Disclaimer: I'm just a fan artist/fan fiction author, and no more. FY belongs to Yuu and whoever else she's in cahoots with. I make no claims.
Warnings: Ah. It's nice outside today…^^ Language, violence, disturbing imagery, some mature situations…the typical and of course, the angst, let's not forget that. ANGST. I love angst. I love torture, so sue me already. 0.0' Wait!! Don't really, eh, I'm broke…
Chiri: I know, no da! *slurping up ramen sadly*
Tas: *sob* It's jus' so distressin', bein' so awful po'!!
Don't worry, guys; someday I will draw that manga and you'll be having those sokubaku costumes I promised you….XD
And now…
Chiri: On with the story, no da! (it'd better have more of me in it no da -_^)
I'm not sure what it was I expected, walking into the Main Hall around eleven; probably I had rationalized, somewhat irrationally, they'd be tearing each others throats out with their bare hands, reveling in the spurting blood .
Of course, my imagination, since having arrived that one golden afternoon, has been running wildly through the forests of my morbidity. They assembled rather nicely, if somewhat scattered, throughout the room, taking no note of my sudden intrusion. Armed with a single notepad and an extensively chewed pencil (for I am given to such nasty habits, not of my own originality, mind you), I swiftly enter the sectioned off portion, greeting Soi casually as I shuffle the files about, searching for my own particular ones.
- You're late, she spits fire and venom.
- You'll have to excuse me. Nakago- san and I were in meeting this morning.
She seems a little satisfied with this answer, albeit not entirely, as her narrow eyes squint in disapproval and annoyance, flicking a small, intrusive gnat off of the desk with deadly accuracy.
- It isn't part of my requirements to baby-sit your brats, she snarls, jotting this and that on a sticky note. Bad enough that idiot didn't give them their meds on time, either. I ought to report you both.
- I'm excused for my tardiness, today, however, I intervene; leaving her staring, mouth curled into a vigorous and disgusting grimace, I briskly approach my patients.
- Good morning.
- Good afternoon, ya mean, Tasuki's amber eyes are glued to his hands, studying with undying fascination the smooth grooves and lines, not bothering to return my gaze. Nuriko is seated on the window seat, as when I first encountered him, reading what appears to be a book of poetry dating from the late Edo period. Tamahome had pointed out to me earlier that the window was Nuriko's spot and solely that; once, when Tasuki had curiously taken it for himself in wonderment of the thrill Nuriko felt whilst so positioned, he was bludgeoned rather brutally with an alarm clock and sent reeling. I hadn't really thought this lovely, willowy young man capable of such unrestrained violence…but everything is quite twisted after all, so it appears. Tamahome had chortled over the telling of such a tale, but I, on the other hand, was not amused. I did not wish to be so persecuted, for my own small nuances, whatever they may be, by the uncontrollable patients.
I am a little confused that they are permitted to have books, as they could be used as weaponry, but…ah, well. I quickly perform a head count; I seem to have all four of my own.
- How are you feeling today, I ask Nuriko gently; he nods, murmuring what sounds like, Fine, fine. He's currently too absorbed to talk or to reason with. I move towards Hotohori.
I've only seen him, up until now, from a distance. He's an exquisite example of a human being, facial features finely chiseled, wide, luminous eyes that seem to see nothing past his own small nose. He refuses to acknowledge my presence altogether, tossing his long, dark hair over his shoulder in one swift motion, then, as if dirtied by the action, wiping his elongated hands upon his pants. I'm impressed by his overall cleanliness, and his demeanor in general, but am slightly put off that all of my patients in particular are so neurotic.
They might've handed me a break with at least one of them. I thought it would be Nuriko, at least, but hearing about his violent outburst….hmmm.
- It's good to meet you, Hotohori-san, I smile genially, having been told to address him thus is really almost hysterical. I don't attempt to shake his hand, or touch him in any way; I'm afraid he might start screeching.
- And how are you, Tasuki?
I get no reply. Glancing up from my notes,
-Tasuki?
-Ahhh…he growls, pinching the flesh on his hands hard before he glares at me. What?
