~Remember Us~
(Raku's P.O.V)
Sensei smiles as I hand her the sheet of paper with my signature writing; I don't think anything of the smile since she's an odd woman, but it's almost like she already knew what was written on the paper.
I turn on my heels and look over my class—many students are huddled at their desk talking about the same subject: their future career plans. There are one or two students who are having a hard time deciding, but with the counsel of their neighbor or best-friend they soon scribble down their answer. I can easily pick-out the students who have thought their future out since they're alone, finishing the questionnaire fluently (they didn't have to think about it for a second; they already know all the answers).
My eyes land on Shu; he's wearing his signature perverted smile as he works his way down the sheet quickly. I make my way over to him and crouch down beside his desk.
"A bikini inspector isn't a career," I joke.
"Dammit," Shu whimpers and bows his head in shame, "I had it all planned out." I chuckle and snatch the completely sheet from the pervert.
I scan through the answers and freeze for the last one, "a teacher?"
Shu sighs, leans back in his chair and gives me a genuine look. "I want to make the next generation a great one," he simply answers.
"You do know you can't look up your student's skirts, right?" I chirp.
"I know."
"You can't make any pervert comments either, you know."
"I'm well aware."
"And you can't have any inappropriate relationships with student either."
"I know all that," Shu smirks; his eyes cast over to Ruri who's still finishing the sheets questions. "I thought long and hard about this decision. I can't see myself being anything but a teacher, Raku."
I nudge the nerd slightly, "should we bug her?" I ask.
"No," Shu snickers and stands from his seat, "we'll leave her be now. It's a tough decision."
Nodding I follow the pervert to the front of the room towards the teacher. The middle-aged woman takes his sheet and looks over his response briefly, once seeing the career choice she grins and sighs softly, "you'll be a great teacher someday."
"Arigato sensei (Thank you)" Shu says; I pat him on the back and we head into the hallway.
There are few students walking around, many in which have finished their career questionnaire and didn't want to sit in their class.
It's weird—to think, all these student have many different paths and ideas for their future. For instance, Shu, I never seen him wanting to become a teacher—well, when I look at him now, he would make a fine teacher.
Shu's a good listener—he listens to me whine all the time, which will make student feel like they're being heard and can trust him. Then, he's also has an aura to him that makes people open-up to him. In all, I think he's making the right decision—he'll make big things happen in the educational system.
"What's your top-selected school?" I turn to my best-friend as we walk in silence.
The blonde hums softly and stare up to the ceiling, "I chose Tokyo-U. I've been asking different teachers where the best schools are, and a lot of them say it's Tokyo-U. Well, it's the best option, I'm not that good at speaking or writing English."
A few of my brother's went to the University for their Degree's. Apparently the entry-exam is rather difficult, not to mention the large amount of students who want to attend the campus—it's a hard place to get into. But, I know Shu and he's a smart-guy.
"I believe you can do it," I say with encouragement. "If you need a tutor, I'm here for you."
Giving a boyish grin he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "if you really want to help me out, you could get Yui-chan to lend me some of her old University textbooks to use when I get in."
"Say no more," I say, "Consider them yours' already, my friend."
"Thanks man," Shu chuckles; I ruffle his hair as we continue through the school.
We walk through the school with an aimless conversation hot on our tongues, by the time we reach the second-level Shu leaves to go check on Ruri. He's probably curious to know her answers on the questionnaire. I would've tagged along but decided I need some alone time—I feel like it's been too long since I've had any, even though I had too much at the hospital.
Once alone I head to the roof—I don't know why but I felt like being there.
The chilled metal of the railing covers my hands as I lean back with my eyes on the blue sky. Closing my eyes I let everything sink in—my last year of high-school, the future that awaits me, mom's death anniversary, prep-school and Chitoge.
I can truthfully say: I feel old.
Sighing away the reality the wind picks up, causing my shirt to rustle violently. My hair tousles along with my mind as peace seems to settle, allowing a question to rattle my thoughts. What does Chitoge plan to do in her future?
