Two Less Crazy People in the World

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Chapter III

He never anticipated anything like this, that is, asking for another serving of Kuwaku's prescription. Twice in his lifetime is too much, that's for sure after having his mind so patterned after the one-psychiatrist-for-each-session rule. And now he finds himself--regardless how unlikely that is—banging restlessly at Kuwaku's door. No other time than this has he felt fate and nature conspire to blight his life. No other time than this when he felt so incurable, so insecure. It seems that Mitsui isn't the only person who's surprised by this strange meeting; the same instant Dr. Kuwaku pries the door open an involuntary frown crosses his face.

'I'm so sorry to bother you, doctor. But I really need to talk to you.' Mitsui says. He can very well see that the urgency in his tone just about exasperates the doctor. He's looking just like he's been interrupted in the middle of something.

'So fast? Why, you were just here the other day.' He booms upon coming vis-à-vis Mitsui's anxious face.

'Yeah. I was also here yesterday but your sign says you close at 5 and I was half an hour late. I was just on my way home from fishing then.'

'Oh, I see.' Kuwaku gives him a hesitant smile. 'Come inside.'

'Do you have a patient coming?'

'No. Take a seat, Mitsui-san, while I just put this away.' Kuwaku gestures at the book he's clutching and moves to the shelves at the far corner of the room. Mitsui reads the title, 'Star Trek' it says. He reads that? I couldn't even stomach its silliness when I was in 4th grade! Whatever. People have been shocking me endlessly for the last couple of days that it doesn't matter anymore if elephants begin to fly, Mitsui mumbles under his breath. When Kuwaku returns, Mitsui has cradled himself on the sofa chair he sat on during the previous session.

'So how was it?' Kuwaku asks as he plops himself on the swivel chair.

'Bad.' Mitsui says. 'And it made me even worse.'

'I'm surprised. May I ask what made you say that?'

'Certainly.' Mitsui breathes. The un-banish-able memory of Sendoh has accompanied him all through out the night, all morning and until now. It's even worse than a nightmare that just won't go away, that keeps on scavenging on his flimsy sanity. It leaves him feeling lost and on one hand…found. 'There was this guy there. We fished together. And believe me when I tell you that he's the nuttiest prick I came in contact with.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Because talking to him, it felt like I was normal. Dead normal, I amend. He says the weirdest things,' at this, Mitsui is transported back to the time when Sendoh told him that he and his team mates in Shohoku look good. 'He does the wackiest things and behaves like the entire world is going to be alright. Really, around him I felt like no damn know-it-all shrink would ever tell me something's wrong with me.'

But that's when the problem comes in. The moment he'd been separated from Sendoh, the security that he incurred from what Sendoh lacks evaporated. Everything crumbles apart, like a house of cards. Its post-air only makes him question all the more his stability. When he should be feeling elevated and sane, he feels just quite the opposite.

'And yet it made me worse, worse than ever, if you will. I'm not saying he's contagious or rabid or anything, but he made me feel frail in the head like I'd blow up any minute. Just like before.' Mitsui goes on.

'So it isn't the fishing that screwed it all up, is that what you're saying?'

Mitsui pauses. What about fishing itself? Does it have enough spunk to keep him interested and hopeful? Up to now he hasn't made a distinction between the Sendoh aspect of yesterday and the fishing. As far as he's aware, he hasn't had a wickeder day. And after that things just happened, one after another in the spur of the moment, until Mitsui couldn't handle them anymore. They make him want to strangle his neck just to be remembered.

'No, I guess not.' Mitsui gives in, refusing to replay in his head any event that took place within 24 hours. He hears Doctor Kuwaku sigh then, as though Mitsui just said something that he'd very much like to hear.

'Okay, Mitsui. Why don't you try again?'

'I can't. I may meet him there!' Mitsui snarls, taken aback by the mere thought of having Sendoh and his retarded smile by his side again. For the umpteenth time since yesterday, he trembles outwardly.

'What, the guy?'

'Yes. I don't think I can stand him another moment.' Mitsui folds his arms firmly.

'Mitsui-san, do you know who this person is? You seem to be so detested by him.'

'Creeped out, more like. Anyway, I know him alright. Technically. But he's never an intimate acquaintance. Yesterday was the first time I saw him off the court.'

'You can always ignore him, make him feel persona non grata if needs be. What's at stake here is your recovery. I wager you wouldn't want it sacrificed just because of an unwanted presence like that guy.'

