Quiet farmland slides passed the car window, as I lay my forehead against the cool glass. Grandad points out interesting landmarks, interesting to him at least, and comments on the weather. Having started overcast and foggy it looked this morning as if it would be a miserable day, but now the sun has burned away the mist to reveal a bright blue sky.
"Mmmhmm," I mumble when required.
"Did you remember to pack everything?"
"Every last item of clothing I own, couldn't fit the kitchen sink though, think I'll need it?" My response is met by a wide grin.
"I think second years are provided with a sink when they first arrive," he nods his shaggy head wisely, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face.
"Well that's a weight off my mind," I can't help but giggle.
We fall back into comfortable silence. As time passes the green country side is gradually replaced with sprawling traditional suburbs.
"Do you remember anything?" His question shatters the silence.
"No," I still can't remember more than I did a week ago.
"Miki, this won't be an option for long, they want you to meet with a therapist at the school, to help you come to terms with the incident." His tone is stern, more lawyer than grandfather.
"Who wants me to meet with a therapist?" My eyes narrow, he wouldn't do this to me, right? He knows I don't like people asking me questions, or judging what they don't understand.
"The police," He sighs. "They need a wit-"
"You told me you spoke with them?" I interrupt.
"I did, I explained your condition, I pulled some strings, very big strings if I'm honest," A flash of regret touches his face, almost to fast to catch. "But they need your witness statement, the crash wa-"
I interrupt him again, raising my voice to almost a shout.
"Don't tell me!"
"Why? Why don't you want to know Miki? Forgetting this won't make it go away."
Its a good question, I have spent hours trying to pick out some little detail about what happened. Of course someone else will know, but at the same time I need to remember for myself. I'm afraid that someone else's memory of the accident will become my own, that in my own mind I will never know for sure how I lost my hand.
"Nothing is real, not if I can't remember it for myself." I say stubbornly.
"No one is going to lie to you"
"I just want to be sure I know what happened, not someone else's best guess."
"Asking for help is not a sign of weakness Miki, one day you will learn that."
Nothing else is said, we weave deeper into the dense city streets. Images of car crashes flittering across my minds eye, like a bad action movie montage. An image of being pulled lifeless from a crumpled car to the soundtrack of my mothers sobs snaps me out of my reverie.
"You will keep an eye on mum won't you?" I ask, looking up into those sparkling brown eyes.
"Of course Miki, don't you worry about your mum," he considers for a moment before finishing. "I think I might have found her a housekeeper."
I groan internally, I don't mind my mum getting help at home, I don't even think its a bad idea, but a stranger? Someone clueless who will judge. I am not ashamed or embarrassed by my mum. But someone else might be, and that bothers me more than it should.
"Do you trust this person?" I ask.
"Completely."
Well if this person is good enough for him; at least she won't be alone. Mum and me have looked out for each other for as long as I can remember. She might not always be around when I need her, but she cares, thats what matters. She tries harder than any parent I know, I guess some things are just easier to live with through a haze.
"Okay," I reply softly, and I mean it. This could be a fresh start for both of us. We return to our own minds as the traffic builds around us. My grandfather always seems to give me reassurance mixed with equal parts fresh worry when we talk.
- - -
Our parting is simple, a one armed hug, a promise to be good and a wave as the train rattles away from the station.
I keep my stump hidden from curious eyes in the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. This is one of the few times I have been around other people since the accident. I know people will stare, I know they will try and work out what happened. I would. Hell I still am trying to remember what happened.
The back of my missing left hand glows hot, as if someone was holding a lit match too close. forcing the stump into my stomach I press my forehead against the train window. Not here, not here, not here I repeat in my head desperately trying to focus on anything but crashing cars and ghost limbs.
-
I heave a contented sigh as I settle into my seat on the last overcrowded train of my trip. Battling through the last station was a nightmare of compressed bodies and narrow train connections. With some luck and a little, okay a lot, of pushing I make it just in time. The train rattles out of the platform and I close my eyes, learning my forehead against the window. Today has been exhausting and its barely even lunchtime.
Thinking about lunch I check on the boxed meal I brought at the station its a little squished, but I think it might just survive. The rest of the journey is relatively peaceful. At one point I have to quickly reveal my hidden stump to battle my way into my lunch. Hopefully no one noticed.
Stepping off the train in a sleepy town, the contrast to the last station is staggering. A gentle breeze flows along the platform, catching my hair and rustling unseen trees, peaceful is a good word for this place. Another way to look at it is that its a good out of the way place to hide all the cripple kids. Bad Miki, you are one of the cripple kids, remember?
I start down the platform battered pull along case in one hand, the other hidden safely in my pocket. Apparently I'm not the only teenager getting off at this stop. A boy gets off just ahead of me his messy mahogany hair caught in the same breeze that took mine. He starts to walk away from me along the platform, with a start I see he is missing his right arm. Though unlike me he is making no effort to hide it.
I follow him at a distance, I assume he's heading to Yamaku, unless he's just heading home, that would be embarrassing. Together we wind our way out of the station and through quiet streets, I notice a small market and a traditional looking tea room as we go. I am not sure if he's noticed me yet, in fact I hope he hasn't.
The town is even smaller than I first thought and we soon leave its boundaries to start up a fairly steep hill. They put the school for disabled kids at the top of a hill? someone must have a very dark sense of humour. Cars pass occasionally but otherwise the only sounds are two cases rattling. Suddenly the boy turns to me.
