Chapter 11
Somehow he found himself at the front of the school, though he didn't realize it until he registered the frantic hands tugging at his sleeve and a high pitched voice calling his name. Still locked in a defensive cycle from the fight, he started to lash out, only pulling his blow at the last moment when he finally actually looked and saw who it was that was trying to get his attention.
Sakura didn't flinch back from the almost-blow, though if it had landed she'd have had a black eye to match his. "Issei, what happened?" she demanded, eyes wide and full of concern. "You look like hell! Are you okay?"
"Saku..." that was all he got out before his stomach rebelled, forcefully. He bolted for the nearest bush and fell to his knees as his stomach heaved its contents free of his body. He kept gagging long after there was nothing left to bring up, his entire system in shock and protesting what he'd just done.
Cool hands soothed his brow, and it wasn't until they pushed back the hair that was clinging to the wet spots on his face that he realized he was crying harshly. Dimly it occurred to him that everyone still at school was probably watching the spectacle he was making of himself; tomorrow he'd regret not being able to keep his control until he was somewhere less public, but right now all he could do was shiver and cry.
"You done?" Sakura asked, when he'd finally stopped heaving. He nodded, still sobbing too hard to speak, and she tugged him gently to his feet. "Come on," she said, not asking any further questions for the moment. "We need to get you out of here."
He leaned on her as she helped steady him enough to walk straight, and once again was beyond grateful to have her for a friend. Anyone else would probably have been bombarding him with questions; she knew him well enough to know that if he was upset this badly, she needed to get him somewhere private and calmed down before he lost control and started projecting at everyone in range.
"Thank you," he choked out between sobs, the words hardly more than a whisper. She heard anyway, and squeezed his arm where she held it.
"I love you," she replied, and feeling the emotion behind her words helped him fight some of the sick despair that had enveloped him. He hugged her close, and she tightened her arms in reply. "Let's get you cleaned up so we can go home."
She led him back into the school, towards the science wing. He was really only half conscious of where they were going, his mind still too dazed to process everything that was going on around him. They had to make sure they didn't run into any teachers; Issei could be suspended for fighting, regardless of the circumstances.
Sakura used one of her hairpins to pick the simple lock, and moments later they were inside with the door shut again. She sat him down on a stool, and went to grab a stack of paper towels. She dampened a couple, then loosened his jacket and shirt collar and laid them on the back of his neck.
Issei was huddled in on himself, still crying, as she carefully cleaned him up. He was covered in dirt from scuffling on the ground, and his eye was already turning a nasty shade of black. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly as she worked.
He had to swallow twice before he could get his voice to work well enough to answer her. "It was a trap," he said, voice shaking and breathy with the hysterics he was barely containing. "Th-they bullied Nakayama into pretending he'd s-sent the letter. They w-wanted to see how I'd react to having a guy h-hit on me."
"And when you didn't react badly, they descended to beat the living shit out of you, I take it," she said dryly, and he nodded faintly. "But why are you so upset? You didn't have any trouble facing those guys in the club, and you've mentioned that people have been bullying you all your life..."
She broke off when he started sobbing again. He didn't make any noise this time, not wanting to bring a teacher to investigate what should have been an empty classroom, but his shoulders shook with the strain of containing them. "Issei? What is it, what happened?" she asked, a little frantic now.
Then all the blood drained from her face, and her hand tightened on his arm. He could feel alarm and horror rush through her. "Oh, no. They... they didn't..."
He shook his head, knowing what she was trying to say. "They didn't rape me. They tried, but I..." his voice broke, and he had to wait a moment before he could speak. "I turned my empathy on them, Sakura. I forced them to feel what I was feeling, and I unintentionally set up a feedback loop. I... I think I might have destroyed their minds..."
