A death of dreams…
"It's time. Pens down and turn your papers over please."
I start as Mutou speaks, almost headbutting the science paper just a few inches from my nose. Recovering myself I check my last answer with a groan of trepidation - luckily it looks just about right - before turning over my sheet. Well that went better than I expected.
Every fibre of my being bends and creaks as I sit up straight. I need a run. Stifling a yawn behind my stump I look around the classroom, the students of room 3-3 look in equal parts exhausted and ecstatic, this was the very last exam. Before us lies an endless summer of freedom. Or another pointless week of school, followed by six weeks of vacation before we are thrown headfirst into college exam preparations. I guess it depends how you look at it.
"How did you do?" Ikuno asks, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfying crack.
"Good, I think," I reply with a smile, feeling the soft breeze ripple my hair - the outside world is calling to me.
"Wow, Hisao must be a good tutor! I've never heard you actually confident about an exam before."
"Well, I only think I did well." I say shyly, my cheeks warming.
Ikuno laughs, her deep eyes sparkling as the chatter in the classroom slowly picks up. Glancing in Hisao's direction I find him deep in conversation with Shizune via Misha. Wrinkling my nose in annoyance I try and get my boyfriend's attention, but it's fruitless. To her credit Shizune seems to have accepted our relationship with good grace, or at least she's not been any more or less hostile towards me. However nothing will ever stop the president ordering about her troops. She's probably trying to get Hisao stationed in the student council room for the entire summer.
"Are you free after class?" Ikuno asks with feigned innocence; she already knows the answer.
"Yeah," I say slowly, elongating the word, "Why?"
"We should go to the city, have a little rest and relaxation shopping."
I knew she was up to something.
"Shopping is neither restful nor relaxing," I say, raising my eyebrow at her.
"But it's fun!" Ikuno giggles as Mutou collects our papers, "Plus you need some new clothes for your date."
"I have clothes," I protest.
"Not to be rude Miki but your clothes are so old they are not even last year, they are like last decade."
"Maybe I just appreciate the classics?"
"Yes, well nothing from the classic collection is suitable for your date." She says evenly.
"Where the hell is Hisao going to take me that requires new clothes?"
"Just trust me, it will be fun," she giggles standing up with the rest of our class.
"It will be expensive," I grimace.
"That's what makes it fun!"
A few moments later we are dismissed, and the class rushes for the door. Ikuno and I hang back waiting for Hisao, who gets skittish in crowds. Not that I'm a fan of being crushed by sweaty bodies either.
"How did it go?" he asks, falling into step beside me and Ikuno.
I share my optimism that I achieved at least a passing grade as the three of us walk the short distance to Ryouta's classroom, whose students have yet to be released.
"That's great, do you have plans for this afternoon?" He asks, a soft smile crossing his face.
"Sorry lover-boy," Ikuno interjects, "I'm taking her to the city so she looks beautiful for your date."
"She already looks beautiful," Hisao says, seemingly without thinking.
Awwwww.
"Oooooohhh," Ikuno giggles, "That's so sweet!"
I punch her arm softly, "Shut it..."
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I meet Hisao's eyes. He stands awkwardly, bashful embarrassment etched onto his face.
"Thank you," I say softly, taking his warm hand in mine. A smile creeps onto my lips as I stare into his perfect copper eyes.
"Will you be okay by yourself?" I ask softly, drawing closer a touch of mischief on my mind.
Finishing exams puts you in a good mood.
A nervous smirk speeds across his face, and he looks at his feet, his blush intensifying.
"I will have to find someway to amuse myself," he says softly, "Though, I doubt it will be as fun as spending time with you."
I wonder how mad Ikuno would be if I bailed on her…
"Miki! You're acting as if you were a girl, what has this boy done to you?" Ryouta announces from beside me.
Hisao and I spring apart so quickly I nearly stumble. So much for that wonderful moment.
"Ryouta!" Ikuno shouts, stamping her foot. "Don't be so horrible, they are adorable together."
Her scolding falls on deaf ears, as Ryouta laughs dodging my punch. Damn it, for a chunky guy he's fast.
Shrugging at Hisao in an apologetic kind of way I hoist my bag higher onto my shoulder. Lucky he seems to be more embarrassed than upset by Ryouta's stupidity.
Since his reaction to Kenji the other night I've been watching him more diligently, wondering if the meltdown that seemed so close to the surface will re-emerge. Though what good my watchful eye will do I still don't know.
"They both do this creepy middle distance staring thing as well," Ryouta observes conversationally to Ikuno.
"It's called thinking," I say, "You should try it sometime smart arse."
"Are you ready to go Miki?" Ikuno says, eyeing the stairs with a longing I hadn't noticed before. I guess she's been pretty stressed this week. Regardless of what she says this city trip is as much for her as it is for me.