Before the accident she was talking about training to take over for her mother in their company but, even back then, she didn't seem that interested in business. When I mentioned anything I thought she would fit as a career, she would shake her head and hum a rejection. There never seemed to be anything that peaked her interested… well, from what I know (myself).
Maybe this other side of her, has thought about their future thoroughly and has a plan. Perhaps, it's down the path of science—English—maybe math. Either way, I want to support and encourage her the best I can… even if my plans turn out to make everything unattainable.
'Are you willing to leave someone you love half-way across the world?'—my father's voice echoes in my mind again; I know I don't want to leave Chitoge here while I'm in America, but I don't want to interfere with her future as much as I want to be in it.
A silent tear rolls down my cheek as I look down to the roof-top, "what am I doing?" I whisper.
Now, that I think about it, I damned myself from the start.
In the beginning of this journey to reconnect with Chitoge, I never thought about the possible outcomes and what would happen with my plans for the future. I never considered her or my own feelings in the process—I should've.
I can't be certain to whether she has feelings for me, but if she does then I leaving for America must cause her pain every time she thinks about it. But the pain that comes with knowing someone's going to vanish someday is worse than not knowing. When you don't know someone is leaving, you don't countdown the days, build walls or barriers, it's just a regular day with the underlying comfort of knowing they'll be there tomorrow. Then there's knowing—knowing only leads to questions, questions that can never be answered until the end.
When the vixen was in her coma, the doctors kept saying she was expected to wake-up within a month or two, even in a week (unlikely). So, I never left. I didn't want to miss the moment she opened her eyes—I wanted to be the first thing she saw that day, I knew she was expected to wake-up so I waited… and waited until it happened.
Each day past seemed slower than the last. My heart weighed heavy and so did my mind. Depression began to tangle itself around my body like overgrown vines, and I started to fall deeper into the dark hole of solitary. By the time Chitoge woke, I was no longer the same person I was before—I had been pledged by knowing there were dates set for her awakening. It's painful—immensely.
Chewing on my bottom lip I feel my heart clench—I've done this to her, to Chitoge.
My selfish decision to have her fall in love with me again, 'could've' placed that pain on her—placing myself in such pain.
Do I love her? The new Chitoge?
I don't know—but for some reason, I can't think of a day that wouldn't be pledge with depression unless she's present. How do I feel when I'm with her?
I feel content—there's never a worry or stress in my mind; all my thoughts are directed onto her. I wanted nothing but to be with her for as long as I could; that's why I would constantly ask if she wanted to walk home together. It gives me an extra twenty minutes with the blonde, even though my house is in the opposite direction. I tell her most things and she can read me like a book—she's like my best-friend…
This isn't remotely similar to the first time I fell in love with her. I thought I hated for the longest time, we would fight and argue every chance we had, I tried to avoid her as much as possible and then would stalk her (for some reason that I don't know).
My thoughts are cut short when the roof-door slams shut. I glance over to see her long blonde hair swaying the breeze, that stupid vibrate red-bow bouncing in air, eyes hidden by her bangs and uniform swaying as she stands still for a moment. Her shoulders are slouched which means: something is weighing heavy on her mind.
I can't help but hold my breath as she turns on her heels causing her skirt to swirl slightly. Our eyes meet instantly making my heart race and stomach to become knotted while her bright-worlds fill with surprise.
"Raku," Chitoge whispers; her cheeks cover with blush and she looks to the ground in embarrassment.
"Hey," I manage.
A breath-taking smile crosses her lips for my response—the slouch in her shoulders vanish as she approaches me. I observe her every movement like it's the last time I'll see her walking towards me—when I know there's lots of time left (hopefully).
Her physique hasn't changed—I know that, but for some reason, the way I take in her image… it's different.
I used to get a shiver down my spine every time I laid eyes on the vixen—it was like love was rushing through my body upon sight of her. But now, that shiver is gone and replaced with something new.
Every observation I take of her form continuously shines like a goddess, causes my stomach to flutter and heart to beat warmly in a racing pace. Its' comfort—it's like a warm ray of light that a cat basks in while napping.
When I look at this side of Chitoge I feel like am in heaven.
My thoughts snap away once she's right in front of me, merely inches from my being. I look up, catching her blue wondrous orbs and recall the scene from yesterday.
