SCOUT/YUUTA
Scout wrinkled her nose at the soup her dad brought her. But polished off her third bottle of water and was starting on her fourth when she felt vibrations rise in a pattern through the walls. Her heart lifted as she recognized the beat. It was Yuuta's special knock. His way of letting her know he'd arrived.
But as she thought of climbing from the couch, her shoulder throbbed and her muscles ached. Her mother let him in, motioning to her with one hand before telling him something Scout only half lip-read because her mother's head turned while she was talking. She was tying her shoes then reaching for her purse. Disappeared in the kitchen where her dad and Uncle Raph were, before coming back and pecking Scout on the forehead then signing, "I'm going to check on things at the restaurant. I'll be back soon. Make good choices."
Then she was gone.
Scout watched her dad pop out from the kitchen, his face spattered with flour…
"Who wants waffles?"
Having nodded to Denim's grateful 'thank you' on his way in, Yuuta heard his brother's offer and chirped out a 'yes' in response.
Mikey brightened. "Hey, Lil Bro, Alli ok?"
He nodded and his brother sighed in relief. "Banana slices and raspberries coming up." He then bounded up to Scout, studiously ignoring all her 'leave me alone' body language as only Mikey could. "How 'bout you, Cubs? Feeling like some waffles? There's strawberries and whip cream. Ooh and a little puff of cinnamon on top, just how you like it."
Scout curled deeper into the couch, but Mikey waited right beside her, wide-eyed and expectant. Heaving a sigh, she signed what would translate to 'ugh, fine,' if spoken by a vocal angsty teen.
"Cool. Be right out with it." Then he gave her a peck on the head and called to Raph as he returned to the kitchen. "You sure you don't want...?"
"For the last time, I said omelet you dingbat!"
Yuuta shook his head at his brother's response. That was Raph for you. Then he seated himself on the couch in the space left over from Scout's curled up feet and looked over at her signing, "so, rough night?"
Now what did she do? How did she play this? Was it a rough night? Well, yeah. But everything was fine now. Is that what she told Yuuta? She had him here, now to convince him to convince her parents and Uncle Raph that everything was fine. He would totally do that once she explained. He'd get it. But where to begin? The most important thing would be making him understand, this was no big deal. Not the drama his family was making it out to be. Best to be casual.
She scooted more upright, trying to avoid disturbing her shoulder. Tucking a shock of orange hair behind her ear, she rolled her eyes and signed. "It wasn't that big of a deal. Not like everyone's making it out to be."
Wasn't that big a deal? Did she realize she was repeating the same words Alli used when he and Anton first asked what was up as her weight began to slip away? Denial was a tricky thing to navigate though. Best to proceed gently.
"Just your run-of-the-mill knife fight?" He signed, raising a bushy, gray brow at her.
Scout's eyes narrowed. A knife wound wasn't the norm, not even for her family. It may have been once-upon-a-time in her family's history, but it wasn't anymore. Then again this was New York. People got mugged all the time. Though most people weren't trained kunoichi. Well trained. One of the best among her cousins she would like to boast, but out of respect for them and the morals her family instilled upon her, she never did.
If there was one good thing about being deaf it was her heightened sense of presence. She didn't have to hear an attacker. She could feel them, smell them, or the aggression or fears that came with them, almost the way her aunts used their supernatural abilities. But not quite the same.
It still wasn't a big deal. She was fine. A little shoulder wound. Besides, she wasn't carrying any weapons that night. It wasn't normal to walk around with a pair of nunchucks, and where would she have put them in her dress?
No sense in overthinking this. Keep it high level or he'd ask questions then she'd have to give answers and it would all get out of control. Nope. She had to play this carefully, and down, she had to play it way down. Her lips pursed as she shrugged her shoulders. "It's New York. People get mugged all the time."
His ears flattened and he signed, "Other people maybe, but you?"
Scout's jaw shifted as her lips curled into a frown. No. Not you too. One mistake. One grievous error in losing sight of an opponent and everyone is up in arms. "There were four. I misplaced one of them while I was checking on my hurt friend. I'm fine. I just- I want everyone to leave me alone. Let it go. And Uncle Raph won't. But my dad will if you tell him. If my dad agrees that I'm fine and it's over, then Uncle Raph will go away. I'm fine. It's fine. It's no big deal."
