"Mistah Kurtz- He Dead"

The truth is a required taste, one that Shinjiro has not acquired but mastered its taste and flavor to dish out to others. Once, when he and Akihiko were young whippersnappers tugging around the younger sister Miki like a quail chick, the Sanada siblings were entangled in a brutal, no-holds teasing match. Two snot-nosed brats in the orphanage were chasing Miki for no other reason than to frighten her with images of being tied-up and put on train tracks or having her lovely hair sheared by a barber with a huge mustache and teeth like aged piano keys. Akihiko stepped in and engaged in an epic tumble in the dust and leaves with all the strength of a cornered puppy driven by two squawking disturbed geese. However, as they were laying down and out, one of them sucker-punched Akihiko by saying that he and his sister received special treatment simply because their parents died in an automobile accident. Akihiko, leaving them in the dirt and towing Miki by one hand, tearfully asked Shinjiro if that was true and if he was only their friend because of pity. Shinjiro, righteously outraged, dragged both Sanada siblings back to the two boys, who were dusting themselves off, and proclaimed that they shouldn't feel superior to the siblings because they were victims of circumstances. After all, being dumped in an orphanage because they had no other option is better than being left behind because they were not wanted, like him and the two brats.

And so, in the end of the day, Shinjiro received punishment from the matron for being insensitive and was left in solitary confinement.

The truth is also hard to swallow. Truths such as the impotency of being in control, and children who were never wanted in the first place.

And so another truth revealed itself that was too hard to swallow. It was something that everyone knew but couldn't exactly be put into words.

Shinjiro pulled off his beanie to rake his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, imagined what his friend is currently doing inside, and pushed the double doors into the boxing team's training area. The area was empty, save for Akihiko, making the thumping noises from the bag reflect the building's loneliness even more. He had heard from the school's announcement system that due to the circumstances that today's boxing practice was called off, but that didn't stop Akihiko from doing his usual routine. In fact, Shinjiro knew that the fool needed do something normal to offset the unnaturalness of the day.

He strode casually to the source of the thumping sounds, watching Akihiko pummel the stuffing out of the cylindrical bag. He noted the harsh panting and the dark concentrated scowl on his forehead.

"Hey. Don't you think you had enough? The school's about to close up."

Akihiko didn't stop, but he let up his punches a little.

"The city-wide championship is at the end of the week," panted Akihiko. "I have to get ready for it."

"Doesn't mean you have to wear yourself out for it. You deserve a break with the rest of the team; I hear it's better to rest to sharpen your axe than to keep swinging away against a tree."

"Where'd you- pant- get that from?" Akihiko swung a mighty punch at the side, making the bag swing. "From a fortune cookie? No breaks for me, Shinji. I have to keep my schedule no matter what or else I lose it."

Shinjiro could see Akihiko's shoulders sagging and his head tilting downwards in exhaustion. Nevertheless, Akihiko rounded on the bag in another series of punchs and jabs. He curled his lips in disgust and strode quickly to the other end of the bag. He held it, feeling the force of the blows, and snapped at Akihiko's face.

"Would you just stop for one goddamn minute?!" Akihiko paused, flinching back from the outburst.

"You think you're unaffected by this? That you can just continue doing what you want to do? Nobody's saying it, but you can't deny that people are getting a little scared."

Akihiko looked away sullenly. Shinjiro let go of the bag and shoved his hands in his jacket.

"Let's just bring it out now: before, we only hear about Apathy Syndrome cases when the poor sap's at the next town or somewhere in some joint in the middle of the city. But, this is the first time it's been this close to us before."

Akihiko closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm his racing heartbeat from the exercise. He remembered the news on Monday.

He had been collecting his binder in his briefcase when he heard a shriek outside the classroom. A clamor arose, finding himself facing a crowd of people when he opened the door. He weaved his way through the students with disturbed faces and looks of confusion to the source, and what he found there halted whatever thoughts he was thinking of.

There in the center of the circle, the object of fear and, it can be admitted, revulsion, was Hiro Yamato.

He stood there with a stupefied expression, his head tilted upwards at the ceiling and his arms lax and unresponsive. Saliva was dripping from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his neck and wetting his shirt collar. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his normally nervous and mischievous irises turned blank as a blackboard. It was not much longer before his meager stand against reason would collapse under him and hit prostrate on the floor.

Akihiko, having recovered from his surprise, broke through the circle and went up to Hiro.

"Hiro- Hey! What's the matter with you?" He touched Hiro on his shoulder, prompting the unstable friend to lose balance and collapse on Akihiko. Akihiko nearly fell, but he regained himself and steadied the dead weight against him. Hiro sagged against him, slipping down until his knees touched the ground. Akihiko kneeled and shook his shoulders.

"Hiro! Get a hold of yourself."

"Sanada-kun!"

Akihiko looked behind him, at the teacher who cleared a path through the curious students and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You have to step away from him, Sanada-kun." Akihiko was reluctant. "Leave it up to us, now."

