Warnings: None
NOTE: The honorific you use when addressing a doctor in Japanese is "sensei." (AKA: Name-sensei)
Lucky Child
Chapter 117:
"Territories"
Looking first left, then right down the hallway outside my hospital room, I slipped into the quiet corridor and made my way due south.
The coast was clear, thank my lucky stars, and no one stopped me as I snuck down the hall on silent feet. I'd been unleashed from the cumbersome IV stand earlier in the day, once it was clear I wouldn't relapse and could consume fluids orally (comas, I'm told, can be quote dehydrating). The inside of my left elbow smarted where the needle had pierced through skin, but other than a touch of tremble in the knees, I felt otherwise fine—although my heart did pound when a security guard rounded the corner up ahead. I managed to slip behind an empty nurse's desk before he saw me, waiting with bated breath for his heavy feet to trudge past along the tile floor.
Once he—the security guard who'd dreamed of donuts—vanished around the corner, making a beeline for a tray of pastries left out by a night nurse, I slipped free of my hiding place and headed for the elevators. Took a bit more maneuvering to get all the way downstairs undiscovered, but somehow I managed to find the door out to the meditation garden (so marked by a handy signed) without undue trouble. It helped that I had a map in my pocket, one I consulted several times as I navigated the hospital's winding halls. They smelled of antiseptic and gauze, aromas fading into the scents of green and growing things when at last I slipped out the door.
The mediation garden sat shaded by a quartet of cherry trees, and a few benches scattered across the brick-paved yard providing ample places to sit. Rows of planters arranged into a maze filled the center of the garden, giving patients and interesting walking path amid myriad bright blossoms. A fountain bubbled in the corner, too, providing the small space with serene ambiance.
Directly in front of me, beneath the glare of a floodlight and the gaze of softer, waning crescent moon above, sat one Kaito Yuu.
He didn't bother turning around when the door creaked open. He continued facing forward, back straight, shoulders at ease in his seat upon the bench. Like me, he wore a pair of seafoam green hospital scrub pants and a dun robe, hems trailing the flagstones with green and pale brown. He'd put a coat on over the ensemble, though. The camel color looked all the paler beside his tangle of black curls, and when I rounded the bench, I saw he wore his usual pair of rectangular glasses on his thin nose.
Kaito didn't bother putting down his book when I sat beside him, huffing from the exertion of travel. I felt better today than I had the day before—my first full day of consciousness since waking from my coma in the middle of the night—but long walks still tired me out.
Not that Kaito gave a shit.
"Yukimura." He turned the page with a twist of dispassionate wrist. "How kind of you to join me—" a not-so-subtle glance at his watch "—only thirty minutes late."
"Oh, shut up," I grumbled. "Not all of us can do whatever we want because our parents are doctors here. I had to Mission Impossible my way—"
Kaito, mystified, said: "Mission what?"
"I had to ninja my way down here." Easier to just change tactics than explain; I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot of that soon, given the amount of catch-up Kaito and I needed to play. No sense starting too early. Slumping in my seat, I muttered, "Almost got caught by that one security guard, too…"
"Ah." Kaito turned a page with a fingertip. "The donut dreamer."
"Yeah, him." A smile emerged, small and snickering. "He got distracted by a tray of crullers. Literal, not dream-versions. But even before I ran into him, I just barely managed to escape."
"Escape from what?" Kaito wondered.
"From whom, more like," I said with a cryptic smile. "And the answer, Kaito, is that I escaped… from well-wishers."
I pronounced those last words in the tone most normally reserve for discussions regarding door-to-door salesman—and when that finally drew his bespectacled gaze from his book, one brow raised quizzically high, I grinned.
Like I said.
Kaito and I had a lot of catching up to do.
The minute I woke from the coma that had kept me dreaming for two days straight, my parents decided to dote.
Not that this was a particularly unwarranted phenomenon, but still. I wasn't dead, and I was no longer actively dying, either. The amount of things they brought from home to decorate my hospital room, the food they cooked and brought for both me and all the nurses on our floor, the sheer number of pillows—it was excessive, to put it mildly. I practically drowned under blankets, cheeks distended from the noodles Mom kept shoveling into my protesting mouth. And Dad was no help, either, as he was the one piling on the blankets and yelling at people in the halls to pipe down because his daughter needed her rest after her life-threatening ordeal.
Like, I get it. Their daughter had a brush with death. But were the dramatics really necessary?
Mom bustled about the room like a hummingbird, hands fussing with bedding like the frantic beat of wings. "Keiko, sweetie, how are the pillows?" she asked, fluffing the aforementioned. "Too many? Too few?"
Dad appeared at my feet holding a knitted shawl. "Do you need another blanket?"
"Does the onigiri need salt?" Mom peered worriedly at the half-eaten bento sitting on the tray table over my lap. "Oh, I hope I added enough salt…"
"It's fine, Mom. And no, Dad, I'm not cold." I would've thrown up my hands, but Dad had already trapped them under the shawl. "Really, I'm fine!"
They looked like they didn't quite believe me, though. Mom kept fluffing pillows and Dad kept throwing blankets over my feet until I pretended to take a nap, at which point they turned off the lights and moved their theatrics into the hallway, where they could accost anyone who so much as made a peep. They respected the nurses, though. The nurses were like their second children, because they took care of my parents' first child. And after two days of my parents giving them food and confronting anyone who so much as looked at the nurses wrong, they'd become the nurses' favorites in return… which meant the nurses took extra special care of me and constantly inquired as to whether or not I needed anything from them. Which made my escape-naps hard, as you might imagine.
Honestly, I thought as I huddled beneath the blankets and prayed no one would come check on my wellbeing. It was hard to just relax with so much attention. All I really wanted was to nap away the day (so I could stay up late and find people sleeping at the normally appointed hour, natch), but that seemed all but impossible with the constant foot-traffic. What does a girl have to do to just sink into the mattress and disappear, I ask you?
After an hour or so of fake-napping, my mother decided enough was enough, clattering into the room with a hairbrush and insisting she give my head a thorough inspection. Again I wished my Territory had given me the power to sink into mattresses and disappear from existence, but just as she finished tugging the brush through every last tangle and tress, one of the nurses rapped smartly on the frame of my door.
"Yukimura?" he asked. "Are you up for visitors?"
My heart leapt; I looked to mom; Mom looked to Dad; Dad sighed and hung his head.
"Well." A sigh preceded his grin, caution thrown to the wind. "If the doctor says it's OK, then yeah. Bring 'em in!"
The nurse smiled and pulled his head out of the doorway. A moment later, two new faces filled it—a pair of faces I'd been longing to see ever since I woke up in the hospital. A pair of faces I'd been hoping would walk through that door for two days now. A pair of faces that had me tearing up on sight, relief flooding cold and sharp inside my chest.
Thank god my parents were too busy greeting my visitors to notice. "Yusuke, Minamino!" said Dad as he strode forward. "Thanks for stopping by to see our daughter!"