She was silent for a moment as he broke down again, then she stepped forward and pulled him into a gentle hug. He panicked and struggled, afraid that touching her would overwhelm his too-fragile shields, and not wanting to force what he was feeling on her as well. She held on, though, and after a moment he realized she was deliberately avoiding skin contact. Having her touch him through two layers of clothes wasn't really any different than having her standing right beside him, except in the visceral comfort it gave him. He relaxed into her embrace, sobbing softly into her shoulder as she held him.
After a while, he realized she was speaking softly. She was rocking him slightly, murmuring comforting words over and over. Most of it was just repetitive nonsense, but it was the tone that was important, as they both knew. It worked, too; he could feel the harsh roil of his emotions calming slowly under the influence of her voice and the concern and love she felt for him.
Finally he pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve. She chuckled slightly, and pulled his hand away. "Don't. You've got dirt all over your jacket, you're just spreading it across your face."
His lips twitched despite himself, as he glanced down to see that she was right. "Sarjareem, I'm a mess, aren't I?" he asked ruefully, his voice still thick with tears but no longer shaky with panic.
"You did what you had to do," she told him firmly, wetting another towel and going back to work cleaning him up. He winced when she touched the area around his eye, and she sighed. "Honestly, you are the worst magnate for facial bruising, I swear. Will you be okay for a minute if I run down to the cafeteria and get you some ice for that?"
"I think so," he agreed. "There's nobody in this end of the building, I should be okay until you get back.
"Okay, then." She leaned forward as if to kiss him like she usually did when they parted in private, but he flinched back from the touch, wild eyed. Her eyes went wide, then soft, and she patted his arm where the shirt covered it instead. "Sorry. I should've thought. I'll be right back."
She slipped out through the door, leaving it unlocked behind her. Issei reached over and ran the cold water until it was freezing to the touch, wetting more of the towels and placing them over his eye. It wasn't as good as ice, but it was better than nothing. He was hoping to keep it from swelling so badly he lost the sight through that eye.
He wasn't sure how he was going to explain any of this. The three boys would be found soon enough, and if he'd done real damage, the police would almost certainly be brought into the investigation. Nakayama could testify that Issei had been the only one with the three bullies when he'd left; that meant the police would be looking for him for an explanation of what had happened.
And he didn't have one. Not unless he wanted to admit to being an empath, and tell them what he was apparently capable of. He had no illusions about what would happen then; he'd either be claimed by the scientific community or possibly the military one. Either way, he'd spend the rest of his life being studied, a specimen in a cage rather than a human being. He'd kill himself first.
The door slid open as Sakura returned, carrying a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, and a uniform jacket she'd apparently snitched from somewhere. She helped him into the jacket, which was a little too big for him, and tucked his other one into her satchel, tightly folded. He held the ice to his eye as they headed for the door.
"Your attackers have been found," she said quietly as they walked along the empty halls. "The rumours are all over the school. Nobody's said anything about you yet, though."
"They will," Issei said wearily. "Nakayama knows I was there with them, and I'm sure at least half a dozen people saw my little display out in front of the school."
"Maybe we can ask Rin to help us?" Sakura suggested. "He could go in and get the reports from inside the police station, or something..."
"And make the investigating officers even more suspicious? No way," Issei shook his head. "And the absolute last thing we want is Rin messing with anybody's head to make them forget..."
"Nishikiyori!"
The call came from behind them, and Issei turned with a sense of dread to see Nakayama standing in one of the doorways they'd just passed. The other teen's eyes widened when he saw the state Issei was in, and he had the grace to at least look a little shamed. "What the hell did you do to those three?" he asked, with a tone of morbid curiosity. "Not that they didn't have it coming, whatever it was, but..."
"Are you going to turn me in?" Issei interrupted him shortly. He didn't have the patience to play around the subject.
Nakayama hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Like I said, they had it coming. Look, I didn't write the letter or anything... they just cornered me after school and made me go in and tell you I had. I haven't got anything against, you know, those sorts of people."
Issei started to snap at him, but remembered just in time that the other boy had no way of knowing that Issei had felt the surge of revulsion and disgust when he'd found out Issei had known the letter was written by a male, and had shown up anyway. "Good," was all he said, then he added bluntly in a moment of inspiration, "then I won't have to name you as an accessory to an assault and battery and attempted rape."
