Thanks for all the reviews and follows! Sorry this has taken a little while to come out, I hope you all enjoy.
—-
A puddle explodes around my shoe as I sprint through the torrential rain. The lights of the boys' dormitories glow invitingly through the haze and twilight - a distant sanctuary from the first storm of autumn.
I pull my coat tighter around me as I run, keeping my head down to gain whatever meagre protection the thin hood can offer and regretting more and more with each step not wearing one of Miss Kita's handmade wooly hats. Still, if it hadn't been for weather like this I may never have ended up with Hisao as a running partner. Just imagine if Emi had gotten him first. He wouldn't have lasted a week.
The end of the summer holidays brought with it a radical change in the weather, that seemed to reflect my mood. Replacing the cool but clear skies with overcast greys and the constant threat of rain. I'm still, in a way, struggling to come to grips with how little time I have left at Yamaku. The high school experience, which at my old school felt like it would last forever has come and gone faster than I could ever have imagined.
Taking the steps two at a time I burst through the heavy glass dormitory door, the sudden almost overwhelming heat hitting me like a concrete wall. Shaking off the hood I begin to unbutton my coat, content to let it drip dry on the wooden floors of the lobby, rather than Hisao's soft carpet.
Along with the weather came the results of our final exams. Surprisingly I didn't do too badly... Not as well as Hisao and Ikuno who more or less aced them, but well enough to get into most universities. That's what Hisao says anyway.
As if that were an option.
My confession - or lack thereof - has been on my mind a lot lately. I'm running low on excuses now. Even my wish to be intimate with Hisao has been granted. Repeatedly. Though instead of ticking off an item on the bucket list, it's simply another thing I'm going to have to sacrifice.
I take a moment to assess the rain's damage. My shoes and the bottom of my jeans look like I've waded through a marsh, but everything else is pleasantly dry. Using the glass of the door - reflective against the backdrop of the storm - I fix my hair as best I can, thankful that I don't have to venture back outside tonight if I don't want to. Though, it may pay to collect my coat before too many people put two and two together.
The heat makes my cold skin prickle uncomfortably as I slowly climb the stairs to Hisao's floor. The building is quiet tonight, even with the darkness it is not so late, and I would have expected some of the boys to brave the rain for their clubs or social commitments. Then again, I feel like I'm on the verge of trench foot, so perhaps they have the right idea.
I don't want to spend any more time alone though. Since I got back to school I've been spending more and more time sitting in my room, waiting for Hisao and Ikuno to get back from their student council commitments. Apparently they are super busy preparing for Shizune's handover to a new, and hopefully less tyrannical, president. Bloody weather. None of this would be so bad if I could at least lose myself on the track without getting pneumonia or breaking my neck.
The temptation to return to my dorm and crack open the bottle of whisky that - though hidden safely in my wardrobe - seems to fill the room omnipresently is overwhelming. Thus far I've managed to cope with the dreams and phantom pain, but it's only a matter of time before I give in to my own weakness. Distracted I almost walk into somebody at the top of the stairs - a scarf wearing, bespectacled somebody. Great, if there's anyone likely to drive me to drink it's Kenji.
"Sorr-" I start to say, but my apology is cut off almost immediately.
"Waaaargh!" He shouts, the sound echoing all the way down the stairwell. "Aha, thought you could sneak up on me?"
"No, I-"
"Well bad luck, my senses are finely honed and my vision is sharp! You stop right there feminist scum!" He points a finger vaguely in my direction, a look of immense pride on his normally paranoid face.
"It's Miki!" I say desperately, "Hisao's girlfriend, you remember?" I pause, continuing in a much quiet voice, "You added me to the vetted list."
One of the few times Hisao and I have had a strong disagreement was over Kenji's approved female list. But to my mind, If it makes him more comfortable with me being around then it's worth it. I mean, he's clearly not all there mentally. As demonstrated by the elaborate, confusing and sometimes highly personal questions he asked me as part of the application process.
"That's just what the feminist inflater that murdered my best friends girlfriend and took her place would say!" He replies knowingly.
Of course, there is only so much kindness one soul is capable off.
"You asked for my bra size three times while I was getting on your stupid list! You kept me in your stinking room for nearly an hour asking me question after stupid question! And now that I'm on the list you don't believe I am who I am anyway?" I'm surprised to find myself shouting, all the frustration and dark thoughts of the last few days finally bubbling to the surface.
