Chapter 2 – Restless Dreams

"Where are you going, Aiko?"

The question comes from far away, almost too far to hear. I feel like I should answer, but only for a moment. The sun's irradiating glow has heated the planks under my feet, burning my bare soles as I run. Ignoring the sensation, I realize that soon it won't matter.

"Aiko, don't go!"

This time the voice is even further away. The sound barely catching in my ears, it quickly leaves my memory as the thudding of feet on wood fills my ears. I can hear my heart quicken as I continue running with abandon, not even caring where I'm running to – I simply run. Overwhelmed by the rushing wind, quickened pulse, and shining sun, I run unhindered, happy and care free. There are no tears, no worries, no expressionless expressions or cold stares. It's just me, the wind in my ears, the sun's warmth, and the dock under my feet.

And then it's not.

Stopping unnaturally – as though suddenly frozen in time – I turn. Trying to remember why I was running, the memories rush over me, but I can't catch them. Slipping through my fingers like a gently breeze, the reason for my flight fades into oblivion, leaving only the chill. My bones grind to a halt, my teeth begin to chatter, and the rest of my body begins to shudder. As the chill fills me with dread, my chest tightens and I feel my lungs screaming for air they can't catch. The world that was bright and warm has turned cold and dark, and I long for that voice calling me. Straining my ears, I try to listen for him, or just to hear anything, but there is nothing.

Where is he?

My rasping breaths are all I can hear anymore, but the lungs they're trying to fill are being choked, and I'm beginning to panic. There's no rushing wind, no patting feet, not even a whisper filling this deadened air. Even my heart is deafened as it thuds against my ribcage, terrified and erratic. The world I knew is gone, and in its place is this soundless, airless, darkened winter, a vacuum whose emptiness is swallowing me whole. Overwhelmed, I begin to cry, but the tears are trapped and frozen as they roll down my cheeks, and I sink down to my knees in despair.

Everything is nothingness.

Terror overwhelms me, intensifying my sobbing and making my voice crack as I let out a mournful wail, which is then caught and silenced by the pervasive nothing creeping from beneath me. Freezing dampness begins to rise from under my feet, but I cannot move, the moment it touches any part of my body, it's rendered numb. Twitching weirdly, I cry out and curse in protest, but my words are stifled and rendered useless. Terrified, I can feel my life being drained, and I'm fighting against the touch of death with all my willpower, but it's all in vain – it's always in vain.

Horrified, I start swinging my arms wildly, trying to free my feet, but there's nothing I can do and I know it. Thoughts of home and love, of family and friends fill me with peace, but it's a terrible lie, and I don't want to see it anymore. The world is crashing in all around me, freezing me inside and out, suffocating me, and the imaginary voices are begging me to open my eyes, but I refuse. This can't happen again. It won't if I don't open my eyes; I don't want to watch the world crush itself... crush me. I just want this to end, and every fiber of my being begs for release as the numbness ascends.

But this isn't over yet.

It's a moment held in suspension from a memory I can't forget, and I have to open my eyes. I have to see this happen again. I have to see my reflection in the waves – that of a child – as I fall in slow-motion. I have to look back and see Dad reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly across my arm, his eyes filled with terror as I slip from his grasp like a ghost recalled to the realm of the dead. Whimpering, I steel my gaze, trying not to feel the rush of fear and doubt as the icy water cascades over me and the world turns black, but knowing how this ends makes it no less terrifying.

The numbness fills me completely and I touch madness as the world begins to go dark, my mind fighting the inevitability of doom. Like a theater screen projected before my eyes, I see people I've loved and people I've hated staring back, their expressionless expressions offering no comfort as my heart slows to a stop and my eyes freeze into a lifeless stare. Icy water rushes in to drown me in darkness, and I try to scream again, but the wasted effort is caught in my throat. My final choked gasp escapes my lips as consciousness drifts away, and I float away into eternal blackness, defeated.