Nakayama turned pale, his eyes huge. "What? I... no way! I didn't do anything!" Issei just stared back at him. They both knew perfectly well that, bullied into it or not, Nakayama could be held responsible for his part in trapping Issei into that corner. After a moment the other boy's shoulders slumped. "All right, all right. I said I wouldn't tell them anything. I won't get you in shit if you don't get me in shit, all right? Now get the hell out of here before too many people see you looking like that, and they don't need me to turn you in!"
"Fair enough," Issei said with a silent sigh of relief. Sakura, who had wisely stayed quiet during the exchange, tugged on his arm, and they turned back towards the exit.
They left through one of the side doors, avoiding the crowd of gossiping kids at the front where the ambulance was pulling away, and at the back where the three boys had been found. Since everyone else was running towards the crowds, they actually managed to get away without anybody getting a good look at Issei's bruised face.
The walk home seemed interminable to Issei. He felt drained of energy, both physically and emotionally. Sakura didn't try to take his hand for once, for which he was grateful. He really didn't think he could deal with any physical contact right now.
And that worried him. Every time he thought about touching Sakura, the first thing he thought of was the way he'd felt as Kanai's lust had started to overwhelm him. It wasn't the same thing at all, damn it; what he was doing with Sakura was entirely voluntary on his part. She wasn't forcing him to enjoy her raping him, he was using her emotions to build desire where there was none! It wasn't the same thing!
Was it?
At the moment, at least, his subconscious really didn't care what sort of semantics his logical mind used to describe the two examples; as far as it was concerned, they were one and the same thing. The thought of touching her, of feeling her emotions invade his, was making him panic and tighten his shields, even though she was making no move to actually do anything.
He knew it was probably just emotional backlash from the near rape. Rape victims often had trouble dealing with touch afterwards, even from people they trusted, right? This was the same thing. Eventually it would surely go away. And Sakura would be patient with him, if he asked it of her. She'd waited this long for him, after all.
She was casting frequent worried looks at him as they walked, but was making no attempt to draw him out or make him talk. Apparently she'd decided to leave him be to work things through on his own, at least for now. For someone who had such a pushy personality, Sakura could be remarkably perceptive about when to back off sometimes. He was thankful this was one of those times.
At last the house came into view, and they both heaved a relieved sigh at the same moment. That made them look at each other in surprise, and then they laughed, though the sound was a little shaky.
"C'mon, it looks like that ice has almost melted," Sakura said, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go get you some more."
"Almost?" Issei said, lifting the now soaking wet towel from his face. "It hasn't been solid for the last few minutes, and that plastic baggie you put the ice in is not water tight."
She chuckled softly, and opened the front door. They both stepped in, Sakura calling as always, "Mom, Dad, we're home!"
"Hello, you two," her mother replied, poking her head in from the kitchen. She gasped when she saw Issei's eye. "Oh, dear! Just a moment, I'll get you some ice to put on that." She vanished and returned before Issei was even done removing his shoes, handing him a chemical coldpack, also wrapped in a towel to keep it from giving him frostbite. He exchanged it for his sopping towel, and raised it to his face gratefully.
"You have a guest, Sakura-chan," her mother told them as she was fussing over Issei. "Shall I tell him to come back another day? He's waiting in the living room."
Sakura glanced over at Issei, who shrugged. He hadn't been expecting anyone, and apparently neither had Sakura, judging by the look on her face. "Yeah, mom, that's probably a good idea," she said. "Now's not really a good time. Who is it, anyway?"
"It's just me, Sakura." Issei froze, his heart pounding, as a familiar voice came from the direction of the living room. "I never intended to stay long anyway, I just want to ask you... Issei?"
Trembling, Issei turned to face the living room doorway, already knowing who would be there. Absolutely the last person on earth he wanted to deal with right at this particular moment. "Jinpachi."