(Flash Back)
Cupping her face in his hands he looks deep into her blue eyes, searching for something—for answers, but only receiving a sun-kissed warm touch to his heart as he gaze deeper into her dazzling eyes.
The cracks a smile as the comical-name rings through her eyes like wind-chimes on a calm-breezy day; peacefully. "That god-awful name," she comments; he grins. "No matter what happens it still follows."
"Of course," he softly says. "Because it's our special message."
Silence settles but the two don't move away from each other—both are worried that the comforting blanket will vanish if they do.
The vixen looks deep into his eyes—the figment nearby is confused trying to recall the meaning of the name and what the important message is, but cannot. "Do you remember what the special message is?"
At first he smiles for the question, but gradually the smile fades and he steps back. Eyes narrowed he continues to search her face for the answer—nothing comes—he doesn't remember, but, it was important.
"I—"his voice cracks in terror; how could he forget the special meaning? "I—I don't remember."
(End of flashback)
Why do I continue to call her by that name if she is different from her?
This Chitoge isn't violent—doesn't hit me (unless needed), never insults me and causes me to fill with warmth. She's nothing like a gorilla, but yet I continue to call her by that name. But, why?
What was the special meaning to the name? What was I truly saying to her every time I call her such a name?
I push off the fence causing her chest to press against mine; she doesn't tense but relaxes for the closeness and places her hands on my chest. My eyes look deeper into her blue one's trying to remember the special-meaning by the gorilla-woman name.
Tracing my fingers over jawline and lips my own part slightly, my gaze begins to intensify as I study her face. She sighs gently when I cup her face and the brisk-warmth covers my finger-tips from my heart.
Her blue-eyes flicker as she looks up; my face inches closer to hers' until her scent is all I can smell.
What does it all mean? The feelings, cravings, name and continuous pull towards this "new" woman? Why can't I bare to think about leaving her?
Why…?
Why?
Why?!
の
で
.
.
.
[Because…]
Our lips meet—this time, when I close my eyes, I don't see the girl before the accident… instead the flashes of my time with her afterwards runs through my head like a speed-moving animation—the way I caught her fall—eating her horrible cooking—the race and protecting her from Shinji—our long chat in the hospital.
I saw her—the new Chitoge.
There's no guilt weighing on my heart; I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. I hear her breath catch and grin against her lips.
'My gorilla-woman…' my thoughts chime as her grasp tightens on my shirt and our lips dance together without missing-a-beat.
When we separate the memory comes back—the special meaning behind the name; the message.
"My gorilla-woman," I whisper as we step-back; my cheek flushed and lips still tingling from her warm touch.
Gorilla-woman mean: I love you.
.
.
~Remember Us~
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The solemn sound of the clock ticking away in the background as the silent steam rolls over my nose from the tea within my hands. I continue to stare down at the mug in my palms, the creamy brown liquid reflects my face as I stare aimlessly.
It's all starting to sink in—the fact that I'm in love with Chitoge (the newer side of her). I know I've spoken to Kosuke about it before, but now, the realization is setting-in like shock after an accident. But, why the name?
When I first met Chitoge, back in first year, I continuously called her by that name even though I didn't really know her well. Does that mean I loved her then too?
Back then, I thought I hated the blonde with an iron-fist. She was nothing but a pest in my eyes, that's why I called her by that name, because it pissed her off immensely. Getting under her pale-skin was one of my favorite things to do—I was definitely a shit-disturber—even though she would hit me hard-enough that I would see doubles and stars.
A rattling comes from the cabinets and I look over to see my father clad in his navy-blue robe, long flowing pyjama-bottoms and slippers. I watch as he grasps a mug and begins to make himself a tea.
"No," I say; he doesn't look back for my words.
"No? What do you mean, my son?" the old man questions.
I purse my lips together tightly. "The other day, when you asked me whether I could leave Chitoge here while I go to America, I finally figured out the answer. The answer is: no," I explain.
Dad hums for the news and turns with the tea in hand. "I know," he simply answers.
"How?" I ask in confusion.
