I Wore Your Skin
"If you would just stop being stubborn. . ."
"I'm not being stubborn. It's fine."
"How is that fine? Look at it –"
"It ain't bleeding, is it?"
Pekoyama's teeth grinded together, increasing the pressure on her already aching jaw. Behind her, Kuzuryu's blood-stained shirt lay in a crumpled heap. Its owner lay on his bed, hand resting on the thick white bandages wrapped around his abdomen. She should be at his side, but she wasn't. She was much too frustrated to sit quietly beside him. Instead, she paced along the far wall, praying to keep her patience with his ludicrous choices.
"Calm down, would ya?" Kuzuryu said. "You stitched up the worst of it, and the bandages are holding."
"I'd hardly call those stiches," she scoffed, fists trembling at her side. The medical training she'd had told her she had done well, that some bleeding afterwards was normal. But they wouldn't have bled if Tsumiki had done it. "They'll leave a horrible scar. If you would just let Tsumiki-san redo them –"
"It's done. We'd be wasting her time." Like her, he sounded utterly frustrated. Unlike her, he didn't have a good reason for it. "Who cares if it scars anyways? Dad had scars all over his back. 'Sides, it can't be that bad to have a reminder of all the shit I did -"
And her patience broke. She clambered onto the bed, taking his chin in one hand while her other pressed into his eyepatch. "Isn't this enough of a reminder?"
"Th-that's got nothing to do with Naegi," he said, cheeks dusted red. "That's for something completely different!"
"And when will you draw the line? How do I know that when I look away, you won't decide you need to mutilate yourself for how you treated me. . . ? Don't you dare!"
"Fuck! When did you become such a crazy bitch?" he yelped as she shook him. Oh, he could try to pretend, but she knew him better than she knew anything in the world. She saw that twitch; she knew he had gotten ideas.
"Maybe I should take inspiration from you and handcuff you to this bed," she said.
He was silent for a moment before his voice dropped with weariness. "That's low, Peko."
It was mentally hard to manhandle him when all his energy was gone. Her grip slackened, and he automatically took advantage of the lapse to free his chin. She settled her weight back onto folded legs.
"I'm sorry. I overreacted," she said at length. She ignored his dismissive wave. "My actions were inappropriate. It upsets me to see you hurt. I don't. . . I don't like to think I could lose you."
Useless. Why should a tool show emotion? What use is it for you? His mother's scornful voice echoed in her ears, but her body had already decided it didn't care. She could feel tears running down her cheeks, and hurriedly wiped them away so they wouldn't fall on him.
"Hey." He reached out for her. It was only natural to lean in, to let his arm lay on her shoulders and his fingers curl into her hair. It was only right that she followed his tug and let her head rest on his chest. "It's gonna be fine. A lot of people say shit they don't mean when they're pissed. You're a good person and he knows that."
"A good person. How. . .?"
"Don't give me this bullshit again," he grumbled. "Naegi wasn't the only one under lock and key."
"I chose to stay."
"No, you didn't. I never gave you a choice." His chest rose and fell with a sigh. "It wouldn't have mattered if you wanted to go. I wouldn't have let you go."
"I was that important?"
"You always were."
Thud. The sudden, almost-painful spike in her chest made muscles tighten along her spine. Her body was already sore from fretting over him all night, and that only made the feeling of tense muscles more potent. Her face, she realized, was against his chest. His bare chest. His warm chest.
Disgusting, his mother scoffed. How dare a hound fraternize with. . .?
But his mother's voice became fainter and fainter. Kuzuryu's heart was under her palm, beating in time with her own. Her gaze roved across his exposed chest. She couldn't look away, nor did she want to. Kuzuryu studied her silently. Slowly, it dawned on him where her attention laid. A red flush spread down his neck and dotted his collarbone. It made her want to reach out and trace it with a finger.
Wait. Wait! She had only thought about it; she hadn't told her arm to –
Kuzuryu suddenly began coughing very violently and she scrambled off his chest.
"I. . . swallowed. . . wrong. . .!" he gasped. Each word was punctuated by a coughing fit. "I-I wasn't expecting you to. . ."
"Be careful, you could open them up again," she said. Her fingers ghosted across the two stitches at the top of the wound, the only part that hadn't been swallowed by white gauze.
"I'm trying to stop. . .!" He broke into coughing once more.
She did her best to ease his discomfort, although Kuzuryu didn't appreciate being propped up and patted on the back like a baby. A very cute baby, to be accurate. She couldn't help but smile at him, which only made him twist away from her. He scowled and brought his forearm up to his mouth to hide it.
Eventually, he regained control of his lungs. He took a few steadying breaths, then addressed her. "By the way, how are you doing?"
That wasn't a question she could easily answer. She had no physical wounds, but she felt the lingering hurt from yesterday like a bruise. And like a bruise, she couldn't resist poking it even as each touch brought a fresh pulse of pain.