Somehow he found himself at the front of the school, though he didn't realize it until he registered the frantic hands tugging at his sleeve and a high pitched voice calling his name. Still locked in a defensive cycle from the fight, he started to lash out, only pulling his blow at the last moment when he finally actually looked and saw who it was that was trying to get his attention.
Sakura didn't flinch back from the almost-blow, though if it had landed she'd have had a black eye to match his. "Issei, what happened?" she demanded, eyes wide and full of concern. "You look like hell! Are you okay?"
"Saku..." that was all he got out before his stomach rebelled, forcefully. He bolted for the nearest bush and fell to his knees as his stomach heaved its contents free of his body. He kept gagging long after there was nothing left to bring up, his entire system in shock and protesting what he'd just done.
Cool hands soothed his brow, and it wasn't until they pushed back the hair that was clinging to the wet spots on his face that he realized he was crying harshly. Dimly it occurred to him that everyone still at school was probably watching the spectacle he was making of himself; tomorrow he'd regret not being able to keep his control until he was somewhere less public, but right now all he could do was shiver and cry.
"You done?" Sakura asked, when he'd finally stopped heaving. He nodded, still sobbing too hard to speak, and she tugged him gently to his feet. "Come on," she said, not asking any further questions for the moment. "We need to get you out of here."
He leaned on her as she helped steady him enough to walk straight, and once again was beyond grateful to have her for a friend. Anyone else would probably have been bombarding him with questions; she knew him well enough to know that if he was upset this badly, she needed to get him somewhere private and calmed down before he lost control and started projecting at everyone in range.
"Thank you," he choked out between sobs, the words hardly more than a whisper. She heard anyway, and squeezed his arm where she held it.
"I love you," she replied, and feeling the emotion behind her words helped him fight some of the sick despair that had enveloped him. He hugged her close, and she tightened her arms in reply. "Let's get you cleaned up so we can go home."
She led him back into the school, towards the science wing. He was really only half conscious of where they were going, his mind still too dazed to process everything that was going on around him. They had to make sure they didn't run into any teachers; Issei could be suspended for fighting, regardless of the circumstances.
Sakura used one of her hairpins to pick the simple lock, and moments later they were inside with the door shut again. She sat him down on a stool, and went to grab a stack of paper towels. She dampened a couple, then loosened his jacket and shirt collar and laid them on the back of his neck.
Issei was huddled in on himself, still crying, as she carefully cleaned him up. He was covered in dirt from scuffling on the ground, and his eye was already turning a nasty shade of black. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly as she worked.
He had to swallow twice before he could get his voice to work well enough to answer her. "It was a trap," he said, voice shaking and breathy with the hysterics he was barely containing. "Th-they bullied Nakayama into pretending he'd s-sent the letter. They w-wanted to see how I'd react to having a guy h-hit on me."
"And when you didn't react badly, they descended to beat the living shit out of you, I take it," she said dryly, and he nodded faintly. "But why are you so upset? You didn't have any trouble facing those guys in the club, and you've mentioned that people have been bullying you all your life..."
She broke off when he started sobbing again. He didn't make any noise this time, not wanting to bring a teacher to investigate what should have been an empty classroom, but his shoulders shook with the strain of containing them. "Issei? What is it, what happened?" she asked, a little frantic now.
Then all the blood drained from her face, and her hand tightened on his arm. He could feel alarm and horror rush through her. "Oh, no. They... they didn't..."
He shook his head, knowing what she was trying to say. "They didn't rape me. They tried, but I..." his voice broke, and he had to wait a moment before he could speak. "I turned my empathy on them, Sakura. I forced them to feel what I was feeling, and I unintentionally set up a feedback loop. I... I think I might have destroyed their minds..."
She was silent for a moment as he broke down again, then she stepped forward and pulled him into a gentle hug. He panicked and struggled, afraid that touching her would overwhelm his too-fragile shields, and not wanting to force what he was feeling on her as well. She held on, though, and after a moment he realized she was deliberately avoiding skin contact. Having her touch him through two layers of clothes wasn't really any different than having her standing right beside him, except in the visceral comfort it gave him. He relaxed into her embrace, sobbing softly into her shoulder as she held him.
