Title: Get Rhythm
Author: Wolfram003
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Child abuse, a bit of cursing, angst.
Pairing: Shinji/Kamio/Shinji (in later chapters)
Length: 5,964 words; 12 pages
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Konomi Takeshi. I'm just borrowing them to torture for a while. ;D
Summary: Kamio has been having family problems for a while, but they finally escalate to the point where he is purposely injured. How will Kamio, Shinji, and the rest of Fudomine's team cope?
A/N: I've hit a roadblock in the process of writing chapter fifteen of Shattered Reality, so I decided to try to write a Shikami/Kamibu fic to hopefully work through it. It's called Get Rhythm because I was listening to that particular song of Kamio's when I started writing this. Plus, I like what it translates to. Enjoy the massive first chapter to a hopefully monstrously lengthy fic.
Stuff typed like this -- Shinji's mumblings.
Get Rhythm
by Wolfram003
Kamio Akira, temperamental redhead of the Fudomine tennis team, was counting down the seconds until he could go home and sleep. It had been a long day, and he still had to attend tennis club after school. He just hoped that he didn't fall asleep on the court. His rhythm seemed to be that off today.
For example: this morning he had overslept and had been late to school. Then he had discovered that he had forgotten to do his homework for his first class. Finally, at the noon break, he didn't have enough money to buy a lunch; he hadn't had time to bring one either.
His stomach growled at that moment to remind him of that last fact.
Beside him, Shinji raised an eyebrow at the noise, glancing over at him. Kamio flushed in embarrassment and pressed a hand to his stomach, mentally asking it to stop making strange sounds. The violet-haired tensai of Fudomine watched him for a moment before going back to scribbling in his notebook.
Once in their first year, Kamio had asked him why he did that. Shinji had told him that it helped him not to mumble so much during class. The solemn boy had even showed him his 'scribbles.' Kamio had commented dryly that apparently Shinji wasn't a prodigy just in tennis. Shinji had mumbled something in reply.
The redhead was sorely tempted to rest his head on his desk. There was only five minutes until class ended. Surely their teacher wouldn't mind. A lot of other people were already doing it.
He blinked a few times, trying to clear his mind of the tired haze restricting it. It wouldn't even be worth it to try to sleep. Shinji would just wake him up. It had happened numerous times before.
Kamio focused his attention on the hands of the clock on the opposite wall of the room. The bell would ring in two minutes. Then he would be free to stand up, stretch, and yawn for a moment before heading out to the courts.
After a brief moment of dazing off, he noticed that Shinji was giving him an odd look again and raised a slim crimson eyebrow at the other boy. The violet-haired boy opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the dismissal bell. Kamio vaguely noticed Shinji's slight frown as he stood up and stretched.
The crimson-haired tennis player cocked his head and asked, "What is it, Shinji?"
The tensai shook his head and began packing up his things. Kamio barely heard the other boy's mumbling. "Kamio seems so tired today. I wonder if anything's wrong with him. He hasn't even listened to his music like he always does. He didn't eat lunch either. I hope he's okay."
Kamio fought the urge to roll his eyes, "Shinji, you know that I can hear you, right?"
A frown tugged at the other boy's lips, and he promptly silenced his spoken thoughts.
The redhead sighed, clarifying, "I didn't mean that you had to be quiet, Shinji. I just meant you could ask me aloud instead of talking to yourself. It would probably be easier to get the answer that way."
The violet-haired boy turned his dark stare on Kamio, raising an eyebrow, "Why are you acting so strange today?"
Kamio did roll his eyes this time, "I'm not acting strange, Shinji. I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night."
That was true, but Kamio wasn't about to explain why he hadn't slept. He was having enough problems trying to accept the fact that his parents were fighting, quite loudly at that. He didn't need Shinji to know. The boy would mumble about it nonstop, and the rest of the team would know by the next day.
The redhead quickly gathered his own things, dropping them into his schoolbag. Maybe Tachibana would let him sit on the bench and rest during practice if he admitted that he wasn't feeling well. He really wasn't. Missing both breakfast and lunch wasn't good on his part, but it wasn't like he had meant to do it.