He sighs as he swallows his tea and places the mug on the table in front of me. "I noticed it from the start, Raku"—I went to ask him how but he beats me to the punch. "The first day you and Chitoge-san started talking again, I noticed a shine in your eyes; one that's been gone for a year. When she joined us for dinner, I knew right away that you couldn't leave her."
My eyes are casted to the table for his observations—I didn't think my dad would notice, especially since he isn't here as much due to work. How is it he knew, when we barely get to see each other, but I didn't and I look at myself in the mirror every day?
"I'm in love with her again," I admit; Dad nods.
"I know," he casually remarks, "you look at her the same way I looked at your mother."
I'm silent once again. Kosuke told me that Dad used to look at Mom like she was a rare-gem, a piece of amazement. His eyes would shine like diamonds—become gentle and kind, never wavering even when he was mad or frustrated with things. His face would soften and he'd seem at perfect peace—every worry in the world vanished when he looked at my mother.
"I don't understand it," I say; he perks in interest. "I know I'm still in love with the Chitoge before the accident, and now, I'm in love with this one too? I don't feel any gui—"
"Why should you?" he interrupts, "you're in love with one woman not two."
Biting my lip I tighten my grasp on the ceramic-cup, "I know, but, their personalities are different from one another. The Chitoge from before and the Chitoge now, are like two different people."
He raise a brow and sighs, "I'm going to tell you something my boy," I look up and listen closely. "Women, are like the moon and the sun. The sun being the more prominent side that they show to the world every day. But the other side, the moon, is only shown when they're with people they're extremely close too. Its' how they protect themselves from being hurt."
"But, I and Chitoge were close before, why didn't she show me this side of her before the accident?"
"Did you notice any similarities in them?" he asks; I nod—I notice their similar defenses when they're embarrassed. "You do know this side of her, it's just hard to recognize. Chitoge-san probably showed you this side of her while continuing with her other-side as well. Now this side, the moon, is more noticeable which leads to your idea of them being two different personals."
I never thought about it that way—I did notice a few things that reminded me of the "old" Chitoge, but I never considered it to be because she was showing both sides at once.
"Thanks Dad," I say with the mug pressed to my lips.
"That's what fathers' are for," he smirks.
I place my cup down, "it's actually rather nice being able to talk to you about this, and not someone else."
The old man frowns slightly, "I'm sorry about that," he sighs. "I know I work a lot, and sometimes I'm not here for you guys as much as I want."
"Don't be," I insist, "we understand and can't appreciate you enough for what you've done for us, especially since it's just you."
A soft grin appears on his smiles as the silence settles in the kitchen—he needed to hear that, hear the truth. All of us know that Dad works hard to support us all, we try to show him our gratitude but sometimes it's better to hear it rather than show it.
"Dad," he looks over me for his name, "when you left for your business-degree and masters, what happened to you and mom?"
"Well, at first, your mother waited here for me," he states, "but then, after a year of having a long-distance relationship, I couldn't take it anymore. I missed her more than air and decided to have her move-in with me. She didn't mind, in fact, that's where she got the idea of opening the shop. She had gotten a job nearby our apartment at a bakery and it inspired her to want to do the same. So, once I was done school and we moved back here, I proposed inside the empty lot that the bakery now sits."
"Wait," I raise a brow, "did you buy that lot?"
"Yes," he chuckles, "she was eyeing it for a long time, so, I purchased it and blind-folder her. I walked her to the location, had her stand in the middle of the room and got down on one knee."
"You made all her dreams come true in one-night," I smirk.
"Exactly," Dad chuckles, "I wish you boys were there to see her face. She was in complete 'awe' and didn't know what to say. At first I thought she was going to faint, but then she hit me and said: 'I can't stand you sometimes, business-dork'".
"Business-dork?" I snort back a laughter.
He grins for the name, "she gave me that stupid-name in high-school because I was obsessed with business. I constantly told her that she could come-up with better but she never did."
It sounds like I and Chitoge—she's my gorilla-woman and I, her bean-sprout.
"What did you call her?" I chuckle.