After a while, he realized she was speaking softly. She was rocking him slightly, murmuring comforting words over and over. Most of it was just repetitive nonsense, but it was the tone that was important, as they both knew. It worked, too; he could feel the harsh roil of his emotions calming slowly under the influence of her voice and the concern and love she felt for him.
Finally he pulled away, wiping his face on his sleeve. She chuckled slightly, and pulled his hand away. "Don't. You've got dirt all over your jacket, you're just spreading it across your face."
His lips twitched despite himself, as he glanced down to see that she was right. "Sarjareem, I'm a mess, aren't I?" he asked ruefully, his voice still thick with tears but no longer shaky with panic.
"You did what you had to do," she told him firmly, wetting another towel and going back to work cleaning him up. He winced when she touched the area around his eye, and she sighed. "Honestly, you are the worst magnate for facial bruising, I swear. Will you be okay for a minute if I run down to the cafeteria and get you some ice for that?"
"I think so," he agreed. "There's nobody in this end of the building, I should be okay until you get back.
"Okay, then." She leaned forward as if to kiss him like she usually did when they parted in private, but he flinched back from the touch, wild eyed. Her eyes went wide, then soft, and she patted his arm where the shirt covered it instead. "Sorry. I should've thought. I'll be right back."
She slipped out through the door, leaving it unlocked behind her. Issei reached over and ran the cold water until it was freezing to the touch, wetting more of the towels and placing them over his eye. It wasn't as good as ice, but it was better than nothing. He was hoping to keep it from swelling so badly he lost the sight through that eye.
He wasn't sure how he was going to explain any of this. The three boys would be found soon enough, and if he'd done real damage, the police would almost certainly be brought into the investigation. Nakayama could testify that Issei had been the only one with the three bullies when he'd left; that meant the police would be looking for him for an explanation of what had happened.
And he didn't have one. Not unless he wanted to admit to being an empath, and tell them what he was apparently capable of. He had no illusions about what would happen then; he'd either be claimed by the scientific community or possibly the military one. Either way, he'd spend the rest of his life being studied, a specimen in a cage rather than a human being. He'd kill himself first.
The door slid open as Sakura returned, carrying a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, and a uniform jacket she'd apparently snitched from somewhere. She helped him into the jacket, which was a little too big for him, and tucked his other one into her satchel, tightly folded. He held the ice to his eye as they headed for the door.
"Your attackers have been found," she said quietly as they walked along the empty halls. "The rumours are all over the school. Nobody's said anything about you yet, though."
"They will," Issei said wearily. "Nakayama knows I was there with them, and I'm sure at least half a dozen people saw my little display out in front of the school."
"Maybe we can ask Rin to help us?" Sakura suggested. "He could go in and get the reports from inside the police station, or something..."
"And make the investigating officers even more suspicious? No way," Issei shook his head. "And the absolute last thing we want is Rin messing with anybody's head to make them forget..."
"Nishikiyori!"
The call came from behind them, and Issei turned with a sense of dread to see Nakayama standing in one of the doorways they'd just passed. The other teen's eyes widened when he saw the state Issei was in, and he had the grace to at least look a little shamed. "What the hell did you do to those three?" he asked, with a tone of morbid curiosity. "Not that they didn't have it coming, whatever it was, but..."
"Are you going to turn me in?" Issei interrupted him shortly. He didn't have the patience to play around the subject.
Nakayama hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Like I said, they had it coming. Look, I didn't write the letter or anything... they just cornered me after school and made me go in and tell you I had. I haven't got anything against, you know, those sorts of people."
Issei started to snap at him, but remembered just in time that the other boy had no way of knowing that Issei had felt the surge of revulsion and disgust when he'd found out Issei had known the letter was written by a male, and had shown up anyway. "Good," was all he said, then he added bluntly in a moment of inspiration, "then I won't have to name you as an accessory to an assault and battery and attempted rape."