By the time he looked up, Shinji had already left. Scowling, he tried to squash the bit of hurt that surfaced in his heart because of his friend's actions. The violet-haired boy probably had a reason for leaving without telling him.
Sighing loudly, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room at a leisurely pace. He had tried walking faster, but because his coordination was off from lack of sleep, he had almost fallen down the stairs earlier. He didn't want or need unnecessary injuries.
After all, his speed was what made up his tennis, and if he didn't have that, what did he have? He sure as hell didn't have a loving family right now. Yes, he was bitter. Both his mom and his dad were blaming him for everything, and he didn't even know what he did!
Really, if they didn't want to be together, they shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.
He stepped outside and looked up at the sky that was starting to cloud over. The air was chilly, humid, and thick with tension. It would probably rain later, hopefully when he wasn't walking home.
However, given his luck today, he would probably be drenched by the time he made it to his house. Then he would probably fall ill. That was just how things were going for him at the moment.
Kamio honestly hoped he wouldn't get sick. Fudomine was participating in a small tournament in a week's time, and they barely had enough players to enter. If even one of them was sick, the team would have to drop out because they didn't have any substitutes.
The redhead let out a frustrated breath as he pushed open the door to Fudomine's all-purpose locker room. Every sports team of the school shared it, but surprisingly the teams didn't run into each other as often as one would think. Kamio was starting to believe that Tachibana had worked something out with the captains of the other teams.
He set his bag down near his teammates' things before walking over to the locker he and Shinji shared. Space in the locker room was tight, and the tennis club only had four lockers to share between them. The team had come to a mutual agreement to let Tachibana have his own locker since he was the captain. Ishida and Sakurai had claimed the second locker, and Uchimura and Mori had claimed the third. The fourth locker, by default, had been given to Shinji and him to share.
Kamio didn't mind. Shinji was a surprisingly neat person. Sharing with the mumbling tensai wasn't hard at all.
He tried to open the metal door, cursing as he discovered that it was jammed. The redhead tugged at the handle for a few moments before giving up and resting his head against the cool metal door of the locker. Today had officially made it onto his 'The Top Ten Worst Days of My Life' list.
Frowning, the redhead tried to think of a way to solve the problem. He could always just play in his school uniform (though it would be a bit challenging), and Tachibana would probably let him borrow a racket. Plus, there were always spare tennis balls lying around.
However, his mp3 player was in the locker, and he wanted to listen to his music.
With a crimson eyebrow twitching in irritation, he backed up from the locker and glanced around the room to make sure no one else was present. No one was. With an angry huff, he kicked the locker as hard as he could with the bottom of his shoe-covered foot. Even if it didn't open, at least he would feel a bit better.
He reached out to try the handle, holding his breath in anticipation.
It didn't budge, and he didn't feel any better.
Groaning in frustration, Kamio slowly slid to his knees. He dragged his short fingernails down the metal of the locker creating a cacophony of high-pitched screeching. The redhead smacked the locker violently, nearly shouting, "You never open for me!"
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool metal.
"Kamio?"
The redhead started and jumped to his feet, letting out a pained cry as his head came into contact with the locker's handle. He clapped his hands over the top of his head and spun around to face the other person in the room. His dark blue eyes widened as his gaze landed on the captain of Fudomine's tennis club, "Tachibana-san!"
Tachibana Kippei raised an eyebrow in worry, "Are you alright? I didn't mean to startle you."
Kamio nodded a few times, trying to keep from hissing in pain. That had hurt! He let his hands drop when he felt a sharp sting on his scalp, attempting to inconspicuously eye them for blood in the process. Sure enough, there was a slight smear of red on his palms. Hopefully the taller boy hadn't noticed.
"You're bleeding, aren't you?" Tachibana's asked dryly.
Kamio glanced up at his captain with a pained smile, deciding not to answer the question since Tachibana had already guessed the truth.
With a sigh, the third-year motioned for the redhead to come closer. Kamio did so and promptly sat on the locker room's bench when he was told to. He watched Tachibana walk over to his locker and drag out the first-aid kit. Kamio eyed the taller boy warily. He didn't want any of that stuff near his head.