Waking with a start, I feel the wetness on my cheeks – bitter tears for a long-past terror – and I try to forget the dream. That nightmare doesn't visit as often as it used to, but it still has the same effect; turning me into a blubbering fool. Frustrated more than frightened, I sit up and wipe my eyes, grab my pillow, and hold it against my chest. Slowly rocking back and forth and sniffling, I repeat in my head that I'm not being swallowed by freezing cold water, and try to ignore the fading images. A tsunami isn't coming after me in the real world, it couldn't be; tsunami are rare this far inland.

That nightmare has haunted me ever since I my near drowning, and the whole thing is completely predictable: running down the dock, hearing Dad call after me, falling off the end, and then watery darkness. However, knowing what will happen doesn't make it any less terrifying – it gets worse each time, actually. That seems a little backwards, but I'm not an expert on dreams. Either way, nothing has ever helped stop it from returning, and I've tried to deny the power it holds over me, but I always end up sitting in the dark, whimpering like a child.

None of my friends, and certainly not my Mom, knows about the recurring nightmare, and I plan to keep it that way. If they knew, I'd probably end up in therapy, and the Yamaku staff has several psychologists on staff, but I don't have the time or patience for that. Besides, I don't like the thought of someone poking around in my head, and they'd probably just start throwing drugs at the problem. It would be preferable to wake up crying once in a while over having an ocean of pills waiting at my bedside every morning, especially when it's only a dream.

I don't even like taking aspirin for a headache.

Fortunately, I usually go for months without waking up terrified – those are good months. It just tends to return when I'm under stress, and the festival certainly has that effect. When I was younger, I had someone I could trust, who always came when I cried to help me hide from the bad dreams, but they're unavailable now. Besides, unlike my eight-year-old self, I can't just lock myself away somewhere to avoid life. The world doesn't come to a screeching halt just because I woke up crying; I have responsibilities. People are counting on me, and I can't let them down.

I can't let a nightmare, or a bad memory rule my life.

Summing up some willpower, I choke back the tears enough to open my eyes. It's pitch dark still, so I turn toward my alarm clock and gawk. Usually I don't crash quite so early, but the long day coupled with all the sleep I've been losing apparently caught up, and I slept right through dinner. Having fallen asleep so early, I shouldn't be surprised to see it's only three in the morning, but I feel quite well rested. Apparently, despite the awful ending, whatever sleep I got was restful, though I doubt I'll be getting any more sleep in the wake of that dream.

Rolling forward, I reach for my glasses down on the floor, left there when I collapsed into bed, then bound back and spin around to take a look out through my window. Perching my elbows on the sill, I stare out at the the night sky, lit by a three-quarter moon and a full field of stars. The lazy forest in the distance is veiled by a dense blanket of mist, but I can see little sparks of light darting between the branches – fireflies that remind me of home. Well, my old home, anyway, the one I grew up in before coming to Yamaku, and before my family left it behind.

Not all the memories are fond ones...

Some quick math makes me realize that I apparently slept eight consecutive hours, which explains why I don't feel tired. Despite missing dinner, I don't feel hungry – not that I could eat after all that crying – and classes don't start until eight, which is almost five hours from now. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I drop my chin against my uplifted palm and stare out the window, trying to think of a way to kill time. Star-gazing is fun, but usually only holds my attention for a few minutes, and I ought to try being responsible with my unintentionally early morning.

Thinking back through yesterday's classes, I recall the morning review in calculus, which I didn't really need, and Ito didn't assign any homework, either. The English assignment was finished during class, and Mutou didn't assign any homework for science, either – which is weird for him, but I'm not complaining. There's a History paper due next week, but I'm leaving that aside to work on after the festival. All that leaves is the inventory reports, which I handed in on time, and, of course, the afternoon spent in a dusty old room with the new guy who asked me to call him by name.

The mysterious Hisao Nakai...

Tall, sullen, and accidentally charming, I was intrigued by his plight before I even met him, and that mystery has only become more intriguing. Ever since I was little, I haven't been able to resist a good mystery. I've always tried to figure people out, get to know their secrets, uncover the skeletons in their closet, and usually it got me in trouble. When I was real little, it was cute; I was the precocious tomboy, always watching and trying to figure things out, and my parents encouraged my inquisitive mind. It hasn't been a very useful skill in school, though, and tended to get me in trouble.