"Donkey-President," he calm says like it's nothing; I burst into laughter for the name. "She hated it, with a burning passion, but I kept calling her by it. One year I actually got her a donkey-mask for our anniversary and stuck it on her head when she wasn't looking. Funny thing is, we were still in high-school and she was sitting in class with all her friends when I did it."
I chuckle as my father remembers the past—I can see the shimmer in his eyes as he recalls all the memories of my mother and his antics'. It's nice to see him like this, like some excited school-boy who can't sit still.
"God, she chased me around that school fifty-time's that day and when she finally caught me, she hit me with a book—her math textbook," he laughs. "Then again during our last year, while I was in prep-school, she replaced all the pages in my business books with smutty-fanfictions. That was one thing, but before I noticed, I had given one of them to my teacher to read-off of to my prep-class since he forgot his textbook."
"Oh no," I chuckle.
"Oh yes! That woman stood outside of my classroom listening while my teacher recited every word! Then he scolded me and my entire class couldn't stop laughing," he sighs from his laughter, "god that woman ran me up the wall and into crazy-town."
"But you loved every minute of it," I finish.
"Just like you do now," he comments.
,
,
~Remember Us~
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(Chitoge's P.O.V)
Through and through my hair-brush sweeps down my long-locks shining in the bedroom light—it's an aimless action but it's comforting, since it reminds me of the times my mother/father would brush my hair before bed as a child. It gives me peace.
I look to the mirror in front of me—in the corner of my room she sits, curled-up on the floor in the corner. Her long locks shine like gold, bodily outline hum like ripe peaches skin. I haven't heard her mutter a word since Raku kissed me on the roof-top. I know I've wished for her silence countless times, but now, I want her to say something—anything.
Placing the brush down I grasp the paper sitting on the flat-top. The words feel heavy as I look over the questions continuously, only to come up with nothing—I didn't have a thought in mind for the answers, I should… seeing as it's my future.
Even at school, while everyone was joyfully filling out the questionnaire I couldn't seem to think of anything I wanted to do after high-school. My mind was completely blank.
I had turned to the figment—hoping she had a slight idea but nothing came from her lips. Honestly, I had been hoping she and Raku had discussed their future before the accident, maybe she knew what she wanted to do but forgot once being hit by the truck—but her face remained blank. Then again, I thought I saw sadness in her eyes when looking at the questionnaire at first.
The paper flutters as I place it down and stand from the nightstand—I can't take it anymore. I can't take her silence any longer; I want to know what's bothering… her—us.
My fist clench against my purple and blue pok-a-dot pyjama bottoms. I could feel my heart ramming through my chest—it felt like it was about to break through my white t-shirt. I'm nervous for some odd reason.
"Say something," I demand as I couch down before the figment.
She looks over—bright blue eyes slowly becoming faded, hot cheek stained with slight clear tears and lips parted. I wait for her to speak, but she turns her head and ignores me once again.
"We're the same person, we should be able to confine in each other," I push; she doesn't budge from her spot. At that moment I knew something was definitely wrong—something that hurt her deeply—"it's about Raku, isn't it?"
The figment tenses at the mention of his name.
"I knew it," I sigh, "it's about that kiss isn't it?"
"No," she croaks and turns to face me, "it's not about that."
"That what is it?" I rest my chin against my knee as I continue to stare at her.
"I think we should stop," I blink for her words; my heart begins to heat with anger. "We should stop talking to Raku—"
"What?" I stand and look down at the figment in disgust. I can't believe this—now, after everything we've been through—now, that we're making progress with being rejoined once again—she wanted to stop and give up?! "He was the one damn thing you wanted! Now you want to give up after everything we've done?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
My breathing becomes ridged as my heart-races, hands clenched into tight fist and eyes locked on hers. "H-How could you even think that?! Raku has been nothing but good to you and me! Now you want to repay him by vanishing again—leaving him hopeless and confused?! You mean everything to him!"
"You don't get it!" her hair flares angrily as she stands before me. "In the beginning I thought everything would be perfect when you and I become one once again! But today, after those stupid-questionnaires and that kiss! I know it won't be!"