"I'm fine, Tachibana-san! It's just a scratch," the redhead insisted.
His captain just raised an eyebrow at him. Then he glanced at the lockers before looking at Kamio once more. Tachibana's eyebrow arched even higher. "Kamio, you do realize that the handle that you cut your head on is covered in rust, right?"
The redhead let his dark blue gaze drift to his locker, frowning. Sure enough, most of the locker was covered with rust. Kamio felt his eyebrow twitch. His luck really was bad today!
While Kamio was distracted, Fudomine's captain rolled his eyes and parted the boy's hair where he assumed the cut was. Surprisingly he found the injury on his first try, and he promptly swabbed it with a peroxide-damp cotton ball. He was startled when Kamio ducked his head, flinching at the unexpected sensation.
"Ow!"
Kamio clapped his hands over his head and sent the older boy a pained glance.
Tachibana shrugged, tightening the cap on the bottle of the peroxide before placing it back in the first-aid kit. He tossed the used cotton ball into the trash bin across the room. "Sorry. I thought it would be better to do that while you were distracted."
The redhead let out a loud breath. The older tennis player was just trying to be helpful. He hadn't meant for it to hurt. Grudgingly, he replied, "Thank you, Tachibana-san."
As the older boy was walking over to his locker to put away the team's medical supplies, he spoke, "Shinji told me you weren't feeling well. He also said that you had been acting oddly the past few days. Is anything wrong, Kamio?"
Kamio felt his eye twitch. Shinji was his best friend, but sometimes he was a bit too perceptive for his own good. He quickly shook his head in response to Tachibana's question as he realized that the other boy wanted an answer, "No, nothing's wrong, Tachibana-san. I'm just feeling a bit off today."
His captain raised an eyebrow, asking, "Are you feeling well enough to practice today, or would you prefer to sit out? You look rather pale."
"Could I... just sit out for today?" Kamio asked hesitantly. He was feeling extremely dizzy suddenly and was wishing that he had eaten something earlier. He briefly wondered if Tachibana would mind if he rested on the bench outside while he sat out. He hoped not; he would probably fall asleep even if Tachibana did mind.
Tachibana nodded as the redhead stood slowly. Then, after glancing curiously at Kamio one last time, he headed outside and gestured for the second-year to follow him. The redhead did just that and shivered at the cold wind that had started blowing while he had been in the locker room.
When they made it to the courts, Kamio promptly sat down on the bench, feeling fatigued. The redhead decided then and there that he had to sleep a bit soon or he would collapse from exhaustion. Even with his newly made decision, he attempted to pay attention as Fudomine's captain spoke.
"Everyone! Since tomorrow is Sunday, this is one of our last practice days before the tournament. Make it count!"
The team voiced their thoughts as Kamio stretched out on the bench, closing his eyes. Surely Tachibana wouldn't be mad at him if he took a quick nap. That was his last worry as he drifted off to sleep.
The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder, telling him to wake up. He slowly opened his dark blue eyes to blink blearily as his tired mind tried to discern who it was that was standing next to him. "Kamio, get up. Shinji said he would make sure you made it home safely."
Kamio sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He cocked his head to the side and questioned, "Tachibana-san? Is practice already over?"
Tachibana raised an eyebrow and answered, "Yes. You were asleep the whole time, I take it?"
The redhead nodded, blushing in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to sleep through the whole three-hour practice. He had just wanted to take a short, half hour nap.
Fudomine's captain gave a small smile as he turned to leave, "Don't worry about it, Kamio. Just go home and sleep, okay?"
He blinked as his book bag was dangled in front of his face just as he was about to nod in response to Tachibana's comments, and he tilted his head back to see who was bringing it to him. Shinji was holding it with one hand, watching him with his usual bland stare. Kamio took the bag and thanked the violet-haired boy.
"Ready?" Shinji asked. Kamio nodded and stood from the bench. His best friend turned around and began walking slowly, waiting for him to catch up. The redhead vaguely heard the other boy's mumbling. Sometimes he wondered if Shinji even knew he was talking aloud. He was beginning to doubt it.
