I shouldn't laugh, not even giggle at this. Before me stands Hisao, in typical Yamaku gym kit, complete with tiny red shorts. He fidgets, trying to pull his t-shirt down further than the material will ever stretch. Cute.
"Hey, I didn't think you would come," I say, starting to stretch in the grass beside the track. Me and Emi both share a distaste for this particular pre-run ritual, but we've had enough strains to imprint in us it's importance.
"Sorry, It took me a while to find my gym kit…" he trails off, watching intently as I stretch my arms out behind my back, causing other assets of my anatomy to be thrust forward. Well, at least Misha isn't the only one who can catch his eye.
"You need to stretch, you know how to do that?" I say, delighted by the look on his face as I take away his view.
"Err, what? No, not really?" He stumbles over his words.
Giggling I stride over to him.
It's not long before I have him stretched out before me, his face curled up in discomfort but trying his best not to show it. In some evil way I feel like I'm channelling every coach and track captain I've ever had. It's all for Hisao's own good of course; but that doesn't stop it being fun.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to walk after this, yet alone run." He complains as I place my hand on his shoulder, helping him to loosen his calf.
"Don't be such a baby, you'll be fine." I laugh. "Right, that's you about done."
"The nurse said I should be doing light excise," he points out, following me towards the edge of the track.
"You've not done any exercise yet," I laugh, stepping onto the white starter line. I'm normally a lot less formal where I enter the track or even how much I stretch beforehand, but with my newfound role as a coach, it feels like I should be paying attention to these things. Right, this is the track, you run on it, over there is the grass, that's where you throw up if you're going to.
"So, just start at a gentle jog, tell me if you're going to keel over." I say, setting off at moderate pace.
Beside me Hisao hops into action, his mop of messy brown hair bouncing with every step, it's cute. I like having him to myself. In class I'm in constant competition for his attention against the student council, an atmosphere that has thus far prevented Hanako from joining us. Even Ikuno seems unsure how to react, but for me it feels like my old life, fighting off a harem of pretty girls to grab the momentary attention of some boy.
I wouldn't say I enjoy the cold war between Shizune and me, but I'm not about to back down. If all else fails I can go full nuclear and kiss him in the middle of class; though the fallout from that could be impressive.
"S…so you run… a… a lot?" Hisao asks beside me, doing his level best to control his uneven breathing.
"Six times a week, if not more," I shrug, turning to jog backwards next to him. Don't fall over, don't fall over. To my great satisfaction he looks suitably impressed.
"I'm never going to be able to keep up," he huffs, as we near the first bend. His self-doubt is starting to grind.
"No one ever suspects what they are capable of, until they do it." Like manslaughter for example, don't think about it, don't think about it.
"A… are you okay?" Hisao snaps me back to reality. "You s… seemed a million miles a… away."
He's breathing harder now, much harder. His face red with effort and perspiration, apparently the Nurse wasn't kidding when he said he needed some exercise.
"I'm fine," I say, slowing down. "You should walk for awhile, when you feel comfortable you can join me a few laps, yeah?"
Grinding to a halt he stops, pressing his hands into his knees.
"Hey!" I call back, turning briefly around to face him. "I said walk, not stop!"
Face twisted somewhere between rebellious and guilty he straightens, starting to pace slowly up the track. Turning I smile to myself. Who said power wasn't fun?
I fly past him, enjoying the wind in my hair and the feel of the dry track beneath my feet. At this pace I barely have to try, I can just enjoy the sensation and focus on the small details that help distract me, the slap of my trainers against the astroturf, the faint sound of birdsong on the blue sky, tinted with rose and ember.
By the next pass he has recovered enough to join me. Slowing I allow him to fall in beside me. With his eyes fixed on the track at his feet he misses the blazing smile I give him. Ah well, his loss. Gradually I increase my pace, looking for the point at which he will start to fall behind, but to my surprise he keeps up. I knew he was more competitive than he looked.