"Thank you for having us." Kurama stepped into the room with one of his most beatific smiles—that calm, pleasant aura of his accompanying every motion, every word, every tilt of head or dart of bright green eye. "I hope we aren't imposing…"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Dad laughed and clapped Kurama on the back. "You're welcome any time. So long as visiting hours are in session, huh?"
"Flowers?" said Mom, crowding over to take the bouquet of carnations, chrysanthemums and irises he bore in his magenta-clad arms. "Oh, sweet boy, you shouldn't have!"
"It was my pleasure." Relieved of one burden, he held out another: a large square package wrapped in a bright blue handkerchief. "I hope this is also not an imposition, but I brought some tea leaves that work wonders when recovering from an illness, and my mother packed these bento boxes for your family to eat, as well."
Mom appeared touched by the gesture. At least, she clutched at her heart and gave a little gasp, bowing low as Dad took the boxes from Kurama.
"Minamino-san," she said. "We are in your debt."
Dad bowed, too, likewise affected. "Thank you for taking care of our daughter."
"It was the least we could do after the kindness your family showed my mother when she, herself, was ill." His smooth words reminded them that this was a debt repaid—and how very like Kurama, to remind them of such a thing in such a moment. Of course he wouldn't burden them with accepting a favor at a time like this. Eyes at last traveling toward me, he said, "Keiko brought my mother meals when she was in this very hospital, in fact…"
I swear, I almost burst into full-on tears when our eyes met. They were so green, so warm, so alive—
Dad saved me from a breakdown by releasing a startlingly loud bark of laughter. "Is that so! Well then, we've come full circle," he said, once again patting Kurama's shoulder. "You tell her 'thank you' for us, you hear?"
As Kurama baked in the sunshine of their compliments, looking placidly overwhelmed as he traded bow after bow with my parents, Yusuke shrugged away from the door and walked to my bedside with his usual trademark swagger. He, too, looked vibrant and full of energy, thudding into the chair at my elbow so he could swing his feet—clad in a pair of hospital-issued indoor slippers—atop my bed. The look earned him a stare of disapproval from a passing nurse, but he just tossed his hair and sneered before at last turning to me.
When our eyes met, I once again felt the overwhelming urge to cry at the life reflected in his. But per Yusuke's usual habits, he ruined the moment with sheer sass.
"Well," he said, crossing one ankle over the other as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his bright green uniform. "I didn't bring you squat, in case you were wondering."
Tears abated when my eyes rolled. "Of course you didn't."
"Heh." Another wild toss of his hair, smile crooked and full of teeth. "I just came to tell you that if you don't get back fast, I'm gonna steal your Famicon and take it back to my house. Been waiting for days to play Dragon Quest again…"
"Gee, Yusuke," I deadpanned. "Your patience during my convalescence is an inspiration."
Yusuke leaned his chair onto its back legs, rocking precariously in place. "What can I say? I'm practically the Buddha."
"He's not kidding." Dad had wandered over to deposit Kurama's flowers at my beside, where he shot Yusuke a sly glance. "He came by the restaurant yesterday and made enough soup stock for the next week so we could come visit you and not worry about the business, he said. And you know how long it takes to make our special soup stock!" He ruffled Yusuke's carefully coiffed hair and laughed. "Patience of the Buddha, indeed!"
"Hey!" Yusuke practically snapped his teeth at my father's offending hand. "You weren't supposed to tell her that!"
"Aw, Yusuke," I simpered. "I didn't know you cared so much!"
"SHUT UP!"
Everyone laughed at him, then—my mother, my father, Kurama, and me. Yusuke grumbled and groused as he lowered his chair back onto all four legs, shooting each of us a glare before smoothing his hair back into place. Damn, but it was good to see him—him and Kurama both. I couldn't take my eyes off them as Kurama pulled over another chair and sat at Yusuke's side. Even though I knew it had only been a day or two, it felt like I hadn't laid eyes on either of them in a decade, at least. With hunger I drank down every motion they made, every flutter of expression that crossed their features. They looked just as I remembered them… and yet, so different, too. The last sight of their faces I'd experienced, after all, hadn't been in the flesh, instead taking place in a dream of another lifetime—the one that was mine, and yet was not. Where the boys of Yu Yu Hakusho occupied the uncanny valley, faces rendered lifelessly onto vapid merchandise and in the pages of a manga series.
I still wasn't sure what I thought about everything I'd dreamed. I still wasn't sure what any of it meant, or if it even meant anything at all. All I knew is that I was glad to banish the memory of their 2D faces, replacing the image with their flesh-and-blood counterparts. There was simply no substitute for the real thing, hence why I found myself staring at them and… smiling. Just smiling, cheeks hurting from the force of it, happy and content simply to be near them at all.
Yusuke gave a little start, feet clapping back down onto the floor. "Shit. You're not, like, in pain or whatever, are you?" he said, eyes tracing across my face. "Are they being stingy with the morphine or something?"
I glowered. "I'm not on morphine, Yusuke."
"Well, your eyes are watering, so…"
"I'm just happy you're both here." I blotted my eyes with my fingertips and laughed. "So sue me, I guess!"
Kurama, meanwhile, was quick to provide assurances. "We're happy to be here, too," he said (and when Yusuke grumbled, Kurama ground his heel into Yusuke's foot with a pointed glare). "Aren't we, Yusuke?"
"Yeah," said Yusuke through pain-grit teeth. "Just thrilled."
A long silence followed this proclamation, but the way Kurama's eyes drifted over my shoulder told me why the conversation had died. My parents buzzed close by, unwrapping Kurama's offering of bento boxes and tea leaves, which Mom had begun to prep for brewing. Dad, too, had begun to unfold a bag of clothes, unpacking them into a bureau beneath a TV set. With the pair of them so close, no wonder no one was saying much about my collapse. We'd been in the middle of a supernatural debriefing when I sickened, after all. Anything they wanted to say about that incident or our less-than-normal associates would have to wait until we had privacy.
And that fucking sucked. I didn't have access to a phone here (not when I was being monitored so closely both by the staff as well as my family), so I hadn't had even a moment's contact with my friends since waking up two nights prior. The hundred questions in my head had to remain there, bouncing off the walls of my brain like flies in a jar. Why did they think I'd collapsed? Did they somehow know I had powers? And what would they think of my powers once I spilled those beans?
But more important than my powers was the question of a certain someone else's. I'd had ample time to review the events that had led me to my hospitalization, and the biggest question mark of all was how we'd gotten to this hospital in the first place—and so fast. My memories of the moment itself were obscured by pain, but I recalled that when I'd collapsed, everything went black… and then there had been a light. And then I was here, being wheeled into the ICU, transported as though by magic.
I had a hunch I knew how we'd gotten to the hospital so quickly. I just wasn't sure if I liked it. A certain someone wasn't scheduled to develop that technique until later on in the arc of Chapter Black, and he certainly wasn't supposed to develop it because of me. But with my parents so close, I couldn't exactly ask if anyone in our group had developed a heretofore unknown power, much less tell them about mine.
"So." Smoothing my hands over the mess of blankets on my lap, I gave my knees a prim pat. "What've I missed since I wound up in the hospital? Tell me everything."