"Kamio seems really tired. I wonder if he's sick. He should have stayed home if he was feeling that bad, but because he came to school he has to walk home now. At least the skies have cleared up enough that it doesn't look like it will rain anymore. Kamio doesn't need to walk home in the rain. It wouldn't be good for him when he's this worn out. I don't really want to walk home in the rain either. It feels unpleasant."
They walked in silence for a while, a fond smile tugging at Kamio's lips. Well, it was silent aside from Shinji's nearly ever-present mumbling, but he was used to that. Shinji wouldn't be Shinji if he didn't have those habits.
"Kamio, you do know that if anything is wrong, you can tell me, right?"
However, the violet-haired boy still had the tendency to surprise him when he least expected it. The redhead stopped in his tracks, eyes widening, "Nothing's wrong, Shinji. I told you that earlier, remember? I'm just tired."
Shinji glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. Kamio sighed. Clearly his friend didn't believe him. Shinji was definitely more observant than most people gave him credit for. Kamio had clearly underestimated him this time.
"I'll... tell you if something happens, okay?" the redhead stated.
The dark-eyed boy hesitated for a moment before nodding, "If you promise."
Kamio agreed, "I promise, Shinji."
They walked together in silence for a while longer. The sky was clearing and brightening from the gloom that had shrouded it hours ago, and Kamio was positive his luck had changed for the better (at least for the day). He felt a grin tug at his lips before he noticed that Shinji was mumbling again and had been for a few moments.
"...I wonder if Kamio's against that sort of thing. I hope not. I wouldn't want things to be awkward between us if I ever told him..."
Kamio stopped listening as he suddenly realized that his friend hadn't actually meant to speak his thoughts. The grin that had been forming dropped from his features as he contemplated what he had heard. Shinji wanted to tell him something but was too worried to do so? That was... odd, to say the least. Usually his friend didn't care what he or anyone else thought of him. That was just the way Shinji was.
He was curious, but he didn't want to push Shinji into telling him something that concerned him so much. He would wait until the other boy felt comfortable enough to tell him. He was confident that his violet-haired friend would let him know eventually.
Still, a part of him wanted to know what Shinji had to say that could possibly cause a rift between them. Maybe he was having those same awkward feelings that the redhead was having. However, Kamio doubted that and was fairly certain that Shinji wouldn't return his feelings even if he understood why Kamio felt the way he did.
However, he could always hope, right?
The redhead was startled out of his thoughts as Shinji stopped suddenly. Kamio glanced around, eyes widening with recognition as they focused on his house. They had already walked that far? A nervous feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach, and he realized that he didn't want to go home just yet.
"We're here," his violet-haired friend announced as if to clear up Kamio's disbelief. The redhead nodded silently, tempted to ask if his friend wanted to play a game of tennis. He knew the violet-haired boy wouldn't agree though; Shinji clearly wanted him to get some rest.
Shinji walked him up to the door, and Kamio thanked him, waving as the other boy left. Then he went into his house, quietly shutting the door behind him. He wished he could have stayed with Shinji; his house felt oddly foreboding. That bad feeling he had wasn't going away either.
"Let go! You're hurting me!"
The redhead froze at the sound of his mother's voice. She sounded panicked. Then the sound of shattering glass broke the strained silence. That was definitely something to worry about.
He quickly discerned the location of the scuffle and made his way to the kitchen, dropping his school bag on the floor in the process. His dark blue eyes widened in fear as he witnessed his father backhand his mother, sending her sprawling to the ground. The redhead flinched at the loud crack that ripped through the air. He sincerely hoped his mother was just unconscious from the blow to the back of her skull.
It was then that he noticed the many empty beer bottles stacked on the small table beside them.
Kamio had the sudden urge to run away from the scene, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his mother in this situation. His father was drunk. His father had only been drunk around him once, and Kamio really didn't like to remember that incident. His father was a furious drunk who liked to blame all of his troubles on his red-haired son. It had been a painful experience.
As his father pulled back a leg to kick his wife, Kamio yelled angrily, "Leave her alone!"