Kenji takes a step back, mouth slightly open. Before composing himself and replying as casually as if my outburst had never happened. "No need to be so sensitive, security comes first. I'm on the brink of exposing a major feminist conspiracy here."
It better not have anything to do with my bra size.
"Yeah?" I say, I know I shouldn't but my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Oh yes, this is the big one! The most evil diabolical scheme mankind has ever faced: Equality."
"You mean, like women getting the vote?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. Though, I suppose the expression is rather wasted on him.
"No, no," He replies in a tone as if I were a complete idiot. "That was brought about to get high ranking feminist operatives into positions of power, everyone knows that!"
"Fine, then what's the problem with equality?"
"Missiles."
"Excuse me?" I should have been prepared for something completely insane, but that doesn't even make sense.
"Time was you would have two brave and manly men in charge of launching the nuke. Then along comes feminists saying everything should be equal, so they let a man and a women sit behind the big red button." He pauses, looking around suspiciously. "Then they take it a step further, they say that if it's okay for two men to sit behind the desk, then it must be okay for two women."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah! Then boom!" He claps his hands suddenly, making me jump. "Every bar and bowling alley in mainland Japan removed from existence! It's evil, pure evil - and I seem to be the only one who realises it." He finishes his remarkable sentence a little sadly.
"Well, I know now, so I will keep a look out for you." I say consolingly, but it's hard to keep the smile off of my face. If you had to say something positive about Kenji, it would be that he has one hell of an imagination.
"Ah! So you have considered my proposal?" He asks with renewed interest.
"I'm not bugging the girls' changing rooms!" I pause, "Or any other room for that matter."
"Fine, fine! Not all of us are brave enough to step up and do what has to be done!" He sighs dramatically, "I don't blame you though dude, it's a scary world out there."
He's not wrong.
"It's a wet world out there at the moment, where are you going without a raincoat?"
"That information is top secret." He says stubbornly.
"So the Aura Mart then?"
"Waaahhh, who told you that?" He takes an alarmed step back, his hands raised in weak imitation of a kung fu master.
I sigh. I wonder if this is what being a mother is like.
"Just a good guess, anyway you can't go out there without a raincoat. You'll get a cold."
"Impossible, my immune system is too rugged and manly. Besides this is the perfect weather for covert operations, I shall venture where no feminist dares to tread."
"Unless the feminists are counting on your manliness and so know this is the perfect time to strike?" I offer as a counterpoint.
It probably isn't the best idea to feed his delusions, but I'm not about to let him make himself sick.
Kenji stands frozen, speechless for the first time I can recall. Slowly he lowers his hands, his gaze resting more or less on me. "You may well have saved my life tonight." He nods sagely at me. "I must plan! But know when the history of the great feminist war is written you will receive an entire chapter!"
Before I can reply he turns on the spot, returning to his room faster than is probably advisable for someone with such limited vision. It takes me a little time to recover from my shock encounter and remember why I came all this way in the pouring rain.
I can still hear the sound of Kenji securing his many locks behind me as I knock on HIsao's door. Hisao opens it a few moments later, a smile dimpling his perfect face. However much of a pain Kenji is, dealing with him is worth it to see those dimples.
"Hi," I say softly, "Awful night for it."
"I wasn't sure you would come," he replies. Though is clear from his grin that he's glad I did.
Stepping through the doorway I find his lips, as if they were a single star in an empty sky. Closing his door with my heel I pull him closer, fully intending to skip the formalities. I think I've done enough talking for one night.
However Hisao seems to have other ideas and pulls away gently, keeping me at arm's length. "Another load of university brooches arrived." Taking a hand from my hip he gestures to a massive pile of glossy books on his bed, "I was just reading them when you knocked," He finishes apologetically.
Oh… This again.
Ever since we have gotten back - once the celebrations or in some cases, commiserations of the exam results had settled - the entirety of the third year seemed to have shifted into a kind of university hysteria. People walk to and from class with their heads buried in idealised propaganda about their futures. I can understand why. After all the selection process for higher education has a marked effect on the rest of your life. But for me, with my future holding nothing but concrete walls, the excitement makes me feel sick.
Unfortunately my friends all fall into the former camp, and because I'm unable to tell them why I might feel differently I'm forced to play along the best I can. I had hoped Ryouta might share some of my disinterest - after all, he's never shown any great enthusiasm for academia - but he's just as hooked as his girlfriend. Possibly because she's so hooked. It seems to a foregone conclusion that they will be attending the same uni.