- You all right today?
- Yeah, he sounds vacant, spacing out, his eyes wander up to the ceiling, then back to me, and he smiles half-heartedly. No. I ain't, and I ain't gonna be, neither.
- Well, why do you feel that way? Is it all right for me to ask? I seat myself next to him gingerly, in those damnably uncomfortable brown chairs, vaguely aware of the sudden tensing of his body. He pulls away from me physically, hugging himself. I note his hair has not been combed, and his clothes are raggedly crumpled against his form as though they had not been removed in some time. I wonder why this isn't enforced more strictly, it might actually help him, after all; but who should I confer this to?
- You know why, playing coy, hiding his face by pressing it against his knees.
- No, I'm afraid I don't know exactly what you mean.
He snarls at me then, his facial expression completely contorted from the previous one, eyes filled with ferocity and hurt.
- You would feel better…I start, clearing my throat, You might feel better if you got cleaned up. That helps me to feel better.
- I can't get clean. I already tried.
- Oh?
- Damn shower's too fucking cold anyway, he says, flicking his eyes about anxiously, Too cold and I hate that. I hate fucking cold water.
- I… didn't know. Hmmm. I'll try and see what can be done about that for you. I stand up, avoiding bumping him as I rise, to see to the others. He seems very irate, and, somewhat unsure of how to handle this situation, I feel it is necessary then for me to leave it where it is for now, try approaching later, perhaps, when he isn't so agitated. I'm certainly not going to press for an answer, or an explanation, the way Soi does; practically wringing their necks, she drives them to violence or tears, whatever seems to suit her for the time.
I feel him tugging at my tunic, lightly; glancing down, his visage is once again startlingly fresh with wide-eyed artlessness and, sweetly, he smiles.
- Maybe you could help me, he suggests, words loaded with syrupy charm, looking much like a small child wanting something out of his reach.
- Oh? How's that?
-We-ell…he purrs, sliding his hands down his pant legs, slowly, and then up again, Maybe you could help me get clean…His eyes stare at me unabashedly, and he smiles, incisors glinting at the corners of his mouth. He says nothing more, just begins humming some dreadful tune to himself, rocking slightly. I'm not sure I want to know what he's talking about.
Tamahome skips over enthusiastically, hiding something in his pocket. For the first time since I've been here, I wonder why the hell is he so damn chipper, anyway? I feel awful, and the day has hardly begun.
- Got something, he grins. Tasuki and Nuriko jump up without hesitation, both looking a little fearful and anxious; Hotohori glances up momentarily, then continues his blank staring at the ceaseless tiled floor.
The new one, Chichiri, slumped over in his chair in a vibrant display of boredom and/or fatigue, doesn't even bother coming over. He simply shifts his weight a little, ignoring the commotion.
- What is it? Nuriko pries Tamahome's hands apart, revealing a few broken pieces of a mocking bird's eggshell. He cries out in surprise, smiling widely at everyone and no one. Oh, how pretty! Where did you find it?
- Outside me and Mits's apartment, he states matter-of-factly, placing it cautiously into Nuriko's waiting hands. Don't let ogress see it. She'll take it away and get me in trouble.
- I won't, I won't…Nuriko cradles it as gently as one would the actual hatchling. Where did the baby birds go? Did you see them, too?
- No, just an empty nest. That's all that was in it. He shrugs, and Nuriko sighs dramatically, turning the delicate shell over in his fingers. Tasuki is mesmerized; he watches every movement of Nuriko's fingers with a childish innocence, gasping when he almost cracks it.
- Be careful, he chastises, eyebrows furrowed fretfully, Yer gonna break it.
- I am not. I'm being very, very careful, see? As if to demonstrate, he slowly turns it back over in his soft white palm meticulously, then glares at Tasuki in triumph.
- I wanna hold it, he complains loudly. Tamahome and Nuriko both wince, shushing him automatically as Soi suddenly stands up from her chair behind the shatter-proof glass to observe the situation. Her eyebrow raised, she shrugs, sitting back down , continuing whatever it is she's been doing for the past hour or so.