For a half a track length he stays on my tail, breathing hard but making good pace. "Ha, you're not as slow as you look!" I yell excitedly. With no response I check over my shoulder, Hisao has vanished. Coming to a stop I spot him down the track, on all fours, seeming to clutch his mouth. Oh don't throw up, they will make me clean it!
Jogging back to him I try and find the right teasing comment to taunt him with, but the statement gets caught in my throat as I get close enough to see the expression on his face; he's in agony. The hand that I thought he had clutched to his mouth, is in fact gripping the front of his shirt so tightly his knuckles have turned white.
"Hisao!"
Sitting back onto his calves, he looks at me. Red faced he wheezes hard, raising a hand as if to wave off any concerns I might be having. What the hell? Is this what's wrong with him? Whatever this is, what the hell am I supposed to do? I should have done the voluntary first aid course in middle school. Why didn't I think it would be useful?
"M… Miki, I'm… O…okay," Hisao says, though he looks far from it.
"You don't look okay, what should I do? I can run and get nurse." I offer, kneeling beside him.
"I… think, think I can.. walk, just, give... me a s… second," his words are forced out between gaps in his ragged breathing.
Feeling like a waste of skin and oxygen I wait until Hisao is ready to stand, unsurprisingly he's unsteady on his feet, and I dive under his arm to support him. The feeling of his sweaty armpit on my shoulder is disgusting to say the least, but I endure without complaint, as slowly we make our way to the medical centre.
— — —
"Arrhythmia?" I ask, not sure if I'm pronouncing it correctly.
On the white paper-covered bed in front of me Hisao nods. He seems much better now, but the nurse insists on him getting some rest.
"It's why I'm here, at Yamaku I mean." he says, looking at the nurse who rests his white lab-coated back against the wall, who nods in confirmation. "The light exercise was supposed to help."
"Well the power of good it did you," I glower, turning an accusatory eyebrow on the nurse.
"Light excise is needed to keep your heart healthy and your body in shape. Is there a chance you were overdoing it?" He asks, a small smile playing on his lips.
How the hell can he turn this back around on Hisao? Then have the nerve to smile about it?
"I might have-" Hisao looks guiltily at me, "Been trying to race her."
"You what?" I exclaim, "Did I tell you it was a race?"
"Well no, bu-"
"Did you know you had this heart thing?" I demand.
"Well yes, bu-"
"And you tried to scare me half to death anyway!" I'm almost shouting now. Infuriatingly the nurse is hiding his sniggers behind his hand, pretending to have a coughing fit.
"… I was the one having chest pains?" Hisao says in a very quiet voice.
"Well whose fault was that?" I ask, perhaps a little cruelly. To my alarm the corners of his mouth twitch as he looks down at the pristine white bedsheets spread across his legs, a touch of the darkly apologetic mood that's clung to him like a limpet since he started at Yamaku, creeping back onto his face.
"You're an idiot, next time we run I'm going to have to keep a much closer eye on you." I say, getting to my feet.
"Next time we run?" he asks, looking up curiously.
"Of course, you need to learn your limits, and I need to practice for the track meet," I smile sardonically, "You don't escape me that easily, Mr Nakai."
Well, Ryouta did say to claim him, not sure he meant like this though.
— — —
I feel drained as the nurse walks me to the front doors. I've gone from ecstatically happy to deathly afraid, all the way to monstrously angry in the space of about an hour. Now I just want to escape to bed... Well, a shower first, then bed, at least there should be some hot water at this time of night; unless Suzu has fallen asleep again and used a whole building's worth.
At the doorway I turn to the nurse. "This is your fault you know, you should have told me he had a heart condition."
Annoyingly he chuckles, "Firstly, even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn't and secondly Hisao is not a child, neither are you, part of our job at Yamaku is to prepare you for the real world."
"But, it could have happened again, and it would be my fault-" I catch myself before I can say any more. Idiot.