Hisao also seems to be thinking along similar lines. I must have let slip at some point I had a vague interest in being a physical therapist, because he has spent almost every waking moment since trying to find a university somewhere in Japan that suits both our ambitions.
Of course I wish he wouldn't, I have quite enough guilt already. Without him choosing a uni he might not necessarily like under the illusion that I will be joining him. I should tell him, I know I should tell him. I had planned to in fact, the last time we were in this situation, but somehow we ended up in bed, everything other than each other banished from our minds.
"I'm not disturbing you am I?" I ask, knowing the answer but compelled by manners.
"Of course not," he pauses, a tinge of crimson warming his cheeks, "I had been hoping you would come over."
I feel my own cheeks redden at his words, and swiftly bending down to undo my sodden shoelaces. "Well my presence comes at a cost," I smirk, "Do you mind if I dry my socks on your radiator?"
Perhaps not my most ladylike moment - but screw getting trench-foot for the sake of appearances.
"Your jeans are wet as well," he comments offhandedly.
"Well someone's keen to get me out of my clothes." I reply with a raised eyebrow. I would have preferred to take my jeans off under more romantic circumstances.
"No," Hisao says quickly, his cheeks now positively glowing, "I mean, I want to do that, just not yet."
"Sure, sure, I was joking really," I lie, "What do you wanna do?"
As if I needed to ask. His ruby eyes flicker to the mountain of paper on the bed.
"Can we just look at this stuff together? Ikuno and Ryouta are constantly talking about it, but for us it feels like I'm doing this alone." There's a definite undercurrent of frustration in his voice which takes me aback.
"Oh, yeah, sure." I say disjointedly, a little thrown by my boyfriend. It's not like I've not seen him frustrated or even angry before, but me being the target of his temper - no matter how subtly - is a new experience, one I could have lived without. "Sorry," I continue, feeling the urge to explain myself, "It just seems like the end of school is so far away, I didn't want to get all caught up in something that's not happening for ages."
I've never noticed before just how naturally lying to my boyfriend comes to me - it's a little disturbing. Then again who haven't I lied to over the past year? Not even I make that list.
"I get that," he says, his voice returning to its normal softness, "but if we decide now we can get a head start on the entrance exams."
"Okay! Where do we start?" I reply with all the false cheerfulness I can muster.
— — —
As it turns out I'm so far behind Hisao in his research that I don't even qualify for the bed books, instead Hisao started me off with a pile of brochures retrieved from his wardrobe. I can tell they have been read before by the multitude of post-it notes poking from between the pages, each with a neat handwritten note detailing something of importance on an easily forgotten page.
Now I sit on the floor with my back to Hisao's bed, surrounded on all sides by glossy paper and an earnest wish to never see another smiling freshman as long as I live. The book open on my knees is simply page after page of photographs that were obviously posed for, but are supposed to look spontaneous.
Focus, you can read a book - even a book that feels like a slap in the face - without getting distracted by the pictures.
"Find anything you like?" Hisao asks from the bed behind me.
"Well," What the hell do I say? "Not really, how about you?"
"One or two, some have tracks but don't offer the courses we want. Others have courses that look good but are in awful locations."
"Hisao?"
"Yeah?" He replies, sliding off the bed to sit beside me, kicking brochures out of the way in the process.
"If… Well, if we can't find a university that suits us both, will you promise you will go to the perfect one for you… Without me?"
He won't understand, but I can't let him be dragged down by me. Even if it hurts us.
"What? Don't you want to go together?"
"I do, of course I do." I say quickly, "But I don't know if university is really for me."
"What? Thats ridiculous, why?"
My dry lips are unable to form the words, so I simply shrug. That won't be a good enough answer for him, but the truth would be even worse.
He rubs his palm against his head, momentarily closing his eyes. "Miki, you need to stop doubting yourself. Your exam results prove that university is absolutely for you."
"I'm not doubting myself." I reply. That I deserve to be behind bars is one of the few things in my life I am certain of. "I just don't think I will do well there…" Could I have given a much more pathetic answer?
My boyfriend is silent beside me, and I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my head. He's not going to drop this.
Finally, he speaks up. "Look, I know it won't be like Yamaku. And I totally understand how much it must suck to have people stare at.." He gestures to my stump, resting across the book in my lap. "But you can't let that stop you getting the most out of your life."
I blink confusedly at him. My hand? He thinks all this is about my hand?
"It's not that." I drag my fingertips down my face, frustrated at not being able to say what I really want to say. "Can we please just drop this?"