It earned me more detractors than friends, and, coupled with my clumsiness, geeky habits, and other issues, I became an irate, insecure, sarcastic outcast. That was mostly before coming to Yamaku, but I haven't changed a whole lot, though I found several like-minded people here. This new guy, Hisao, has an inquisitive look in his eyes, and he's kind of hapless like a lost puppy. It doesn't hurt that he's adorable, even with that weird cow-lick and sweater-vest. Aside from looking like a geek, and being good with numbers, he's also quite handsome, and that's probably why I practically threw myself at him.

I doubt I'm the first one to do that, though...

Embarrassing and impossible as it all might sound, I started flirting before I realized what was happening, and I think he was too, though I could just have been imagining things. Nobody was more surprised than me when I invited him to lunch, and the little wave he offered keeps playing in my head. It would make perfect sense if he just waved to try and get rid of me – people do that sometimes – but I think he was expressing genuine interest; I really hope he wasn't just being polite. If nothing else, I want to find out what he's doing here, and maybe he wants to know more about me.

Dream along with me...

All I said is that I'd help show him around, effectively offering my services as a tour guide, which is something he probably doesn't even need. Afterward, he could just have been acting courteously, like when he opened the door for me. From there he followed along politely until I gave him the chance to leave, with good reason. Evefything was going fine for him until the math geek with the two-toned eyes invited him to lunch in a boring classroom. However, he's far too nice to refuse an offer outright, so he waved, he smiled, he won't show up, and I'll never talk to him again.

Dammit...

Falling back on my bed, I feel a wave of dizziness as I hit the pillow. Damn my useless ear, and damn Hisao Nakai; he can act coy and mysterious all he wants, I'm not interested anymore. Besides, probably half the girls in his class have already expressed an interest, especially considering how normal he looks, and nice, and soft-spoken, and courteous, and hapless, and... damn him. Shizune and Misha are goading him into joining the Student Council, cute little Emi probably has designs on making him her running sex-slave, and all I offered him is lunch in a classroom.

I don't stand a chance...

Breathing out a long exasperated sigh, I decide I'm done arguing with myself about things I can't even control. Sitting up to look at the clock, I groan, "Three-o-five?"

All this thought and worry and it only wasted five minutes?

Grabbing another pillow, I slam it on my face and fall back onto the matterss, trying to block out the world. Rolling onto my side, I pull the blankets up until they cover me completely and I try closing my eyes to force myself to sleep like a bird with a sheet over its cage. Unfortunately, my brain betrays me; it has no intention of letting me drift the hours away in unconsciousness. Putting up quite the fight, I stay motionless under the covers with my eyes closed for an amazing ten minutes, but it's pointless. Heaving a resigned sigh, I toss the blankets aside and stand up out of bed.

Insomnia I can deal with, but being up this early, feeling rested and refreshed with nobody around and nothing to do but think is pure torture. Turning my discouraged gaze at my desk, I snap on my clip-lamp and sit down in the chair. My laptop lies there, and I think I've found my distraction. Running a hand over the miscellaneous stickers on its back, I consider getting some research done for that History paper, or maybe just doing some general studying. However, as I flip it open and hear the wake-up chime, I decide all I need is some mindless entertainment.

Looking over my desktop, I notice a program icon that I haven't bothered with since it's been there. Amaya fancies herself an internet pirate – among other things – and she recommended an unreleased game beta a few weeks ago, thinking it would be something I'd enjoy. She told me there's some kind of complex physics engine involved, and it's supposed to explore alternate dimensions, or something like that. In any case, her description sparked my interest, but after installing it I got distracted with festival preparations and left it untouched until now.

This is hardly the right week to play video games, what with all the other more important things I could be doing, but it's also three in the morning and everyone is asleep. Besides that, I need something to distract me, not bore me into thinking about Hisao again. That reminds me, I should definitely avoid all my hidden folders; as much as I might like to, I should avoid associating him with the contents therein – wishful thinking will just lead to disappointment. Shaking that thought aside, I glance at the clock and figure I have plenty of time to give this game a proper try.

I've always wanted to beta test a game before release... legality be damned.