The nurse throws me a suspicious look, "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," I say quickly, "Good night."
"Hmmm, good night, Miss Miura," the nurse replies, not entirely convinced.
Without looking back I step out into the darkness, there's a chill in the air that my thin running clothes do little to protect me from, I hug my arms around my chest. Damn it! If i'm not more careful I'm going to end up letting out the biggest secret I've ever kept, the stakes are too high for such stupid mistakes. Admitting what happened in the truck was one thing, being discovered having lied... Well, I might as well kiss my future goodbye.
— — —
"H… help!" I cry, struggling to breathe as the water in the crumpled truck cab starts to rise.
This feels too familiar, but I don't have time to worry about that now. I'm going to drown, and there's no one to help me!
As if responding to my thoughts a polished shoe kicks through the windscreen, attached to it is a handsome young man with messy brown hair. I expect him to go to Tatsuo, who by this point is well underwater, but instead he turns to me.
"I'm going to get you out okay? Just hang on!" His voice is soft, comforting, when he talks it feels like the rain outside falls that much softer.
Climbing into the cab as if its something he does on a daily basis, Hisao touches my arm, acting as if to pull me from the wreckage. The moment his fingers touch my wet skin I feel a warmth spread from my chest, to my toes. I can move again, it's as if a giant magnet has been turned off, freeing me.
"Come on!" Hisao says, splashing back through the broken windscreen. Outside the air is clear, the rain seems to have stopped, in fact it's hard to remember if there ever was a downpour, the ground around the crumpled black truck is bone dry.
"There," my saviour says with a wry smile, "That's much better isn't it?"
I nod emphatically, without quite understanding why, I reach out and stroke his cheek, the fingers of my left hand tracing the smooth contours of his face. It feels wrong, disobedient, like I'm doing something I'm definitely not allowed to, but I have no idea what.
"Miki, I love yo-"
His words are cut short, as a phantom hand reaches into his chest, the rest of the ghostly spectre forming behind him. My rescuer crumples to the ground, falling into my outstretched arms, his assailant solidifies before us; until I recognise the face. Ayumu.
With eyes tightly closed he surveys the scene, gazing, for lack of a better word, directly at Hisao. His face so kind and beautiful in my memory is curled in a feral snarl, seeming to imperceptibly pick up up on my staring he tilts his head, like a curious owl. Slowly, with agonising care he opens his eyes, his piercing, white, eyes.
"This is by your hand," he gestures to the boy in my arms, his voice gentle.
Dropping Hisao's now lifeless form I get to my feet. Shaking my head I slowly back away, until my back collides with the sharp wreckage behind me. Without warning a horn blares through the night, as a prison bus bursts from the darkness.
The last thing I see before my world goes black, is the silhouette of my own hand, held up hopelessly against the bus, as a pair of blazing headlights dive straight for me.
For what feels like the millionth time I wake with a start, still holding my mutilated left arm out in front of me, braced against a bus that will never come. Sitting up I lean against the headboard, hugging my stump to my chest. It was whole, in the dream my hand was still there. Under my non-existent finger tips I can feel Hisao's soft face.
Pulling the multi-coloured elephant that Ayumu once won for me into my arms I try and picture him as I remember, without the glowing white eyes; it feels like the image has been seared into my mind. Like covering over a cherished tattoo with an abomination made of ink. Pressing my lips against my soft toy's trunk I reach for my phone, lying neatly on my beside table.
The clock reads 11:03, late, but not too late to call him.
Finding his number it takes me a few moments to build the courage to press the green dial button.
If he answers it will be the first time we've spoken in close to three and half months. With an effort like stepping off a bridge for a bungy jump, I press the button.
[Ayumu: Dialling…]
Appears on the screen, painfully bright in the dark room. Carefully, I place the phone against my ear, listening to the dialling tone.
"Hello..?" A startled female voice answers.
"H… Hello," I stammer pathetically, "I was trying to get hold of Ayumu?"