- Don't be stupid, Nuriko scolds, You'll break it. Remember last time? Remember? He accentuates each syllable with care, widening his eyes for emphasis. Tasuki pouts, turns around, shuffling his feet along the floor as he approaches me. His lower lip is out so far he resembles a baby chimp; the whole situation is so entirely ridiculous I feel like bursting forth in uninhibited mirth.
- I wanna hold it, make 'em give it to me, he nudges me, whispering.
- You know he isn't even supposed to bring that in here, I reply softly. I really cannot condone you getting your hands on that thing.
He scowls, biting the inside of his cheek. I notice that Hotohori is now lightly fingering the shell, Nuriko standing in front of him so Soi's sharp eyes cannot see past. He seems somewhat engrossed with it, observing it's tiny cracks with intensity. These poor fellows haven't been outside since February, or so I understand; and Tasuki hasn't been permitted out of the Patient Barracks since his arrival last May. No small wonder, then, they are making such a big thing out of it.
I glance at my watch and admonish them to put it away; Soi emerges from her cavernous den, seemingly licking her chops in anticipation.
- All right, boys, it's time for our daily session. She snaps her fingers impatiently. Herding them as best I can to their seats, I feel her cold eyes following me, penetrating me…
- Now then, are we all here? She looks at me questioningly, and I answer affirmative. Good, she cracks that horrific smile, good. Tamahome leans against the corner of the entranceway, arms folded neatly across his chest. I wonder briefly what happened to the eggshell; it seems to have disappeared from existence. It then occurs to me that Nuriko has deftly swept it into his sleeve, and is rigidly sitting, nervous at it's presence, fearing he might squish it. His anxiety shows; Soi targets him.
- Would you like to begin, Nuriko? Her voice is riddled with heavy contempt. She taps her clipboard. Why don't we start with, 'Today, I'm feeling…'?
- Today…today, uhm….I feel pretty good, today, actually. Nuriko chirps excitedly.
- Oh really? Soi appears distraught at this sudden change of mood. Well, how is that? You seemed so depressed yesterday…
- It comes and goes, you know…He glances down at his sleeve, then at the floor, then back at Hotohori, who is drifting off to sleep.
- I see. Soi's eyes are also resting on Nuriko's sleeve. He realizes this, chewing his lip, then raising his hand wildly, urgently.
-Yesss, Nuriko?
- I have to…uhm…well…I've got to go….
- Well, where are you going? You can't leave until I say you can. What's the matter?
- I have to pee…This causes Tasuki to break out into violent giggles, and Soi promptly snaps his head with her pen. He appears bewildered, then very, very angry. Soi looks pleased.
- What is so amusing about excreting, Tasuki? She looms before him with the presence of some demon of ancient lore. He pushes his middle finger into her face, snarling.
- I'll laugh when I want, you old bitch, he grates out, then swings his fist out in a full round-house blow. She blocks it neatly with her arm, then grabs his arm and twists it behind his back. He stifles a cry, attempting to jerk away from her; but now, he is caught without escape.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chichiri start, catching his breath unevenly, clutching at his wrists as if he feels Tasuki's pain.
- Don't you ever fucking touch me, you fucking whore, she barks into his ear, twisting harder, reveling in his frightened expression, his muffled cries. An attendant nurse quickly comes over with a straight jacket, and, dexterously, forces the sobbing redhead into it, though he has to fling him onto the cold tile to do so.
A spot of blood seeps out from Tasuki's mouth, garishly red against the harshly white floor. Nuriko shrieks, just like that; something snaps; the eggshell spills out of his sleeve in a thousand pieces.
A dead silence.
Soi points at Nuriko accusingly.
- You know you're not allowed to have foreign objects in the Barracks! she yells shrilly, and Nuriko bursts into tears, running down the hallway unsteadily to his room, leaving the bits of shell flecked all over the floor.
- Who brought it in, she rasps through clenched teeth, eyeing both myself and Tamahome, who stalwartly replies,
- I did.
