Eyyyy guess who's back? For... one... chapter?
That's right it's RunwithscissorsXXXwhatever-the-rest-of-my-username-was!
RKBW talked me into writing this chapter because I hadn't given her much to go off of. She was hoping I knew the rest of what would happen this chapter.
Truth of the matter was, I didn't. All I knew was the ending.
So. Here ya go.
-Scissors
YAYY! I convinced her to do one more chapter. I hope you enjoy. -Rainbowkittyblossomwings
I'm having an episode, thought Fuyuki. This must be what all the doctors warned me about. I'm really hallucinating.
He stood amidst a floor of clouds, his toes nestling into the soft texture of processed cotton. "This can't be real," he said aloud.
"Zorry, Fuyuki," said Keroro. He sneezed and blew his nose onto several tissues, which he then threw on the floor.
Realizing what he was stepping in, Fuyuki gave a yelp and hopped back on his bed. "G-gross!"
"I dnow," Keroro agreed. "I've gone dhrew probaby seventhy boxes since last ebening."
Fuyuki knit his eyebrows. "You sound like you have a cold, Sarge."
Keroro frowned at the title, but could only give a sneeze in response.
"We should clean the floor," said Fuyuki.
Keroro nodded. "Good idea."
They stared at each other.
"So?"
"I'm sooooooooo sick!" Keroro lay down in bed.
Fuyuki groaned and forced himself to his feet. "Fine, I guess I'll do it."
"Dhank you!" Keroro said with another sneeze.
Fuyuki was shocked when he went to the cafeteria that morning to see half the crowd infected with sickness. Everyone seemed to be doing horribly. He took his food tray and sat down next to Tamama.
Tamama swiveled his head around and frowned. "Where's Mr. Keroro?"
"He'll be here." Fuyuki shoveled some food into his mouth. "He's kind of sluggish today, though. Think he's got a cold." He looked up. "Where's Momoka?"
"Her butler Paul took her back home," Tamama explained. "After they heard that our group's been hit with sickness—everyone but me, of course, because I'm too cute to get sick—they U-turned back to her manor."
"That's too bad." Fuyuki looked off in the distance. He had been looking forward to spending some time today with Momoka.
Across from him, Keroro set his nearly empty tray down and flopped down into a chair with a groan, grasping his head in his hands.
"Ohhh, Mr. Keroro, you look so horrible," said Tamama.
Keroro delivered a slurred response.
"You're shivering!" he noticed, touching his back. "Wow, look, so am I! Man, this sickness got all of us, huh?"
Objection! thought Fuyuki. "Tamama, you just said you—"
Tamama shut him up with a glare. "Ohh Mr. Keroro, we should cuddle to preserve body warmth…."
"Huh…? Whuh?" asked Keroro, but Tamama grabbed him all too quickly.
"Tamama! Aggressive cuddling is not allowed!" some of the staff began to shout. When Tamama refused to listen, the staff attempted to pull them apart. Their strength seemed a little sub-par today. Listening closely, Fuyuki could hear that even they had the sniffles.
The rest of the day was no better. Group therapy with Pururu was a disaster. Mois had feverishly face-planted into the sofa, hogging it from Dororo, who looked scared out of his mind.
"There, there, Dororo," Koyuki comforted. Sniffling, she whispered to Fuyuki, "He hates being sick."
"Makez zense," said Keroro. "All he ever didth as a kid waz get zick." That explained his favoritism of medical masks, Fuyuki supposed.
"No I didn't! Untrue!" Dororo protested. "Slanderrrr!" He threw a weak punch at Keroro. His arm landed on his shoulder like a serene butterfly. Keroro tossed it off.
"No… no fighting," Pururu begged them. She clutched her head. "This is… giving me a headache."
"You're not sick, too, are you?" asked Fuyuki.
"What?" Pururu glanced up. "I'm—No, I'm not sick. I take good care of myself."
"It's okay," said Fuyuki. "You can't help it if you already caught something. Everybody here is sick."
"You're not sick," said Pururu.
He nodded. "I—I suppose I'm not." He reached his hand out to her. "But really. You're not looking well. Maybe you should rest for a little while."
Pururu thought a moment. Then she stood up. "You're absolutely right, Fuyuki. It's important to take care of myself." She pointed her finger at everybody. "Like you all should be taking care of yourselves."
"I'm taking care of myself," said Keroro as he lounged around.
"I was actually talking to Koyuki," said Pururu. "C'mon, Koyuki. I appreciate the support you're giving Dororo, but once again, you cannot share pills." She handed her a tissue box. "I can see you're in pain, too."
Koyuki glumly accepted the tissues.
"I'm taking the rest of the day off," said Pururu. "I don't want this disease to spread anymore. I'm going to page in for a new therapist to cover for me, all right?"
