Hyuuga Natsume was speechless. For the first time ever.
Sure, there were moments when he was struck dumb by the stupidity of others but never this. Nothing he had learned or dreamed of could have prepared him for this. Desperately, Natsume considered the possibility that he could be overanalyzing everything. People with multiple personality disorders were scarce after all. He knew, of course, that this was a feeble excuse, but he was going to dump her at the hospital anyway... So he didn't give a damn about her. He shouldn't give a damn about her. At least this is what the conflicted man advised to himself repeatedly.
"What the- Imai Hotaru? Your badge says you're Sakura Mikan." Aoi challenged, brandishing said badge and stepping towards the imposter.
"That idiot. She put her badge in the wrong uniform again." Imai remarked resignedly, unraveling herself from the constricting blankets. She stood up from the couch and stretched her slender limbs out in front of her nonchalantly. She, then, proceeded to grab the glass cup from Natsume and took a great gulp, soothing her hoarse throat.
Right away, Natsume noticed that Imai/Sakura was having a mildly hard time breathing, before retracing the words she just said. "You know Sakura Mikan? Was she an AAO member, too, then?"
"Yeah. Been my best friend since kindergarten, but I haven't seen her for a whole month. And I was never an official member of the AAO." Her amethyst eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why do you ask? Did something happen to her?"
Natsume lied and shook his head in response. He wondered why his heart dropped upon hearing Imai's confirmation that Sakura was a member. He shelved the thought away for future examination.
Dredging up memories of his long-forgotten childhood, he recalled the psychology book that briefly explained the complexities of multiple personality disorders. It said that multiple personality disorders resulted from a person experiencing episodes of exceptionally traumatic events, consequently forcing the person to feel powerless and become unable to cope with anything remotely difficult. Thus, the brain adapts to this new mindset, and completely rewires itself to accommodate. Which is how the multiple personality disorder is developed.
In the patient's mind, the moment it registers fear or shock, it quickly creates a new "personality," or identity, who is able to deal with the situation, while the real personality experiences a black-out. Basically, if Sakura ever felt like she was in danger or felt exposed, her mind would shut down and another would replace it, effectively turning Sakura into another person, while still retaining her physical appearance. But there's another catch. Because the patient falls unconscious when another personality takes over her body, said personality views itself as a whole other person... Complete with new memories, a new name, new childhood, and different appearance. The mind possesses the capacity to distort the identity's vision, so that whenever the identity looks at herself, she sees her body rather than the patient's. For example, if one of Sakura's personalities was an old Indian grandma, everyone around her would still see Sakura's physical appearance, but the grandma would only see her dark, wrinkled body.
Unlike a healthy human who learns how to deal with tough situations, this is the bad, infomercial solution for those who don't possess the ability.
Natsume stared at Sakura's disheveled appearance with a twinge of irritation. Damn it. The strange feeling was back in his heart.
Snatching up a notepad and pen from the side table he stated, "draw yourself."
Imai snorted with derision, blatantly saying "can't you do that yourself? I'm standing right in front of your eyes, Stupid."
He ignored her insult, his stubborn interest in the elusive Sakura overpowering his pride. "You fell and had a concussion. And a really high fever. If I were you, I'd pipe the hell down."
Maybe his pride wasn't as overpowered as he claimed.
Imai glared at him with contempt before giving an aggravated sigh.
"Great. I need you to draw yourself as a small test to make sure your brain is functioning normally." He fibbed as she took the offered objects.
"This again..." She muttered, obviously annoyed at something.
"What was that?" Queried Aoi, still suspicious of Imai.
Imai purposefully dodged the question and asked one of her own expertly. Natsume mentally noted this with interest.
"So where am I?" She looked down at her clothes, now realizing that she was in a soft, light blue yukata. Her breathing became infinitesimally more shallow. "What's the date of today?"
"June 12, 2014; Asagao, Kyoto." Youichi spoke up from the hallway, exchanging glances with his wife, who stood in the corner of the room with folded arms.
Imai's calculating eyes reviewed Youichi, before gingerly shuffling over to the heap of black clothes. "Damn," she said, rifling through it, "the bastard. Making all citizens wear yukatas to differentiate them from soldiers... so inefficient and..." She took a rattling breath, "...hard to move in."
"I thought they were used to promote unity." Aoi retorted.
Amethyst eyes rolled. "Sorry to break it to you..." Another breath. "...But that was a lie. He just wanted the Alice..." Her breaths exponentially increased with each phrase, "...soldiers to be different from regular citizens... to 'show that Alices are superior to the scum of the earth...' I believe is what he said."