Ah, so she didn't actually want to talk to him, just use him. He supposed that made sense in a disappointing sort of way. Did she really think he'd believe her incapable of taking on four untrained opponents, even if they were armed? And she knew better than to ignore an opponent, that doing so would endanger both herself and the friend she was trying to protect. How much of this was wounded pride and how much was desire to get out and get high again?
He shrugged, answering with a few gestures. "You can hold your own against four of your cousins. Wouldn't have thought a few street punks could've slowed you down."
Scout let out an angry huff, her hands smacking together as she signed. "If I hadn't been stabbed would everyone get over it then? I messed up. It's over. It won't happen again. Okay?"
He'd been edging around it, but maybe it was time to push towards the heart of the matter.
Tilting his head, he looked thoughtfully at her as he signed. "And that's the thing. Will it happen again? What will you change to make sure it doesn't? Non-vital knife wounds heal if you keep them clean, as you said, 'no big deal.' You got off light. But it could've been different. They had you. They could have done much worse, not just to you, but to your friend as well. You were not able to stop them."
He had to pause to even out his breathing as the wall he'd erected against memories that still haunted him faltered, letting some of that locked-away pain and humiliation through. He'd learned the hard way as a child what happened to those who put themselves at the mercy of bad people. Never again. Not him. Not anyone he loved.
"You're good. Exceptional, even by our family's standards. Yet, you lost. You lost when, not only your safety, but the safety of a friend you needed to protect were on the line. If you're going to prevent it from ever happening again, you need to address the cause. So, tell me, what caused you to lose when it was so important that you win?"
Tears were in Scout's eyes faster than she realized they were there, a knot forming in her throat. For once she was glad she could barely speak because she wouldn't have been able to if she tried. She'd been so sure Yuuta would understand. Why didn't he understand? The Essence was wearing off. But if she took enough that it never did then she would've been able to fight off her attackers. "I can fix it, Yuuta. I can fix it so that never happens again. But not if I'm on lockdown." Fat tears slipped down her cheeks. "Please? I swear, I'll fix it."
Yuuta watched her carefully. She was less flippant about the lost battle, merely a symptom of the real problem, but she'd carefully avoided stating how she'd make it right and he was afraid he knew what that meant.
The worst part being that he was fairly sure he knew what she was on and that it wasn't just physical addiction calling her back.
He'd been approached during his freshman year. It had been tempting, painfully so, to find out what his voice might sound like if he had one, a human one. He'd always imagined he'd sound like his dad if he could speak. But life had taught him early to be suspicious and if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. So, he'd turned them down.
Others hadn't been so lucky. He'd watched classmates he barely knew grow gaunt and ill eventually disappearing entirely. He'd always wondered what became of them. Would Scout end up like them? Could he stop it?
He needed to say something to help her see she was already more than most people would ever be without the drugs. But what could he say to convince her? Did such words even exist? He had to try.
Signing slowly, he began, " You're extraordinary, able to do so many things others can only dream of achieving, no matter how hard they try. What we can do is amazing. We're so much more than the things we can't do. It's easy to forget that sometimes. I... we don't want to lose you."
Scout's brow furrowed. Did he know? About Essence? What it could do? It sounded like he did. But that couldn't be. He still couldn't speak. And why? Why would he not pounce on the chance to do something that should be impossible for him?
Because he loved being a martial artist. He was satisfied with his life. He was telling her to settle in hers.
Her fingertips curled toward her palms as she recalled the feel of her weapon, the instant satisfaction of knowing no one was getting close to her or past her so long as they were in her hands. Even her dad, on rare occasion, had genuine difficulty sparring with her. That was when she knew they weren't just trying to make the deaf kid feel special, she was special.
But her family was full of martial artists, and Anton was every bit as skilled as she was. She could work to beat him. In fact, that had been her goal before...but there it was, a dream, a fantasy opportunity before her.
A chance to hear.
