited on February 23rd of 2004]
"Meaning in the Midst of Nothing"
Komiya one-shot
Who would have thought there would be so much of it? It seems like every time I attempt to move a limb, drag a leg, inhale, more of it suddenly appears. As if there's a never ending supply inside of me, but half of me knows better than this, that within a few hours it will end, and I…
That isn't important right now though. The only thing running in a loop throughout my mind is that I'm late. I am so late for my appointment with Kubota-san. If only those guys hadn't jumped me, stolen the small amount of WA I had been able to secure after so much effort.
If I didn't know how this was all going to end, I'd say the trail of blood I'm leaving in my wake is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Erratic, sketchy, it's a random pattern at best but with each heartbeat, more of my blood flows, adding to the art I've already scraped across the floor.
He's home, and his eyes are the widest I've ever seen them, so surprised is he to find me: Komiya Nanonu on his doorstep bleeding his life away in rivers. I'm apologizing yet I can't seem to think of the reason why I'm doing it. It's not like he's going to care I was late to meet him now. He's turning away now, heading towards the phone to most likely call the Izumo gang doctor that's on call 24/7, but I can't. I will not be left alone.
There's something so precious to me, and right here, looking at me curiously, and I can't let go of his sleeve because if I do, he's going to insist upon a doctor. I try to say his name, but my mouth fails me, closing and opening as if of its own will. Finally, it comes out, these words that sound so much like a confession of love but aren't. They're a warning, that if things continue as they are, you'll end up like me, dying for no real reason other than for someone's cross attitude.
Shit, Kubota-san, I can't see your face anymore, that face that never changed as you blew away the former Izumo youth gang leader or when you broke that guy's arm on the rail, and most likely the time you murdered those Tohjou punks across town, ripping nails from fingers, ears from heads, inflicting all sorts of damage without a second thought. Yet that face changed when we were burying that dead cat, whose grave you started digging because last time you weren't able to, and I didn't question your reasoning one bit because…you laughed.
My heart felt pained then, and it's only now, clutching at death's doorway that I understand why I couldn't stop talking about you. Boosting about to you to others, why I couldn't stop myself from hanging out with you all those times when I should have been doing the tasks assigned to me, why I felt so strange when you touched my cheek, when you laid your head in my lap and fell dead asleep within a minute.
It's all because I care deeply for you, a man, but then not a man. Something else, chaos mixed with nothing is no less than nothing. You exist and then you don't, and it's all so confusing inside of me, mixed with blood, affection, urges, pain, violence, regret, simpl-
Make it go away. Please. I know it's too late for me, but you, you have a shot at making something of yourself even if you become covered in blood doing so. For that, you have to…
"Live."