The atmosphere turned sour when Imai quoted the infamous ex-ruler.
"You'll get used to wearing it after a week." Natsume told Imai coldly, who paid no attention to his words.
"Where is that damn inhaler..." Her voice diminished as her wheezes amplified. "...Ever since that god forsaken war..." She murmured holding her inhaler up triumphantly. "...At least it lasted for only four years." Imai laughed bitterly at her joke as she drew in a lungful of air; everyone in the room grimly understood her joke, knowing full well that what lasted for 'only four years' seemed to last for a hundred.
"Wait- where did you get that inhaler from?" Natsume questioned sharply, certain that he examined the clothes thoroughly.
"I keep it hidden, you moron. Of course I don't want the enemy to steal it and make me die from a breathing fit." She said bluntly, her breathing back to normal. "Better."
Natsume thoughtfully watched as Imai sat down with the notepad and got to work. The feeling that was in his heart duplicated itself and sunk to his abdomen, leaving a fluttery sensation that made him want to cringe. Instead, he swiftly scoured the room for color pencils, settling on a battered box of crayons. He handed it to her, to which she immediately seized the purple.
"I'll go make breakfast, then. Come help me, Youichi." Aoi called to her husband. They disappeared off to the kitchen, undoubtedly eager to speculate about this enigmatic stranger.
Those five minutes of watching Imai draw was fascinating, as Natsume applauded the woman's front of bravery she donned on when she found herself in a stranger's home. He wondered how many times this has happened before, because her slender face held no signs of happiness or bewilderment. It stayed monotonous most of the time, and sarcastic for the rest. Her long, messy auburn tresses and side bangs framed her face beautifully, causing Natsume to check her ring finger to find it barren.
An unexpected wave of relief washed over him, before Natsume groaned out loud, finally receiving his epiphany- the reason why there were God awful butterflies in his stomach and palpitations in his chest. He was attracted to her. But on the bright side, at least he wasn't in love with her.
Natsume thought back to the moment he encountered the real Sakura Mikan, aware of how different she was from the girl who currently inhabited Sakura's body. Whose face was so distressed and bitter and almost... Melancholic.
He studied the female some more, pondering upon the peculiarity of Sakura's eyes and ran through all of the possible ailments she could have- perhaps a Latent or Dangerous Type Alice inflicted damage to her brain; or her concussion could have triggered something, causing her to revert into a false person; maybe she had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which wasn't uncommon amongst soldiers. There was also the possibility that she could be bipolar...
But for some reason, his instincts kept telling Natsume that this was most likely a multiple personality case. He gloomily scowled at the thought of how tedious therapy must be. He resolutely decided to check her into the hospital, since he had enough burdens to deal with.
When Imai stopped drawing, he bit back a curse that threatened to rise up; for the picture depicted a woman with cropped black hair and deep amethyst eyes.
Imai looked nothing like Sakura, besides their pale skin tone.
"Incidentally, are you a certified doctor?" Imai asked distrustfully.
"I've read a book or two on psychology." Natsume ran a hand through his untidy hair with another tired groan. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"
"If I remembered anything, I wouldn't be here right now."
"Then do you remember anything from the war? What did you make?" He probed.
"I was the producer of all guns and bombs the soldiers used in the war. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me."
Natsume finally dug up the hazy memories of seeing the words 'Imai Hotaru' engraved on the bottom of his rifle's handle and listening in on a conversation about Imai's phenomenal alice of invention. "You're the crazy tycoon who worked for both sides of the war."
Imai shrugged nonchalantly. "Had to work for that Kuonji moron, or else he would've bombed my factories and business." She cocked an eyebrow at him, her dark purple eyes taking on an inquisitive gleam. "How did you know I made something for the war? You didn't recall my name before, and you asked me what I made. So how did you-"
"Your hands are calloused; the way you stretched when you woke up suggests that you worked in a small room; and your posture is worse than mine... probably from bending over a desk for too long."
"Hm." She commented, before asking where the bathroom was.
Natsume led her to it, sparing a look at the old grandfather clock and receiving an unpleasant surprise. It was already 10 AM and he was expecting customers at 10:30.
"Towels and toiletries are under the sink. Stay here until I come back." He told her firmly, already slipping on his geta at the doorway. "Aoi, give Imai one of your best yukatas. We're going to the hospital when I come back."
"See you later!" Aoi yelled from the kitchen as the young man sprinted downstairs and out the fabric shop, seizing the large cardboard box in the process.