Glancing at the shattered glass falling to the floor and amber liquid sluggishly running down the wall beside him, the redhead tried to keep his breathing under control. Only his quick reflexes had saved him from a world of pain. He had barely managed to dodge the beer bottle that was thrown at his head, even with his speed.
Though, Kamio felt a bit successful as his father took a step over his mother's still body. At least he had distracted him for the moment. He cringed and quickly took several steps backward as his father approached him, tripping over his book bag and landing on the ground. He winced and hissing in pain as the dark glass shards from another broken bottle bit into the palms of his hands and the soft flesh of his wrists.
The redhead scrambled to his feet, but the moment he turned to run he was shoved into the wall by his father. The back of his head collided with the hard surface and stars exploded in in front of his eyes. He blinked several times, trying to gather his bearings.
Before he could bolt again, a large fist connected with his stomach, and any bit of air in his lungs vacated his body. He gasped as he tried to get a decent breath, but his father punched him again. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, clutching his stomach tightly as he wheezed.
"This is all your fault," his father hissed as he pulled back a foot to kick him.
Kamio tried to scramble away, but only succeeded in making his father's foot collide with his right shoulder instead of the underside of his chin. The pain was enough to make his vision black out for a moment. A whimper escaped him as he crawled backward along the wall from his father, bruised—he hoped it was only bruised; it hurt so much—shoulder protesting the motion.
What was his fault? Why was his father so mad this time? The man had nothing to blame him for! He hadn't done anything wrong!
He pushed himself to his feet, letting his hair hide his angry gaze. He stood shakily, even as his legs threatened to collapse under him and growled, "What the hell is your problem? I haven't done anything! Nothing's my fault!"
Kamio readied himself as his father came at him again and ducked under his arm, sprinting toward his room. If he could make it in there, he could find a way to barricade his door and escape through the window or call the police or—something! He wasn't sure what he would do. He just needed to get away from his father.
He had almost reached the door when something solid and quite hard collided with the back of his head, and he fell to the ground.
The redhead had decided that he must have blacked out for a short moment while he was on the floor because he was now finally aware of the harsh, painful throbbing in the back of his head. He blinked several times in an attempt to get his eyes to focus correctly, but everything remained blurry. A pained moan escaped his lips as his stomach churned with nausea.
"Let's see you run away now."
Kamio heard his father's words, but his reaction time had slowed down dramatically. He was unable to avoid the next attack. The redhead started to roll over just as his father's foot slammed down on his left ankle.
A loud, disgusting snap echoed throughout the house as Kamio drew a shuddering breath. His pupils contracted and became tiny dots surrounded by oceans of dark sapphire. The redhead bit his lip hard enough to split it himself and clenched his eyes shut.
His father towered over him with a smug, drunken smile and ground his foot into his son's broken ankle, "Oh? Did that not hurt?"
Screams of agony ripped from the redhead's throat at the pain shooting up his leg. His breath caught in his throat as his father's foot slammed into his ribcage, and he choked. Then his world dimmed, and he fell into a realm of unconscious bliss.
When he next awoke, his father was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly in his drunken slumber. The redhead couldn't get his eyesight to focus on anything, and he could barely move without pain emanating from one part of his body or another. He rolled over onto his back and clenched his eyes shut, drawing shuddering breaths as scream-worthy agony shot through his left ankle and twined up his leg.
He silently dragged his body into a sitting position and tried to catch his breath. Once he was breathing correctly—Kamio was fairly certain that something was wrong with his ribs—he pulled himself up along the wall, balancing all of his weight on his right leg, and quietly hopped to his room a few feet away. He opened the door, slid inside, and closed it. Then he locked it.
There was no way he could defend himself from his father again. He was too injured to do anything, and his mother appeared to have already left the house judging from the missing car in the driveway (which the redhead had such a nice view of from his room). Kamio couldn't help the angry tears that trailed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. After all that he went through so his father wouldn't injure her further, his mother had left him with that man!
He flopped onto his bed, squirming across it and biting his lip in pain as he reached for the phone on the nightstand beside the piece of furniture. Finally he succeeded in grabbing the phone and picked up the receiver, poking at the buttons slowly. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to dial the number three times.