He turned and grabbed her shoulder. "Look at me. It's not your fault. Don't go taking the blame for my bullshit. I don't know what the hell happened with you two and Kamukura, but nobody in their right mind would expect you to take on that guy."
"I should have tried," she protested. "I would have, for you."
"Yeah, you would have if it had been me, and it still would have been stupid," he said bluntly. "What was Naegi talking about anyways? What did he want you to do?"
"I. . ." Her throat clenched, trying to smother the treasonous words. Disobedience was disobedience, an old voice in her head scolded her, no matter the intent. "I tried to guide him to the Future Foundation."
In halting tones, she told him what happened. He stared out the window while she spoke, listening while his mind lingered a lifetime away.
"Damn. We were that bad, huh?"
". . . Yes," she whispered.
His hand fell from her shoulder, gliding over the curve of her spine as it did. It made her shiver with something that wasn't cold. Kuzuryu, however, didn't notice the effect he had on her and laid down again. They sat together in comfortable silence for ten, maybe twenty minutes before Pekoyama could no longer ignore the soft call of duty in the back of her mind.
"What'd I do?" Kuzuryu cried as she headed for the door. "Where are you going?"
"It's not you," Pekoyama told him. "I'm going to check on Tsumiki-san. I'm worried about her."
"Oh. Fuck," he said quietly. "Shit, has she been alone this whole time? I know Ren made rounds last night, but did he stick around or. . .?"
"I don't know," she said. She could only hope for the best as she left Kuzuryu's cabin.
Tsumiki's cabin didn't give off any good signs. The curtains were drawn tight; the small inch of space beneath them was dark. Most alarming, however, was a small plate of food at the front door. Someone else had shared Pekoyama's thoughts, but Tsumiki hadn't let them in.
Pekoyama knocked violently on the front door. Sometimes, an implied threat was enough to make Tsumiki roll over and as foul as the method was, Pekoyama felt it necessary. Yet no sound came from inside. The door remained locked. It wasn't a tough looking door; the aesthetics of the hotel leaned towards luxury rather than security. She could kick it in. It wouldn't be that hard, only she'd have replace it afterwards and Jabberwock Island didn't have a surplus of doors lying around.
Thankfully, Pekoyama's training had taught her about alternative entrances and the cabins had some very large windows. They opened easily, too – or at least Tsumiki's window did. She slipped inside, and silently slid the window closed again.
Maybe she should have slammed it. The noise would have breathed some life into this dim room, filled the air with something more than heavy breathing. Tsumiki was here but for all her presence, she may as well not be. The Ultimate Nurse lay still as a corpse, face down on her bed. Her face was buried deep in a pillow; it was unbelievable that she could breathe. Her arms were spread out, and Pekoyama uneasily noticed the bandages on her left arm were ratty as if someone had clawed at them repeatedly.
This, Pekoyama thought mournfully, would be a perfect time for her kendo stick, for experience warned her to keep her distance. She called Tsumiki's name thrice before there was any movement stirred. Slowly, Tsumiki's head rotated like something out of a horror movie. Grey eyes appraised Pekoyama, judged her and found wanting.
"You."
Pekoyama ducked below the pillow thrown her way. That was only the opening, however. Tsumiki herself followed, swinging her thin arms up into a hammer strike. Such arms were easily grabbed and restrained. Tsumiki was feather-light; her weight was what Pekoyama would have expected from Ren or Owari.
"You! How could you?" Again, Tsumiki tried to pound on Pekoyama's chest, but she didn't have enough strength to break free. "You betrayed us!"
"Tsumiki-san, please stop this." Pekoyama said. She wasn't even a little bit winded by Tsumiki's struggling.
Tsumiki shook her head and tried to hit her again. If that was the case, if Tsumiki wasn't going to calm down on her own, then Pekoyama had to take action. She tugged on Tsumiki's wrists hard, and the shorter woman flew into her chest with a whump. Pekoyama quickly wound her arms around Tsumiki's body in a tight, comforting hug.
Said embrace also restrained Tsumiki, and she was sharp enough to notice. She thrashed like a hooked fish, but for all her enthusiasm, Tsumiki lacked practical fighting knowledge. Her thrashing became weaker; her breaths, heavier. Finally, the last of Tsumiki's will to fight drained from her limbs and cursing gave way to soft weeping. Tsumiki's head lay against Pekoyama's chest, much like hers had lain on Kuzuryu's not long ago.
"I'm sorry this happened," Pekoyama said.
"How could you?" came Tsumiki's muffled voice.
"I had to," she said. "Naegi-kun was going down a path I could not bear him to follow."
"So he did something you didn't like," Tsumiki said scornfully. "Everyone just takes and takes and takes and says it's okay because of who they're taking from."