Nearly three hours of hopping through the pirated beta goes by faster than expected. The strange Portal Gun allows you to leap through tears in space and appear on the other side instantly, or just stand on both sides at the same time. It's a little weird, and probably defies a whole slew of physical laws, but it's ridiculously addictive, at least for a nerd like me. The physics engine and the math behind it keep me intrigued for hours, even as the game crashes continually and forces no less than four complete shutdowns; apparently Portal isn't quite ready for release.

Now I know why I shouldn't have this yet...

Regardless of how impossible it sounds, I wonder whether such a thing could ever actually work. Being able to walk across a room, or the country, or the planet in a single step is probably just wishful science fantasy, but the practical applications seem limitless. It's exciting to think I could just hop through a wall and appear in my classroom, or go even further and transport myself into Mom's living room. It's exciting to say the least, and the knowledge that I'm playing a game I shouldn't legally have adds a whole other layer of excitement, along with a healthy sense of fear.

I should probably delete this when I'm done... just in case...

My musings are interrupted by noises outside my door; metallic springing sounds that I quickly recognize as Emi's prosthetic running spikes. Not even thinking, I stand and reach for the doorknob, intending to stop her and ask about the new guy. After spending all day yesterday trying to figure out what happened to Hisao, the temptation of having that mystery solved is almost enough to override logic. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – I don't even know how to go about asking, so I hesitate just long enough to hear the springing sounds disappear around the corner.

I don't think I'd be satisfied reading the last page like that, anyway...

Besides that, even if he did tell her anything, she takes stuff like that as seriously as a doctor, so there's no way she'd give me a straight answer. At most, she'd giggle knowingly and ask why I was so interested, and I'd be blushing and slamming my door before she could blink. Then I'd have to deal with rumors about me having a crush on the new guy, assuming those aren't already making their way around the school after yesterday; it's a small school, and people sometimes make up their own entertaining stories based on very little evidence.

Is that what Misha's reaction was about...?

Groaning, I stomp over and sit back down in my chair. "Emi probably doesn't know, anyway," I whisper to myself, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince.

When I turn around to look at the monitor again, I suddenly don't feel like messing with the buggy game anymore. Over the past few hours I've been starting to feel hungry, but I was too busy focusing on leaping through digital hoops to notice. The cafeteria won't open until seven, and it's definitely too early to call for a delivery, but I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. There's a kitchen downstairs in the common room, and following an unfortunate incident last year, I'm not allowed near anything that generates a flame, but I doubt I'll accidentally start any fires using the microwave.

With that in mind, I decide to head out in search of sustenance. The low lighting in the halls this early is just enough to see door numbers, and I absently add them together as I'm walking along. To anyone else I'd probably look a little mad whispering to myself as I walk through the dimmed hallways, but it's very calming. Counting down from my door, they add up to four-thousand six-hundred and five, but I've counted them several times. The tiles on the stairwell walls present another kind of challenge, but I'm a little too bleary-eyed to count them this morning – maybe next time.

I like numbers...

As I approach the common room, I notice the lights are on inside, which is a little strange given the early time. It's possible I'm not the only one having an unusually early morning, but I'm not prepared for the sight I find inside the little kitchen. Sprawled out face-down on the cold tiled floor lies Amaya, her light blue nightgown twisted around her legs, and a puddle of drool under her chin. Frowning, I forget about my hunger pains and rush to kneel beside her. Grasping her shoulders, I gently roll her onto her side and place my fingers against her neck to check for a pulse the way Nurse showed me.

Don't do this to me, Amaya...!

Feeling the thrum of her heartbeat, I breathe a sigh of relief, but I'm still concerned. She looks like she's asleep, but her heart is racing. That could be bad, or it might mean nothing, but I'm hoping the worst has passed. Epileptic seizures are nothing to scoff at, and I'm no expert, but I've found her like this before, many more times than I would like to recall. Sending my eyes around to check for any sign of blood or bruising, I work at tugging the twists out of her gown to release her legs, and I wonder how long she's been down here on the kitchen floor, completely alone.