"What the hell are you talking about?!" I scream—I thought about our completion hundreds of times within the last two weeks. If we become one, she and Raku would be together. He'd be happy again. That's all I wanted for him, especially since I can't have him—I just want him to be happy. "You're two people in love! It's as simple as that dammit!"
"It's not that simple!" she shouts; I tense. "What happens to his future? He's going to America for University—that'll take years! He lost me once, and knowing that bean-sprout, he wouldn't want to do it again! He'll jeopardize everything he's worked so hard for! And all because of me! I won't let him do that!"
I still didn't see her point—if anything, I took her words as a pathetic excuse, one that I didn't want to hear again. "You've waited a little more than year for him. I'm pretty sure you can wait until he comes back home for the summers."
She sighs in defeat—knowing she won't get far in this argument, especially since I'm the more romantic side of us. "Maybe it's' best that I don't return at all," she whispers; I freeze for the comment.
I can hear the fear in her voice as she slips back down to the floor to return into a ball. "What are you afraid of?" I ask.
She quiet for the question—I know I've hit the nail on the head.
Finally after minutes of waiting she replies: "Everything."
I step back slightly for the answer. "I'm afraid that he'll move to America, find someone better and then forget about me completely. I'm afraid that after everything we've done to become one again, that it won't work and I'll just vanish, leaving him alone and sad. I'm afraid that you're better for him than I will ever be. That's what I'm afraid of."
.
.
After our discussion she didn't say anything further and neither did I—because I know she's telling the truth. I might not know Raku as well as her, but I can see him doing what she said, especially after what has happened these past two months.
He'll do anything for her and me, I learned that after what happened during the sports festival. Since his fight with Shinji, I started taking notice to everything he did for me, especially when I ask. The only time I've seen him hesitate was when I mentioned the past and wanting to relive every moment, hoping to get my memories back—but, I figured it was because he it would hurt him more than it would me. Yes, gaining the memories is painful, but for him—knowing and being able to feel everything with the constant thought of the other person being gone is worse.
To me, the other side isn't dead—it isn't gone. But to Raku, she's been gone for a year and doesn't know whether she'll every truly be back.
I wonder what they were like in the beginning. What did I feel towards him besides the 'hatred' everyone says was there? I couldn't have hated him since I fall so hard for him that same year.
Sighing I pull out the box of photos from under my bed—taking the lid off I look over the many pictures, I've looked at all of them trying to recall something—anything, but it didn't work. The only thing that seemed to work was when the figment touched me or wanted to show me the past. I don't understand why though.
Reaching into the box I pull out a red-book with the words: 'don't touch' in my handwriting. It's my diary from year's back, when I first moved back to Japan. At first I didn't think I should read it, since it's all her words, but lately, the figment hasn't been showing me any memories. So, it's time for me to take my own leaps of faith and maybe the things inside this diary is what I need.
September 9th.
Today was my first day of school since moving to Japan.
I miss America a little—mostly Mrs. Hannah, but she still texts me from time to time to see how I am. I haven't really heard from mom yet. Knowing her, she's probably too busy with work or meetings, she doesn't have time to check on me I guess.
I made a few friends, I think.
There's this girl named Kosaki-san—she's so nice. She let me have some of her lunch during break since I forgot mine and Dad couldn't bring me one since he was busy. We talked about America and all the states I've visited and lived in. She really loves the city; I think she might want to visit someday, which would be great. We could go shopping and visit all the places I saw all the other girls visit with their friends.
Then there's Ruri-chan. I don't really remember her last name since everyone called her by her first-name for some reason, but she's really quiet and loves school. I got to talk to her thanks to Kosaki-san, and because I didn't have a pencil, she was the closest girl to me. I hope we can become friends.
But then, there's this guy, Ichijo Raku—aka: beansprout. I ran into him while running to school and 'accidently' injured him in some way. I apologized but I don't think it sank in through his thick skull. Anyways, he keeps me on my toes and seemed to like to call me: gorilla woman—that piece of—
Anyways, I'm liking it in Japan so far. I just miss Mrs. Hannah and wish mom would contact me, but I can't wish for miracles… they only hurts me in the end.
Honestly it's nice to have friends for once, being alone isn't fun at all.