"Let's go." I grin.
Hisao and I have a whole day to ourselves on the horizon, but for now i'm duty bound to be enthusiastic about this shopping trip. And who knows, it might be fun… this one time.
— — —
"This was because of you!" Hisao roars, his eyes wide and intense. With one hard shove he pushes me backwards into the wreckage of the truck he had just pulled me from.
"No, please I didn't…" I say desperately, throwing out my hands to stop myself from being impaled on the jagged metal. Only to squeal in horror as my left hand starts to blister and burn, tearing itself apart as if some parasite were hatching within my blackened flesh.
"Help!"
My voice is lost in the roar of an engine. I look up quickly, only to be blinded by the lights of an all too familiar grey prison bus. I think I can hear Hisao's cruel laugh as everything goes black.
I wake up, pain flowing though my arm like molten lava. My first instinct is to scream, to try and pull away from the pain that exists purely within my own broken head. Damn it! Kicking off the covers I flip myself onto my stomach, sinking my teeth into the pillow and my stump into my stomach.
With a sound like a wounded bear I scream into a mouthful of material, tasting my own cold sweat on the threadbare martial. The phantom of my hand bends and twists, crushing and burning with cruel delight as I try desperately to take my mind off of the pain. This isn't fair, this isn't fucking fair.
Trying to distract myself I glance at the clock, which does nothing to improve my mood, it's only a little after midnight. I have hours of crushing darkness before I can escape to the track. Why does this keep happening? Is my mind trying to tell me something? A grainy image, like a photo damaged by water pops into my head of the rage in Hisao's eyes when he pushed me away, it was terrifying.
It wasn't real.
I'm just massively overreacting to a side of Hisao I didn't expect to see. He's never ever raised his voice to me, in fact most of the time he's shy and reserved, more on a level with Ikuno than Ryouta's and my boisterousness. So why was his snarling face etched into my mind, like a brand burnt into flesh.
With my thoughts chasing each other around my head I lie in a defeated heap, until the pain in my ghost limb starts to slowly subside into nothingness. Finally with only a dull ache to remind me of the phantom's wrath I sit up, sliding to the edge of my bed.
Pressing my toes into the soft carpet I glance at the clothes Ikuno and I picked out for my date. It was actually a surpassingly fun shopping trip, dragging Ikuno round the cheaper parts of the city shopping district to put together an ensemble that she described as 'Thrift shop chic'. Though I have no idea what that means I managed to find an outfit I liked. A pair of black leggings mixed with torn off denim shorts and a band t-shirt for a group I had never heard of, but appreciated their cover art nonetheless.
They are clothes that remind me of home, comfortable with the tiniest hint of rebellion - I just hope Hisao likes them as well.
Climbing out of bed I make it as far as my office chair before collapsing back down with an audible complaint from the seat.
Not thinking I flick on my slightly dented desk lamp, the sudden flash of light blinding me. Gah. Blinking rapidly I open my eyes, letting them adjust to the glare reflected from the paper strewn desk. I can't keep living like this. Robotically I pull a blank sheet of paper towards me, holding it in place with my naked stump, before grabbing a pen from the pot beside the lamp.
It would be so easy to do. I can almost picture the words forming in my head: 'I confess to the killing of Tatsuo Takahashi…"
All I have to do is confess and all of this goes away, the nightmares and phantom pain stop forever. Hisao and the others will move on with their lives, justice is served, Tatsuo's family gets closure, and I rot away in a forgotten cell.
I deserve whatever punishment I get.
But I can't do it, the pen stays immobile in my sweaty hand. For a long time I simply stare at the paper, hoping beyond hope for an answer to a question I don't want to ask. Because there's a very real possibility that confessing will only end up with me having nightmares in prison completely alone, instead of in school surrounded by friends.
"Fuck!" I whisper harshly, throwing my pen onto the desk with a loud clatter before leaning back to rub my eyes, tears cutting fiery paths on my cheeks. I should just try and go back to sleep. But it's a laughable idea, my mind is too full, and my body too tense, I need something to distract me.
Pulling my mismatched limbs away from my face I glance out of the window at the silvery moon, a dangerous idea forcing itself to the front of my mind. It's risky, irresponsible and downright insane - but if Hisao's hallmate is telling the truth - I might be able to find not only a distraction, but a cure with a late night visit to the Aura mart.
— — —
The night air stings my face as I tentatively push open the fire escape at the rear of the girls dormitories. Ikuno shared this particular exploit for getting in and out of the building while she was galavanting with Ryouta, though I doubt she was the first one to use it. Beside the doorstep lies a small rock, used by generations of miscreants to ensure safe passage back to bed. Jamming the door I flick my hood up over my head.
This is a bad idea.