'I know, I know.' Mitsui says. He knows, alright; it's the only thing he can afford to know. Sendoh's not worth any of it; the trouble, the sleepless night, the stunted train of thought, the brain-wreck. Mitsui can always try to avoid him the way he would a bad accident. And equally true enough, he can always try to scrap himself away from his bad temper and the addiction it has become. Only 'trying' proves way over hard, too much for so simple an enterprise.

'What I want you to take into account here is, this person isn't part of your healing. Don't let him be the one thing that'd stop you from retrieving your soundness.' Kuwaku says, his eyes twinkling. 'Now why don't you go back to your house and watch a good movie. You may find out that there's more to look forward to in it than in worrying yourself sick over the person.'

'Yeah, you're right.' Mitsui sighs. But the more he tries to picture a peaceful afternoon, the more he's convinced that the clinically disturbed Sendoh isn't going away. He will be there in Mitsui's solitude, dreams, in the showers and after that when he faces the mirror. Gosh, Sendoh's not going to make himself scarce just because Mitsui wants it; he may as well be permanent. 'Okay, consider it done then. I'll just tell my mom I went here today so she can pay you extra.'

'Thank you. I'll see you next time.'

'Yes, next time.'

Odd, but the first thing Mitsui's mind touches on is his next session with the doctor. Today's not necessarily a progress, a step ahead to his recovery, but surely he's on the right track? His teeth no longer chatter when he recalls what his mother has been telling him over and over again, that he needs help. Of course he does and Doctor Kuwaku is just perfect for the job. Once again Mitsui traipses the sidewalks, every inch of which becoming thoroughly familiar to him.

oooooOOOOOOOOOOooooo

It's one of those long evenings when somnolence is scant, the body is righteously restless and the mind is hardly at ease for one moment. Mitsui Hisashi lies on his bed, eyes wide open, lips slightly parted, mind exposed to thoughts he'd rather sleep on. Earlier, he refused to have his dinner and when his mom offered to bring it up to his room he almost snarled at her to leave him alone. Whether it was the absence of his appetite or the need for silence or something else altogether that made him shove the meal away, he isn't sure. All he knows is, the stream of occurrences in which he's been forced to participate since yesterday has been nothing but a shock to his digestion. Something that hasn't transpired in weeks is happening at Mitsui residence; it's become relatively quiet. No pot wares clanking against the walls and floors and ceilings, no knuckles on the door and no overheard curses in the middle of the night and long before it. None of Mitsui's family knows what's gone on him behind his locked bedroom door, not that they'd dare find out if they had the chance.

Inside, Mitsui tries to turn the lamps on but the orange light just about reminds him of the sun that hovers just a few inches above the horizon and hence, of his afternoon with Sendoh. He clicks it off again; never mind that his eyes are unaccustomed to darkness, the better to barricade the same thoughts from digging their way into him. Minutes later, sporadically enough, the phone beside him starts ringing. It never does save when Akagi informs him that practice is moved or when Sakuragi bugs him about the new joke he has invented or when Kogure asks him if he knows about this or that homework. He can't name a more functional possession of his than this phone, which is why he takes utmost care not to jam it on something when he has his fits.

'Hello?' Mitsui says in a voice that sounds too enervated to liberate further syllables. He can have just let the answering machine take care of it but he realizes that a few movements are needed by his body.

'Hi. Is this Hisashi?' The voice springs from the tiny dots on the speaker.

'Yes. Who's this?'

'Akira.'

And that's it. Mitsui's sanity only needs an unexpected phone call from Sendoh Akira for the last straw. He muses on that voice, joyful sounding, baritone, singsong-ish; Mitsui can close his eyes now and imagine the manner in which Sendoh is very possibly smiling, jumping up and down in delight for catching hold of a phone pal at such an unlikely hour. Of all screwed-up people to be destined to fit the role, it has to be Mitsui Hisashi, who can now barely balance the speaker right under his mouth.

'How did you know my number?' Mitsui asks and bites his lips in the process. He can taste the iron flavor on his tongue as well as the bitter lump in his throat.

'The ever so handy directory. Didn't you know?'

'But…there are too many Mitsuis here. I mean—you know---it's a very common name.' Mitsui says, his words coming in snatches and raspy exhalations.

'Yeah. Talk about difficult. I've had the longest time putting you through the wires.'

'I'm so sorry I have such a sloppy, commonplace last name.' Mitsui scoffs and then his eyes widen. 'You dialed every one of them!' He almost screeches.

'Uh-huh. No big bother so don't worry.' Sendoh says. 'What are you doing?'