"Are you going to mug me? I warn you, Im armed!" He waves his stunted limb in the air for emphasises.
"W… what?" Im taken aback, I can't tell if he's being serious or not. Now facing me I notice his plump face is framed with thick glasses. He's also… chubby? Chunky? whats the right word. He's the kinda person my old group of friends would have made fun of.
"New to Yamaku?" He smiles widely, apparently pleased at having caught me off guard.
"Yeah," I remember my manners just in time, offering a bow, "Miura Miki."
He bows in return, the stupid smile still plastered on his face. I don't quite know why, but I feel myself relaxing around him.
"Kuromizu Ryouta, would you like some help finding your way Miss Miki?"
"If you're offering Mister Ryouta," I grin, he snorts with laughter, gesturing with his stump to follow him.
A little further up the hill we come across two large black cast iron gates, spread wide they welcome in a steady stream of people. With a pang I realise I'm looking at students accompanied by their parents. What strikes me is how normal everyone looks, I don't know what I expected, not this I guess.
"Welcome to Yamaku academy," my eccentric companion spreads his arms wide before the gates, drawing stares from nearly everyone in the area. I feel the heat of a blush in my cheeks as the small crowd turn their attention briefly to me. Together we stroll quickly into the school.
"So housing office first, you're boarding here right?" I nod, entering a large courtyard surrounded on all sides by large western style buildings. The structures look like something you might see on an American or European university campus.
"This place is bigger than I thought," I muse aloud.
"Nah thats just the staff building, the students have a shed out back."
I raise my eyebrows, perhaps keeping a serious expression for all of two seconds Ryouta bursts into raucous laughter, startling a girl who rolls passed us in a wheelchair. I am taken aback a little by two students waving their hands rapidly in front of them as we enter the housing office.
"Never seen sign language?" Ryouta asks, following my gaze. I shake my head, I've never seen it in person, but what else did I expect here?
"I tried it once, though no one seemed to know what I was on about, can't imagine why," Ryouta says, I'm not quite able to meet his gaze, he seems more than comfortable joking about his arm. I am not sure I could ever be that open. He seems to have noticed my discomfort.
"Hey, don't worry about it, everyone here deals with their problems in their own way," his brown eyes flicker to my arm that I haven't yet had the courage to take out of my pocket. "Now shall we find out where they intend to keep you?"
— — —
"Room 193 up on the first floor," the disgruntled looking caretaker hands me two keys attached to a tag showing the room number. "Replacements can be purchased from the office."
"Right, where do I get my uniform?" I ask, his eyes go wide for a moment before he picks up and begins to scan a long list.
"Right, right, yeah my mistake, here." he hands me a pile of clothes. Looking through the bundle I notice a couple of green skirts and a collection of white shirts. "Im afraid your stuck with boys shirts for now, there was a problem, come back next week."
"Kimura are you sure you're one hundred percent dedicated to this job?" Ryouta asks from beside me, a smirk on his face. I assume these two know each other, or else Im going to get thrown out of an office on my first day.
"This isn't my job, my job is groundkeeper, trees, grass, plants that kinda thing," he looks thoroughly put out, "I am here against my will, the normal women is sick." Ryouta nods in understanding, looking genuinely sympathetic to the groundskeeper's plight.
"Do you happen to know which classroom I am in?" I venture, hoping to get the last piece of information I need before these two start talking about how unfair the system is, like builders in a bar.
"2:3 with Mutou," Kimura reads from his list. Sitting down with a long sigh he looks between us, "Anything else?" We hasten to tell him we have everything we need. As I turn to leave I notice my predicament, with my new uniforms balanced on my arm its going to be extremely hard to pull my suitcase.
"Would you like some help?" I look at him a little startled, surely he has the same problem I do? Rolling his eyes he takes the uniforms out my hand, balancing them over his thin stunted arm. "You only have a problem until you can find an answer," he recites as if from memory.
We walk across the lavishly planted grounds, this must be the work of more than one groundskeeper. It really is amazing how fast the day has gone, given how worried I was this morning everything seems to have worked out okay. We take the lift up to the first floor of the girls dormitories, and only a brief while later we are standing outside my new room, neither of us move for a moment.
"You do know how keys work right? You've not lost it already?"
"You ever find you grate on people?" I smirk fetching out my key, to my dismay the smile has vanished from his face, in fact he looks hurt.
"Hey, whats up?" I ask, matching his worried look with my own.
"Nothing, just…" He trails off, "I think I'm a bit overbearing sometimes."
"Perhaps your a bit of a smart arse, but wanna know a secret?" I grin at him as he nods, mutely. "I like smart arses." The return of his smile is immediately satisfying. I manage to get the door open and without thinking reach out for my uniforms with my missing hand. To his credit Ryouta says nothing, placing the clothing delicately on my outstretched arm.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks, his cheeks reddening just a little.
"I'd like that," I reply.
"Great, meet me in the cafeteria for breakfast, you know where it is?" I shake my head, "Better set off early to find it then." He grins from ear to ear, turning and walking away.
"Smart arse!" I call after him, before entering my room. Its spacious, bigger than my own room at home. The plain peach walls remind me a little of the hospital, I will have to remember to get some posters or something. I place my uniforms on the desk and lean the suitcase against the wardrobe. So this is home for the next two years? Could be worse. I peer out of the large window in time to see a plump boy pulling a suitcase across the grounds. Not all change is bad.