"Why am I…lucky?" he asked, his voice nearly breaking, "what happened…I don't, I can't…please…"
Her soft-brown eyes betrayed her sympathy, no, her pity, "I, well, we found you washed-up on the beach. We being me and my friend Yusuke, that is. You're at my house, Riku, did you say it was?"
He nodded numbly and lay back down, closing his eyes dejectedly.
/ I don't get it…I should be dead, now… /
He frowned slightly, and began thinking carefully about it. What could've happened that he'd survived. He hadn't seen land anywhere when he'd jumped the cliff, but somehow he'd arrived at it. These houses were like none he'd seen, either. In the brief, blurry look he'd had of Keiko's room, he'd seen a dozen things that weren't anywhere near what he would've found somewhere else. Large posters with people he'd never heard of, piles of books, some kind of black box with a glass front and two strange metal rods sticking out of it, along with strange clothes strewn about either carelessly or hurriedly; he frankly didn't care which.
/ I couldn't possibly be in another world…those are only reachable by gummi ship, right…//
He reopened his eyes to find Keiko still standing by the bed on which he lay, watching him earnestly.
"You can go, now," he said with an intimidating tone, "I'll be fine on my own. I'm used to it."
She shook her head and sat down beside him, gently reaching to touch his shoulder in an obvious gesture of comfort. His eyes widened and he slapped her hand then rolled out of her reach, letting out a low groan as ache spread through him from abrupt movement. She rubbed her hand where he'd hit it; the spot was already bruising slightly.
Ignoring it, she gave him a hurt look and said, "I didn't realize you don't like to be touched. I'm sorry. You shouldn't move about, though, or you'll hurt yourself even more than you have already."
He gave her a withering look in return but felt a dull pain deep inside, knowing he'd hurt her feelings so. He watched as she moved over to that black box and pressed a button that seemed camouflaged at first glance. Pictures appeared behind the glass and he jumped, feeling the recoil immediately. He stared, watching it intently. She smiled and stifled a giggle at his unmasked confusion and amazement.
"Its called a television," she said warmly, then handed him a strange, rectangular, black thing with buttons, "this is a remote. It controls the television. Press these two buttons," she indicated two of them, "to change the pictures on the screen. I'll be back soon with something for you to eat."
She exited the room as quietly as she had come in, leaving him alone with the strange 'television' machine.