He sprinted ten blocks to his kimono store and home with mind-boggling speed, quickly ripping open the cardboard box and getting started on the yukata; the obi already made the previous day. In record time he finished, and changed into a painfully formal kimono hurriedly.
Not a moment too soon, the two of them stepped into Natsume's store- which was just an expansive, spacious room with a large folding screen placed on one side and mirrors lining a corner- wearing extravagant yukatas of pale green and yellow pinwheels that made their complexions appear sickly.
"Oh, Natsume! It has been such a long time since I've seen you!" A rotund woman approached with a wide smile stretched on her caked face; her neck concealed by a prominent triple chin. She stretched out a pudgy arm to the disgusted male, pompously showing off the numerous rings and bracelets she had on, and proceeded to pinch his cheek with excruciating adoration.
When she finally released him from her talons, Natsume emotionlessly intoned back. "Hello to you too, Mrs. Iwamura. And how are you, Saki?" He addressed the woman behind Mrs. Iwamura, who was the replica of her mother-in-law.
She attempted to smile seductively but failed, as it only came off as a creepy leer.
Natsume grimaced inconspicuously and looked at his cell phone's clock- only half a minute has passed. 29 minutes and 30 seconds to go.
"I'm just fine, thank you. How about you? Have you met the 'girl of your dreams' yet?" She asked in a husky voice.
He merely smiled condescendingly, already aware of what she was implying. A vision of a stunning woman with dark coffee hair flew into his head, using this moment to finally get the impudent girl off his case.
"Yes, I have." He replied with a fake smile, willing Saki to leave him alone.
She scowled glumly at this and refused to speak to the attractive man the whole time, while the latter busied himself with making slight adjustments to her hydrangea yukata, believing that it was an appropriate punishment.
In the meantime, Natsume bathed in the heavenly freedom of not having lustful eyes imagine him in the nude, and was so happy that even Mrs. Iwamura picked up on it.
"Why, Natsume! You are happier than a man who just slept with the woman of his dreams! This woman must be truly extraordinary." Mrs. Iwamura nodded to herself, not taking into account her daughter-in-law's menacing glower and his obvious discomfort at her words. "Yes, when my husband, Yuki, took my virginity away..."
Natsume tuned her out, focusing solely on making the hem of the brilliant magenta yukata hang perfectly at Saki's ankles, whose cheeks were steadily becoming redder by the minute.
"And then on our honeymoon- Saki? Saki dear, what's wrong?" Mrs. Iwamura's boastful voice demanded.
"It's nothing." She answered roughly.
Natsume stood up and dusted off the bottom of his black kimono.
"Done." He said curtly, stowing away his collection of pins, while tucking the revised measurements into the tamoto of his kimono.
She made a 'hmph' noise and childishly stomped behind the folding screen to change.
"Honestly, I do not know what is wrong with that girl." Mrs. Iwamura huffed, taking out her large wallet from her bag. She handed over her credit card and waddled away to assist her ridiculous daughter with taking off the yukata.
Natsume charged the card, grateful that General Yukihira distributed convenient electronic cash registers to stores, and saw that it was 11:00. His stomach protested from lack of food.
They finally emerged from the screen one minute and 42 seconds later, before the impatient man ushered them out the door and handed Mrs. Iwamura her card.
"You'll get the yukata by tomorrow." He told the pair, rushing through the usual farewells, then shutting the door.
Not bothering to change, Natsume locked up the store and decided to take a rickshaw to Aoi's home instead of walking; too drained to walk the distance. Upon arrival, he barged into his little sister's home without knocking and slumped down at the wooden kitchen table.
"Rough morning with the Iwamura's?" Aoi asked sympathetically, setting down a large bowl of chilled broth and rice.
He grunted in response and wolfed down the food with enthusiasm when Imai entered the room. She smartly sat down across from Natsume and watched him eat with a bored expression.
After finishing, he washed the dishes, and beckoned to Imai. "We're going now," Natsume announced, and then exited the building, where they boarded a rickshaw.
"So who is this man?" Imai asked.
Natsume studied her out of the corner of his eye, noticing that her hair was pinned up in a nice bun and that she wore the violet-embellished yukata he made for Aoi's birthday present.
"Doctor Nogi Ruka. He hates being called by his last name- don't ever ask why- so call him Doctor Ruka."
"Did he choose to wear western clothing or yukatas?" She asked curiously, envious of the privilege only doctors received; for she quite liked the sensibility of wearing pants and form-fitting shirts.