"Nothing dire, I'm happy to report," Kurama said, expression one of smooth-smiling calm. "Everyone was worried about your wellbeing, of course, but we had every faith you would pull through."
Here Kurama looked to Yusuke, as though for confirmation. Yusuke didn't say anything, though. He just slid down a little more in his seat and stared broodingly at the floor, feet swinging back up onto my bed. I wasn't too sure what to make of that, but Kurama didn't appear perturbed by Yusuke's hunched back or peeved appearance. He just smiled his calmest, blandest smile, reaching out to pat my hand atop the covers.
"We're just glad you're on the mend." Kurama reached for the schoolbag sitting beside his chair. "Are you hungry, Kei? I can peel you an apple."
I did a double-take. "An apple?"
"Yes," he said with another calm smile. "You need to keep up your strength—what's so funny?"
I'd started laughing, of course, at this unexpected throwback to his last trip inside this hospital with his mother. Kurama, the mama's boy who peeled apples; I'd almost forgotten that fandom joke. But I couldn't exactly explain the humor of that anime reference in present company.
"It's nothing," I said, smothering laughter with a hand. "Just… everyone keeps wanting to do things for me. And it's nice, but it's really not necessary. I feel perfectly fine now." To demonstrate, I held my hands out for inspection, relieved when they held (mostly) steady. "A bit shaky, maybe, but nothing some rest won't cure."
"Rest, huh?" Yusuke grinned. "The doctors think you can skip school for a bit?"
"They do!"
"Heh. That was the best part back when I got hit by that car—no school for months." He looked positively wistful; I refrained from reminding him he still didn't go to school for months at a time these days, anyway. "The PT sucked, but hey, gotta take what you can get, right?"
"Right." I pulled a face. "Though I'm not looking forward to catching up on tests and stuff…"
"That reminds me. Here." From his bag Kurama pulled both an apple and a bundle of papers, which he placed at my side on the bed. "Your teachers put together a packet of your missed work. I volunteered to bring it by today. I'll bring more as it accumulates."
"Thanks, Minamino." I picked up my homework and leafed through the stack. "On second thought, there's not much to do in the hospital, so maybe homework beats getting totally bored…"
"Ugh!" said Yusuke. "You're such a nerd!"
Sticking out my tongue sparked a fit of petty squabbling, in which Yusuke teased my hospital gown ("You look like a goddamn invalid!"), hair ("Gettin' shaggy there, Grandma!"), and the amount of stuff my parents had brought to the hospital ("What, you planning on moving in here permanently or something?"). I gave as good as I got, of course, firing back insults as per usual, but something about the interaction grated on me—mostly on account of just how usual it was. The doctors had assured me that Mushiyori Fever was serious indeed and that my condition had been severe, but Yusuke acted like this was a routine social visit. He hardly appeared worried or relieved to see me at all. Kurama, too, wore that unerringly pleasant smile of his, not saying much as he let Yusuke take the lead. Neither appeared broken up in the slightest. Not that I needed them to fret or freak out (I had only just been complaining about my dramatic parents, after all), but a show of some emotion would've been, I dunno… nice? I supposed?
Oh, well. It hardly mattered in the end if they were worried for me. Perhaps they didn't actually know how serious my condition had been. Whatever the case, I put my disquiet from my head and shot off another barb about Yusuke's hair. It was good to be back in this world and I wasn't about to take my friends for granted. I certainly didn't take for granted how difficult it felt to sit beside them and not spill my guts about everything that had happened during my brush with death: the dream, the nightmare monster, their anime counterparts, about Tom…
Or did I even want to mention that part of the ordeal at all?
I'd been wondering if there was any reason to tell them about the Tom of it all ever since I woke up. Talking about him, specifically, was sure to be the hardest thing of all when it came time to tell my friends what I had experienced. I could never make Tom feel truly alive in my lucid dreams. I'd tried many times before. I'd tried so hard to manufacture his sense of humor, his mannerisms, his charm, but I never could quite manage it. He felt… hollow, in my dreams. A pale imitation of the real thing every time I tried to conjure him. But that dream, on the contrary, had felt so vivid and real. Tom had agency in that dream, shocking me at every turn (just as the real version always had).
Call me selfish, but… I wanted to keep Tom to myself, even if for just a little while. Bask in that new memory, the first scrap of him I'd experienced in fifteen years, drink it down and savor it in private. That wasn't so much to ask, was it? I'd certainly tell them about the rest of the dream and my resulting powers once the time was right… but currently my mother sat in a nearby chair "reading" a book and pretending not to eavesdrop. However much detail I gave them, the big reveal would have to wait.
"Anyway." Yusuke nudged me with his toe. "You had us worried for a second there, Grandma. But that's Keiko for ya. Always being dramatic."
I snatched off his slipper and smacked him over the head with it, grinning when he yelped. "Hey, I couldn't help it! It's not like I wanted to get sick."
"Uh-huh. Sure you didn't. Sure."
I started to protest at the sight of his Cheshire Cat grin, but before I could, another knock sounded at the door. In the archway stood another set of familiar faces, though not as familiar as the ones at my bedside. Junko and Amagi grinned from the hallway, the pair of them waving around an enormous gift basket wrapped in iridescent cellophane. Behind them stood a few more girls from school I recognized from the cooking lessons I'd given Kurama's fangirls so many months prior, and—
Oh, shit. Kurama's eyes met mine with a flash of displeasure, though naturally he hid it behind a look of pleasant tranquility—the same look he'd been wearing ever since he showed up.
Something about that look, that expression, bothered me. But I wasn't quite sure why.
No time to wonder. Junko and Amagi marched in and deposited the basket on the bed at my feet before moving back to bow at and greet my parents. The other girls eyed Kurama from the hall, whispering excitedly behind their hands as he pointedly ignored them. But he needn't have worried, because soon they spotted Yusuke; their whispers adopted a different tenor at that point, more horrified and scandalized than intrigued. Yusuke's reputation preceded itself, and he reveled in it, shooting the girls a crooked grin and waving at them over his shoulder. He chuckled when they shrieked and scattered, vanishing from view. I knew they couldn't be far, though. No doubt rumors would swirl even before I returned to school. 'Yukimura Keiko, friends with the biggest punk in the city, the one who got hit by a car and came back from the dead—she's friends with zombie boy!' My reputation was going to take some even wilder turns in the coming months—of that, I had no doubt.
Not that Junko felt at all perturbed by Yusuke's presence; she'd hung out with him before, after all. "Yukimura," was all she said, brushing her bleached hair away from her face with a flick of painted nails. "You're a sight for sore eyes."
"Hi, Junko," I said. "Hello, Amagi. Thank you so much for coming by."
"Of course." Amagi patted my foot through the covers (I barely felt it, there were so many). "It's good to see you looking so well," she said in her soft, sweet voice—a voice that cracked when she spoke next. "I'm so relieved."
"Hey, hey, don't cry!" I said, stretching my hands toward her as she blotted her misty eyes. "I'm totally fine, I swear!"
