STRENGTH - CHAPTER 2

Rinko knew it was going to rain. The weather forecast called for poor air quality, and she could see a thin veil, almost like mist, when she looked at the tree line. Her homework felt wet, the paper oddly pliable, and it tore easily when she erased a mistake.

Her office-like chair had a nice swivel, and she leaned back, feet on her desk. She sighed, and used the desk as leverage to push herself backwards. The wheels traced a darkened path on her carpet. She stopped at a mirror, and growled when she saw the aftermath of the humidity. Her hair was a mess.

"Ugh," she whined, and got up to retrieve a hairbrush. She removed her pony-tail holders and watched as her hair poofed outward—she could have sworn it was accompanied by a sound effect—like the release of a tightly-coiled spring. The brush was not helpful. If anything, it added static and more frizz.

"I give up!"

She fell onto her bed dramatically, but realized her eyes were now in line with the light of her lamp. She placed a pillow over her face and pressed down slightly while she tried to muffle her teenage cries of agony.

She hadn't seen Jade in three days. Three long, awful days.


Brocken Jr gripped a bottle of water, and squeezed a few times. The thin plastic made a crinkle-like sound, and got Jade's attention. He could see that the water was cold. Brocken set the bottle on a small table by Jade's bed, and condensation traveled down the sides and pooled just a little bit. He reached for it, but Brocken smacked his hand away.

"You must get to the water if you are thirsty."

He kicked the table, very slightly, and its small wheels squeaked along the floor, slowly, until it came to rest against the opposite wall.

Jade licked his lips, suddenly feeling very parched.

"You look quite thirsty. Why don't you get up and have a drink?"

"This is not fair, Herr Brocken!"

"No, I suppose it's not." Brocken smirked, picked up his heavy jacket from an adjacent chair, and made his way toward the exit, "Try and get some sleep, Jade. Tomorrow the real work begins."

Jade waited until he could no longer hear Brocken's boots against the tiled floor. He waited an additional few seconds, just in case, then reached an arm underneath the mattress of his hospital bed.

He talked Seiuchin into buying him a small, pre-paid flip phone. It was hard to use—auto-correct, paired with his large hands, made him re-write several text messages. The back-light of the screen glowed against his skin. Each button made an archaic dialing sound as he punched in his message one letter at a time.

To Seiuchin, Gazelleman, Mantaro, Kid (group text): ARE YOU GUYS BUSY? HERR BROCKEN JUST LEFT.

Gazelleman: Training

Seiuchin: Training

Kid: Training

Mantaro: Why are you yelling at me?! Also—training.

Seiuchin: Ask Rinko to visit ^.^

Jade: PROBABLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL WORK.

Seiuchin: -_-;

Jade: WHAT?

Seiuchin: Bakka!


Rinko's phone buzzed one time, then stopped. She tossed her pillow aside, and groaned as she sat up, fingers loosening their grip on her hair brush. I really hope it isn't Tamaki... I just can't deal with people today. She sat on the edge of her bed for a few more moments, as if she were accumulating the physical strength to lift herself from her perch. With an overly-dramatic sigh, she was so good at those, she found the energy to take the few steps forward and pick up her phone.

A pixilated .GIF of a sheet of paper on the front of her phone indicated that she had a text message. She flipped the cover open with her thumb, and clicked over to "messages."

She had one new text. From Jade.

"Oh, my God..." Her eyes widened for a moment, and she felt a nervous tingle in her chest. She took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her stomach. She suddenly did not feel very well. Nausea swept over her body, and she felt like she had to sit down again. Just read the text, dummy... She really wanted to read the text message, but her uncertainty of its contents held her back. What if he wasn't confessing his love for her? What if he wasn't asking her to visit him?

Her thumb hovered over the "OK" button... She pressed down, then closed her eyes for a moment. She sighed, gathered her courage, then opened her eyes.

Jade: HERR BROCKEN JUST LEFT. WANT TO COME AND VISIT?

"OH, MY GOD!" Rinko's grimace turned into a smile, and she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Okay, okay," she said to herself, "You've got this... Just wait, like, five minutes. Yeah. Text him back after five minutes. Don't seem so desperate... Oh, screw it."

She hit reply, and typed in her message.

Rinko: Sure, I'll come and see you. I'll leave in a few minutes.

She paused for a moment. Then hit the send button. She carefully set the phone down, and inhaled deeply. She exhaled slowly, trying her best to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

She only stood still for a moment—then she paced around her room frantically—what do I wear?! She asked herself, hands flying to grip her hair, how do I fix this?! I look like a poodle!