My heart starts to thunder as I make my way around the quiet building. Interestingly a few of the girls still have their lights on, judging from the soft glow escaping around their curtains. Nice to know I'm not the only one unable to sleep. My breath catches in my throat as I peer around the corner at the main entrance to the dormitories, standing half illuminated by a security light two figures stand, their poses relaxed as they casually chat, the tips of their cigarettes glowing like stars in the darkness.
Oh, this was such a bad idea.
It's fine, I can handle this - it's hardly the first time I've been out of bed at unusual times.
I could try and sneak past them, but I think I make a better secret agent in my head than In real life. No, there is only really one real option. I really hope this works. Taking a few steps back, I gulp, before setting off at what I hope is a confident jog.
As expected the two men spot me at once, my footfalls easily detectable in the silent air. To my amusement both men hastily put out their cigarettes as the space between us closes.
Hidden in shadow you could mistake the night guards for the faceless henchmen of a thousand movies, but up close they lose their intimidating persona. The older of the two smiles at me softly, his green eyes sparkling from below a neat cap. The other man, younger and clean shaven throws me a contemptuous look.
"Little late for a run isn't it?" he asks, looping his thumbs into his shiny belt.
"I couldn't sleep," I reply holding up my bandaged stump as way of explanation. "Running takes my mind off things."
This time it's the older man that responds. "You don't have any serious medical conditions do you?"
Well I'm missing a hand, I suppose it's subjective how serious that is.
"No," I reply politely, shaking my head.
"Alright then, but stick to the lit paths mind and don't stay out too long." There's a gentleness to his voice, as if he were speaking to a grandchild rather than an errant student. I suppose Yamaku can afford to be very selective with their staff choices, valuing compassion and understanding above all else. They must have gotten the grumpy looking younger guy at a discount.
"I won't, don't worry," I say, bowing low before turning on heel and jogging out onto the sporadically lit pathway. I can't believe that worked! Then again if Kenji with his lack of sight can somehow sneak out after hours the rules can hardly have been that strictly enforced to start with.
Taking a shortcut across a patch of perfectly manicured lawn I head towards the school entrance, thankfully well out of the sight of the night guards. I half expect to find the wrought iron gates locked and barred, but they are open as always. Though the darkness makes them seem even more imposing than the first day I arrived.
Both my pace and heartbeat slow once I reach the smooth black tarmac of the hill. Street lighting is non-existent on this rural stretch of road, and I have only the moon lit crash barrier to guide me. What if I make it to the store and its closed? Or the person behind the counter calls the police. How trustworthy is Kenji really?
Despite my increasingly panicked thoughts I continue on, one foot in front of the other. I'm turning into my mother. No, I'm not like her, it's not like I want drink to take me out for an entire day, I just want to escape my dreams. That's fair isn't it? That's reasonable, no one could argue that I don't deserve even a small break from the torment of my mind.
I could ask Dr. Ueda for sleeping pills. But then I would have to explain I was still having nightmares, which would only lead to more questions and under that circumstance I'm not convinced I could keep up the lie. If I'm going to confess it's going to be by my own hand, not being caught out by my own stupidity.
A cruel unseasonably cold wind whips at my back, causing me to wrap my arms tightly around my chest. Damn it. My spirits are lifted however when I catch sight of a cool blue glow in the distance, the convenience store is at least illuminated at this time of night, a good sign that it's open.
I pick up the pace, led by a hunger that burns deep inside me. Everything will be alright. I just need to do this and it will all be over, the dreams can go away, and I can focus all my attention on Hisao and my family. This is for the best.
— — —
I'm still have a nagging doubt that the store is open, until I draw close enough to activate the automatic doors, which slide open with a startling hiss. This is my last chance to turn back. I pause for a moment on the threshold, but an image of Tatsuo's cold dead face, Ayumu's piercing white eyes and the rage on my boyfriends face make my decision for me. I need this.
The boy behind the counter does not even look up as I take a nervous step inside, his acne-ridden face buried in a gaming magazine. Surreptitiously I drift to the back of the store, all the while trying to calm the constant battle raging inside my head. Before I know it I'm standing in front of rows of bottles, neatly organised from wines and beers, to Whisky and other hard spirits.
Hmmm, shochu was always a favourite whenever I stole a drink at home.
I grab a familiar brand, high alcohol content, low price and taste. This feels freakishly natural. That fact alone scares me. I think I emphasize with my mother more now than any other time in my life. Everyone has a tipping point. I tell myself. This is mine.
The glass bottle feels cold and heavy in my hand as I walk to the checkout, I imagine this is how a gun would feel. With a clink I place the bottle on the counter, the sound finally seeming to grab the shopkeeper's attention. I suppose there's a reason he has the night shift.
"Have any ID for this?" He asks, scanning the bottle with a loud beep.