"You'd better be," said Junko with all of her usual sass. She grabbed the gift basket and shoved it at me. "Here. We all chipped in for it. Bath bombs and lotions and nice stuff to make you feel pampered. So it better have been serious, because this was most of my allowance."
I put a hand over my heart. "I solemnly swear I was on death's door."
She took a big step back at that. "Are you sure you're not contagious, in that case?"
"Very sure. The doctors think it may have been environmental. They're not really sure what caused it, but it doesn't seem to be contagious at all." The light in her eyes told me she was joking, but Amagi still looked concerned as hell and dangerously close to crying, so I continued to offer reassurances. "Super isolated events, they say. There might even be a genetic component!"
Amagi smiled with relief—and while I felt badly for lying to her, it wasn't like I could talk about the real origin and purpose of Mushiyori Fever. Obviously the doctors wouldn't attribute the disease to the birth of psychic powers. Heck, they didn't even realize that Mushiyori Fever wasn't even a disease in the first place. I'd been kicking myself ever since I woke up for not realizing it sooner, but who could blame me? There had been a single throwaway line in the manga that explained that all psychics who received a Territory got deathly ill before their powers manifested, a liner I had forgotten in the span of the last 15 years. But once I woke up, discovered my power, and saw Kaito, the dots reconnected, memory swimming forward and out of years of obscurity.
I should've known what was happening to me the second I felt ill at the same time as Kaito and Amanuma. But could anyone really believe me for forgetting that canonical detail? It had just been a throwaway line, after all. You can forgive me for not remembering it sooner.
"Well, whatever caused it, we're all happy you're better," Junko said as I pawed through the gift basket to admire its contents. "We were worried sick. No one—" (she shot a glare at Kurama for some reason) "—would tell us what was going on, which didn't help at all, either."
Kurama smiled. Junko rolled her eyes. Amagi ignored them both and nodded, agreeing with Junko's earlier statement.
"And then," she said, "we kept seeing stuff on the news about Mushiyori Fever…"
"Everyone kept saying that people were dying," said Junko, face growing a little pale beneath her makeup, "so we thought…"
She and Amagi exchanged a look. I could only wince at the sight of their drawn, pinched faces, stress carving unnaturally deep lines in their youthful skin. It took effort monumental not to reach for them, hold their hands and try to soothe. Instead I just bowed, trying to appear contrite.
"I'm sorry," I said to my lap. "I am so sorry I put you through that."
Amagi gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "Don't apologize, Keiko!"
"Yeah, it's not like you wanted to get sick!" said Junko.
"Exactly." Amagi patted my foot again. "I'm just glad it's all over, in any case."
"I am, too," I said, offering them a smile, instead. And it seemed to do the trick, because in unison, the tension drained from their faces like someone had pulled a plug in a tub full of troubled water. Junko leaned against my bed and crossed her arms over her chest, grinning at my stack of homework.
"Any word on when you'll be able to return to school?" she asked.
"I wish I knew." My face contorted with displeasure. "The doctors say they want to run more tests before releasing any of the Mushiyori Fever patients, but they've said I'll probably be here for at least an entire week."
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter too much. All the teachers at school understand." Junko laughed. "When two of your top three students get the same illness that's killing people left and right, you can't really argue with whether or not they're faking."
(My parents exchanged a wordless glance at her words, but no one seemed to notice but me.)
"Plus, Kaito has perfect attendance," Amagi said with a small smile. "He'd never fake something like that."
It took every last bit of my willpower to not snicker at the absent Kaito's expense. Kurama spoke before I lost my cool, thank my lucky stars, his silken voice measured and soft.
"They'll go easy on you as you recover, I'm sure," he said. "Extended due dates for projects, grace periods for deadlines, pushing back tests…"
"Well, I hope they don't give me too much grace," I said with glum anticipation. "College entrance exams aren't that far off, after all. If I fall too far behind, I'll end up having to take a gap year."
Yusuke looked like he wanted to say something snarky, but a big sniffle ricocheted from the corner of the room right as he started to talk. My mother had begun to hiccup, aiming big, watery eyes in my direction as she clutched her book to her chest.
"My baby." Another sniffle, this one accompanied by a pathetic, motherly whimper. "Sick one day and off to college the next." Dramatic tears slipped down her cheeks, lip wobbling like an ill-spun top. "I can't believe you're already so grown up, Keiko!"
"Mom, please." My cheeks flared bright and hot. "Not in front of my friends…"
No matter how old you are inside, a weepy parent never fails to stoke embarrassment. My friends bore her theatrics with good humor, however, chatting and laughing seemingly without a care in the world. Even the nervous girls in the hallway eventually made it inside to wish me well, eyeing Yusuke askance with palpable nerves. The whole experience was… light. Oddly light, in fact. Junko and Amagi seemed the most worried out of everybody (except, perhaps, for my parents), but Kurama and Yusuke appeared downright chill. Yusuke in particular acted like his usual goofy self, snarking and sassing like he was trying to set a new record for being a pain in the ass.
Again. Not that I need people freaking out over me or anything. But I'd just had a brush with death, and in return I got… a gift basket and some nagging about Dragon Quest. "I nearly died and all I got was this lousy nagging from my childhood friend"; put that on a t-shirt, why dontcha. It would sure beat the sight of Kurama sitting there peeling an apple while wearing one of his blandest, pleasantest smiles. The kind he so often wore to placate teachers and our peers at school, playacting the part of a good, human boy—
Oh. So that's why that look of his bothered me so much. It was the expression he wore when dealing with teachers, with fangirls, with people who weren't me. So why had he been wearing it this whole time? There had been moments when my parents looked away, where he could've let down that guard. But…
When Yusuke did something silly, performing an acrobatic feat atop his wobbling chair that drew everyone's attention, I took advantage of the distraction to catch Kurama's eye. "Are you OK?" I managed to ask in a whisper, but Kurama just cocked his head gently to the side.
"Of course." His pleasant smile didn't budge, not even a fraction. "Why do you ask?"
My mouth chewed on empty air. "I…"
"All right, everyone." The nurse on shift stuck his head into the room, smiling with obvious regret at my gaggle of well-wishers. "Visiting hours are over, so we're going to need to clear the room."
"Already?" Yusuke groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Five more minutes, man! I just got here!"
But the nurse wouldn't allow it; I tired easily these days, he said, and I needed my rest wherever I could get it. I wanted to protest and tell him I was fine, that it would be OK for them to stay a little longer, but he was right: I felt fatigued, if not from illness, then from the mental load of interacting with people after so long in isolation. Still, I bid each of my friends goodbye with regret, thanking them for coming and for bringing a bit of cheer into my hospital room. My school friends all promised to come back again before I was released, while Yusuke just told me to hurry the hell up, once more threatening to steal the Famicon in my absence.
Kurama was the last of my friends to leave. With expression most stern, he shoved a plate of perfectly peeled apple slices into my hands, eyes even greener than the fruit's missing skin.
"Eat," he said, tone brooking no room for argument.
My eyes rolled. "Thanks, dad."