"Who?" asked Fuyuki.
"Oh, she's a very sweet girl," said Pururu. "You've had her before. Her name is Sai."
When Sai and Pururu traded positions, it was just in time, because Fuyuki hadn't ever seen Pururu more worse for wear.
"All right, everyone!" Sai said cheerily. While everyone else was sniffling, Fuyuki had never seen her better. "Let's start off our session today with—Ohhh, dear." She looked around the room at all the sullen faces and pink noses. "I told my boss this is what would happen if they used our budget for vaccinations on the rehab center. You should all be up in the hospital today, not down here where you could spread disease." She grabbed a chair and placed it against the wall, where she could sit the farthest away from everybody. "I'm writing referrals for each and every one of you to go get some medicine in the hospital." She filled something out on a form and then swiped out her keys. "Come on, everyone, let's go to the third floor."
Everyone groaned.
"Do I have to get up?" asked Keroro. Dororo sobbed. And whatever Mois said, no one could hear, because it was muffled by the sofa cushions under her face.
"Yep. Up. All of you." Sai brought her arms up, gesturing for everyone to get off their butts. She began to shuffle them out the door.
"Question." Fuyuki raised his hand. "I'm not sick."
"You'll be soon enough," said Sai. "Besides, I have to keep you all with me as we go up the elevator. I can't have anyone getting lost!"
He shrugged. "I suppose that makes sense."
After visiting the hospital on the third floor, the doctors determined that Fuyuki, Tamama, and Giroro were well enough to continue their regular schedule for the rest of the day. The others, unfortunately, had to stay in the ward or else contaminate the entire institution.
As Sai went down the elevator with the three remaining patients, she breathed a sigh of content. "I sure hope everyone will get better soon. You know, I always feel great after doing a good deed like this."
"Yeah." Giroro snorted. "This sure compensates for letting a kid kill herself."
Sai opened her mouth in horror, no response available.
"No offense, lady, but why would you take this job if you're horrible with all the patients?" asked Tamama.
"I'm not," Sai denied. "And I took this job because I want to make a difference in people's lives. Because I'm good at that. I'm good at making people happy."
"And I'm good at knitting flower crowns," said Giroro.
Sai smiled. "You are?"
"No!"
Tamama and Giroro burst out laughing.
"I don't see anything wrong with that mantra, Sai," said Fuyuki. He noticed that this was becoming routine for them—everyone would pick on Sai, and Fuyuki would cheer her up. Out of experience, he knew he shouldn't let her run away with her ideas, but he honestly felt sorry for her. Plus, he was still a little interested in what she had to say—she was an alien, after all.
Sai grinned. "Thank you so much, Fuyuki. You know, being able to change a person is a wonderful power," she told him. "And don't forget, you can always change yourself!"
Fuyuki laughed. "Why would I…. Why would I want to change myself?"
"Well, because you're delusional."
Suddenly Fuyuki wanted to stop listening to her.
"Garuru, would you change yourself if you could?" Fuyuki asked during his individual therapy session that day.
"What?" asked Garuru. "Fuyuki, usually I'm the one asking you quest—"
"Okay, but would you?"
"Well…" Garuru rubbed his neck. "Admittedly there's… a lot I would change."
"You're not happy with yourself?" Fuyuki asked.
"It's not that," said Garuru. "Just… certain things I would do over in my life. I'm sure you have stuff like that, too, right? Let's talk about that—"
"Like what?" asked Fuyuki.
He frowned. "I'd really prefer not to share."
"As you always tell me, it's important to talk about these things."
Garuru sighed. Fuyuki was using his own logic against him. "That's not what I mean. It's very personal. And it's not my place as your therapist to tell you those things."
"Well maybe if you—"
"Fuyuki!" Garuru yelled. "I know you're a curious kid, but please, just… let's move on."
Fuyuki looked down.
Garuru sighed. "I wish—I wish I had a better relationship with Giroro." Silence. "That he wouldn't see me as such a grim reminder of everything horrible in his life." He lowered his face into his hands. "God, it's all my fault…." The last phrase was barely above a whisper.
Fuyuki's lips broke into a smile. "That's so sweet of you. You know, I've always thought you were kind of scary, to be honest—"
"Well, you shouldn't. I'm your therapist."
"—being a rival alien to the Sarge's platoon, and all—"
Garuru's jaw settled and he jotted something down.
"—but it's really great how much you care about Giroro."
His mouth opened slightly. He shut it.
"Giroro's been doing so much better because of you," said Fuyuki. "I can tell you care a lot about him."
"Yes, well." Garuru dismissed the subject. "We're here to talk about you, Fuyuki. Not the relationship between my brother and me." He locked eyes with him. "Is there anything you want to change about yourself? Is that why you asked me that question?"
