Might as Well be a Stranger
"Are you sure you don't need anything? Anything you forgot?"
"No. I'm fine."
"And…that medication?"
"I brought it with me. Are you ever going to tell me what it's for, 'Kaa-san?"
"It's…it's just medication to get you accustomed to the transplanted organ…that's all…"
"…Fine. Look, I'm kinda tired, I'll call tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh. Of course…"
"…Bye 'Kaa-san…"
"Oh wait!"
"What?"
"Toushiro…I-I love you, okay? Take care."
"Yeah. Okay. Bye."
He hangs up and places the phone back on the table. Sighing, he looks around in his new "home". The sunset sky through the window gives the furniture and the polished-wood floor a kind of orange glow. There is a television set in the room he identifies as the kitchen. A bathroom beyond the kitchen. A hallway with two rooms. He guesses that these are bedrooms—one of them was where his parents slept and the other was where he slept. After all, according to his parents, he used to live here for fifteen years.
He decides to test himself. If he chooses the right room, then he does have a chance of remembering. If he doesn't, well then…
It's a silly thing to do, but he takes it seriously. He bites his lip, a sign of his frustration. Standing there, trying to make a decision, he basks in deep thought for over five minutes.
A sudden breeze—warm, gentle, and sweet—passes by him. It feels as if it beckons him to the room on his right. For some reason, he does not hesitate to follow it. He is about to reach for the doorknob when the door swings slightly ajar itself.
Taking a breath, he pushes the door and walks in.
She knew that expression on his face and it was almost funny how he really hadn't changed a bit. Biting his lip with his forehead slightly scrunched in seriousness; did he not know which room to go to?
So she led the way. Now the two of them were in his room, and this giddiness overtakes her. She dances and spins herself around the bed, laughing in silent joy. The spirits told her that her only goal in the outside world is to find her peace, but right now she doesn't care about her peace. She just wants to enjoy this moment of reunion. Eventually, she stops and turns back at her old friend, who is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She skips over and tilts over to stare at his face. His expression makes no change into recognition and he stares right through her.
This is okay. At least she can stare at him as long as she likes—so she can take in the three years of change.
The eyes that remind her of the clear ocean. The hair that reminds her of snow. There's no doubt. This is him.
But there are some things different about him. The most striking difference his height—he is much taller. She thinks about it for a second and decides that it's a good thing—they used to compete on how tall they were and she always beat him. But now he wins.
His scrawny, little-boy look is gone. His thin arms were now a bit more muscular. His chest was broader. His shoulders wider. His face was a bit more angular too…
His eyes are closed now and heat creeps up her face. Instinctively, her hand goes to her cheeks. It's weird…she can't feel a thing on her fingers, but she feels warmer than usual. Passing it for happiness, she lies next to him and places her head on her chest.
All she can focus on is the warmth. The wonderful beating…
She thanked fate that it was him that she was able to save.
Cold. So cold.
He wants to scream, but he can't. His legs are too weak to keep up. Why can't he swim?
The icy water is like needles on his body. It's entering his mouth, weighing him down.
Air. He needs air.
It's no use. He's drowning. Falling into darkness. Alone.
Where is he?
He sits up, gasping for air, touching his chest, making sure that he is still alive. The solidity of his body reassured him—he was definitely not a ghost. But he still felt cold, as if he was frozen and couldn't thaw.
What was that just now?
The nightmare didn't make sense. From experience over the month he spent at home, he knew was a perfectly fine swimmer and he enjoyed cold weather. The body he was in…it felt foreign.
Subconsciously, his hand went to his heart.
A/N: Short-ish chapter, I know. I thought about joining this with the third chapter, but then that'd be way too long. I think this part stands better as a chapter alone. The chapters will get longer as the fic goes on.
As always, please review or comment!