"Western clothing. He wears yukatas when he's not working." Natsume finished with a hint of a smirk.
"Is he an Alice?"
Natsume's smirk broadened. "Why don't you ask him."
They descended into a lapse of silence; Imai looking at the passing buildings with indifference while Natsume fished around for plausible reasons to give Ruka about how he discovered Sakura. In the end, when the two pulled up to a small hospital, Natsume decided that it would be best to tell his best friend the truth.
Imai and Natsume entered the sterile building, bypassing the crowded lobby, and headed straight upstairs to the doctor's private office. The latter pushed the door open to see a striking young man who had a side-swept haircut. Luckily, the person they were looking for was doing paperwork instead of tending to his patients.
"Natsume." Ruka said with astonishment, since the mentioned man never came directly to his office unless it was an emergency. He took off his glasses, allowing his curious cerulean eyes to stand out.
"Diagnose her." Ordered Natsume, settling down in one of the armchairs in the room's corner.
Ruka stared at the commanding individual, before looking at Imai, who stared back in return. He put his thick-rimmed glasses back on.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Doctor Ruka." He said. "Please, sit down." He gestured to one of the chairs that sat in front of his walnut desk. She obeyed with a roll of her eyes, as Ruka sat right next to her, letting his eyes roam over her attractive face. "Why do you think you're here, miss..." Ruka trailed off courteously.
"Hotaru." She prompted.
Natsume quirked an eyebrow with amusement. First name basis already?
Ruka seemed to understand that something was off the moment she spoke. As to how, Natsume will never know.
"I'm here because that moron," she motioned to the slouching figure, "said I had a concussion and a high fever last night. I'm assuming that this is a formal checkup."
Ruka released his stethoscope from around his neck, while asking, "have you experienced any headaches lately? Blacking out or feeling a slight pressure on your eyes?" He took off his stethoscope and retrieved a clipboard from his desk, writing some observations down.
"Well I got a bad headache earlier today, and I have been blacking out for long periods of time."
The scratching of his pen paused minutely before starting up again with more rigor. "How long has this been going on?"
"Since last month."
Ruka took out a mini flashlight and shone them in her dark lavender eyes. "Can you tell me how long these blackouts last for?"
"About a day, but this time it was for four days."
It was silent while Ruka continued with his inspection.
"What is your Alice?" She inquired bluntly; eliciting a choking noise from Natsume and a blush from Ruka, who changed the topic with an awkward transition.
"Eh... So do you drink, smoke, or do drugs?"
She scoffed; offended with the question. "I have enough sense to not erode my brain with harmful chemicals. I see zero benefit in wasting my precious money on useless habits."
The doctor nodded, remnants of his blush still present, before announcing, "alright, let me go outside to get you a prescription for some pain relievers. Natsume, may I talk to you for a sec?"
Natsume followed Ruka outside, closing the door with a snap.
"She's got a curse placed on her." Ruka stated without preamble. His voiced was laced with pity.
"By an Alice?"
The dirty blond-haired doctor nodded in affirmation. "It's a really strong one. It's so strong that I think it completely messed her brain up."
"Then do something about it." Natsume insisted, his eyes lighting up with an intense emotion.
"It's not that easy." Ruka took off his glasses and wiped them on his white button-down shirt. "It's going to take extensive intensive therapy... and copious amounts of luck. That's how bad her curse is."
"Well that's fucking dandy, because I think she has a Multi-"
A familiar wheeze emerged from Ruka's office. Mirroring each other's furtive glance, the two men swung the door open. Inside, Imai could be seen on the ground, hugging herself, and whimpering and gasping pathetically. While she rocked back and forth with a haunted face, her wheezes morphing into gasps.
Ruka looked at Natsume with mystification.
"Imai! Didn't you just use your inhaler two hours ago?" Natsume drawled. "Your respiratory system is really shitty."
Her eyes fluttered between relief at the sight of them, annoyance, and oblivion. However, the last feeling was victorious, because Imai's amethyst eyes vanished and were replaced by that startling shade of gray again.
"What have you gotten yourself into, Natsume?"
A/N: Many thanks to CARohanne, manga-girl-freak, my-silver-lining, crossover. , bleh123, Hannahbluenanna13XD, Ivzory, kazukarin, kiers, Xim-no-writerX, and the rest of you who took the time to read this story.
EDITED. Please review and tell me how you like this story so far! I hope the explanation of Multiple Personality Disorders wasn't too confusing... If it was, refer to Wikipedia for more information.
-Tamoto: sleeve pouch of a kimono and yukata