"Well, I'm not going to lie, I do sometimes wish I wasn't such a weakling." Fuyuki laughed nervously. "It's kind of embarrassing sometimes. I always get this heavy sense of dread before we have to do mandatory exercise."
"Ah. Yes. Sense of dread. I can definitely understand," Garuru agreed. "Whenever I'm taking the elevator up to the top…."
"What? To Floor 4?" Fuyuki gasped. "I thought no one was allowed to go up there!"
"Um, Fuyuki, I'm a therapist. I go up there all the time. It's part of my job," Garuru told him.
Fuyuki couldn't believe he hadn't learned this till now. "Well, what's it like up there? Is it deadly? Dangerous?"
"The rumors you hear about it are mostly false," said Garuru. "There's not much danger to it anymore. Mostly it's just a pain. Patients aren't trained to deal with our very complicated security system up there, or its, uhh, other features, so that's why they're not allowed up there," he explained. "Any doctor or therapist in their right mind wouldn't wish that upon anyone."
"But Yue—Didn't she die on the fourth floor?" asked Fuyuki. "Isn't it haunted?"
"No, but I wish that's what it was." Garuru let his hands fall into his lap. "There are research labs up there. That's why access is restricted. Not because it's haunted or anything."
Fuyuki frowned. That sounded a lot more boring than what he had thought.
"Giroro, I really want to see what's up on Floor 4," Fuyuki told Giroro at lunch.
Giroro broke into a coughing fit. "Not unless you die. That place is dangerous."
"Garuru told me it wasn't," Fuyuki said with a frown. None of these stories seemed to match up.
"Fuyuki, I made a promise to your sister that I wouldn't let you get hurt," Giroro told him. "And if you go to Floor 4, you will get hurt. There is no way out of that. My soul withers if I breathe the air up there."
Fuyuki pictured a number of things. Noxious gas? Swinging axes? Reruns of Food Fight?
"So you have to make a promise to me that you'll never try to go up there," Giroro said with a glare.
"But I—"
"Do it!"
"Fine! I promise," Fuyuki agreed.
"Good," he said. "That—" Suddenly, he broke into another coughing fit before he could finish his sentence.
"Are you okay, Giroro?" Fuyuki asked. "Maybe you'd better get some water."
"Yeah, I"—cough—"think I'll do that." Giroro stood up out of his chair and took a step.
Then he collapsed on the ground.
"Aaah!" Fuyuki yelled.
Hearing the commotion, several staff rushed over to help. Among them was Garuru.
"Giroro! Are you all right?" he shouted, dragging Giroro off the floor.
Shaking, Giroro steadied himself on the back of a chair. "Think I'll be okay. Just—just need some water."
"Giroro, you need to go to the hospital right this instant," Garuru insisted.
"No, you need to go to the hospital!" Giroro pushed him. He started pointing wildly at several other staff members. "And you need to go and you need to go and…"
"Come on, Giroro. Let's go right away." Garuru whipped out his elevator keys. Just then, another doctor rushed up to them.
"We need all available staff down in the courtyard!" said the doctor. "Massive contagious puking. No time to dawdle. We need everyone out of there."
"But I—" Garuru gestured to Giroro.
"You especially, Garuru! You're the fiercest therapist we have. If those kids'll listen to anyone, it's you," said the doctor.
Garuru sighed and rubbed his neck as the staff around him rushed off. He looked at Giroro swaying about. Then he looked at Fuyuki. "Can I trust you?"
Fuyuki gulped. "I can't—"
"Fuyuki. We're horribly understaffed today. Half our people are out sick." Garuru's eyes were pleading. "Somebody needs to take Giroro up to the hospital. He won't last much longer." He handed him the elevator keys. "You're the only one I can trust."
Fuyuki looked between Garuru and his brother. His eyes shone and he clenched the keys in his fist. "I understand. I'll do it." He knew how much Garuru cared for his brother.
"Thank you," Garuru whispered. He gave Fuyuki a pat on the shoulder and rushed off to help in the courtyard.
Fuyuki tossed Giroro's arm around his shoulders and escorted him up to the hospital in floor 3. It was good timing, too, because Giroro collapsed again the second they were out of that elevator.
"Not another one," the doctors groaned when they saw him sprawled out on the floor. "Fifteenth time today, I swear…." They quickly picked him up and hauled him off on a wheelchair.
Fuyuki looked around. Garuru was right—there weren't nearly as many doctors today as he normally saw. Whatever this sickness was that was going around, it must have been nasty.
Everybody seemed busy, so Fuyuki quickly hopped back into the elevator so as not to bother them. His finger hovered over the "1" button with a star on it. He dropped his hand and glanced down at the elevator keys he held. I have restricted access to the top two floors….