She whirls, storming into her little concave, portioned off room, slapping papers around in a frenzy.
- Go to Headmaster, voice radiating hatred.
-..But!
- Go NOW. She hands him a bright orange slip with flourish, then pushes him in the right direction. Tamahome grunts something unintelligible, making his way slowly down the hallway with deliberate steps. When the door finally shuts behind him, Soi focuses on me, eyes aflame with fury.
- Did you know about this? Did you?
Before anything can come out, Tasuki bites her ankle ferociously, and fresh blood leaks out of the wound almost instantly. She squats down beside him, cringing at the pain, and rips him forcibly off her. He takes a segment of raw flesh with him, spitting it out as he cracks his skull on the hard surface of the tile. I am now standing; Hotohori is entirely asleep; Chichiri is covering his face with his hands, head in his own lap. I grab his thin, pallid arm and force him up, as well as the sleeping beauty. He appears generally horrified that I should dare to touch him, grimacing.
- Come on, I drag them both down the hallway, away from the continuing violence, shoving Hotohori into the Rec Room. Chichiri goes limp, abruptly; he falls to his knees, a dead weight as I try to lift him up. He must weigh quite a bit more than I realized; it is a trial to get him to stand, though you wouldn't know it simply by looking at him.
We hear terrified screams emanating from the Main Hall, bloodcurdling and, at the same time, strangely child-like. Chichiri trembles; then, without any warning, he dashes away from me, scrambling across the slippery floors as I stare, dazed.
My senses come back to me with a jolt.
- Hey!! Hey, wait a minute!! I tear after him, (damn, that little shit is fast!!!) he's already entering corridor 1B, making his way to the back entrance/exit. I know he can't get out without a keycard, but…he might…shatter the glass…even. His face permeates desperation as he violently pulls at the door barring his way to freedom; whimpering, he smashes his shoulder against it, heaving for breath, eyes glittering with sheer desperation as he sees me rounding the corner, I hear his voice, No no!! before he thrusts his arm through the glass, shredding his limb thoroughly, reaching for the outside lock--
--And I grab him, pull him to me, holding his arms down to his sides, forcing them behind him, blood coating my hands and shirt. Strangely, once he's been caught, he doesn't fight; instead, he slumps his forehead against the broken glass door, scratching it, a soft moan issuing from his lips.
- I need a nurse over here, I call out to no one, the by standing patients look on with unperturbed delight.
- Never mind, I haul him up to his feet, having loosely tied his wrists together behind his back with his ripped tunic sleeve, never mind. Toting him through the now crowded hallways, he allows me to control him, force him into the infirmary, where the current shift nurse yelps hysterically at this new scene.
- What…what…
- Tried to get out through the back exit….He--
-Seem to have forgotten your keycard, hmmm? A slick, dark voice hovers near, thick and solid. Nakago, dressed in a casual suit, emerges from behind a gray curtain, lifting it enough to reveal his masculine form to the fullest. He fixes his gaze intently on Chichiri, who is now panting out small, pained cries as I unknowingly dig my nails into his fresh wounds.
- Sit him down, Nakago commands roughly, and I gently push him onto the white, papered cot, adjusting his legs in front of him. He seems to be frozen; he is shaking all over, breathing in sharp, jagged breaths, wiggling his tied wrists in a feeble effort to break loose. The nurse immediately begins applying hydrogen peroxide to the oozing wounds, ordering an underling to retrieve her first aid kit and tweezers. Nakago smiles, grabbing Chichiri's face in his hands, squeezing faintly, staring directly into his frightened and animal eyes…
…And there is something, something happening, something terrible and nauseous and wavering, as their eyes conjoin in a secret battle. I feel apprehensive, cold; Nakago suddenly breaks the silence with a rancid laugh, glaring hard at the young man.
- No. No, this won't do at all, I'm afraid. He lets go, pale pink finger streaks painting Chichiri's face. The latter's eyes never leave the Headmaster, he keeps staring unashamedly, almost fiercely, a swelling anger building in the room, tensing his muscles, his face is so white, eyes glittering with something awful…
-With her arms full of supplies, the nurse beckons for me to help her urgently.