'Suffering to the end of my wits.'

'Okay. Are you feeling well now?'

'Why d'you wanna know?' Mitsui snaps. He doesn't care enough for this Ryonan bloke to ask what he's doing or even to answer his question.

'Well, you left me yesterday on the pretext that your head ached. I wonder how you're doing now.'

'I've been better,' Mitsui replies. He's now marginally okay but still falling by a long shot from 'well'. Perhaps being well isn't what his body wants to be at the present. 'What do you have up your sleeve calling me at this hour?'

'A chat. Don't you do that sometimes?'

'No. I don't come to the phone unless…unless it's a matter of life and death. And just for the record, this isn't.'

'To you, perhaps.'

'What do you mean?'

'To me making friends through the phone is a good pastime. You should start trying it too.'

Mitsui closes his eyes. It's perverse enough that Sendoh would going fishing where it's impossible to catch one single fish, but rummaging over the foot-thick local directory and making friends over the phone are toeing off the line. Gosh, he needs help, needs more plenty of it than Mitsui will ever care to need.

'I don't know, I'm not so good in the making-friends-through-the-phone-lines department.' Mitsui says, permitting himself all politeness he has failed to show the other lad before.

'You can have the funniest conversations by making anonymous calls, you know. But it's more fun when you know who you're talking to.'

'Can't say I'm having fun now.'

'I am.' Sendoh says. He must've been muffling his giggles. 'You're just like Rukawa, you know. He doesn't talk much but complains a lot—'

'Hold on there. What did you just say about Rukawa?'

'That he just clams himself all the time and I do all the talking. It gets a little tiring but it's still a nice way to kill time.'

'You've called Rukawa? Give me a break.' More intense than Mitsui's weariness right now is his incredulity. Trying to get Rukawa to talk is the next thing to suicide; and the only mode of conversation which anyone can carry on with Rukawa is mutual silence. Not even in his profoundest desperation would Mitsui ever think of doing something like what Sendoh has done.

'Yeah, I've called him a number of times. I could tell he hated it at first. It wasn't until my 4th call that he got the hang of it.'

'I hate that guy! He wouldn't waste his precious saliva if he could just scowl. He's so retarded. I can't believe someone's thick enough to give him a call. I bet nobody calls him but you.' Mitsui says, not caring if his harsh words have made Sendoh wince. 'Anyway, who else have you been bugging?'

'I like talking to Hanamichi, if that's what you mean.'

'Huh! And he's okay with that?' No, Mitsui thinks. Sakuragi can never be okay with his archrival simpering on the opposite line and invading his privacy like this. Even Mitsui is not okay with that.

'I guess so. He doesn't hang up on me too often.'

'And that's supposed to be a sign of developing camaraderie? I don't know what else to say. The guy's full of hot air and of himself; I just can't see him talking to you, of all people.'

'I'm not sure about that. Hanamichi laughs often and I think he's happy that I call him.'

'Oh, I see; you mean that NYAHAHAHAHA-demon laugh of his? That's not his happiness, not even close. It's called bragging. I just thought you should know. And you two are so close now you even get to refer to him with his first name. Congratulations.' Mitsui's voice drips with sarcasm. He's done all the asking and inferences he needs to proclaim Sendoh as officially nuts. Case closed.

'You can say that again. Is it alright if I call you Hisashi?'

'Yeah, whatever. You're really that desperate, huh?'

'Not really, just one eager chatterbox.' This time Sendoh laughs and Mitsui doesn't even need hair gel to make his hair stand on end. 'I've got to say this; Hanamichi says the darnest things in the world.'

'Like what? Did he ever mention something about his team mates? Us?' Mitsui wouldn't be surprised if Sakuragi goes on in an endless boasting spree wherein he one-handedly defeated the rest of the team during a practice match. More specifically, it wouldn't amuse him to hear Sendoh echoing the red ape's glory words.

'I don't remember him talking about you guys and I never ask. He just---'

'Recites a litany on how great and magnificent he is. Typical Sakuragi, he just can't rise above his strutting and talk.'

'That about sums it up, I suppose.'

'Then how come you endure it?'

'I don't endure it; I enjoy it.' Sendoh corrects him.

Mitsui pauses. The words have penetrated him to the bone. Sendoh has wound him up so far already, has stretched his tether to the last inch and has whacked his head harder than anything and anything that comes after that. He doesn't know whether to laugh or curse, cry or get drunk or worse anymore. He just lies supine on the bed, inside the safe circle of the sheets' embrace, frigid, breathing silently with the speaker carefully pinned between his ear and shoulder. There's only one way to weasel himself out of this, and that is to face it directly.