"He's busy at the moment," whoever this girl is says irritably.
"Who is it sweetie?" Ayumu's voice is muffled in the background, but I would recognise it anywhere.
"Look sorry, you'll have to call back."
She says no more. I can't be sure but what I imagine to be bed springs squeak in the background, before the line goes dead.
In silence I sit, just staring at the illuminated face of my phone, watching as the screen dims, before turning completely black. How could he? I want to scream, to yell, to punch something until it breaks. He moved on, of course he moved on, he was always going to. I'm a stupid little girl who believed that we never truly ended, that if I was loyal everything would work out, like a fairy tale.
Filled with a sudden uncontrolled rage I send the elephant spiralling across the room, to smash the lamp from my desk. It falls with a satisfying crash and a flutter of papers. Good, the world can burn for all I care. The hot tears on my face feel like a betrayal. How can I possibly cry over him? In one motion I turn to my pillow, screaming until my throat starts to burn, hoping the cotton is enough to hide my cry of despair.
Someone shakes my shoulder. With a squeal of fright burning my already raw throat I spin around, staring up at Ikuno; who stands before me wide-eyed. In one hand she holds her music player, tinny music still ringing out from the ear buds, and in the other is my spare room key. I was hoping not to wake her, damn it…
"Miki? Whats wrong?"
"The normal," I sigh, trying to sound convincingly scared and confused, not something I normally have to strive for.
"What happened to your desk?"
I shrug, looking away.
"Miki Miura, don't make me climb in there!" she giggles.
Wait.
She's in a good mood? Or a least a good enough mood to be joking and giggling, that's an interesting development.
"Climb away," I grumble, shifting myself in bed so my best friend can clamber in beside me. Ha, I should send a photo to Ryouta. Resting my head on her slightly bony shoulder I wait for her to speak, content to watch the ethereal clouds drift across the moon.
"So, what happened to the desk?" She looks down at me, "And your elephant for that matter."
"I lost my temper," I divulge grudgingly.
"Why?" she asks with only mild concern. Cheerful people are a delight when you're also a good mood, when you're not, though, they are the most grating people on the planet.
"Not that I'm complaining, but why are you in such a good mood?"
"Ryouta spoke to me!" she squeals, hugging one of my pillows to her chest.
I raise my eyebrows slightly, so he decided to man up after all. "What did he say?"
"Okay."
"Excuse me?"
"I text him, for like the hundredth time, I just asked if he still felt anything for me to text back anything; and he texted back 'okay'." In the window's reflection I can see her smile, showing off her dazzlingly white teeth, an effect I'm sure isn't entirely natural.
It's testament to Ikuno's love or perhaps naivety, that she can find so much joy in such a short and simple message. I had hoped my little woodland prep talk might inspire more dramatic results, but slow progress is progress still; and if it means Ikuno might not be so down in the dumps all the time that's good enough for me.
"I phoned Ayumu," I say, fully aware of the effect it will have on the mood. And not caring one little bit.
"What did he say?"
"Not much, his new girlfriend said he was busy." I continue sombrely.
"New girlfriend?" Ikuno asks, taken aback.
I reply with a nod.
"Well that would explain the flying elephant," she says in wonderment.
I can't help but laugh at her ridiculous statement, and a few uncertain seconds later Ikuno joins me, gigging softly. Apparently not even my boy problems are enough to put her in a bad mood tonight. I suppose that's good.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice soft and caring. Shifting slightly on the bed she puts a warm arm around my shoulders.
"No," I say, snuggling into her side. "But I will be."
My grandfather used to say knowing is half the battle, well I know now, I know Ayumu can no longer hold me back. I loved him, but I realise he never felt the same and I was an idiot for holding on for so long. I snuggle closer to Ikuno, content to let some of her new found happiness flow into me.
Perhaps Ryouta is right, I should have hooked up with Ikuno when I had the chance, she's comfortable.