Smiling, Kurama turned away. For a split second I considered reaching out after him, latching onto his sleeve and asking him again what was wrong—but Kurama slipped out the door before I could even move.
I sat there staring at the empty doorway for a few minutes after that, not paying attention as my parents rearranged my visitors' abandoned chairs and put the room back to rights. Kurama's behavior wasn't mean or anything, certainly. It was just… weird. Those smiles of his didn't sit right with me. Maybe he was just acting calm to not freak me out?
He had been worried about me, hadn't he?
There was no way to know, so I told myself to simply wait and see.
The dinner hour arrived not long after my friends' departure. Dad, out of respect for the hospital's cooking staff, didn't tell them not to bring me dinner in favor of his own cooking (though he didn't mutter something about the miso soup looking too pale when the orderly who delivered the meal was out of earshot). Mom just tittered, though, and shook her head at him.
"I'm sure it's fine, dear," she said as I took a sip of soup.
I pulled a face. "Dad's right. They needed more soy sauce."
"I knew it!" said Dad, delighted. "I've taught you well."
"Heh." Reaching for the cloth napkin and the utensils rolled inside of it, I said, "Maybe the tempura will…"
I paused as the napkin unfurled in my lap, delivering a set of chopsticks and a spoon—and something else. A little slip of paper covered in rather familiar handwriting. I pretended to fiddle with my chopsticks for a second, feigning weakness so I could bow my head and read.
"Meditation garden," the note said. "7 o'clock. Do NOT be late."
When my parents weren't looking, I crumpled the slip of paper into a ball, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed.
The nurses came by after dinner to take away my plates and deliver my evening medication. I snacked on Kurama's apple slices as my parents packed up some of the things they'd brought with them to the hospital—mostly clothes and some food items. They planned on going home to take showers, check on the restaurant and bring back more food, but before they could finish packing and get out the door, someone knocked on it three times. Two white-coated doctors strode into the room a moment later, bringing with them an aura of severe austerity you could almost taste.
When I'd first met this duo of doctors, I'd managed to guess who they were ever before they spoke. The female doctor's narrow eyes and thin nose, and the male doctor's dusting of freckles, not to mention the curly hair he'd carefully arranged into place, were quite familiar—but it was their voices that truly gave them away. Their careful drone, their clipped wording, the precision of their vernacular and vocabulary—as soon as they opened their mouths, I could tell exactly where Kaito had learned to argue and from whom he had inherited his quick wit and dry manner of speech. Some things, it seems—like esoteric senses of humor and general intensity—just run in the family, I guess.
Kaito's mother spoke first, looking me over the way a wolf overlooks a rabbit caught in a snare. "Yukimura. You're looking… chipper."
"Yes, Kaito-sensei." Bowing from a seated position felt awkward, but I still did it. "I'm feeling much better today."
"Thank you for checking in on our daughter," said my mother, bowing too. "We are in your debt for saving her life."
Kaito's father exhaled sharply through his nose. "Don't give us much credit. There is still much about Mushiyori Fever that we do not understand."
"Indeed," said his wife. "Most patients who have recovered appear to have done so through sheer force of will. Many others haven't been so lucky."
A chill ran through me. Judging by the drained looks on my parents' faces, they experienced the same. We hadn't talked about it, but an unspoken role had developed in my hospital room since I'd been admitted, and that rule was to pretend like none of us heard when the nurses discussed the Mushiyori Fever cases in hushed whispers outside my door. Oh, don't get me wrong: We'd heard the statistics about the number of deaths, the sheer, overwhelming severity of this disease. Kaito and I were in the minority of survivors, it seemed—a fact my parents desperately avoided acknowledging every day.
The Kaitos weren't so precious about it, however. They mentioned the stats every time they walked in the door, leaving my parents avoiding eye-contact and clearing their throats at the awkwardness of the situation. As the doctors flipped through my charts that day with eagle eyes, my mom and dad stood across the room and watched with held breath, holding hands and huddling together as though for warmth. Every now and then they glanced at me, as if fearing at any moment I could collapse a second time.
But of my charts the female Kaito only said, "Your vitals have improved, as has your bloodwork."
"If this continues," said her husband, "you'll remain on track for our previously discussed date of release."
Dad and Mom let out a relieved sigh, and then Mom said, "Wonderful. That's good to know."
But this wasn't as wonderful as my mom seemed to think it was. "I'm so sorry," I said, bowing again from the waist, "and I promise I am not questioning your judgment. But… can't I be released sooner, if I'm so healthy? Staying in the hospital for an entire week seems…"
Kaito's father pinned me with a glare. "You are, in fact, questioning our judgement."
"I apologize," I said at once.
Dad stepped forward, a defensive apology ready on his lips. "She didn't mean—"
"I know, I know." Kaito-sensei sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "She and our son have quite a bit in common. They're both curious to a fault." His thin lips twitched at one corner, but only briefly. "An admirable quality, even if it does get them into the occasional trouble."
"The truth of the matter is that this disease is not well understood," said the other Kaito-sensei, her tone a touch gentler than her husband's. "That means its aftereffects require strict monitoring and observation."
"Holding you in observation for a week is honesty under-kill, not overkill," said the male Kaito-sensei, eyes hard and unyielding. "If I had my way, you'd remain here for a month."
I folded my hands primly atop my tray table. "In that case, a week it is, and I shall complain on the subject not a moment more."
"Very good," said the Kaitos in regimented unison, and without another word, the pair turned toward the door to leave.
My mother blocked their way before they could escape, however. "Thank you again for caring for our daughter, Kaito-sensei, Kaito-sensei," she said, bowing at each of them in turn. "We are truly in your debt."
But Kaito's father shook his head. "No, no. In fact, we have to thank you."
"Eh?" my mother said, confusion evident in her startled eyes.
"Your Keiko has proven a good friend to our son, Yuu," said Kaito's mother—with a smile, this time, one of the first I'd seen her wear. It brought warmth to her angular features, gentling them somehow. "We understand you even hosted him during your New Year's Eve party some months ago."
"O-oh," Mom stammered. "That was nothing!"
"We were happy to have him," Dad piped in.
And yet that assurance drew a rather unexpected reaction from the Kaitos. The pair exchanged a long, wordless look before they both sighed, whereupon Kaito's mother smiled and admitted, "That's honestly… a relief to hear."
"Yuu can be… hard to understand, at times," said Kaito's father, each word picked with care. "Often his temperament can become off-putting."
"And that means thanks are quite in order." They both bowed low, chorusing a perfunctory, "Thank you very much!"
My parents appeared positively bewildered at this interaction, of course. I, personally, was trying my absolute best not to giggle. How ironic, the fact that they considered Kaito difficult to understand, considering they were exactly like him. But my parents were far too polite to ever point that out, so they just floundered until my mother finally decided the silence was too awkward to endure.
"Oh, no, he was very polite, we promise!" she said, rushing to Kaito's defense.
"He's welcome in our home any time!" Dad concurred.
"Thank you." Kaito's father nodded with his usual severity. "We will endeavor not to abuse that promise."