And he did. He watched when the adults dispersed the gawking children back into their classmates. He looked out the window at the ambulance parked in front of the school, wheeling in Hiro through the car doors on a gurney. He gazed impatiently at the clock on the wall over the whiteboard as the second hands relinquished the minute hand to begin the after school hours. The time when he would go to practice. The time when there would be no one there in the gym, when there would be no Hiro.

"You're losing it, Aki." Shinjiro's blunt voice brought him to reality.

"What? I'm not freaking out about it. Not like some people," Akihiko grimaced. "A lot of kids in my class were freaking out about it and thought that there was a plague hitting the school."

"Of course people would freak out; they're being sensible by acting like a bunch of headless chickens. Come on, Aki," wheedled Shinjiro. He walked over to his friend. "Quit pretending that everything's under control by doing the…" Shinjiro made a vague gesture with his hands. "The- things you do. Which is training, and I shouldn't have said 'things' because that implies you do more than one thing, and you don't."

Akihiko went to his gym bag for a towel and wiped off his sweat. He took a swig from his water bottle before replying. "We've known Hiro for long time. Since elementary school." Shinjiro nodded in affirmation.

"Remember his tenth birthday?"

Shinjiro snorted lightly. "Yikes. Who could forget that."

"He's always the one who gets the most out of recess. He always tried to initiate the games with other kids, or answer the most questions from the teacher, even though he was wrong most of the time. But he was so… forceful. I always thought he was an okay guy, just kind of hyper or something. But so many kids saw him as a dork."

"I still think he's a dork."

"They say mean things behind his back, even though they joined in on his games. They'd ignore him completely on one day and on the next they start paying attention to him more. It's pretty messed up when you think about it. I don't think we've ever had that done to us."

"That's 'cause after we beat the shit out of them for making fun of us being orphans, they've never dissed us again."

"So, on his birthday, he wanted to throw this huge party and his family was into it, too. He gave everyone in our class invitations, talked about how big the cake was going to be, and how many games they'll play; I think it was in a park, too."

"An amusement park," corrected Shinjiro.

Akihiko groaned at the memory. "The mistake was that he gave them the park passes with the invitations. So that when the day came around, no one came to his party-"

"Except me, you, and Miki, and one or two other kids," Shinjiro filled in. "He thought that everyone was either sick or had somewhere to go to or something, but then we saw them doing their own thing on the other side of the park. We had that huge cake to ourselves, and it's wasted on all those empty seats at the table. Man, his mom threw a fit, and his dad started yelling at the kids' parents. At least he had a lot of relatives and cousins at the party…"

Akihiko sighed heavily. "Still, that was probably the saddest moment we've had to witnessed for somebody else."

"So then, you do feel sorry for him."

Akihiko gave a rueful smile. "Maybe. I guess I just wished that I could've been a better friend or something. That's all he ever wanted, right? And some people just took advantage of that insecurity and screwed him over. And… agh! I don't know what I'm saying anymore." Akihiko shook his head in frustration. He plopped down next to his gym bag, looking at his hands.

"This sucks," he said plainly.

It was the truth, plain and simple.

"Yeah," Shinjiro agreed.

They sat in silence. The enormity of the tragedy, which slowly through rumors and excited whispers became the harbinger of an unknown peril, weighed heavily in the stale air. What disturbed was the knowledge that what they've witnessed was a disturbance in their structured world, and the first fall of a friend. What disturbed them was the blank stare of an empty mind, a person with no personality, and how much they are reminded at how alive they are.

"What do you think the future's going to be, Shinji," Akihiko asked. "I guess I'm just bothered that I don't see a clear picture anymore."

Shinjiro shrugged. "Don't ask me. I never really think about the future. I just think about what I should do right now."

Akihiko grunted in assent.

Shinjiro stood up and stretched. "Well, not that walking down memory lane wasn't fun, but I didn't come here for a freakin' sob story. I just came down here to see if you're ok, and now that that's done with I'm going to have to drag you back to the dorm. We have to be back at a certain time, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, I know. Just let me change and I'll be right out." Akihiko dropped his gloves into his bag and swung the luggage over his shoulder. "Thanks for checkin' up on me."

"Hey, don't get the wrong idea- I just came to see if that Apathy Syndrome rubbed off on you. I know it's not contagious or anything, but I did hear rumors around school of how the people who are somehow related to the victim are next on the list. So…." Shinjiro trailed off, looking at Akihiko pointedly.

Akihiko gave him a dark look. Shinjiro opened his arms defensively.

"What?" he demanded.

"It's a mental disease, not the flu!"

"Hey, Hiro was drooling all over the place. You got his germs on you- Gack!" Akihiko flung his sweat-drenched towel and hit its mark on Shinjiro's face. Shinjiro peeled it off him, spitting and rubbing his face while doing so.