Bye-bye, Diary-sama!
I—I—she didn't have any friends, till now?
No wonder she's so prude and brash; she was just lonely and hurt.
I can feel my heart aching for the delicate writing on the page. The more I gander over the entry, the more I feel like I'm understanding my other side, the now dormant personality.
Regardless of the depression within the first day of my life here, I smile as I remember the grin on Raku's face when he spoke about his first encounter with me. I may not recall the memory but at least now I can picture the scene (possibilities) and how it must've played out that morning.
I flip to the next page.
September 10th
Hi Diary-sama,
A lot happened today, especially with that idiot beansprout.
When I first started classes I was having trouble with the different symbols, pre-fixes and whatnot, so, I started writing them more but instead of doing it the boring way, I wrote them as a profile for all my new friends and classmates. I don't know why. It's a little embarrassing.
Anyways, I stayed after school today to write a little in my notebook to practice. I was in the zone—completely focused and hadn't notice that stupid-bastard entering the room. He could've done what any normal person would've and ignored me, but no! He approached!
He saw all my hard-work, and… and well, didn't say anything until… I got flustered, then he smirked and began to tease me! What an ass! He's such… such… such… slimy-white-weak-freaked beansprout bastard?!
… Sorry Diary-sama, I shouldn't use such bad language, but somehow he makes me so angry! I hate him so much!
And then, to add to my embarrassment, he started editing my work and telling me how to fix it! Who does he think he is?! Some kind of garden-god?! The nerve of that beansprout! B-But that's not the worst! He also, offered to tutor me in Japanese writing—ugh! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!
… Ha… I think you've heard enough Diary-sama,
I'll write inside you tomorrow, bye-bye!
I snort back a laugh as I re-read the entry.
She sounds so childish that it's amusing.
Next entry.
September 11th
Diary-sama I didn't something bad.
I feel guilt, but, I don't know what I should do. I mean, the deed is done and I can't take it back, not matter what I do—I can't erase an event or go back in time…
Today I nearly drowned because I didn't stretch before entering the pool. It was a stupid decision on my part, but I got a cramp and panicked. I blacked out… completely.
I then woke up to beansprout coming in, for what seemed like a kiss. I got embarrassed and punched him, called him all sorts of names under-the-sun and well… for the entire day I didn't speak to him.
Later on, at lunch Kosaki-san and Ruri-chan, told me what happened, he dived in and saved me. His friend, Maiko-kun told him I wasn't breathing and then the beansprout was getting ready to preform CPR. That's when I woke up.
Diary-sama, I assumed and made an ass out of myself. I don't care about that, but, he saved me and I just kept being stubborn and believing my own stupidity.
What do I do?
Kosaki-san and Ruri-chan told me I should just apologize. I've tried, multiple times; it never works out. I end up hurting him or getting angry because I'm embarrassed.
What do I do, Diary-sama?
I flinch when a knock comes from the door. Tossing the box and diary under the blankets I look over to see the person's shadow in the hallway.
"C-Come in," I call out.
The knob turns and the door opens to reveal my father in his uniform—white shirt and tie, grey pants his jacket hanging over his arm. "Did I wake you, Chi-chan?"—his voice is groggily from his long day.
"No, dad," I grin; he steps into the floor and makes his way over to my bed.
I take the box out from under the sheet—since it's just my dad I know it's alright, I only have to hide it from Uncle Claude and Tsugumi.
"Ah, you found it," he sighs peacefully with his eyes on the card-board object. "I thought it would just sit in your mother office forever."
I perk for the statement but soon realize what he means. It seems like everyone didn't know whether my memories would come back—even dad? "Why did you take all of them down?" I whisper softly.
He sits down on the bed and leans back, "well… the doctor told me to rid of anything that would rise any questions, especially when it comes to the part of your memory that was damaged," he looks over the pictures and smirks. "It was hard for me. Your Uncle nearly had the whole wall cleared after a minute."
"Why was it hard for you?"—I notice the slight shine in his eyes as something passes his mind.