While I'm berating myself for not taking a look around the dorms in the past three hours, I remember that Emi just darted past my door barely five minutes ago, which means she had to have seen this. The track star would have stopped to lend a hand, I'm sure, so Amaya probably hasn't been lying here for terribly long. If she were barefoot, Amaya could easily have left her room without my hearing it, and then collapsed just prior to my arrival. That means this probably just happened, but I'm still worried; she's had a couple concussions result from impromptu seizures, so I shouldn't let her sleep.

The self-doubt can wait.

Shaking her tiny shoulders, I wince as she stirs; if she isn't lethargic, I'm about to get yelled at, and probably punched a few times. As her eyes flicker open, she sputters into a coughing fit, then she starts gagging, but she isn't complaining. After a long rattling gasp, she starts trying to sit up, so I help her lift her head off the floor, and lean herself against my knee. Still sputtering, she reaches out aimlessly, and I grasp her searching hand. Consciousness is a good sign, and I'm definitely relieved that she's awake and sputtering rather than asleep and drooling, but she's a long way from coherent.

I hate when this happens...

The kitchen can be a death trap for someone having a seizure. Even without the presence of knives, fire, and heavy objects hanging from hooks, there are hard tables, chairs and the floor itself that could all cause terrible injuries if they're hit at the wrong angle during an uncontrolled fall. She once told me about a gash on the back of her head that took fifteen stitches – the result of a poorly-timed seizure on a flight of stairs. Telling me that was probably a mistake because hearing about it left me feeling so horrified that I stuck to her side for a week, like a misinformed parent.

That's when she started calling me "Mom" affectionately on occasion, which is both endearing and extremely annoying. She's my best friend, and maybe I get a little overprotective, but I don't think my reaction is improper. Over the years, I've been witnessed several of her seizures, and I guess I've gotten used to the sight itself, but it still frightens me; even though I've been told that's exceedingly rare, I always worry her heart might stop.

Looking over her now, I'm not embarrassed by that nickname at all – it's kind of fitting – though I think of her more like a sister. Thankfully, unlike my real sister, I haven't had to deal with her in diapers, though she's almost as much of a hassle sometimes. Speaking of which, as if on cue she starts to stir on her own, and I turn my attention down to her flickering eyelids. Trying to stay calm and not get ahead of myself, I gently stroke her short, straight hair, trying to soothe her, though I know it isn't much consolation after what she just went through.

Shaking that thought aside, I quietly ask, "Hey there, how you feeling?"

Her response isn't very encouraging: she lets out a pained whine, curls up against my leg and starts to cry. At least she's conscious, but she still could have hit her head on something, so, starting at her forehead, I start brushing her hair with my palm, which is a decent way to cover my feeling for bruises or cuts. There aren't any abnormal bumps or blood, so it seems like she didn't injure herself on the way down, but perhaps the best sign is that she's aware of what I'm doing.

"I-I'm f-fine!" she sputters, squirming away from my hand and glaring at me. Her eyes slam closed almost immediately, like it's too painful to keep them open, then she hides her face against my knee. "Just a seizure, nothing special... I'll be fine," she declares, her voice barely above a whisper, "I just..."

Not wanting to frustrate her further, I pull my hand away. "Do you want me to bring you to Nurse?" I ask, trying–and probably failing—to keep the concern out of my voice. At this point, I'm just glad I'm not panicking. "Correction: should I bring you to Nurse...? I know you never want to..."

She rolls away and shakes her head, holding a petulant frown on her little round face. That's probably all the answer I'll get considering the state she's in, and she might say she's fine, but I know she's too weak to move. The same pride that keeps her from asking me for help with calculus also makes her react poorly to offered assistance, especially when her epilepsy is involved. Out of respect, I usually give her some distance after a seizure, and usually she really is fine once the grogginess clears, but I'm not above taking matters into my own hands if I think she's just being obstinate.

She doesn't take any of my shit, either...

After a short while, she sits up hazily and starts pawing around the floor, apparently searching for her glasses. A quick look around allows me to pinpoint their location, and once I've made sure she can sit up on her own, I get up to retrieve them. Picking them off the floor from under the nearby table, I bring them back and leave my hand out after she takes them.