She ran to her mirror, and leaned over the dresser so her face almost touched the glass. Rinko surveyed the damage carefully – she could shower and just use a literal ton of conditioner to hopefully smooth out the wrinkles. Really, her hair reminded her of the crumpled paper in her waste basket. She could unfurl the edges, try to smooth it out, but the lines and creases would probably never go away. But she couldn't shower – that would take too much time. And she would show up to the hospital with wet hair. Which, for some reason, she thought would be weird.

She could try some of that anti-frizz stuff in that pump under the sink. But if she remembered correctly, it was supposed to be applied to wet hair. She has this sinking feeling – that if she pumped that chemical-smelling, white glob into her palm, the application would just make her hair greasy.

There really was no other alternative. The best thing she could do was own it.


She wore skinny, dark denim jeans, ballet flats, and a snug t-shirt. A compact umbrella swayed from her wrist as she walked down the sidewalk. She ultimately decided on not dressing up – Jade would ask her something about her outfit, and she would stutter and get all embarrassed, and blurt out something stupid. She was glad that Jade's attention was almost solely placed on his wrestling career. He never noticed her fidgeting, the way she played with her hair, the way she could not meet his gaze, as if the floor was utterly fascinating.

Brocken Jr. was different. As a coach – he analyzed. He could take one look at his opponent and figure out a weak spot. He spent – maybe – an hour with Rinko and came to the conclusion that she was hopelessly in love.

Hopelessly. She didn't consider herself to be extraordinary by any means. There was nothing about her hair, physique, or personality that could mesmerize Jade. He would end up with a supermodel, or the daughter of a diplomat, or maybe even a real-life princess.

She guessed that's why she set up camp in the hospital's waiting room that day. She needed some sort of grand gesture to get his attention, to make him realize that she existed. Of course – Jade knew that she was a living, breathing, person – but did he really acknowledge her? She never did get to tell him about it. He noticed her smudged make up, ran his thumb along her face in what she thought was a caring, romantic gesture.

Then promptly passed out again.

She couldn't read too much into it. He was probably hopped up on pain killers, and what the pain killers couldn't muffle, probably hurt so much it made him crazy.

But the palm of his hand, though only caressing her face for mere moments, was the best feeling in the world. His hand was so warm. His blanket was tucked all the way up to his neck, so his whole body radiated heat. She swore she could feel the heat escaping when he snaked his arm out from under the nurse's secure, tucked-in linens.

Everything about him dwarfed her. Despite the beeping machines, his white bed linens with the little blue dots, his silly, thin gown, and all the charts in a plastic holder on the door – he made her feel small, safe, and she felt that if danger approached, Jade would still get up and manage to save them. It wasn't just the muscles. He was tall. His hand took up the whole side of her head. She let her neck relax, so his palm held her up. His large palm and fingers curved to the shape of her head, squishing her cheek so it pressed up against her nose. Even though her eyes were focused on his face, she could see the blurry outline of his thumb run under her eyelid to kindly wipe away the offending black smudge.

She really wanted to wrap her fingers around his, to nuzzle her face into his calloused, dry palm. If he asked her about it, she would call him crazy, said it never happened, then turn the tables – she'd ask why he dreamed of such a gesture, and just maybe, he'd give their relationship a little extra thought.

But she didn't. She felt his fingers relax, his palm fall away, and heard a muffled thump as his arm fell back on the bed. His eyes closed, and his head probably would have rolled to one side, but that brace held it in place, and looked so uncomfortable. She wondered how he could possibly sleep with all of this stuff going on – the IV, the beeping, the lights, the brace, the unfamiliar setting. He must have been exhausted, and the simple action of lifting his arm was all he needed to expend the last remaining ounce of energy he acquired since his injury.


Rinko must have memorized the walk to the hospital, because she somehow managed to stand in front of the walkway that lead to the main entrance. The building was very bland. Very square, with a small patch of front yard. The yard was well taken care of, though. Someone probably went out and edged the grass on a weekly basis, because a very nice straight line separated the green blades from the cement path.

She was so lost in thought during her walk that she was not nervous. Now that she was suddenly out of her reverie, all of the nervousness from earlier just hit her. It came up behind and pushed her like some bully on the playground.

You have to go in, stupid. You can't see him if you don't, like, enter the God-damned building.

She clenched her fists, humphed, and walked forward with purpose.


Author's Note: I uploaded the first chapter quite some time ago. It was intended to be a one-shot, but over the last few days I found myself inspired. As you can probably guess, there will be at least one more chapter before the story is complete. For realz this time ;)