To hear the words that went with the amazing beats that thrilled her. And the words, the words paired with the melodies, and her heart was on fire. Then she'd opened her mouth and made music. Her. Hamato Scout. The deaf one.
As she sat there her fingers uncurled as if she'd dropped her weapons. Distant in her mind's eye, they lie there in a fading light as she walked toward the brilliant glow of another more elusive gift. When something impossible was suddenly possible and she'd tasted it, now yearned for it, nothing could stop her.
She was wasting her time with Yuuta. She saw that now. Wasting her time here. Trapped, with no way out. No one here could understand. It wasn't like she was getting high for a rush. It was more like medicine. She needed it. Essence helped her.
Frowning, she shifted her weight, gingerly turning her back to Yuuta as she lowered her wounded shoulder to the pillow. Tears stung her eyes, it hurt, tender flesh, swollen and throbbing. Where was Grandmere when you needed her? Scout let out a pained breath. She didn't really want to see her either. More lectures, scolding, misunderstanding...
Forget that. She needed to focus, plan on how to get away. Wait for the right opportunity to present itself. Because it would. And like the ninja she was raised to be she'd be ready.
ALLI
Anton's arm made for the perfect pillow. Him dozing off and his weight sliding into her however, was not even close. Of course, if he had so much as lifted his arm, shifted or moved his hand, she would've woken. It had always been that way. Even as kids, when their parents had made pallets on the floor and she'd been stuck on the end beside him. She'd stretch out, kick and roll in her sleep, arms would fly up and land in his face. If he tried to move her or himself to get away or adjust, her eyes would fly open like she was in a freefall. She couldn't explain it. Still couldn't, and nothing had changed.
She was buried beneath plastron and muscle, his laptop ready to slide off his thigh, the screen blinking as his hand held down a button. Lifting a hand, she let out a groan. "Mm, Anton, wake up. Hey, Bruiser, you fell asleep and you're squishing me."
"Mhm?" He groaned.
"Wake up." She lifted a hand, pushed her fingers against his bicep.
At her touch he inhaled deep, his weight shifting as he slowly up righted himself. "Oh, damn." He grabbed his computer before it could fall on the floor. "Shit, my paper!"
Without the weight of him on her, Alli sat upright. "Don't freak out. Let me see it. I bet I can recover it."
He didn't hesitate to hand it over and she resisted the smile that threatened the corners of her lips. Computers were not his pastime. He managed the word processor with some help using the features, and he perused the internet like a pro, but if something wasn't working he was more likely to launch the device into a wall than find the solution.
In a few short clicks she had his draft recovered. The document, titled, Antonello Hamato, Computational Biology, The Effects of CBD on Traumatic Brain Injury stared back at her. Alli sat up straighter. He wrote a paper on brain injury? Wait. What is CBD? She started to read the article when his leg began to bounce up and down, shaking the couch. She paused on the first sentence. Looked up to see him chewing on his thumbnail.
When their eyes met he asked, "Did you get it back? Say you got it back."
She nodded. "Yeah. It's here. What's it about?"
Exhaling a sigh of relief, he shrugged. "It's nothing. Thanks for getting it for me."
He reached out to take the computer back but she pulled it closer. "Anton, what is CBD?"
His eyes narrowed. "I don' want to talk about this, Al. Can I have it back now, please?"
She hated when he got like this, all stiff and shut off. Pulling away from her. He reached for the computer again and she let it slip from her fingers without a fight. He knew he was missing a day of his life. Though it had taken their Uncle Donnie a while to get him to believe it. Maybe it really started to sink in when he realized something had happened, something important that he couldn't remember and it put a wall between he and Alli. Yet he wouldn't ask what it was. Like he was mad that he couldn't remember it for himself. So, whenever the subject was trickling into a situation, a moment, a day, he shut down. Like he was right then.
He saved the document and closed his laptop, slipping it into the bag at his feet. "It's lunchtime. What're we having? Chocolate, strawberry, or real food? We could cook together. Think we've got stuff to make a salad, we could top it with some of my special sautéed chicken."
His smile was forced, tight lipped, his eyes beautiful as always, but they held a hardness to them. The damn wall he'd taken to putting up on the subject of amnesia. He was redirecting. Didn't want to talk about himself, just her. And she wanted to talk about him. She turned her head toward the hall, drew the blanket around herself. "I'm not hungry."