"Umm, no, I was kinda hoping you could help me out?" I say softly, scanning the walls and ceiling for security cameras - which luckily don't appear to be present.
"Hmmm, you're from the school right? Same as spectacles?" he eyes me up and down, apparently in search of some disability.
"Yeah, we're friends." I hold up my stump, letting the sleeve fall away from the bandage.
His eyes widen, and he admits a soft whistle, I half expect him to make some sarcastic comment but he simply continues to speak, "Didn't know he had friends, especially any that were girls. Who knew?" He shrugs.
"So," I say softly, tucking my stump back out of sight, "Can you help me?"
He seems to consider carefully for a long time, looking at me intently before finally reeling off a price.
"What? That's like three times what it says on the shelf!" I exclaim, I know it would be costly, but I had no idea he would charge that much.
"Oh I'm sorry, feel free to find another store open at quarter to one in the morning, willing to sell an underage girl alcohol." He smirks, leaning back in his seat and reaching for the magazine.
"Fine, fine."
Digging through my purse I pull out the required notes. At the very least the price will stop this becoming a regular occurrence - I hope. With a disgusted feeling I hand over the money, of which I notice only about a third makes it into the till. My grandfather would kill me if he found out what his money was being spent on.
"You get caught with that, you don't know me, and if anyone asks me, you stole it, clear?"
"Perfectly," I almost hiss. I don't like this boy. He's the kind air headed crook I used to hang out with.
Without another word I snatch the bottle, stowing it unceremoniously in the tube like pocket of my hoodie before leaving the store as quickly as I can. It's getting late, this little expedition has taken longer than I thought and I can't let my friends down in the morning, not after everything they do for me. What's the point of making my nights easier if I can't enjoy my days?
— — —
Getting back into the dormitories was easier than I had expected, I saw nothing of the guards on my way back through the deserted school grounds. Now I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. Bottle in hand and heavy purple bags under my eyes, I look like my mother at her worst.
I should never have done this.
Unstopping the Shochu I angle the bottle over the sink, ready to pour the foul liquid out of my life. It would only require only a fraction more effort on my part, and I would upturn the bottle, but I can't. It's the same reason I can't confess, I'm not strong enough.
"Fuck sake," I whisper, returning the cork to the bottle.
I always thought I was better than this. Any crisis I faced could be overcome, but my normal method of anger and hasty decision works for sudden and immediate problems. I'm good at sprinting, but the dreams are a constant reminder of a problem I can neither outrun or even hope to outpace, it's a sustained assault against my very being. And I'm buckling under the pressure.
Flicking off the bathroom lights I head back to my room, suddenly feeling very weak. I hide the bottle in the corner of my wardrobe, covering it with clothes I never wear and towels I never use. In silent darkness I strip, and lacking the inclination to put on my pyjamas, I collapse onto bed.
The alcohol isn't an admission I've lost. I justify to my sleepy head, it's just a practical way to deal with life when things get too much. And who could really blame me for wanting that?
I really hope tomorrow is a better day…
— — —
The next morning I feel like I've hardly slept at all, despite a mercifully dreamless sleep. Regret taints my every pore as I step into the hot shower, hoping beyond hope that it might breathe some kind of fresh life into me. I can't let Hisao or Ikuno see how much of a mess I am.
Closing my eyes I turn my face into the stream cursing silently myself. I don't know what the hell possessed me to do what I did last night. All I know is that it was stupid thing to do.
Massaging shampoo into my scalp I try and work through my own justifications, but it's a minefield, my logical reasoning battles with my subconscious desire.
Hisao, just focus on Hisao.
I've made it this far without losing my mind, I can hold out a little longer. I have too.
— — —
A few days later my worries seem a distant memory as I peer out of the train window. Side by side with my boyfriend we tear through rural Japan's tranquil countryside, having left the city far behind.
I glanced at our destination as we transferred trains, but not really knowing the area around Yamaku it wasn't much help. Anyway Hisao seems to know where we are going.
Smoothing my new shirt down I begin to feel like a child again, excited to spend a holiday with my parents in some far off destination, but impatient to get there and start enjoying myself. My distraction is, as it turns out, a master of his craft.
"We're nearly there," Hisao says.
Nodding slowly I turn my attention back to the window. Something grabs my attention, a slither of dark blue on the horizon. Is that the ocean?
"The sea?" I ask curiously, unable to drag my eyes away from the spectacle.
A sly smile spreads across Hisao's face, causing my favourite dimples to appear.
"Are you okay with that?" he says, a touch of trepidation on his soft voice.
"Absolutely," I grin, pulling his hand into mine.
I've not been to the beach for years, it's a place reserved for the happier parts of my childhood. Now I get to return thanks to the brilliant boy beside me.
I hate surprises. But I think I might be okay with this one.