"No." He replies sharply, "I want to know why you don't want to get to university with me." Though subtle, there is real anger in his words now.
"I do!" I protest, "But it's complicated."
"So it's a secret then? That's what complicated means here, right?"
I turn my face away, not brave enough to look at him.
"Are you seeing someone else?" He asks grimly.
What?
"No! Of course not."
"Then what's going on?"
"I can't tell you," I say, my voice shaking. "But it's not that, I promise there's no one else."
Getting to my feet I risk a glance in my boyfriends direction. As I had feared his face is red, and his eyes - which are normally so warm - are practically blazing with intensity. How the fuck do I make this right?
"I think I should go," I mumble, looking away again.
"Wait." He says, and I can hear the bed creak as he uses it to hoist himself to his feet. "I thought we shared everything? When we were at my parents' house I told you everything about myself." His words, normally so measured. Pour from his mouth, getting progressively louder with each syllable.
"I told you everything I could about myself, I've shared more with you than anyone else!" I retort, the heart of my own anger touching at my face. "But there are things you cannot know."
"And you expect me just to accept that? That despite everything you still don't trust me?" His voice is still sharp - and loud - but now his tone is one of disappointment. If anything, it's worse than the anger.
"I do trust you!" I say desperately, "Hisao I-"
He cuts me off mid sentence, "You're right," he says, pale knuckles visible on his curled firsts. "You should go."
"Hisao!" I protest.
"No, I can't do this," he gestures to me, "Whatever this is. Come back when you feel like being honest."
All the fight I have left, the determination that I can save this situation is dashed with one dark look from the boy I love. And I do love him, fuck! My feet carry me out of his room, my body numb with shock. By time I reach the stairs I'm sprinting, taking two at a time my vision blurred by tears.
The darkened stairwell feels like a void, or rather a drain, pulling me away from Hisao and into some grim unknown. Get a grip. I've known this was coming, I've known from the second we agreed to go out. But I hadn't counted on it hurting so much, it feels like waking up in a hospital bed all over again, part of me is missing, and my future holds nothing but pain and misery.
Reaching the ground floor I almost send a pair of first year boys - twins, wearing matching pajamas - flying as as I shove them out of the way. Any protest is lost under the sound of my feet slapping against the tiled floor, and I don't bother to look back. Heaving open the heavy glass door, I splash out into the rain.
Gah.
My shoes and socks are up in Hisao's room. But fuck it, being barefoot in the rain is hardly the worst thing that happened tonight. The rough pavement digs into my feet, and I contemplate hopping onto the grass - before realising that will just end up with me flat on my back covered in sloppy mud. The rain hasn't let up at all, and my shirt and the rest of my jeans are soaked, my coat still hanging by the confused boys in the lobby.
— — —
It's something of a miracle that I don't meet anyone on my way up to my room. That would not have ended well. One smirk, or smart assed comment would probably have earned the culprit a black eye at best. A charge of assault would round off my manslaughter charges nicely.
With the soft patter of water dripping onto the carpet I stare at myself in the mirror that replaces one of the doors on my reflection is disturbingly pathetic, barefooted and windswept I look like the type of vagabond that would hang around the worst parts of town.
And then the pain begins. Slowly at first - as if relishing the task - the phantom creeps into the infinite space at the end of my stump. Twisting and bending cruelly at the rough approximation of a hand that exists there.
It's as if something inside me snaps, whatever cable was holding up the weight of my sanity gives and in one fast, almost practiced motion I lash out at the girl reflected before me. My stump connects with the glass with a satisfying crack, a spider web of fractures resonating out in all directions.
Fragments of my reflection slide the floor, piled before me. Ayumu would describe that as an apt metaphor for my life. I feel a kind of sadistic delight as I watch the blood spread under the white bandages on my arm. A small part of my mind tells me how stupid I'm being, how irresponsible. But I push it aside. Have I not earned this? I have, I've used up everything I have. Now all that's left is the uncontrollable rage that comes from knowing you've lost the war.
Stepping past the broken glass I pull open the wardrobe door. Oh sure, I won a few battles. I tell whichever part of myself I still feel I have to justify my actions to. It might even have seemed at times that I had won some crushing victories. Throwing aside old clothes my fingertips brush the frosty neck of a glass bottle. But it was all an illusion, I lost before I even fired my first shot.
— — —
The knock on my bedroom door seems to thunder through the otherwise silent room. I sit up, instantly roused from the whisky filled haze that's held me for the last few hours - though it feels like it could have been days. Swaying slightly as my body desperately tries to sort vertical from horizontal I check the time. Hmmm. Not as late as I thought.