- My god, they oughta at least make all the glass shatter proof! I swear to god, she exhales, handing me a cotton ball. I start to protest, after all, I'm no nurse's aide; she ignores me entirely, directing me to place the chemical soaked puff on Chichiri's brutalized limb.
Nakago sneers.
- What were you thinking, nnn? What was running through your mind today? He strokes Chichiri's hair softly, grinning sadistically as he pulls it, hard, tugging a few strands loose. Chichiri bites his lip, but his eyes are still attached to that man's form, sewn on, never irresolute, eyes, beautiful, deep brown-red eyes spilling over with hatred. I feel myself hesitating, feel myself desire to protest, no, he was just afraid, he wanted to get away from her, and them, because…
Because…?
…
The resonating smack shatters, just like the glass as his arm went through, and his frail body is hurled back from the gravity of it, hitting the wall. I hear the nurse gasp audibly, dropping her supply of first aid utilities loudly onto the floor. I feel words, frustration at what has just happened, bubbling up in my throat, although, in fact, it may be something else entirely. Chichiri, never moves, hunched over like a broken doll, the bright stinging mark of Nakago's hand imprint like some god-like seal marking the so-called devil…
- I know all about you, he sneers, I know what you're made of. I know. He fondles the hand which delivered the blow lovingly, then departs, smiling coolly at me, reveling in my befuddled expression before he quietly shuts the door.
Emitting a small sound, the nurse rushes to him, helping him to sit up, tugging his drooping form up, and, when he refuses to comply, lays him down on the crackling sanitation paper, turning him over on his side lightly. She then proceeds to pick up the miscellany that fell from her arms minutes earlier, wiping her forehead from the dampness now afresh. Chichiri continues to stare into nothingness, even whilst she begins picking the glass shards out of his arm, holding cotton balls burning with cleansers and antibiotic ointments on the new, bleeding wounds. He doesn't cry out, squirm; he seems utterly inhuman, until I observe silent tears sliding down his cheeks, devastating me in a way I cannot explain, or hope to convey, not since…not since…
I can bear no more. Slipping out the door, I check my watch absently. It's already one-thirty, surprising how fast time moves when you're restraining psychotic young men, observing unauthorized violence, and trying to prevent involuntary suicide. It seemed all to be in slow-motion, I saw it all with clean cut accuracy, each picture carved into my memory…When my shift is over, I'm going to bed, I'm taking those sleeping meds the doctor prescribed for me, and perhaps…
…well, perhaps I'll forget to dream.
*
I glance in on Nuriko, who is curled up in his heavily wrinkled sheets, breathing uniformly with the rising of his small shoulders. He had been quite distressed over the whole ordeal, blaming himself, and had attempted to kill himself, tying a noose tightly around that pearl throat, flinging it over the small rack holding his clothes and shoes; however, the rack was rather shallow, low o the ground, so it accomplished nothing but his being forced into bed, strapped down, and reprimanded by the great and wondrous Headmaster himself. That man…
Hopefully it will be different. Something about this place, about it's steel gray floors, bleached white falseness, that underlying scent of decay…it doesn't feel real, it doesn't make sense to me. I run my hands along the walls, searching for some sense of physicality, tangibility, and still, my mind is unhinged, detached. I flick off the glaring, harsh fluorescent lights to the Main Hall, breathing in the stale scent of medication, perspiration.
Tasuki had been taken to The Ward, as Soi called it, a dark, unknown area located somewhere in the facility, for 'treatment'. She had a tight bandage around her ankle, and rubbing it soothingly, described to me how he had almost ripped her Achilles' tendon loose, damn brat, always causing trouble.