Tension rose up from him, frustrated energy that coasted toward her like a slap to the back. Whether he realized it or not he carried a lot of his mother's power. Maybe in some ways even more so. The visions he had in his dreams were often more like nightmares. He'd woken up, pacing the house, cooking at some off hour, in spells. And she and Yuuta would get up with him, listen if he wanted to talk, give him space if he didn't. His medium abilities were unpredictable, a power that could come out of nowhere and literally floor him. It had to be hard to be Antonello. An ache rose in her chest, for she wanted to help him. But it seemed he wouldn't let her.
"You gotta eat three a day, Al." His weight shifted, he stood, lifted the bag, carrying it to the closet. When he opened it a case of protein shakes tumbled out, almost hitting him in the face. His hand flew up, snatching it mid-fall. "Why did your dad think this was a pantry? Yer parents don't even have one, why the heck would he think we did?"
Alli stood, abandoned her blanket to shuffle down the hall without answering. She slipped into her bedroom shutting the door behind her. She wouldn't argue with him and wouldn't let him dance around the subject anymore. If he wouldn't talk to her she'd just find out for herself. She pulled her computer bag from under her bed, plopped down and fired it up.
A knock on her door. "Al. I'm making the salad. I'll let you know when it's ready. Okay?"
Her eyes flickered to the shut door, a frown on her face. Then back to her computer. She opened the internet, typed in the search engine. "CBD and traumatic brain injury."
What didn't he want her to know and why?
NIK
Nik sat in the music room, absentmindedly running his fingers over the keys without really thinking about the notes. He'd been playing piano for as long as he could remember, loving to watch the sound of it vibrate across the room in bouncy, expanding ripples.
His dad enjoyed listening to him play, but had never treated it as more than a passing hobby. Mom, on the other hand, had big dreams for him. While he appreciated the support, their home piano more than all the lessons, he wasn't sure they were on the same page.
His mom was expecting him to attend a conservatory, though his dad still hoped for a more traditional college. She hadn't officially pushed for one over the other, but had kept talking up the advantages of Julliard and dropping hints about preparatory training.
He loved piano, but all the emphasis on technical perfection kind of sucked the joy out of it. Spending the rest of his life nitpicking his own performances did not appeal to him. He just wanted to play. It didn't seem like such a difficult concept to grasp.
Today however, he barely noticed as the notes of Ode to Joy rebounded around him. He was, as he'd spent the whole day, existing in a state of distraction.
Even if he and Scout weren't that close, they shared the burden of their differences from mainstream population. He couldn't help wondering if her situation would be different, if he'd said something to her about that night. If they'd talked, would her choices have been different? The possibility wouldn't stop haunting him as he thought back on it.
He'd been comfortably sprawled out across the couch, enjoying the waves of sound as they bounced off the various surfaces of the room, recombining with other waves in the most spectacular patterns, when they were rudely interrupted.
"Shen, up for some party games?"
He didn't care for the way their cruelty-laced lust swirled around them like a toxic miasma.
Fortunately, it seemed Shen still had some of her wits about her despite partaking in the punch. "No, I'm comfy here, thanks."
"What'd you have in mind?" She had more sense than Jem it seemed.
The three boys' malicious auras fluttered in irritation. "Not askin' you, Hammy."
Their dark energy slid back towards Shen. "Told you she wouldn't want to get shown up. Brainiacs don't do games of skill."
He flinched back as her anger erupted, scalding to look upon. Goodbye sense.
She shoved herself up to her feet, sloshing her rage about in unsteady waves. "Bring it on. I'll shhow you who suckshh at gameshh of shhkill."
Well, that wasn't good. "Shen..."
She cut him off, her 'I can take care of myself' vibe sharp and blinding. "It'shh cool. I gotshh dishh."
Well, if that didn't inspire confidence, nothing would. But what could he do? Experience had taught him that trying to make good decisions on her behalf typically resulted in her making bad ones to spite the interference.
When Jem pushed up to follow her trail of fuzzy indignation her wavered between relief and concern.