"C'mon," I say, wriggling my fingers, "I'll walk you back to your dorm." As she takes my proffered hand, I add, "You're sure you don't wanna see-"

"No," she interrupts harshly, shaking her head emphatically as I pull her to her feet.

Respecting her wishes, I place an arm under hers and we head out toward the stairs. As we walk, I can feel her stumbling against me groggily – this is probably what it's like to help a stumbling drunk. Luckily she's lighter than I am, and I have no trouble holding her upright. Now that she's on her feet and I can see how much she's stumbling, I wonder whether I should just turn us right around and head for Nurse's office. At worst she would hate me for a day, but I'll feel better if someone watched over her for a while, and Yamaku Academy is well-equipped for medical care.

I might not need therapy, but a lot of my classmates do.

In her fatigued state, she probably wouldn't even notice the change of direction, and there are plenty of beds available in the hospital wing, along with twenty-four hour staff employed for this very kind of problem. Then again, I'm not exactly doing anything for a couple hours, and she'd probably prefer a friend over a nurse – even if I'm clueless. Shrugging as we enter the stairwell, I figure I can always get the professionals involved if any complications arise, so I settle on checking in with Nurse later; he counts on me to make sure Amaya sees him after her episodes.

I usually have to brow-beat her into going...

That can wait until later, though; walking her up the stairwell presents enough of a challenge without getting into a screaming match. She stumbles a few times, and I prevent at least three potentially catastrophic falls along the way, but we've soon reached Amaya's room. Without any protests – not that I'd listen to them – I help her inside and lay her down on the bed. She'll probably hate this next part, but I'm not letting her sleep until I check. Taking a flashlight from her dresser drawer, I get her to open her eyes and shine it into each of her pupils.

When they constrict against the bright light, I smile and breathe a sigh of relief – it's the best news I've gotten all morning. When she then swats my hand away and rolls onto her side to escape my grasp, I'm actually happy; she might be surly and petulant, I'm pretty sure she didn't get concussed. Scanning her over as she rests in the fetal position, I shake my head and try not to think about everything else that could have gone wrong. She's still a little out of sorts, and she'll probably have a raging headache later, but I'm pretty certain she'll be fine.

I might end up paying for that flashlight trick, though...

Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, I turn a glance at her little nightstand, and the collection of pill bottles arranged near the lamp. Nurse told me the medications don't completely prevent her seizures, but without them she practically couldn't leave her room. He probably broke a few dozen rules of conduct by telling me that, but since she lives directly across the hall from me, Nurse set us up to watch out for each other. Despite the potentially detrimental professional consequence, he's fond of recruiting students to help their fellow classmates – like a buddy system.

The way he recruited Emi to run with Hisao?

That thought lingers while I'm watching over my partially-unconscious friend. The new guy probably didn't seek a partnership with our resident, legless track star, and he may not have any idea she developed a crush. Furthermore, he did just start here a few days ago, and probably hasn't even met most of his classmates. Even though they don't show it outwardly, I know from experience that people at Yamaku – students and teachers alike – are usually wary of new faces; it's an uncomfortable reality that some students have died from their afflictions, among other more tragic circumstances.

I try not to think about those alternatives...

My own circumstance makes it a moot point, so I usually don't think about death as a factor in forming friendships, but that's unusual among my classmates. It's considered taboo, but that doesn't prevent people from thinking about the memorial services that have been held – at least a half dozen during my time here. When new students get introduced, most of the older students – second and third years especially – stay back and wait, trying not to get attached for fear of potentially outliving their friends. So it's likely that Hisao is still being treated like a social leper, even though he looks fine.

And strong... and handsome... and charming... and- stop it, brain!

Shaking my head to clear away the morbid thoughts – and the lewd ones – I cast a glance at the wall-clock and notice it's already half-past-six. Nurse should be notified about her incident, and since she'll avoid it as long as possible, I'm counted on to keep him apprised. Not wanting to wake Amaya with my talking, I decide to send him a text message, but I need my phone first. After checking to make sure she's unconscious – rather than faking, which she's prone to doing – I head across the hall to retrieve my phone.

