Hiroki remembered his first day of school in France as if it happened yesterday. At that time, he had been four, and Yumi was seven. Hiroki had refused to step out of his bed, and to go to the strange, new place he did not want to know. Eventually Yumi convinced him to try it one time, no more. Against their will, two two Japanese children prepared themselves for French school. This was also the first day in a French school for Yumi. They had moved to France during summer break, against little Hiroki's will, who wanted to stay in Japan with his friends. Yumi herself had been sad, too, but at least she tried to adapt to this new environment by trying to learn some basic French, so Hiroki and her could at least communicate on their first school day in France.

However, when they stood in the hall, ready to go to school, Hiroki refused to leave the home. "I don' wanna go!" he kept screaming. The parents tried anything, but Hiroki absolutely did not want to go. Yumi sat onto her knees in front of her younger brother, and forced him to look at her. "Hiroki," she said, "it will be fun. You can make some friends…"

"I don't want new friends! I want my old friends! I wanna go home!"

"Just try it with me, okay?" Hiroki hesitated, but he did go into the car so their parents could drive them to elementary school. Once they've arrived at their school, Hiroki stood there immobilized. He was taken captive by the hidden fear inside of him. How would the kids react? Would they be nice, or mean, or would they ignore them?How strange was this French language he had to speak here? All anger disappeared, now he was going to be separated from his parents for the first time in this odd country.

Yumi took Hiroki's hand and they walked onto the court. So many new faces, so many strange words, so many groups of friends… Hiroki felt like he was walking around there naked, because everybody stared at the two Japanese newcomers. It was a weird feeling, being stared at, but luckily Yumi was still here. It gave him a safe feeling, being with her. She was older, she would protect him, he trusted her. She's always protected him.

Hiroki didn't know a young boy walked towards them until the boy stood in front of them. Hiroki noticed the boy was blushing (or just had red cheeks) and auburn hair. They looked at each other before Hiroki asked his big sis to say hi to the blushing boy in his name.

"Nous tu dire bonjour." The boy laughed for a while, and apparently he corrected Yumi.

"Nous te disons bonjour," he said, "Hé… vous êtes des élèves nouveaux, non?" Yumi nodded.

"Oui! Je suis Yumi, et elle est Hiroki." Hiroki had absolutely no idea what his sister and the boy discussed about, so he didn't know why the boy was grinning.

"Je m'appelle Johnny. Et Hiroki, c'est une fille?" Yumi shook her head, just being able to understand 'Johnny'.

"Non! Quoi?"

"Pourquoi," the boy said, "et on utilize 'elle' pour une fille, et 'il' pour un garçon, comme moi." Yumi nodded, and she turned around to her younger brother. She told him the boy was called Jo-ni and lived in the environment. Jo-ni walked back to his friends, under the curious and watchful eye of Hiroki. He wanted to go and stand with those kids, but he couldn't. First, he was too scared and shy, and second, he didn't understand one word from what they were saying. So he just stayed with Yumi.

And then, the bell rang. A miss walked towards them, and Hiroki hid behind Yumi. At that point, he didn't know she was a far aunt of his, who moved at a young age to the capital of France, just like the Ishiyama family.

"Come with me," she said with a smile, "I'll take you to your classrooms." Classrooms, that meant children, that meant the strange language, that meant misunderstanding. Hiroki didn't want to be misunderstood. And he started to cry. He wanted to go home, to his friends and family. He hadn't wanted to leave Japan, but he didn't have a choice, like Yumi. They had to come with their parents. Hiroki wondered how Yumi could stay this calm in such a situation. Eventually the nice woman brought Yumi to her class, and Hiroki refused to let go of her. After some time, Hiroki was all alone, while the woman held his hand.

When he walked into the classroom, it appeared the nice lady was going to be his teacher this year. During the first months, the miss told the children what they had to do in their language, and then explained it again in Japanese for Hiroki. After this period, she tried not to say much in Japanese any more, now Hiroki was given the time to connect some words with words in his native language. That way, he learned that dessiner was French for drawing, and more. At the end of his first school year in Paris, he had mastered basic French.

During the year, he had also made a friend – it was Jo-ni, whose name apparently was written like 'Johnny'. They could get along really well, despite their difference in language, which wasn't a problem. They had also invented their own motion language, which they didn't need anymore after some years. That was why Hiroki didn't really like those breaks – that was the only time he didn't see his only friend. Luckily, they didn't really took long, except for summer break, so Hiroki didn't have to miss Johnny for a long time.

Hiroki wondered why he had hated his father for moving to Paris. Now, it was the best decision his dad has ever made in his life.

He felt like throwing up.

At the moment, Hiroki's eyes were closed, and he didn't have the intention to open them. As he just lay there, and thought, he started to get aware of a lot of other things. His ears picked up some footsteps, but he couldn't say to whom they belonged. He lay flat on his stomach onto something solid and cold, his arms dangling next to this cold solid… block? He felt like throwing up, and his right wrist hurt incredibly much. For the rest, his nose picked up a lot of scents, like rotting, and desperation (you could smell desperation after spending some time in prison Kadic) and… wait, is that the smell of roses? Hiroki thought he frowned. There were no roses at Kadic. That could only mean one thing.

"Yumi?" His voice cracked, but he was sure someone must have understood him. The footsteps stopped, for a little while, and then they walked in his direction.