There's another, more tentative knock and I sigh. That will be Ikuno, probably checking to see if I decided to sleep over with Hisao. Thoughts of rolling back into bed rattle around in my head, the cold air feels like sandpaper on my bare legs - apparently I took my soaked jeans off at some point, but I don't remember and there is a dull ache in my stump - I'm disturbingly happy to be able to trace the pain to my physical flesh, rather than the ghost who inhabits it.
Getting to my feet I'm hit by a sudden dizzy spell, and my foot hovers dangerously above the pile of broken glass, before I manage to shift my weight and amble zombie-like to the door. Letting her see me this is probably a bad idea, but… I don't want to be alone. Feeling unnaturally cold the door handle turns easily.
The dim lights in the corridors can hardly be described as intense, however they are a hell of a lot brighter than my bedroom. I barely register the outline of a person walking away down the corridor, before I instinctively slap my hand over my eyes. Gah, it's like starting the hangover early.
"Miki?"
The voice is shocking on two counts. Firstly, because I had been expecting Ikuno's. And secondly, because Hisao was the last person I was expecting. Yet here he is. Vision still blurry I force myself to look out into the corridor, were my boyfriend - or possibly ex-boyfriend - is watching me intently, a folded bundle in his arms.
"I was just returning your coat and…" He pauses, "What on earth happened to you?" He finishes in clear bewilderment.
I don't look that bad do I? Had I know he was coming, been a little more sober and not smashed my own mirror, I would have checked.
"I…" What do I say?
"Your arm? It's bleeding." He says taking a step closer.
I check the dark skin on my right arm in some alarm, before realising he meant my stump. Ok, perhaps this isn't the best state of mind to be discussing important things.
"Ah, yeah, had an accident with the mirror." I shrug, "It's no big deal."
"It looks like a big deal from here." He replies sternly. "Can I come in?"
Are you an idiot, of course he can't.
Ignoring my sense of self-preservation I take a step back, inviting him into the room.
"Be careful of the glass," I warn, before letting myself fall back onto the bed. I can't fall down and look like even more of an idiot if I'm sitting.
Hisao wrinkles his nose as he enters the room. This place must stink. A combination of wet clothes, sweat and whiskey hang in the air. Again I'm hit with the frustration of not knowing he was going to pay me a visit. I could have at least opened the window.
"What the hell happened in here?" He asks, his voice a mixture of wonder and concern.
I shrug, unsure exactly how to answer that question.
"Is that alcohol?" He points at the bottle sitting on my bedside table. "Were you drinking?"
"It's not a big deal. I say again, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Miki, what the fuck?" It's the first time I've heard him swear, and the word sounds all the dirtier for it. "I don't understand, is this all to do with whatever secret your keeping?"
I nod slowly, realising that it's stupid - not to mention insulting - to keep insisting that nothing is wrong. He deserves better.
"Look, whatever it is-"
"I killed somebody," I say in barely a whisper, cutting him off mid sentence.
I'm glad he was here when the end came. No one would be happy about condemning themselves - even if it was justly deserved - but being able to confess to someone I love, well I would take that any day of the week.
"What?" he takes a stunned step back, fragments of the broken mirror crunching under his shoe.
I look into his stunned eyes, a sudden wave of dizzy euphoria spreading over me. There's nothing left to lose now, nothing to fight for - it's strangely liberating.
"In the car crash where I lost my hand, somebody died, and it was my fault." I say simply.
"Did you mean to kill them?"
"No, of course not!" I protest, tapping into a previously undiscovered well of difference. Whatever else he thinks of me, I won't let him say I'm a cold blooded murderer.
My crime is manslaughter, not exactly a badge of honour, but a whole lot better than murder.
"Okay."
To my surprise he sits down beside me on the edge of the bed. What the hell? He tentatively takes my stump in his hands, holding it up to the flood of soft light from the hallway, it feels strange but I'm too stunned to protest.
"I think you need to see the nurse, this cut is pretty deep." He says softly, a frown crossing his perfect face.
The feeling of euphoria fades in a moment. This isn't how this was supposed to go. Uncontrollable tears roll down my cheeks. He was supposed to look at me with disgust and walk away, freeing me to phone the police and hand myself in, but now… I don't understand.
"Why are you still here?" I ask, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand.
He looks at me for a long moment, before shaking his head slowly, the smallest of smiles touching at his lips.
"Because I love you."