On my way back, I fumble out a message, [Amaya had seizure.]

I hate texting with this thing; I end up sounding like a simpleton...

When he responds right away, I'm a little surprised, but he's always inordinately alert when it comes to students' medical needs, which is probably part of the reason he got the job as head nurse at such a young age. Anyway, he's requesting more information, so I explain where I found her, and describe the state she's in currently. Once that's finished, I offer a belated apology, [Sorry. Didn't wanna bother you so early.]

[Don't worry about it, that's why I'm here!] his reply assures me, [But make sure she comes for a checkup later, okay?]

[Kicking and screaming if I have to,] I reply, chuckling as I step back into her room.

Knowing he knows I'm not kidding, I don't bother explaining myself. For now, I sit, and contemplate, and wonder, and try not to be lulled to sleep by the quiet. After about thirty minutes, I start feeling my eyelids sinking and, letting out a yawn, I stretch and try to push away the fatigue. When that doesn't feel like enough to keep me awake, I stand and start pacing quietly across her obscenely well-kept floor – her near-obsessive level of cleanliness puts my wreck of a room to shame.

As I'm pacing, I keep thinking about that stupid dream. Hours later it's still fresh in my mind, and I know it's silly, but I don't want to risk falling back to sleep and waking up crying again, especially not in Amaya's room. Meanwhile, the restful pose she's gotten herself into, curled up around her giant pillow, makes me a little jealous, but it's not her fault I can't risk sleeping, and she doesn't need to know why. She would just worry about me even more if I told her about the dreams, and she has enough worries.

Not the least of which being her own condition...

Still, holding a silent vigil, is incredibly boring, and after the adrenaline rush from finding her collapsed on the floor, I can feel the inevitable crash. That can't happen while I'm trying to stay alert in case she needs help, so I decide to head across the hall and retrieve my laptop. Sitting down at her desk, I start playing solitaire; it isn't the most exciting game ever invented, but it kept me awake last night.

Cards fall as the sun rises, and soon I notice it's about time to start getting ready for class. Though I hate to disturb her, I should at least ask whether she's feeling well enough to attend, but she's still wrapped around her pillow, softly snoring. Setting my laptop aside, I move over and sit gently on her bedside, then shake her shoulder. She stirs and groans, but doesn't otherwise reply, so I try poking her instead. When that doesn't garner a response either, I lean down close enough to whisper.

"Amaya, you awake?" I ask, just loud enough for her to hear, "It's almost eight..." Instead of answering, she grumbles incoherently and rolls away to face the wall. Smirking at her reaction, I realize she understood the question, and this is probably her answer. Still, I'll need to tell Ito something, so I give her shoulder another shake and ask, "Want me to tell Ito you're taking a day off?"

She rolls back toward me and scoffs, but the pleading look in her eyes tells me enough.

"I'll tell him you're not feeling well – stomach bug or something," I suggest, to which she nods. "He doesn't have to know about..." I end the statement there, upon seeing her darkened expression. "I will be telling Nurse, though," I state, drawing another frustrated groan, "No arguments!"

I won't mention he already knows...

She rolls back over and resignedly sighs, "Fine..."

Even after nearly three years here, Amaya is still apprehensive about anyone knowing when she had a seizure; she hates the questions that follow. She knows Ito will probably see through the lie, but that I'd at least try it makes her smile a little. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever like that after my accident, but I don't really remember. Mostly, I just remember the aftermath: ice cream, balloons, the nightmares, and being absolutely terrified of water for a whole year.

I'm a walking jumble of ironies...

The door creaks loudly as I make my exit, and the hall lights shine across her darkened bed, making her stuff a pillow against her face and croak, "Close the door!"

Apparently she's trying to hide a light-sensitive headache from me, but that's not unusual following a seizure. If there were going to be any bad complications, they would have shown up by now, but I should probably mention it to Nurse anyway. Satisfied that she'll be fine, I close the door and set about getting myself ready for class. A shower, a change of uniform, and a quick bowl of cereal in the common room precedes another walk across campus, ready for another day of droning boredom.

I wonder if Hisao will stop by for lunch... in my dreams...