"Please continue to care for our son, Keiko-san," said Kaito's mother, with a bow at me this time.
"I will." I spoke with utter sincerity. "He's a great friend."
The Kaitos exchanged another look at that, but neither said anything more. The conversation appeared to have extended past its expiration date, because without another word, the pair of doctors left the room. My parents waited until they were gone to look first at each other, and then at me, in complete bafflement. Because I could provide them no answers, they soon left for home, promising to be back before the nurses forced me to go to bed.
In my head, I promised them the same thing—and when at last they left, I dodged the nurses and the floor's security guard, making a beeline for the meditation garden.
Kaito listened to my story without saying much, though when I finished telling him about his parents, he licked his thumb and turned a page of his book. "They said that, did they?" he muttered whilst eyeing me sidelong. "How interesting."
"Yeah." I leaned back against the bench, slippered feet swinging over the flagstones below. "It was kind of funny, honestly. They're exactly like you."
Kaito exhaled through his nose—once, sharply, and exactly as his father had. "Hardly," he said, missing the irony completely (another thing he had in common with his mother and father). "They certainly don't approve of my interests."
This came as a surprise, considering how accomplished Kaito was at his young age. "Really?" was all I said, though, lest I hit a sore spot.
But Kaito didn't appear phased. "If I applied my genius to scientific pursuits, they would no doubt be more impressed with me," was all he said in his typical, even cant. "As it stands, my fixation on literature rather baffles them."
At once, I understood what he meant. My parents had never taken my writing seriously, either, even after I got published. Heck, they had barely reacted when I told them I'd been shortlisted for a few major awards. My parents had been far more impressed when I dropped a bunch of weight unexpectedly, gushing and bragging about it like it was the greatest feat I'd ever accomplished. It had hurt, at the time, but…
"They approve of you, though," Kaito said, again looking at me sidelong. "They said you've been a model patient during your recovery. And they were happy to put a face to the name of my friend."
I couldn't help but note the way he'd phrased that. 'My friend.' Not 'one of my friends.' Just 'my friend,' singular. Given his interest in language and his specificity therein, I had to wonder if he'd chosen that wording on purpose. A depressing thought.
"At any rate," said Kaito when I did not speak. "We are not here to talk about me."
"No." I mimicked his flat tone, emotion held firmly at bay. "I suppose we're not."
We were here for the same reason, then.
But where the heck were we supposed to start?
Equally lost (or so I had to assume since Kaito wasn't talking yet, and that boy loves to talk), we sat in silence for a few moments, crescent moon shining down with cold, silver light. Ever since Kaito and I had found each other in the hallway the night I awoke from my coma and my powers manifested, we'd been kept apart in different wings of the hospital, not allowed to go wandering to find each other, specific requests to meet categorically denied (something about mitigating the risk of retransmitting Mushiyori Fever, if such a thing were even possible). Even if our requests to meet had been honored, however, we would not have been able to speak frankly. No doubt the presence of my parents, his parents or some well-meaning nurse would render honesty impossible. Sneaking around was our only choice... although the nurses were sure to be worried when they found my empty bed during their rounds. I could only hope they didn't get too riled up when they noticed my absence…
I turned to Kaito to ask: "Say. Did you bribe an orderly to slip that note into my silverware, or…?"
"Yes." He smiled, a thin expression of satisfaction. "I admit I enjoyed the subterfuge. It was the most interesting part of my day. Hospitals are woefully boring, and there is no one I can call to bring me a new book." He shook his head. "No. I had to content myself with experimentation."
I knew what he meant, of course. "Your powers, huh?"
At long last he set aside his book, folding it around a length of ribbon (he would be the type to use a proper bookmark; how very Kaito of him). Eyes glittering behind his glasses, Kaito said, "My abilities extend to language, it seems. I can create a space—a dimension, of sorts—in which I can control the effects of language on others. Namely, I can make a word or sound taboo. Anyone who speaks it must suffer the penalty."
My stomach clenched. "And how did you figure all of that out, I have to ask?"
"Experimentation, as I said." Kaito thrust up his chin. "Do try to keep up, Yukimura."
"Kaito." Exasperated, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Experiments need to have a subject. I'm asking who you experimented on."
"Oh." A beat passed. "One of the nurses."
"One of the—" I swore, loudly. "And what did you do to the poor nurse, exactly?!"
"I triggered my power and waited for her to say the taboo word, of course."
"Great. That's… great." Another nose-pinch; another sigh. "And the penalty you mentioned for this was…?"
"The removal of her soul."
My jaw dropped; I swatted his arm. "KAITO!"
"I put it back!" he protested, leaning away. "She's no worse for wear!"
"Still! Oh my god."
Kaito looked on without sympathy as I covered my face with my hands and groaned. Obviously I already knew what his powers could do thanks to my knowledge of Yu Yu Hakusho canon, but I'd asked just to make sure something hadn't gone off the canonical rails. Nothing had, however; his description of his powers was on point. It was also in-character for him to experiment on others, given he'd done the same thing in the anime series, but still… targeting a hapless, helpless nurse? Sheesh, man!
"Would you like to know which word I made taboo?" he said.
I glared from between my fingers. "Is it relevant?"
Kaito smiled. Drew himself up. Said in a tone resplendent with satisfaction, "Moist."
"… OK, I hate to admit it, but I approve of your choice," I said, shuddering at his enunciation. "How the hell did you even get her to say it?"
"A clever bit of manipulation, as you might imagine," Kaito said, launching eagerly into his tale. "I waited until mealtime, then commented upon the nature of the cake served with luncheon, complaining it was too dry. And then I pretended to forget the word for the opposite of dry, as it pertains to cakes."
"Moist," I surmised.
"Indubitably." He looked quite pleased with himself. "As you well know, the word moist is one of the most universally despised words, and I, too, find its pronunciation decidedly disagreeable. It was only fair to make it the first taboo word of what I'm sure will be many to come."
"Right," I said with deadpan gravity. "Many more to come. How exciting for us all."
He pretended not to hear me. "A ball of light exited the nurse upon her utterance of the taboo phrase," he said, tone that of a lecturer on a tear about his favorite subject. "Quickly I deduced this must be her soul. She went quite comatose after its exit, but once I placed the soul back inside her body, she recovered immediately. No harm, no foul, as the saying goes." A contemplative serenity washed over him. "Though I cannot help but wonder what would happen if I, myself, spoke the taboo word…"
"Promise me you won't try that," I blurted.
But Kaito just snubbed his nose. "No," he said. "I will make no such vow."
My teeth gnashed. "Then promise me you'll at least wait until it's safe for you to experiment, OK?!"
"Safe?" One thin brow arched high. "What are you talking about?"
"I'll get to that later." Didn't seem like the right time to tell him about Genkai. Kaito had said his taboo word himself in the anime as an experiment, and it had taken Genkai to return his soul to his body; that's how he'd met her, as I recalled. His friends took him to her once his soul came out and he went comatose after speaking the taboo word. But I wasn't quite sure how I'd get a lifeless body halfway across Japan without getting nabbed by police, so Kaito needed to wait to conduct that experiment until after we got to Genkai's temple—whenever and however that would be. I grabbed Kaito's sleeve and stared at him, hoping to impress upon him the importance of my request with my urgent eyes alone. "Just promise me not to experiment in that way yet, Kaito. Please."