-Have you diagnosed him yet? She inquired violently, eyes filled with revulsion. I couldn't answer her, then; and now…I'm not sure, I don't know. I did know the terrible pity overwhelming me as they flung him callously to the tile, that dash of red slowly, successively winding into the separations in the floor, the sense of urgency, hot in the air…I wanted to scoop him up, carry him out into the sunlight, make him see beyond the gray and beige and white, that appalling façade of purity…Make him see the bright blue sky filled with innumerous, deliciously faint clouds, soaring through the heavens; the great branches of the dry plum, grasping up, reaching for the elusive moon each night in sheer desire; the small sparrows, flitting about in the shadows, searching desperately for a bit of this or that to devour…; the small, shriveling buds of the hibiscus, withering away from lack of rain, petals falling, one by one, brownish red, to the dry earth…
I sit down unsteadily in Soi's rolling chair, resting my head on the cool desk, just for a moment, just for a moment, to regain my strength…I feel completely drained…I can hear the blood flowing in my brain, hastening about…it is so incredibly black…
How he hurt him. It really irked me, bit into my mind, how he slapped him about heedlessly, as is he were some dysfunctional toy, as if he weren't alive, but just some warped creature, made up of wires and batteries and almost out of energy…I feel my heart twinge, and I stand, walking at a slow pace, to preserve my newfound strength, to room 77, the door slightly ajar. I peek in through the crack, see him lying very still, hardly breathing, as if he's afraid someone will know, will know he's real, he's here. His hands are over his head, defensively, eyes wide open and staring into the gray and black world of night, motionless. I cannot detect even his breathing, and somewhat startled, I slide in, placing to numbly cold fingers to his windpipe. Flinching, he refuses to look at me, lowering his hands to my own, pulling them away.
- Just checking, I explain, my voice weary with the day.
- Don't, he says, his voice hard, broken. Don't ever touch me. Don't ever…touch me…
I step back from him, hands in my pockets.
- Alright. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It's just…well, I wanted to make sure you were okay after this afternoon…
He hugs himself, turning his face into the flattened pillow beneath him. He won't respond, and I can't make him, but…
- What happened? Can you tell me, what happened before? I sit tentatively on the edge of his bed, careful not to touch or maul him in any way. Sympathy, pain, pity, remorse; I feel all of this, looking at him, curled tightly against the bed sheets, countenance hidden from view. But I don't have to see those eyes…to know what they hold…
- I…his voice is determinably muffled, but his face stay down in the pillow, I…didn't….didn't….catching his breath spasmodically, sits up, shockingly furious, Shut- up! Leave me alone!! Who the fuck are you, anyway? What do you want from me?!! He is panting from the effort, a sleek vein pulsating, twitching in a crazed fashion on the left side of his neck. Eyes soaked with hapless rage, he grinds his teeth, his fists into the mattress.
- I…I don't want anything from you…I just want…to help you, if it's possible. And only you know…if it's possible…
His eyes explore my face thoroughly, moving quickly, then resting back on his lap.
- I don't know. I don't know why I'm here…he hunches his shoulders, shaking his head. I don't know why anything happened the way it did, why it had to happen at all…His voice snags, and I instinctively reach out for him, pulling back when I realize my mistake. He either pretends not to notice, or doesn't care, continues staring down.
- I didn't do it. I didn't. I didn't….He looks at me wildly, eyes filled with unspoken pleas, I didn't kill them, Mitsukake-san. I didn't…I know you don't believe me, but…I remember too much to have done it…and…he quavers, squeezing the sheets with his hands…I'm not crazy. I'm not. Mitsukake-san, I have to get out of here. I'm not crazy. Please.
- Chichiri…I whisper, and for a moment, I see clarity, undefined sanity, radiating from his expression, his eyes, Chichiri, I wish…
- Please! His voice raises excitedly, then hushes, please, I'm not lying! I…oh, I…please!! Please, he grabs my hand, then, in a frenzy, and I know it's true, god, I know it, he looks just like her, he is her…
I leap up, my heart pounding in my chest, trying desperately to think straight.
- Look…I'll do what I can.
He smiles bleakly, staring at my back as I depart, swiftly, agitatedly.
If only I could help you. But to do that, little bird…I would have to go through HIM. An I know him well, I know his soul….and what he would have for you…
He knows. He knows, and he will break you, just like the others. How I want to free you…