"I know. I'm sorry," Pekoyama repeated. "I know how. . ."
"Stop it! How could you know?" Tsumiki tried to pull away, but Pekoyama did not allow it. "Nobody understands!"
"I know what it means to devote your life to another, to willingly hand them your soul, and to be tossed aside regardless." Pekoyama said mournfully, ignoring the torrent of abuse Tsumiki hurled her way. "You're right. Most people wouldn't understand. But I do."
Tsumiki laughed. "You're so cruel teasing me, pretending you're as unlovable as I am. You went home with Kuzuryu-kun last night. I saw you!"
"I did," she agreed. She stared over Tsumiki's head. "We are strong now, but it wasn't always like this. There was a time where I was nothing but his toy. He viewed me lower than the slaves who bought his dinner."
"So? He never left you. You were still in his thoughts. But Makoto hates me. He wants me to disappear and he's right, I should –"
"No." She tightened her grip around Tsumiki, anchoring her. "You can't spend your entire life living for someone else. Take it from someone who tried."
"You've never been alone. You've always had him." Tsumiki muttered that over and over like a chant. Each repetition was lower pitched and quieter until something broke. "You don't know what it's like to have everyone hate you!"
"I don't hate you," Pekoyama cut in. It was hard to hear her own voice over the hammering of her heart. "We are your friends. Why else would I be here?"
"So you can go home and mock me." Tsumiki's voice wobbled in pitch like the tittering of a bird. "You act kindly so I tell you all my secrets, and then you tell everyone else and all of you laugh at how weak and pathetic I am. . ."
Pekoyama dropped her gaze, cursing – not for the first time – people she didn't know. Tsumiki had never directly told anyone about the constant abuse she'd been subjected to as a child, but she didn't have to. An experienced predator could flush out prey with a glance, and Pekoyama was one such predator.
When Tsumiki struggled this time, Pekoyama let her pull away. It was better to have some space between them, for it gave Tsumiki a good view of her intense stare. That clearly caught Tsumiki off guard, and Pekoyama wondered if her past bullies had even had the decency to look her in the eye. More than ever, she wanted to do something; she wanted to wield her sword or shake Tsumiki and make her understand there was a new reality.
(A wry voice in her head commented that Kuzuryu must have felt the same way when speaking to her. She ran that voice through with a sword and told it that they were completely different situations.)
"Listen to me," Pekoyama said. "I am not like those people. Our classmates are not like them. Would Naegi-kun have been so kind to us if we had?"
"Then why. . .?"
Pekoyama sighed. "Think of all the ungrateful patients you've treated, or the ones who wanted treatments which wouldn't work or wouldn't even consider treatment because that meant acknowledging their diagnosis was real. Sometimes, to keep them healthy, you need to ignore what they want. Sometimes, you have to give them treatments that hurt."
Tsumiki looked away. "You're saying it's my fault."
"It would never be your fault. It would be our fault," Pekoyama said. "You're not the only one on his side."
Tsumiki said nothing.
"We need to do better by him," Pekoyama said. "Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't appreciate it. It's the proper thing."
Tsumiki sniffled. "What else is there? I gave him my heart, my everything. . . What did I forget?"
"Stop thinking like that!" Pekoyama snapped. Someone else, Naegi could have said it better, but she didn't know how. "That isn't what Naegi-kun needs. Don't you know him. . . ? No. I'm sorry. I've been where you are. Fuyuhiko. . . Beneath all that bluster, he's kind. He hated every occasion I pledged myself to him. If Naegi-kun is half as kind as he is, then he would also ask you to live for yourself."
"How do you know that?" A sneer crept into Tsumiki's tone. "Do you really know Naegi-kun that well?"
She liked to think so. She hoped she did. But what if she knew the Naegi of before, and not the Naegi to come? How should she answer? How would he answer. . .?
And in her mind, Naegi spoke.
"There's only one way to find out," Pekoyama said. "You're right that nothing will get worse if we don't act, but nothing will get better either. If we want a world where you no longer need to fear being alone, then we have to create that world together."
Her throat tingled. Tsumiki obviously hadn't expected her answer and stared up at her with wide eyes. She seemed a little frightened.
"It's stuffy in here," Pekoyama remarked. "Let's go outside and get some sunlight."
Tsumiki's eyes widened. "Out? B-but everyone will. . ."
"Good," Pekoyama said. "They'll be glad to see you. They're worried about you."
"M-me?" Tsumiki stuttered. "Why would they be worried about me?"
"You're our friend, Tsumiki-san, and you're hurt. I hope that someday soon, you'll believe me."
"Glad to see me. . .?" Tsumiki swallowed. She didn't look happy, but she didn't look frightened either. Perhaps Pekoyama was seeing some precursor to excitement.
"Come on, then," Pekoyama said. "Let's see how much weight my promises carry."