Nakayama turned pale, his eyes huge. "What? I... no way! I didn't do anything!" Issei just stared back at him. They both knew perfectly well that, bullied into it or not, Nakayama could be held responsible for his part in trapping Issei into that corner. After a moment the other boy's shoulders slumped. "All right, all right. I said I wouldn't tell them anything. I won't get you in shit if you don't get me in shit, all right? Now get the hell out of here before too many people see you looking like that, and they don't need me to turn you in!"
"Fair enough," Issei said with a silent sigh of relief. Sakura, who had wisely stayed quiet during the exchange, tugged on his arm, and they turned back towards the exit.
They left through one of the side doors, avoiding the crowd of gossiping kids at the front where the ambulance was pulling away, and at the back where the three boys had been found. Since everyone else was running towards the crowds, they actually managed to get away without anybody getting a good look at Issei's bruised face.
The walk home seemed interminable to Issei. He felt drained of energy, both physically and emotionally. Sakura didn't try to take his hand for once, for which he was grateful. He really didn't think he could deal with any physical contact right now.
And that worried him. Every time he thought about touching Sakura, the first thing he thought of was the way he'd felt as Kanai's lust had started to overwhelm him. It wasn't the same thing at all, damn it; what he was doing with Sakura was entirely voluntary on his part. She wasn't forcing him to enjoy her raping him, he was using her emotions to build desire where there was none! It wasn't the same thing!
Was it?
At the moment, at least, his subconscious really didn't care what sort of semantics his logical mind used to describe the two examples; as far as it was concerned, they were one and the same thing. The thought of touching her, of feeling her emotions invade his, was making him panic and tighten his shields, even though she was making no move to actually do anything.
He knew it was probably just emotional backlash from the near rape. Rape victims often had trouble dealing with touch afterwards, even from people they trusted, right? This was the same thing. Eventually it would surely go away. And Sakura would be patient with him, if he asked it of her. She'd waited this long for him, after all.
She was casting frequent worried looks at him as they walked, but was making no attempt to draw him out or make him talk. Apparently she'd decided to leave him be to work things through on his own, at least for now. For someone who had such a pushy personality, Sakura could be remarkably perceptive about when to back off sometimes. He was thankful this was one of those times.
At last the house came into view, and they both heaved a relieved sigh at the same moment. That made them look at each other in surprise, and then they laughed, though the sound was a little shaky.
"C'mon, it looks like that ice has almost melted," Sakura said, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go get you some more."
"Almost?" Issei said, lifting the now soaking wet towel from his face. "It hasn't been solid for the last few minutes, and that plastic baggie you put the ice in is not water tight."
She chuckled softly, and opened the front door. They both stepped in, Sakura calling as always, "Mom, Dad, we're home!"
"Hello, you two," her mother replied, poking her head in from the kitchen. She gasped when she saw Issei's eye. "Oh, dear! Just a moment, I'll get you some ice to put on that." She vanished and returned before Issei was even done removing his shoes, handing him a chemical coldpack, also wrapped in a towel to keep it from giving him frostbite. He exchanged it for his sopping towel, and raised it to his face gratefully.
"You have a guest, Sakura-chan," her mother told them as she was fussing over Issei. "Shall I tell him to come back another day? He's waiting in the living room."
Sakura glanced over at Issei, who shrugged. He hadn't been expecting anyone, and apparently neither had Sakura, judging by the look on her face. "Yeah, mom, that's probably a good idea," she said. "Now's not really a good time. Who is it, anyway?"
"It's just me, Sakura." Issei froze, his heart pounding, as a familiar voice came from the direction of the living room. "I never intended to stay long anyway, I just want to ask you... Issei?"
Trembling, Issei turned to face the living room doorway, already knowing who would be there. Absolutely the last person on earth he wanted to deal with right at this particular moment. "Jinpachi."