Author: Elf Asato
Written: July 25 - August 3, 2005
Summary: Pre-series crossover with X. There are thirty-eight tiles on the ceiling in Hisoka's hospital room.
Disclaimer: X belongs to CLAMP and Yami no Matsuei to Yoko Matsushita.
Notes: For Fin Mefiant. Errors in both series. Somewhat dark.
By Elf Asato
Kurosaki Hisoka knew exactly how many ceiling tiles his hospital room had: thirty-eight.
He'd counted it many times, over and over again - always thirty-eight. Never thirty-seven or thirty-nine, but thirty-eight. He knew this because he had spent who-knows-how-long on his hospital bed, staring up at the thirty-eight tiles. No visitors ever came to see him - not even his parents - so he lay in his bed all day, in excruciating pain, counting to thirty-eight and not a tile more.
With nothing to ground him, Hisoka began to forget how old he was, why he was in such pain, who his family was, and had it not been for the stifling nurses always mentioning him in whispers, he probably would have even forgotten his own name. But as annoying and cramping as they were, Hisoka owed his relative sanity to the nurses, for without them, his existence would have been reduced to thirty-eight.
And not a tile more.
Spending so much time in the hospital, Hisoka became very sensitive to when things changed.
He knew when there were new nurses, who got a haircut, if the mashed potato recipe changed... In short, he noticed everything that changed, even when they refilled his IV. ...But there was one thing he didn't notice.
Hisoka figured he must have been asleep when she arrived, but he never noticed the presence of his new 'roommate' until she had a visitor. He couldn't blame himself for not noticing her because it was as if the young, blonde girl was in a coma; she didn't move and only barely ate. She was like the living dead. But even after he did notice her, he didn't pay much attention because she never changed.
Ever.
The first time young Hisoka saw the young girl's visitor - her older brother - he thought that he wanted to look like him when grew older.
He'd stare at him and imagine that in a decade or less, he'd have those same, handsome, and smooth features, a charming voice, and beautiful smile. As a hospital patient with no activity, it was all he could do to banish the boredom because there were only so many ways to count to thirty-eight.
The gentleness of the man's voice frequently lulled him into a sleep only made uncomfortable by the ever-present pain of his bizarre illness. But before he nodded off, he'd always listen to that charming voice tell about his day at the office (he worked in name registration, was it?), which co-worker sent him flowers earlier that week, the different names that proud parents would register, and no matter what it happened to be, Hisoka was always comforted and interested.
Hisoka knew that on days the man would stop by, he'd have the best sleep he'd ever get.
The girl in the bed beside his had a name: Kigai Tomoe.
He heard whispered rumors about her, how physically there was nothing wrong with her and it must be psychosomatic, how she had been raped and tortured mysteriously, the odd relationship between the Kigai siblings... And the thing with the water. The nurses enjoyed talking about it when they thought no one would hear them. He always became angry when he heard them gossiping, though he had no clear reason why.
The thing with the water was very odd, and Hisoka always watched with rapt fascination when her visitor would give her water to drink, only to take it back from her mouth with a kiss. Then he would sit for a moment or two and answer - as if she had said anything in the first place.
Hisoka wondered if Tomoe's brother could feel all her rage and despair through the water.
"Hello" had been the first word he had spoken in a long time.
Tomoe's brother sat in a chair at his sleeping sister's bedside when Hisoka spoke, his voice thick and choppy from disuse - totally unlike the older man's. He smiled, replying "hello" in return, and they proceeded to have what Hisoka perceived as a wonderfully surreal conversation including everything the patient had ever had thoughts about while being stuck in the hospital bed, counting to thirty-eight.
The man bore it all serenely, commenting and adding his own thoughts to the mix, bringing up the outside world that the boy seemed so interested in and stories about his work in the name registration department and everything but his sister and himself. But Hisoka was so caught up in talking and listening and talking and listening for the first time that he hardly noticed that the only thing he knew about the Kigai brother, aside from his work and the fact that he had a sister, was his name: "Yuuto."
And that was it.
The next time he saw Yuuto, Hisoka asked about the water.
It had been a special question and, with much hesitancy, the Kigai brother had a special answer. He explained that there were certain people in the world who could do certain things that few else could - Hisoka knew that very well. It just so happened that Tomoe was able to send her thoughts through water and Yuuto was able to read the flow of water and control it; now that his sister was in a near-comatose state and could not talk or write, their only form of communication was through water.
Hisoka thought that he had been a special answer indeed, and with his own certain thing that few else could do, he was able to feel the brother's unconditional devotion to his sister glowing passionately inside his every word. But it was a controlled glowing passion, though Hisoka chose to ignore whatever implications.
The fact that Tomoe's despair did not lighten with her brother's presence should have told him something.
Visiting hours were from eight in the morning to ten at night, but somehow Yuuto had managed to sneak in at three in the morning.
It was most likely unauthorized, of course, and Hisoka realized this, but he was simply too glad to see the man again that he didn't give it another thought. He should have been suspicious, though, with the things Yuuto suddenly started talking and asking about with him, as if he hadn't snuck inside the hospital ward to visit his sister at all. Then Yuuto stopped talking and did something strange.
Hisoka's first kiss had been unwelcome and taken by force, but while he had no recollection of that, his second kiss was little different, except that Yuuto was a man he liked a bit more. He apologized over and over as he felt up and kissed the bed-ridden teenager who was in more physical pain than he had ever been in during his entire hospital stay. There was a reason for his behavior concerning his sister - she liked him, he said, but Hisoka barely heard. He couldn't even talk anymore.
When it was over, Yuuto exited quietly, and the very next day Tomoe was gone.
Hisoka no longer noticed the little things.
He didn't notice when one of the nurses changed last names and began wearing a gold ring, or when they began putting other drugs in his IV. The hospital switched food providers, but Hisoka no longer noticed nor cared. Since that night, he had been in such physical and emotional pain that the awful sensations crowded out anything he might have distracted himself with.
The pain was so great that he gradually forgot what life was like before that night; eventually, he even forgot about the night itself. He lost memory of what it was like to have someone visit and talk to him, and in the end, other than his own overwhelming pain and misery, the only thing that Hisoka knew to be true was the number thirty-eight. Despite everything, this number never changed: it never magically became thirty-nine or lost one of its own to become thirty-seven. Thirty-eight stayed the same, no matter what.
Shortly before he died, Hisoka forgot how many ceiling tiles his hospital room had.