"I came to accept Raku," dad starts, "he was like a son to me over the two year you were dating. I can remember when your mother had me put the house up for sale because of the businesses stocks-falling. I didn't know who to tell. I didn't want to tell you because you finally got the life you wanted—your Uncle was out of the question—so, I went to Raku."
"So, that's how that Ichijo company file happened," I say; he nods with a smile.
"That boy managed to take care of it within an hour," dad chuckles. "Some hero, I suppose."
I smile softly as an image of Raku flashes in my head, "yeah. He's something unbelievable."
Silence falls comfortably. It's nice to be able to speak to my father like this—especially since that look is gone. But, I guess they didn't want to cause me harm or confusion. Imagine what could've happened if they bought something up about the past, and I didn't know anything about, if that stupid-figment wasn't lingering. I would probably be extremely confused and ran away or something along those lines—I'd try to find answers, but wouldn't know where to start searching.
"Is the doctor's appointment tomorrow because of your memory?" Dad breaks the silence; I hold my breath for the question.
"Uh," I purse my lips together; it's embarrassing to talk about for some reason. "Yeah."
"Did you tell Raku that you're going in for an MRI?"—I flinch and he shakes his head—"honey, I know you like to do things on your own, but, when it comes to this you need to let other help you. You can't just go off and play Scooby-Doo on your own."
"Dad, are you comparing me to a dog?"
"No," he chuckles, "what I'm trying to say is: every investigator has a team or a partner. So they don't bite off more than they can chew."
"How's getting an MRI more than I can chew?" I challenge.
He sighs in defeat, "I just think that Raku's trying to find answer just like you, and if you both worked together you guys might figure something out."
I lean back against my pillows—he's right, it would be nice to work with Raku, seeing as he was there for me throughout everything that happened. He probably knows more about the accident than my parents, not to mention, having more knowledge and connections to the hospital—he could get information that I couldn't even dream about receiving. But, would doctors without hold any important information about myself from me? If so, isn't that against the law? Maybe, I don't know.
The spring's creek as dad rises from the mattress and stretches his limb; I look over to the old-man and grin. "I guess you're right," I say; he smirks.
"I can be right sometimes," he snickers; a shimmer comes to his eyes as he examines my features. "You know, you look just like your mother when she was around your age"—I tense for the comparison—"smart and witty like her too."
"What do you mean? I don't see anything that's really similar to mom in myself," I rebut knowing the fact that the said woman barely speaks to me, let alone acknowledges my existence.
Dad shoves his hands into his pockets—"well, your mother was always trying to prove me wrong. Took everything upon herself, even now. She was a workaholic and stubborn woman – honestly, I don't know how I fell in love with her, but I did and don't regret a single thing."
A soft ping hits my heart for the tenderness in my father words—I never ask much about mom, since I can (somewhat) say that I despise her. "When did you and mom meet?"
His face twists in shock for the question, "I met her in my last year of high-school. She was in first-year and I was about to graduate."
I raise a brow—that unusual—an upperclassmen having interest in a lowerclassmen, even now in my school there isn't any couples (that I know of) which are separated by grades. "How'd that happen?"
He sighs happily while the memories flood back—such an expression causes weight on my heart; I want to be able to remember like that, especially when it comes to the person that I love.
"I hit her in the head with a soccer-ball," I freeze for the news.
"W…What?" I crock.
"I hit her in the head with a soccer-ball," he repeats; I blink rapidly. "I played soccer in high-school and had practices after-school. One day, while your mother was heading home, I missed the net and the ball smacked her right in the face"—tears roll down his cheeks (laughter) as he recalls the events.
"She was so mad," he gasps, "I remember her throwing the sports-drinks and chasing me around the field in rage."
"And I thought my first impression was bad…"I mutter.
Landing on Raku and fleeing is one thing, but imagine hitting him with a soccer-ball and running for my life. I think I would've hated him more than I claimed to.
I guess… love is found in the strangest first impressions.
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Hey everyone,
I tried to make this chapter a little longer and wanted to tell you all that the Halloween Festival will be coming up soon along with the results to the MRI. I may update early for the next chapter, I'm not sure yet.
I hope everyone enjoyed!
Until next time,
~BleachLover2346