Shinjiro was huddled over at his desk, copying Akihiko's history notes on another piece of paper and also writing dates and battles on note cards for his boxer to quiz him on. It's not everyday that the history teacher allows retakes to get a chance to score a higher grade, and he's not about to let this advantage slide by. His aforementioned friend was laying on his bunk bed, idly reading his sports magazine while also giving little snippets of explanations of heads of state and their personal battles to Shinjiro. The virtues of being with a childhood friend were boundless; both knew how to live with each other and tolerate one another, as opposed to the chatterboxes and nervous roomies Shinjiro experienced in the past.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Through the warped reflection of the table lamp's chrome metal, he glanced at Akihiko, still reading his magazine in the yellow glow of his light.

"You done yet, Shinji?" Akihiko asked.

"Nope. Almost." He examined a cluttered piece of paper filled with Akihiko's scrawl. He thought idly of how left-handed people's handwriting are always kind of weird to him.

The digital clock blinked midnight, and Shinjiro blinked. He felt something alarm in his head. Something… off. He shifted his eyes back and forth, staring hard at the paper in front of him. He thought he saw something, like the light had flickered rapidly or that somehow, things that were in front of him were suddenly out of place. He glanced at his lamp's reflection.

He quickly swiveled behind him in panic. He knocked over the chair for standing up so fast. He inspected the bed, eyed the wrinkles and the magazine on the floor.

Akihiko was nowhere to be found.

He bolted out the door, intending to alert the head of the dorm, when at the end of the hallway, seated on the couch, was his friend reappeared. He stared at Akihiko, unable to comprehend. He walked quickly towards him, then slowing when in close distance. Akihiko leaned his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, silent and still.

"Aki," said Shinjiro softly. "…What are you doing here?"

Straight and to the point.

"…Sitting," Akihiko replied.

Shinjiro looked backwards at their room, then back at Akihiko. "Why are you here, when… we were just…" he couldn't continue. It was too much to take in. Akihiko didn't reply immediately. He muttered something that Shinjiro barely caught.

"What?" he demanded. "What do you mean 'again?' This happened before?"

Akihiko grimly nodded. "I thought I was dreaming at first… Then I thought, what if I tried…"

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Akihiko looked up and Shinjiro directed his attention to the stairwell. One of the adults overseeing the dorm climbed up the stairs from below.

"What are you two doing up? You know you should be in your room about two hours ago!"

Akihiko mumbled an apology and walked away from the couch. Shinjiro looked at him, then glancing at the adult, followed suit. When he got in the room, Akihiko had already lain beneath the covers, already fast asleep. Stopping himself from shaking him into waking when remembering Akihiko's haggard look, he packed away his notes, lain Akihiko's near his book bag, turned off the light and went to his bed. He didn't fall asleep until an hour later, still thinking in his dreams, still trying to take in what occurred in the dark corners of the night.

It was just an hour before the city-wide boxing championships would begin. She flipped her red hair behind her back, passing by a window's reflection to adjust her headband. She approached the boys' locker room, only to find an assistant coach blocking the doorway.

"Excuse me, but I'm afraid-" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing who he was talking to. "Um, pardon me, but what are you doing here, Miss Kirijo?"

"I want to talk to one of the boxers in there," she replied succinctly.

"May I ask who?"

"Akihiko Sanada."

The assistant coach rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry, but he's busy right now. As he's one of our leading contenders, he needs all the focus he can get. Perhaps, after the event is over then maybe…"

She nodded. "Of course. I'll wait outside here."

"U-Uh, that may not be a good idea." She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Usually, when we're done there's a very large crowd of…supporters," he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the term. "So I recommend meeting him a little bit after he came out, once we've settled down the crowd."

She nodded once again and said, "I understand." She turned on her heel and walked away from the locker room, leaving the man mystified at the sudden attention of a corporate daughter to their miniature Cinderella Man. He reflected on it, and bemoaned the fact that when he was young he never had the attention of girls, much less powerful ones.

Note: This chapter doesn't lead to the first chapter, and therefore the first chapter was NOT a prologue. I thought I made it clear with the second chapter, but I understand why this one could ambiguously be what I first disclaimed.

Why did this chapter give me so much trouble?? My butt hurts from sitting too long, but this was long in the making. The Horror! The Horror! The chapter, not the sitting part. I wonder if my title was too abstract. So I re-read my beginning, then realized that my first chapter's style was extremely different from the rest, and it displeased me, and I now aim to make sure that my style remains somewhat consistent. Actually…whisper I liked my first chapter better than all the rest. (MOAN) Why can't I keep with the flow?? Grrs. You know what I think would have been interesting? What is the perspective of one who sleeps through the Dark Hour and wakes up to find EVERYTHING changed (like the furniture and the position of the people… Suddenly there's, like, roaches on the floor… I wonder if insects appear in the Dark Hour…). I mean, I bet it all happens in the blink of an eye. How trippy would THAT be.