"… fine." He punctuated the utterance with a roll of his eyes. "If only to keep you from nagging, I promise."
"Good." I released his sleeve, returning my hands to my lap. "Now, I have to ask… how did you know what to do? How to put her soul back in, how to take it out in the first place…?"
It was as though the question had not occurred to him. Face screwed up, he stared into the middle distance for a time before admitting, "Why… I'm not entirely sure. It just came to me, much the way an artful turn of phrase presents itself whilst writing a paper."
"Instinct, then?"
Kaito shrugged. "I suppose so."
As underwhelming as his explanation felt, his words tracked with my own experience. When I'd viewed the dreams of my parents and the sleeping security guard, I'd simply… acted. I saw the dream-sparks flickering and touched them on instinct alone. I hadn't thought about what to do; I'd simply done it, with neither thought nor conscious intention. The act had come to me as naturally as breathing… though obviously some aspects of our powers we didn't inherently understand from the get-go. Kaito not knowing what would happen in he spoke his own taboo word was proof enough of that. I hadn't encountered enough sleeping people to try out my powers a second time, so I, too, didn't yet know of what I was fully capable. But my parents said they'd start going home to sleep at nice in a few days, so maybe soon…
"Yukimura." Kaito's critical gaze swept over me like a cold wind. "I have a question for you."
"OK." I shifted on the hard bench. "Shoot."
"As we discussed night before last, we both sickened and collapsed before awaking to find our abilities manifested. What did you experience before your collapse?"
"That's…" I shifted again, eyes on the flagstones below our bench. "That's hard to explain."
"How so?"
"Well…" I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, swallowing. "I guess you're asking me this because something happened to you before collapsing that you want to talk about. Right?"
"Indeed. Sharp as ever. I would expect nothing less from you," he said—somehow not noticing my desperate attempt at deflection, thank my lucky stars. Chin raised in pride, Kaito said, "It's true. Before collapsing, I found myself compelled to skip school and write a new paper—without using the letter E. You may recall my remarks about attempting such a feat during lunch the day before I sickened."
"That's right," I said, remembering. "You did say something like that."
"I worked all through the night, Yukimura, slaving away to compose an ode to literature itself." He looked positively wistful, then—not an emotion I ever thought I'd see from the prickly prodigy. "It may be the finest paper I have ever written, and to avoid the 'e' sound in all of its many pages? A work of genius."
"Your humility is inspiring."
"My work is inspiring," he shot back. "But no sooner did I pen the final letter than did I collapse. Knowing now my ability to make a word or letter taboo, I cannot help but connect the composition of that paper to the nature of my abilities." His glasses slipped down his nose a fraction, black eyes glaring from above those crystal lenses. "So, Yukimura. I will ask again: What did you experience prior to your collapse?"
"Prior…" A memory triggered, one I felt no qualms in sharing. "Well, I did have a nightmare the night before I collapsed. My dad woke me up from it. Said I was screaming blue murder in my sleep." I fell silent once again, knowing that wasn't the important event that preceded my powers. Not the kind Kaito seemed to be looking for, at least. "But that…"
"Foreshadowed your ability to view dreams, I take it," Kaito said.
"No." I shook my head. "That's not what I was going to say."
"Forgive me for jumping ahead," he grumbled. "Then what, pray tell, was?"
"I don't think that dream was the foreshadowing. Or maybe it was, but it was just the prologue." I'd made a commitment toward honesty in recent weeks, so as loathe as I felt to talk about the Tom of it all, I owed Kaito at least some of the truth. Taking a deep breath, I told him: "The real novel was written after I collapsed."
"Oh?" Intrigue lifted his voice, brightened his gaze. "Do tell."
"I… I don't know how to talk about it." I owed him at least that truth, if I was going to hold something else back. "I don't know if I want to."
"… as is your right, I suppose." He didn't look happy about it, though. "At least give me a glimpse of the big picture, then?"
"That'll work," I said, grateful for his willingness to compromise. "After I collapsed, I had a dream—a really bad dream. It felt real. But then I realized it wasn't real at all." (Saying that didn't feel right. I kept speaking, anyway.) "Once I realized it wasn't real, I had to find my way out of it. I had to figure out how to control the dream. And once I did, I woke up."
"And upon waking," Kaito said, "you viewed the dreams of those sleeping around you."
"Yeah. I did." I hesitated, but only for a moment. "Is that my only power, do you think? To just… look at what people are dreaming about?"
Kaito considered this a moment. "I suppose your abilities are somewhat limited in their application, if you can only use them on sleeping people," he said, expression thoughtful.
"Yeah…" I tried not to listen to the disappointed voice at the back of my head, the one that said looking at dreams was a lame power. Beggars could not be choosers, I reminded myself, and I pressed on with a glare at Kaito. "And unlike somebody, I don't feel great about experimenting on people without their consent to find out if there's more to my power." He ignored my judgmental stare, looking pointedly up at the lingering moon. "That's pretty much the only reason I haven't gone wandering the halls looking for test subjects."
I'd been tempted, though. Sorely, sorely tempted. But that was a discussion for another time.
"Harrumph." Kaito tugged off his glasses so he could clean them on his hospital gown. "Do at least try to be a little more cutthroat, won't you, Yukimura?"
"Please tell me this little power of yours isn't going to turn you into a supervillain…"
"Undetermined. Still." Kaito sized me up with a glance. "At some point, we will need to see what you're capable of."
"Are you volunteering to be my Guinea pig?" I teased.
"Hardly," said Kaito. "But I'll at least help you find one to use." A beat passed. "Apart from your outburst over my choice of experimentation subject, I can't help but notice you don't seemed terribly shocked by any of this."
He watched me shrewdly, with eyes that missed nothing and saw everything. I bit the inside of my cheek when our eyes met, scolding myself for not better playacting the part of the stunned recipient of new powers. I'd almost forgotten who I was dealing with. Kaito, with all his bluster and humorous nerd-tendencies, was a literal genius, with a mind only Kurama's enormous brain could stand against. Underestimate him at your peril, basically. I'd been a fool to think I could keep anything from him for long…
Oh. Wait. But that meant… oh no. I was gonna have to come out of the reincarnation closet all over again with Kaito, wasn't I? I'd almost forgotten he didn't already know about my past life. He was one of the few people I never had to pretend to be Keiko around, after all. Around him, I'd always just been… myself. Should I come out to him, now that we were in the Territory trenches together? Did I need to? I never expected to get a Territory of my own, so I had never really considered—
The door behind us opened with a creak, admitting an orderly clad in a pair of blue scrubs into the meditation garden. In silence he side-eyed me and Kaito, slowly meandering into the garden to wander among the planter boxes of flowers set up in their simple maze pattern. He pretend to peruse and admire them, but I had a hunch he was actually here for me. Or us, rather. This orderly was at least polite enough to let us finish our conversation before hauling me back to my room, though. Trying not to may him any attention, I shifted in my seat and took a deep breath or five, wondering how to proceed now that we had an audience. Kaito watched the orderly, too, boldly staring, as if daring the man to interrupt.