When he finally dialed the correct number, he brought the receiver to his ear. His stomach was knotting up because of the pain, and Kamio suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. However, he continued to listen as his phone connected with the other line. The device rang several times before it was answered with a sleepy, "Hello? Who would be calling this time of night? It's just rude to do that. This had better be important..."
"S-Shinji?" Kamio prayed that his voice didn't sound as pitiful to his friend as it did to his own ears. It must have, though, because Shinji was suddenly quite alert. He also seemed to have recognized the redhead's voice.
"Kamio? What's wrong?"
The violet-haired boy sounded very worried, and Kamio felt a small, bitter smile tug at his lips as he hiccupped, fighting back a sob. What could he say? He didn't want to sound too desperate, but he really needed his friend's help to leave his house. He didn't even have anything remotely resembling a crutch in his room, and he wasn't about to venture outside of his small haven to find something to use.
"Y-you know how I p-promised you I'd tell you i-if something was wrong? Something is. I-I know it's late, but c-could you come to my house?"
"Of course," Shinji agreed without hesitation. There was the sound of cloth being tossed around. "I'll be over in a few minutes."
"W-wait!" Kamio exclaimed quietly. At the sudden lull in noise coming from the other line, he continued, "Don't come to the front door, okay? You k-know where my room is, r-right? Come to the window, and I'll l-let you in."
"Aa..." Shinji replied before he hung up.
Kamio disconnected the call and placed the phone on the bed beside him with shaking hands. Then he let his face fall into the soft blankets covering the piece of furniture. He felt himself drifting off and quickly sat up, flinching as the sudden movement caused his ankle to throb once again.
He had to open the window for Shinji. His friend didn't live far from him, so the other boy would show up shortly. Plus, he was fairly certain that he had a concussion, and he didn't want to fall asleep. That probably wouldn't end well.
Slowly he slid off of his bed, once again putting all of his weight on his right leg as he hopped toward the glass pane. He rested his head against the cool surface when he successfully made it there. Then, after a large struggle and a huge amount of pain that resulted from jostling his injuries, he managed to open the window.
After accomplishing that task, he promptly sat down on the hard wood floor, grimacing and biting his lip again.
Sluggishly, he reached down and tugged off his shoe. Then he pulled the left pant leg of his uniform up to his knee, gasping at the sight of his swollen, obvious broken ankle. He lightly brushed his fingers across it before drawing his hand back like it had been burnt and flinched in pain.
He would have to get his injury taken care of somehow.
Reluctantly, he pulled his pant leg down to cover his ankle once again and glanced at the cheap digital clock across the room. Blaring red numbers stated that it was 1:30 AM. No wonder Shinji had been irritated before he realized that it was the redhead on the phone.
The blue-eyed boy started as he heard a noise near his window and whipped his head around to face it.
"Kamio?"
Relief flooded his features as he heard his friend's worried voice.
"Shinji? You can come in," Kamio gestured with his left hand.
The violet-haired boy did so, and crouched next to him, placing a hand on his right shoulder. He drew his hand back almost immediately when Kamio flinched in pain. Fudomine's tensai promptly stood up, walked over to the other side of the room, and flicked the light switch on.
When he turned around, Kamio caught the horror that flashed across his features. He looked down, clenching his hands and gasping as the bits of glass still stuck in them grated together. He unclenched them carefully and finally took the time to glance at them now that the light was on.
Dark shards were embedded into his palm, and his wrists were bleeding sluggishly.
He must have looked like something out of a nightmare.
"I'm sorry, Shinji. I-I just didn't know anyone else to call," he explained weakly, voice hiccupping like it had when he had been talking to the other boy on the phone.
Shinji was instantly by his side, and Kamio found that he couldn't resist the urge that told him to hug the other boy. So he threw restraint into the wind and wrapped his arms around the violet-haired boy, sobbing explanations, "H-he was drunk, Shinji, and he was h-hurting mom! I-I was worried when she didn't get up from the ground—she must be okay though; she took the car and left me here—, so I yelled for him to s-stop! Then he came after me, and I t-tripped..."
