Disclaimer: I don't own FLCL.

Just Swing

I

I watched as the man across from me got himself comfortable, and knew this was going to take forever. Didn't these people understand? All I wanted to do was go home and curl up under my bed covers. Was that too much to ask?

Mr. What's His Name was looking at me closely now, his brows knitted pensively together, fingers entwined on the table. So intimidating. I turned my gaze away, trying my best to look aloof, when I noticed a tape recorder in the corner of the room. Heh, and they had said that what I'd tell them in this place, no matter how dirtily secret, would remain private and unheard by others. What a joke.

"So," I began bitterly, "aren't I s'pposed to be laid out on some chair or somethin'?" This was therapy, wasn't it?

"Actually," I heard him reply, "it was initially like that, until we ended up having our patients nod off in the middle of a session."

And why did he think that was? I could tell him one thing, it sure wasn't because of the chair.

"Now," he said while leaning back in his chair, twiddling a pen in his large fingers. "You know why you're here, don't you?"

I shot him a cold glare, but he remained unfazed. "No."

Annoyance evident on the man's face, he leaned forward again, this time matching my glower. He obviously thought I was in denial or something, but really, I had no idea why I was there. Like I said, all I wanted to do was go to sleep. Where was that chair when you needed it?

He forced a tight smile. "Really? Come on now," he encouraged, his tone mimicking that of a parent speaking to a toddler, "your father says you've been moping and sulking a lot lately. You're here so we can see what's wrong and try to help you get out of this depression."

Depression? What was he babbling about? Hell, I've been like this my whole life, and if my dad just noticed recently then that was pretty damn sad. There was nothing wrong with me.

He must have noticed the angered look on my face, because his smile suddenly widened. He arched a bushy brow. "Ah, looks like I hit a nerve of some sort? So, care to tell me what's been on your mind lately?"

I kept my lips sealed.

The man's lips pursed in vexation. "Hmmm, would it have anything to do with something that happened— oh I dunno— around three years or so ago?"

At these words, I found myself become stone still as I let a cold chill run down my spine. Only one word ran through my mind.

Haruko.

Three years had passed since Haruko had left, and I had felt strangely empty after her depart. Maybe that was why my dad had set up this little 'session.' I shook my thoughts vigorously. But how could that be! If I hadn't been acting any different than usual, then how could my father have known that I still missed Haruko? Therefore, how did this man know? Was it just a coincidence?

Or was this why I was really here? To talk about Haruko, and the things that came out of my head? Who was this guy?

I stole a quick glance at recorder. The red light was still flashing, the tape was rolling.

Don't tell him, Ta-kun, Haruko's voice whispered in my mind as I turned back to face the man. He was waiting for my response.

"Nothing's wrong with me," I murmured under my breath, observing his frown as I said this, "you're wasting your time."

His eyes twitched with impatience. He stood up, half his body now leaning over the table as he stared me right in the eye. He was so close, I could see the unpleasant pimple that throbbed on his forehead. I flinched slightly. "Tell me this then," he hissed icily, spit splattering my face, "what . . . . . . . . . is Furi Kuri?"

Another chill ran through me,and this time, a sudden fear followed it. I felt as my heart skipped a sudden beat. This, was no coincidence. And this man, was no therapist.

"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaooooooouuuuuuuuaaaaaa!"

We both started as the abrupt interruption penetrated our eardrums, looking around frantically for its source. When it only grew louder, we regretfully looked to the ceiling, where we most certainly found our answer. We were greeted by a mouthful of plaster and debris as the roof suddenly caved in, and were immediately knocked off our feet.

I lay under the rubble, part of me not wanting to get up. I had no desire to see what had just caused the roof to collapse; I was just too tired.

But the world seemed against me today as I felt a cold hand grasp my bruised arm. It pulled me, against my will, through the pile of rubble and to my feet. Though I found this was a wasted effort, seeing as I almost fell again from disarray. Through blurry vision I could make out a slim figure in front of me, and I wondered whether or not I was dreaming . . .

Because I could've sworn it was Haruko.

The form walked toward and then past me, and I moaned in overwhelming confusion. As my vision began to clear, I had no chance to scan my surroundings as something hard ran into my backside, throwing their arms around my neck. I felt cool lips graze my ear.

"Did you miss me . . . Ta-kun?"

My eyes widened in disbelief. I looked down to see a pair of yellow gloves. "H-haruko?"

"Yeah?" her soft voice replied, and I knew it was really her. It was really her. Really Haruko.

My heart thumped hard against my rib-cage as I spun around in her arms, meeting her two golden orbs. A smile played on her rosy pink lips as she stared at me, and I felt tears spring up in my eyes. Stubbornly I blinked them away, but found they kept coming. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold them in much longer. So instead I buried my face into her chest, letting my tears run freely on her vest, where at least they wouldn't be seen. "You're back!" I cried. "You're really back!"

I heard her chuckle through my sobs. "Yeah, kid," she said quietly. "I'm back."

To be continued . . .