Trying to lose himself in the music once more, he found it had lost its luster. Just springy sounds ricocheting around the room.
The cushion beside him sank with the weight of another person. He glanced over to spy the energy of a man radiating too much time to be a teenager. The guy positively dripped avarice and selfishness, the stains of it running down him to pool in the seat of the couch, tainting the whole space.
"I noticed your friends left to go have some fun. Weren't interested?" The guy's voice betrayed no hint of his darker ambitions.
Nik decided to play up his disguise to shut the man down and send him packing. If nothing else, he certainly had a gift for making people uncomfortable when he wanted to. "Yeah, darts or whatever are totally my thing." In case his companion missed the sarcasm in his tone, a surprisingly common failing among the conventionally sighted, he tapped his glasses with his plastic cane.
To his surprise, the guy shimmered in eagerness rather than wilting back in embarrassment, the much more common reaction.
"It doesn't have to be that way. What if you could join your friends? Compete at their level, maybe better? What if I told you, you could see?" The man's greed seemed almost to strobe, conflicting sharply with the genuine sincerity of his words. He'd never seen anyone lie so smoothly.
The man slipped a pair of plastic capsules into his free hand. "I know it's hard to believe, so try it, free of charge. See for yourself."
The final play on words wasn't lost on Nik. But this guy's smooth presentation was overshadowed by his oily rapacity. His desire for Nik to take the pills was so thick it clouded Nik's vision, giving his promises a cloying quality.
"No thanks." Nik shoved the pills back into the man's hand and stood up. Time to go.
Making a big show of using his cane to navigate the room, he followed Shen and Jem's energy signatures to a place that resonated garage or workshop. Just in time to see the motion of Shen's heel slamming down towards a prone, bundle of pain on the ground.
Jem had her before her strike connected, dragging her back at no small cost to himself.
Nik rushed in, not bothering to disguise his agility, to catch her free arm and restrain her from doing poor Jem any further damage.
With considerable effort, they pulled her out towards the fresh air. And then she transformed from a ball of fury into a quivering mass of nausea. Shit.
Quick as he could, he redirected her from pavement to plant life, consoled that at least no one would be slipping on the mess as she noisily emptied the contents of her stomach.
Jem sighed, his ill mood wafting off of him in small, angry wisps. "What now? No way am I explaining her condition to Uncle Leo."
He thought for a moment before responding. "We can crash at my place."
Jem snorted. "No offense, but Aunt April is not an appealing alternative. No one else has your talent for lying to her and she always knows the punishment you least want to get."
Nik laughed. Mom could get into a person's head. Literally. "Don't worry. She's at some conference promoting one of dad's contraptions."
Jem flared with hope. "So, it's just Uncle Donnie?"
Nik nodded. "And hell will freeze over before he comes up without someone forcibly dragging him out of his lab."
Jem exhaled a long sigh of relief. "Good. Let's go."
He hoisted Shen up onto his shoulder and she groaned. "Don't tell dad..."
What if the same guy he'd turned down got Scout? He'd obviously been preying on people with noticeable disabilities, offering them false hope. If he'd told her what he'd seen in that man, would she be in her current predicament? Could he have stopped her from making that choice? He didn't know and it was making him sick.
The bell rang, signaling the end of his study period, which he'd frittered away not studying at all. It seemed like he'd planned to, but he couldn't remember why.
Pushing open the door to Bio, the recollection he sought hit like a physical blow. The test. He'd forgotten about the test. Fuck.
Tapping his cane ahead of him, he walked to the desk like a condemned man. He slipped into his seat, finding his laptop and headphones waiting for him. Ms. Kohl was nothing if not meticulous.
Glumly putting the headphones over his ears so that the software could read his exam to him without disturbing neighboring students, he ran his fingers nervously over the Braille keyboard.
Ms. Kohl came by to set a stack of papers next to him. "They're in order for when you're asked to consult a graph or chart. Call me over if there's a problem."
Oh, there was a problem alright, his fingers ghosting over the unfamiliar tactile graphics. He was going to bomb.
Ms. Kohl had returned to the front of the room. "Begin."
Dad was going to kill him.