'Sendoh, do you remember what you told me at the coffee shop?' Mitsui says, gathering up all courage.

'What about?'

'You said you needed help before, that you were constantly depressed.'

'I said that?'

'Yes, you did.'

'Oh boy. Well…I admit was very lonely then.'

'Why?'

'Because they said I wasn't like anybody else. I said things that they didn't like, did weird things. I don't know; next thing I knew nobody wanted to talk to me or hang out with me and I got so depressed.'

'Maybe they were right. These banters over the phone, fishing for nothing at all, crying, saying other guys are good-looking—those aren't the things any normal boy our age does.' Mitsui says, almost soothingly. Handing out admonition is one of the weirdest and rarest things he's done. Then again, he's been caught at the center of this whirlpool of weird happenstances over and over again for the past 2 days that he can easily just dismiss everything as normal.

'But I mean them. I said you guys look good and I wasn't lying. I can't see anything wrong with that.'

'I know. But,' Mitsui switches the phone to his other ear. 'there's what we call society and society cares. I'm not questioning your masculinity—wouldn't think of it—but you can't do what girls do.' There, he says it, the clincher. It should be over now.

'You sound just like my doctor.' Sendoh mutters. Mitsui recognizes the disappointed twang in his voice.

'Oh, so you've sought medical help before?'

'Of course. My parents couldn't stand me swooning and weeping all the time.'

'Did going to the doctor help?'

'Maybe. I stopped being so depressed after I start going to him.' Sendoh says. He seems to remember something good that happened in the past; reminiscing, that kind of thing. 'My shrink was an oddball, you know. At first it got my eyebrow raised when he told me that fishing would help a lot—'

'Hold on a second.' At this instant Mitsui sits up on his bed and muffs the phone closer to his ear. His brain starts undergoing hypertension. 'Your shrink told you to go fishing?'

'Right. It was a good cure. I owe it to fishing that I don't get lonely anymore. It's relaxing, exactly what he told me; and fulfilling, although I haven't caught any fish.'

Yeah, and exactly what Kuwaku told me too. Something's so fishy about this whole fishing thing, Mitsui's mind begins to rave, almost bursting with sinister surmises about Kuwaku. Now and again, he feels a cold something wheedling inside his belly. It's not hunger that's wrapping around his intestines now; it's more like something that rhymes with it…anger? Yes, it's scratching holes all over his insides now, begging to be unleashed, to be shouted in the open. He clenches his fists, unconscious of their force and the marks they leave on his palms.

'Hisashi, are you still there?' Sendoh says. He's repeated the same question thrice before Mitsui pays it a moment's notice.

'Er, yeah.' Mitsui says weakly. 'Sendoh, doesn't it seem strange to you that a manic-depressive should be advised to go fishing?'

'It did. But I told you it worked. From then on I quit doubting my doctor.'

'Let me guess; your doctor told you to buy your fishing equipment at Hooker's, didn't he?'

'Yes. Hisashi, I'm impressed,'

'Save your breath. Here's more; his name's Kuwaku, am I right?'

'Now I'm freaked out. How'd you know that?'

'Telepathy, or in layman's term, common sense.'

'Oh.' Sendoh says, bemused. He pauses the duration of a quarter of a minute when he remembers something. 'Hey, Hisashi; I hope it didn't slip you that we're fishing tomorrow. I can pick up a rod for you from Hooker's and we can meet up same place same time, how about it?'

'Okay, it's fine. I'll see you there tomorrow.' They hang up. It doesn't even occur to him to turn down Sendoh's invitation when he has set his teeth on standing him up. Yes, he needs to see Sendoh and to open his eyes to Kuwaku's shenanigans. By then they may get the cure they both need.

'I'm going to bust that bastard!' Mitsui explodes as if saying it aloud would keep his mind smooth and steady on the surface and underneath. He vows to make Kuwaku pay for what he did to him or what he thought of doing. Taking advantage over a sick guy like Sendoh? Boy, that's low. He pulls the cover over his head, indulging his ears on the buzz of absolute silence. No amount of sanity is going to block his way to Kuwaku. That fucker, making a cheap prey out of me? I'll kill him! He shuts his eyes as he feels himself disappear into the darkness, completely abandoned to the sleep he needs most.

TBC

A/N: Last chapter coming right up.