I continue outside, where Misha and Shizune have been impatiently waiting for me. We join the flow of students making their way down the stairwell and outside, with the girls pointing out other seniors' classrooms in the same hallway as ours. When we get outside, the girls make their way to the smaller building right next to the school. It's built in the same style, so it looks like it's actually a part of the main building.

"This is the auxiliary building here. There's a lot of official and important stuff inside, like the Yamaku Foundation office and all the nurses' offices. They even have a swimming pool!" Misha points out.

"How is that official?" I interject. Misha and Shizune have a quick, silent conversation.

"Don't be silly, Hicchan! It's for physical therapy, of course."

"Is that the excuse they're using?" I shoot back, smirking. And then I sober up, remembering where I am.

Right. No jokes about stuff like that.

Misha apparently doesn't notice my faux pas, as she belligerently replies, "We actually use it for physical therapy! There's quite a few students here with conditions that require it."

Shizune's giving me a displeased look. Guess she caught it. Nothing I can say without Misha figuring it out, though, so I just send the deaf girl an apologetic look. She seems to approve, her face immediately lightening.

"Anyway, all the nursing staff facilities are in there too. The head nurse's office is on the first floor. You'll be fine from here, right?" A whole building for stuff that has nothing to do with the actual education and administration? Wow. Expected, I guess, but - wow.

"I guess." I can't wait to find the library.

We'll be going, then! See you tomorrow!" I absentmindedly wave goodbye to the retreating duo.

I walk in, hoping that this really will be only a quick visit like the teacher said. On a white door on the left is a green cross with the text "Head Nurse" and a nameplate. A voice from the inside responds to my knock almost immediately, but I can't quite make it out. It sounded a bit like an invitation to open the door, so I invite myself further in. The room is not large and it smells...fresh, not like the antiseptic I expected.

A friendly-looking man turns around on his office chair to face me as I enter. His desk is neat and tidy, but the bin under the table is overflowing with used medical utensils and there are at least a dozen coffee-cup rings lingering on the desk.

"Hello there. What can I do for you today?" He is young-looking and sort of rugged, but the dimples in his cheeks wash that impression away when he smiles.

"I'm a new student and my homeroom teacher told me to come and meet you. My name is Hisao Nakai." His eyes light up with revelation and he snaps his fingers.

"Oh, you're THAT Nakai. I was just reading your file this morning. Interesting, interesting." He gestures me to sit down in a vacant armchair in front of his desk.

"Are there different Nakai's here?" I ask as an obvious follow-up question. He raises an eyebrow at me, smile disappearing.

"I've only ever met the one." He says imperiously. "You may call me Nurse. Charmed."

A beat and he smirks as I stare nonplussed at him before shaking my head.

"A tough one, hm? I'll get to you in the end, don't you worry."

I blink. Well, he's certainly personable.

"HSAN6, correct?" Basically, a hereditary, degenerative form of congenital analgesia, recently discovered in people like myself. It's unusual in that the normal explanations for congenital analgesia aren't the case for my condition; there's some other cause for my condition that no one can explain yet.

"Yes." And since there are only about seven documented cases of this condition and both are still ongoing, we can't rule out the possibility that the condition isn't what we call it and that it will worsen.

"Alright. Well, you've probably been briefed about the school enough, so I'll just go over this quickly. We have all kinds of facilities available, mostly physical therapy and such. You shouldn't need those. There's always someone from my staff around, even at night, so never hesitate to call us if there is a problem." The nurse replies.

Unless my condition spontaneously worsens or I break something, this won't be a problem. I'm pretty careful about this kind of stuff. All I have to do is check up with this guy every once in a while to monitor my condition.

"Now, let me just find your file again..." While he searches for something from his computer and shuffles stacks of papers around, I let my gaze wander around the room.

It's the epitome of generic. Beige walls and ceiling, dark gray laminate flooring, and all the equipment you'd expect from a school nurse's office. Even the ridiculous educational posters are hanging on all four walls, reminding me to eat properly - three times a day and from all the food groups.

And to get my daily hour of exercise.

I'm pretty sure I get my equivalent from walking up and down the obnoxiously long stairs. There must be a ramp or an elevator somewhere, right?

Smiling, the nurse draws a thick file from a stack of similarly large files and opens it, skimming the contents.

"Yeah, you already have all of your medications, correct?"

"Yes. They haven't changed in some time, and I'm not in danger of running out for some time."

"Have you been keeping up on your physical therapy?" He asks. Stress balls. Light weights. Walking.

"Uh, kinda." He gives me a disapproving look.

"Even if you can't feel it, damage can still be done to your body. That's why it's very important that you check in at least twice a week, and keep your body in at least decent physical shape. There's no reason you shouldn't at least make your body a little sturdier." I nod in response.

He goes over my papers one more time and sets them on the desk, obviously content. "Good. That's it, then. Come meet me if you ever need something." I'm ushered out, finding myself out in the hall before long. A quick visit, indeed.

Walking out, I end up standing in front of the main building and the auxiliary building, although to my eyes, they still look one and the same. It's the first real look I get at the other students, so I watch people coming out of the school, going towards the gate or the dorms. Everyone seems to know where they are going, and some even carry themselves with a sense of purpose.

Maybe I'll be like that, some time in the future.

It's around dinner, but I feel tired instead of hungry. The weariness in me only grows as I trudge towards the male dorms, set a little way apart from the main building complex.

There is a garden of sorts between the school and the dorms; shrubbery, flowers, and the smell of fresh cut grass that fills the atmosphere. It's nice, and oddly soothing. Doesn't seem like a half-bad place to take a walk, really.

The dorm building is large, and made of red brick just like the other buildings.

"Room one-one-nine..." Despite the ornate exterior, the inside of the dorm is fairly new, functional, and boring. Just like in the main building, the halls and doors are wide to accommodate wheelchairs. The same goes for the elevators and the ends of the hallways.

I poke my head around the corner of the common room door. Inside a few students are watching the television. A few others are gathered around a table, playing cards. Without making a sound, I slip back out, walking down the corridor.

I climb the stairs to the upper floor. Here, small corridors branch off from the main hallway. Each of these offshoots have a toilet and shower, as well as four rooms. About halfway down the hall, I spy room 119.

The name plates on the rooms adjacent to mine are blank. I guess there are just two of us here. Light shines from below the door of room 117 - but the nameplate is blank. Curious. Not really interested in talking to anyone now, I slide the key into the lock of the door marked 119 and step inside, shutting the door behind me.

Bleak beige walls, white linen, a desk made of some type of light wood. Ugly curtains.

It's no one's room; impersonal, like my hospital room was. I think I'll fill my room with color, later.

I'll unpack later. I'm too tired to do much of anything now.

I lie down, feeling hollow, and after that I stare at the blank, unfamiliar ceiling for a long time, unable to find sleep.

The light slowly fades from my room until night falls, and eventually I manage to find my way towards sleep.

My last conscious thought is, "I hope it's a good dream this time."