The orderly did not interrupt. Polite or scared of Kaito, either way, his hesitation gave me the time I needed to formulate a plan—and in the end, I decided honesty would serve me best.
I'd turned over a new leaf when my secret got out. No sense flipping that leaf back over again.
"There's a lot you don't know, Kaito," I said out of the corner of my mouth. "And you're right. I'm not shocked by this." A moment's hesitation. "Well. Not by most of it, anyway."
"Care to elaborate?" Kaito said.
"I want to," I said. "I need to, I think. But we need to be able to speak freely, and at length." I looked pointedly at the hovering orderly. "Something tells me Mister Scrubs over there isn't going to let that happen."
Kaito knew I was right, even if he did roll his eyes at my logic. "Ugh. How exasperatingly tedious, to be left in suspense like this." With quick fingers he picked up his book once more—but his lip curled, smile conspiring. "Though I admit, the secrecy is quite stimulating."
I giggled. Kaito chuckled, too, and stood. He shot a pointed look at the orderly of his own, one full of ire and irritation.
"Very well," he said, a matter-of-fact declaration. "We will adjourn for the time being. But I expect a full report once the walls cease to have ears."
"Cool." Something occurred to me. "One or both of us is going to need to call Amanuma, by the way."
"Amanuma?" Kaito frowned. "Why?"
"Remember how he was acting at the arcade?"
Smart as he is, Kaito understood my implication at once. "You think he, too…?" He started nodding even before I could answer the question. "I see. So Amanuma has developed a Territory as well, then."
I started to say yes, that's exactly what I thought—but then I stopped.
What had Kaito just said?
He misunderstood the reason for my silence. "Ah. Apologies for not consulting you, Yukimura," he said, adjusting his glasses, "but I took the liberty of naming the collective phenomenon that comprises our varying abilities."
I had to laugh. "Of course you did, Mister Wordsmith."
"Thank you." He seemed quite pleased with himself again. "As for my reasoning behind the term 'Territories,' my abilities fill a predetermined space roughly 20 meters in diameter. Yours appear to manifest within the mind of a chosen subject. Given our powers have such predetermined physical limitations, the word 'Territory' fit out abilities quite neatly. Though of course, if we meet others with powers born of Mushiyori Fever and their powers defy these conditions, we will have to adjust the collective name of our breed of abilities accordingly." Smiling, eyes dancing above freckles smattering his cheeks, Kaito told me: "I've been calling my Territory 'Taboo,' for the record."
My heart leapt. "And mine?"
"Yume, of course," he said. "'Dream.'"
My heart gave another leap, higher and faster than before. "My Territory… is yume," I said, not quite daring to believe it. "Yume. Dream." My head shook of its own accord, a skeptical laugh escaping my numb lips. "Wow."
"Indeed." He shoved his glasses up his nose, moonlight catching on glass. "Given you have fewer privilege at this hospital than I do, I shall call Amanuma to investigate your hunch. You and I are set to be released from the hospital on the same day, so I will set up a meeting for that time."
"Thank you, Kaito."
"Harrumph. You're welcome." With nothing further to say, Kaito turned smartly on his heel to go—but then he paused. Looked at me for a moment. Pushed his glasses up again, even though they hadn't slipped. In a small, nasal whisper of speech, he said, "And Yukimura?"
"What is it?"
"Do at least try to experiment before we're released from the hospital." A low laugh, wry and quiet. "One will never progress if one never tests their limits…"
As if sensing the end of the conversation, the orderly at last broke away from flowers of the meditation garden. "Yukimura-san," he said, bowing as he approached. "You've been worrying the nurses. You too, Kaito. I insist you both return to your rooms at once."
"Fine, fine." Kaito clapped his book shut, heading for the door. "Be seeing you, Yukimura."
"You too, Kaito," I called after him, but he did not reply. He just left the garden behind without a backward glance, dark head bent over his book. As the hospital orderly took me by the arm and I watched the door shut behind Kaito's retreating back, a murmur rippled through my chest—a murmur so thunderous, I gripped my chest through my hospital gown on reflex.
'Territory.' Kaito had chosen that word at random, with no input from me at all. And yet, it was the word we were destined to call our powers as a collective, pieces falling cleanly into place even without my guidance.
Territory.
The word marked the beginning of Chapter Black, and all the dangers that came with it.
NOTES
And here we are! Territories and Chapter Black looming on the horizon. But what will come next for NQK as she adjusts to her newfound ability? How freaked out were people, really, about her collapse? Find out next time!
(Hint: I actually wrote some stuff from varying POVs about her collapse in my Scribbled in Secret collection! Definitely check that out if you haven't already.)
So I'm back from hiatus. It was… not the best hiatus. I had my identity stolen and it was (and continues to be) horrible. I basically have to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life and monitor my credit 24/7. Dealing with the IRS and police and my employer was not fun. It sucks. Thanks for letting me vent.
But aside from that, I had a pretty decent time away! Wrote a solid 55k for NaNoWriMo, which was nice. Now I'm back, and the next update will come on Wednesday, December 23, 2020—AKA, on this story's 4th birthday! I know that's a little more than two weeks away, but I just think there's something special about updating on this story's birthday, and I want to celebrate.
ALSO… Keirama fans might have something special to look forward to on Christmas Eve… but you sugar-plums will just have to wait and see what Santa-Star brings you. Be good in the meantime or you'll wind up on the naughty list, and then all you'll get is coal in your fanfic stocking…
(OMG that metaphor nearly killed me. Here's a translation: On Christmas Eve I'll be posting a Children of Misfortune chapter dedicated to a very special Keirama fan, and it'll be full of both Christmas and lots of Keirama goodness. THERE, now you know.)
Huge thanks go out to LC's readers, especially the ones who reviewed chapter 116. You sincerely made my day. I was hugely nervous for this turn in the plot, but your support gave me the courage to keep going with my plans. THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to the following folks, who absolutely rocked my world: PretiBurdi, VSuperOld, A, Lightning Ash, Himemiko, KhaleesiRenee, buzzk97, Flame, GhostKing666, Silverwing013, Biku-sensei-sez-meow, Domitia Ivory, MidnightAngelJustForYou, DaurthNoS, Shay Guy, noble phantasm, lovedigitalhope, cashmeredragon, actualsnake, Mathemagician93, lazy to log in, EasilyAmused93, Call Brig On Over, EdenMae, Vienna22, Ouca, Vyxen Hexgrim, tammywammy9, Mia, Raelia'sChronicles, ewokling, Kaiya Azure, REEbook123, CreedKeeper, rueedge, DarkMoonDiamond, Sorlian, LadyEllesmere, vodka-and-tea, C S Stars, cezarina, valeries26, QueenHobo, Forthwith16, cestlavie, RE Zera, ladyofchaos, xenocanaan and guests!