No! he thought to himself. I made a promise to Giroro who made a promise to my sister. I won't go up there.
But… would it really be such a crime if he never found out? Nobody's bound to notice, after all…. The building's pretty empty of staff today.
He held the keys shakily in his hand over the key slot by the button temptress labeled "4." He was dying to know what was up there—what was really going on. There was a mystery on Floor 4 and he wanted to solve it. He didn't care how dangerous this mission would be. Paranormal investigators go on risky investigations like these all the time!
What did he have to lose, anyway?
Fuyuki jammed the key in the slot and smashed the button. Immediately, the elevator started rising.
The doors opened up and Fuyuki stepped out into a dark hallway. A strange mustiness hung in the air like something died in the ventilation and hadn't been cleaned in years. It was humid, but it was cold too, and Fuyuki had to hug himself to stop himself from freezing to death. Maybe it was the air. Or maybe it was the atmosphere. Not to be discouraged by such, he continued onward.
Walking forward, Fuyuki could tell this wasn't a regular floor. For one thing, there were security cameras everywhere. It made him feel naked. The hallway was weirdly wide, and the floor was made of this weird, shiny metal that was grooved in some places, like there should have been screws in it, but there weren't. He opened some doors every now and then to see what was in the rooms, and he was amazed to find some alien-looking machines.
"So that's why they wouldn't let us up on this floor," Fuyuki realized. "They wanted to hide evidence of alien machinery!"
And if there was alien tech on this floor, that meant aliens couldn't be too far off!
Excitedly, Fuyuki zoomed down the hallways, knocking open every door that was unlocked. The entire floor was ominously empty. Each room was more and more fascinating. Some had large tables, some had intricate diagrams of human anatomy, and some had vast assortments of jars and chemicals and file cabinets that spanned forever.
"I wonder what this room has!" Fuyuki said as he pressed his face up against the large window of a dimly lit room. The lights flickered and he suddenly had a better view of it. Within lay a strange-looking mannequin, wearing a straitjacket and restrained against a stand-up metal table. Through the window, Fuyuki tried to get a better view of the room. Many small lights adorned various machines on the ceiling, all of which connected to the mannequin's head via wires.
Satisfied with his inspection, Fuyuki walked off in search of more interesting things.
"Hnng…" went a sound behind him.
Fuyuki turned around and walked back to the window where the mannequin was. He looked around the room. It had to come from here, because he saw small holes through the window.
"Hnng," said the mannequin.
Fuyuki's head shot up. A talking mannequin! Now that's occult!
But this mannequin did more than that. It began to writhe about in its jacket. Fuyuki now noticed the restraint mask and its messy hair, tangled up in the bandages wrapped around its ears.
This can't be a person, can it? Fuyuki wondered. Why would they be keeping a person on the fourth floor? Floor 4 was supposed to be dangerous!
He wondered if the person knew. "Hey—" he called out.
The person stilled, drooping his head. Fuyuki relaxed. Then his head snapped up, startling Fuyuki. He fell painfully on his rear as the one in the room jerked his head about—until the restraint mask ripped off and clattered to the floor. Slowly, he raised his face and locked eyes with Fuyuki. A malicious grin spread over his lips.
"Y-you're not supposed to be up here," Fuyuki spoke. "It's dangerous on Floor 4, don't you know—"
"The only one who's in danger here," spoke the person before him, "is you, Fuyuki Hinata."
A chill ran down his spine. Those eyes, that grin, struck fear into his heart. And—How does he know my name?
"Who are you? What is this place?" Fuyuki asked.
"Why don't you come inside, and you can find out," the person in the room offered.
But that was when Fuyuki realized it.
"So it's true," he realized. "I—I have to go."
Immediately, Fuyuki darted off toward the elevator. He took it down to the first floor and ran back to the cafeteria, past all the staff who told him over their shoulders, "No running!" He shoved the elevator keys in Garuru's hand and searched for the table he usually sat at. It was nearly deserted, save for Tamama. Panting, Fuyuki placed his hands on the table and leaned over to catch his breath.
"It couldn't have taken you that long to take Giroro to the hospital," Tamama said, sipping quizzically on a glass of coke.
"That's because," Fuyuki panted, "because…" He leaned in. "…I went to the fourth floor."
Tamama practically spit his drink across the room. "You WHAT?!"
He lowered his voice, seeing that everyone was staring now. "You what?"
Fuyuki stared off into the distance, a surreal look on his face. Tamama slapped his cheek. "You went to the fourth floor? How are you not dead?"
"There was a person up there." The words crept out of his mouth.
"A person? Like, a patient?" Tamama gasped.
Fuyuki nodded.
Tamama leaned in, interested now. "…Who?"
Fuyuki gave another far-off look, processing the information of what he saw up there. Who it was.
"It was… the Sergeant Major."