The redhead trailed off and pulled back, turning his arms so his wrists and the palms of his hands could be seen. His arms shook, and he could feel the torrents of frightened tears that he had been holding back since everything started streaming down his face, "T-this happened when I fell."
Shinji reached out and gently gripped his shaking hands, studying them with a frown.
Kamio continued talking, oblivious to the fact that his friends had begun murmuring under his breath, "He punched me, too. T-then he kicked my right shoulder really hard and said everything was m-my fault. I s-still don't know what he was blaming me f-for."
His violet-haired friend was still mumbling, but Kamio couldn't stop talking long enough to listen. "I a-almost made it to my room, but he t-threw a beer bottle or something. It hit my head, and I b-blacked out for a second. I-I think I have a concussion, Shinji. Everything's so blurry even when I'm not c-crying."
The violet-haired boy stopped talking at Kamio's admission and let go of his hands in favor of reaching around to gently touch the back of the panicked boy's head. Sure enough, there was a rather large bump on his skull. Worried, he tilted Kamio's head up and studied the way the redhead's eyes reacted to the sudden light. The pupils contracted too sluggishly, and Shinji quietly agreed, "I think you do have a concussion. You've stayed awake, right?"
Kamio made an affirmative noise, trying to focus on his friends face. It was hard to stay conscious, but he knew of the dangers of sleeping with a concussion. He didn't want anything else to happen to him.
His sobs quieted to small hiccups as he continued to attempt to get his vision to focus on Shinji's face, "When I came to, he was saying something. I don't really remember what it was, but I remember panicking enough to try to roll away. Then he—" Kamio drew a shuddering breath, "Then he stomped on my ankle. I think it's broken. I heard something snap in it; it hurts to move it. I passed out a few seconds later. When I woke up, I dragged myself in here and called you."
"Your ankle..." Shinji trailed off as he glanced down and to the side. He winced at the odd angle Kamio's foot was resting at. He let his gaze wander back to meet his friend's dazed blue eyes.
"Kamio, you really need to go to a hospital."
Kamio blinked slowly, his hiccups becoming less frequent as he conversed with his friend, "Is it really that bad? I'll go i-if I need to, but I don't know how I'd make it there. It's pretty far away."
Shinji nodded, "It's that bad, Kamio. We'll take you there, and I'll stay with you, if the doctors will let me. I'm sure they'll want to keep you for at least a few hours. You seem to have a really bad concussion."
The redhead blinked for a few moments, "We?"
Shinji cocked his head to the side. "How do you think I made it here that quickly? Mom caught me trying to sneak out of the house, but she agreed to drive me over here because I explained that you had called."
The violet-haired boy stood and held out a hand to the redhead, "Can you stand? I'll help you out the window. We can come pick up your stuff tomorrow, okay?"
Kamio nodded and grasped Shinji's hand after a few tries, pulling himself up on his right leg. After conquering the small ordeal of climbing out the window together and much jostling of his ankle, the redhead was helped into the backseat of Shinji's mother's car. Shinji went around the car and opened the opposite door, sliding in beside the redhead.
Ibu-san appeared horrified at the state Kamio was in for a moment before she began to open her door, hissing in righteous anger, "What type of person would do this to their child? I'm going to go have a talk with your father!"
"No!"
Kamio's shout startled all three occupants of the car. He ducked his head in embarrassment, explaining quietly, "No, Ibu-san, please don't go talk to him right now! He's... drunk. I... don't want him to hurt anyone else."
Shinji was watching him with a frown. Then the violet-haired boy turned his attention to his mother, "I know it's late but could you drive us to the hospital, 'kaa-san? Kamio has a concussion, and I'm fairly certain his ankle is broken."
Shinji's mother watched them for a moment before pulling her door shut. She then turned the car on and began to drive. Her son hadn't mumbled once since he had brought his friend to the car. That in itself was a testament to how worried he was.
To Be Continued...
Glossary of Terms:
tensai— literally "prodigy" or "genius."
-san— Suffix used to show respect.
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--Wolfram003--