Silent Days Chapter 2: Episode 1: Into the Fog, a School Days + Silent Hill Crossover fanfic

Episode 1: Into the Fog

Leitmotif: "Prisonic Fairytale" — Silent Hill 2 soundtrack

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Were Makoto Itou in a more natural state of mind, he might've noticed the dingy, grimy state of the bathroom, or picked up the odor of mold and dried urine. He might've even compared it to the bathrooms of Sakakino High, noting that the latter was much cleaner.

But in his current state of mind, more existential thoughts had taken hold.

The brunet leaned towards the mirror, taking in the reflected sallow complexion, cowlicked (and now rain-soaked) black hair, and fatigued amber eyes.

Waited.

No shift.

Makoto heaved a sigh of relief, his breath fogging up the looking glass. Still himself.

As he stood back, some reflected writing on the wall caught his eye and he turned around.

THE FATHERS EA*********PES AND THE CHIL********EETH ARE SE*****DGE

SURELY I WAS SINF********IRTH, SI**************IME MY MOT*********EIVED ME

Makoto scoffed. Just graffiti.

Back outside, everything was still shrouded in fog, but the brunet could still just barely make out a lake, and some hills on the other side. So much for showing different sides of its beauty… All the same, the misty tableau did allow him to drift into apathy, and considering why he was here, Makoto was open to any semblance of calm.

He leaned against the retaining wall, and sighed.

I got a letter from someone I'd rather forget: Tomaru Sawagoe. My asshole father. "Father-son thing"? Ha. When was the last time he ever treated me like a son…? Then again, it's just as well. After— No. The less I think about… that… the better. Still… couldn't that bastard have told me where in Silent Hill to meet him…?

Before Makoto could further dwell on his elusive father, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps from his left. Could it be…? "Dad!"

When the figure resolved itself from the fog, the youth didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "No. You're… not…"

Indeed, the man who had stepped out of the mist was not the man of Makoto's restless dreams, but a broad-shouldered sandy blond man who looked to be in his late twenties. Clad in blue jeans, black boots, a gray shirt layered over a black shirt, and what looked like a green bomber jacket, the man was that much more the antithesis of Tomaru, wearing muted colors rather than garish.

The stranger bore a somewhat amused expression. He chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Makoto turned back to the lake, chagrined. In his periphery, the stranger joined him in leaning against the wall, their profiles now flush.

"Don't feel bad. It's the fog. Can sure play tricks on you…" That last part sounded almost self-deprecating, and Makoto couldn't help but wonder if there was a story behind that. "Too bad you couldn't come on a sunny day. Makes a whole world of difference."

"…I guess."

"I'm James, by the way. What's your name, son?"

"Makoto."

"'Makoto'… That's a nice name. Where're you from?"

"Japan."

"Japan, huh? Long way from home…"

Makoto snorted. "Couldn't be helped. My dad wanted me to meet him here. Didn't say where in town to meet him, though." Under his breath, he muttered, "Bastard…"

A moment of silence passed. "You don't sound very eager to meet your father…"

Shit. James had heard that last part? With no other recourse, Makoto could only shrug. "Not really. He and I…" He trailed off, hoping that would speak for itself.

"And yet, you came all the way from Japan to see him."

Now Makoto was on edge. Where was this James guy going with this?

"Are you… running from something?"

Like one whose chink in their armor has been pierced through, Makoto flinched. He took in the older man's expression, that knowing look that only unnerved the youth even more. "Th-that's…! That's crazy! I-I'm not—!"

James held up a placatory hand. "It's okay. I'm not judging you. I'm no stranger to running away from your problems."

Under the other man's gaze, Makoto felt chagrined once again, and defaulted to his usual defense mechanism as he turned once again to the lake. "I'm not running away. Not forever, anyway. I just… needed to get away for a while."

"…and clear your head?"

He could almost hear the knowing smile in James's voice. "Yeah. Clear my head."

"I can understand that." A sigh. "Mary and I, we had our anniversary here. We spent all day gazing at this lake. She was sad to have to leave such a 'sacred place'. So, when she fell ill, where better to get away from it all?"

Makoto would be lying if he said he didn't feel a pang in his heart upon hearing this. It made him think of Setsuna's friend—

It made him think of his mother, who had tended to several terminally ill patients throughout her career. She'd told him about a few of them. This one whose daughter had just gotten married, this one who had just become a grandparent…

He had to wonder what toll each death took on his mother, especially all those nights spent away from home…

"But things have a way of working themselves out," James continued. "Bringing her back here was the best decision I could've made. We no longer have to worry about that damn disease, and this place is our home now."

Makoto turned to face James again, his earlier disquietude supplanted by disbelief. The way James had been talking, this Mary of his had been knocking at Death's door. And now she'd miraculously recovered after coming here? Was this dreary place really capable of such things?

"James?"

The two of them turned in the direction of the new voice, and sighted a strawberry blond woman, her hair in a loose bun, who appeared around James's age. Clad in a white knee-length dress with a soft pink floral pattern, a matching pink cardigan, and white high heels, the newcomer's attire exuded warmth and comfort, a stark contrast to the cold, dreary backdrop.

James's greeting matched the woman's warmth. "Mary…" The two met halfway, joining hands.

"Did you enjoy your walk?"

"Yeah. Sorry I kept you waiting, honey." The sandy blonde turned so that his better half could see the true newcomer. "This is Makoto. I was just telling him a little about this place."

"Oh!" Mary looked in polite surprise at the said newcomer. "Hello."

"H-hello." Makoto averted his gaze once again. In truth, this Mary was proving just as unnerving as her husband. Her attire, her bearing… It reminded him so much of Kotonoha—

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong, Makoto?" This close, the almost maternal concern on the strawberry blonde's face only furthered her alikeness to one whom Makoto had so wronged. Her silver earrings and opal pendant were merely the cherry on top.

With all the politeness he could muster, Makoto shrugged off Mary's hand, keeping his gaze peripheral. "I… I'll be fine. Just… fighting off jet lag." His chuckle sounded hollow even to him.

James intervened. "Mary, why don't we go back to Lakeview? Makoto has business of his own in Silent Hill, and I'm sure Laura's getting bored."

With an air of lingering concern, Mary linked her arm with James's. As the couple turned, Mary paused and looked back at the youth. "It was nice to meet you, Makoto. I hope this town does you as much good as it did us."

The youth felt more able to face the departing couple. "Thank you."

"Take care, Makoto," James added. "Good luck settling things with your father."

"Thanks."

Makoto watched the couple recede into the fog before taking the stairs that led down. He told himself that no, he was not jealous of what James and Mary had.

Not in the slightest.

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