"She's not here," a very familiar voice, which Hiroki recognized immediately, said. He was confused by the answer. What the hell, Yumi wasn't here? She had to. Yumi always was there when he needed her. She had to be around somewhere, she just had to. And then, he remembered. The invasion. The monsters. Yumi and Ulrich fleeing together from the danger. But who was this girl that had talked to him, then? He should see her – then he would know. It took a lot of effort to open his eyes, but he did it anyway.

"Milly?" He talked to her using her name when he saw the familiar redhead. He wanted to lift his head, but he only got dizzy. He wanted to hold his head with his right hand, but Milly stopped it before Hiroki could do so, probably to let his wrist rest. That's why he instead used his left hand.

"Milly, what… what happened?" She looked at him with pity. Hiroki couldn't remember much about what happened last. Sure, he remembered being brought to William, but that was about it. Milly bit her lip.

"You… don't remember?" Hiroki wanted to shake his head, but it hurt too much. If he just could remember what happened to him, Milly didn't need to tell and he didn't need to listen to her, trying not to make it sound too gory, if it even was gory. The in his right wrist stung more frequently now, and Milly sighed pitiful. "Hiroki, you… you were out for a couple of days. A few others and I have tried to heal it the best we could, but we didn't know how. We did our best, though."

A memory came to mind as Milly spoke those words to him. Hiroki was being brought to William's room – being pushed there by two Tarantulas, who were very pushy, by the way. The door closed immediately behind him, and he knew he wouldn't quickly forget the room he just entered.

Hiroki thought the prisoners could act like beasts if they wanted, but they seemed rather well-mannered in comparison to William. That conclusion was solely based on the way his room – his cage – was decorated. It was a simple room, with no windows and dull grey walls. The space's only source of light was a malfunctioning light bulb. Scratches marked the walls, and in one of the corners, there was a pile of old news papers, which was used as William's bed. In the corner opposite to the pile's there stood a bottle which once could contain five liters of water, but now it smelled and it was halfway filled with a yellow-like substance. Many cans of rotten food were piled up in one of the other corners, of which probably only one would be eaten per day.

William himself didn't look so good either. His black uniform smelled, probably because it had never been in a washing machine since he started wearing it. His hair looked messy, and enormous bags could be seen under his eyes. He was probably very exhausted, and somehow Hiroki pitied William. It appeared to the Japanese boy that William didn't choose this life out of free will. At the other side, Hiroki couldn't explain how the virus could control this unlucky boy. From a distance, they wouldn't notice how weak XANA made him, physically and mentally. Why else would he drag the gigantic and heavy zweihänder? And why else would he walk curved, as if he was carrying a big weight?

It was hard to be a physical prisoner, but even harder to function that long as a lifeless puppet of XANA's.

At the moment Hiroki walked in, William stood ready, leaning against his sword. He grinned to the young boy (it seemed as if even grinning was exhausting for William) and waited a while, to investigate what the Japanese would do. Would he try to flee? Would he cry and beg for mercy? To his big surprise, he didn't – he simply crossed his arms and stared at William. Boring, XANA thought, and he hit the boy in his face with his flat hand. Three months ago, Hiroki should have been thrown against the wall because of the force behind the hit, but because of the weakened body, the Japanese now faltered, with a red spot in the shape of a hand on his cheek. That was better. William noticed water – no, tears – was rolling down the boy's cheeks, better known as the human emotion sorrow or pain. Oh, this was getting better and better, XANA found…

For the rest, Hiroki didn't remember much of his encounter with XANA. With the exception of a few blows on his limbs and a very hurtful pain on his right wrist. Hiroki looked at Milly, and again he noticed the sympathy in her eyes. "I remember XANA beating me. But then what?" He meant the last words to be taken as a question. Milly turned her head before answering, so she wouldn't have to look directly at the Japanese.

"He let them bring you back. You were already unconscious back then. We… I went to get some help, as far as people wanted to help you. Those who helped knew what you were doing, but we didn't really know how to heal the wound…" She was interrupted by Hiroki.

"A wound? Did he cut me?" Milly sighed – she had hoped not to answer that question. Well, he should have discovered it sooner or later, so she might as well tell him. But she couldn't, the wound being too painful and gore to talk about it. But she had no choice, had she?

"Three days," she started, "three days ago William–"

"XANA," Hiroki corrected her, not bothered by the fact that he'd been unconscious for three days – he's been unconscious for longer periods than that, "William did nothing. Whatever he did, XANA made him to. Us and him, we're all victims." Milly nodded thoughtfully.

"The virus, then," she refused to call XANA by its name, "three days ago the virus let them bring you back. The wound, it's a bad one, and… we fear it'll be your end…" she barely managed to speak those words. Hiroki's face dropped. What kind of wound could be so bad that it could kill him? Every bad wound, but Hiroki had the right tools to heal it, and Milly knew where it was located. Then why hadn't she used it?

He lifted his right arm, because now his wrist started to itch as well, and came eye to eye with the worst that happened to him in his entire life. Because of the sudden scare he'd gotten, he counted the parts of his right arm. Shoulder? Check. Upper arm? Check. Elbow? Check. Under arm and wrist? Check. Right hand? Not check. A bloody stump was located on the place where his right hand once was. He felt the blood leaving his cheeks and the nausea came back. Next moment, he puked and almost fell unconscious again. If he had the right words to describe this feeling, he should have used them if he wasn't busy vomiting.

It's over, he knew. I'm gonna die here. It was true, though. He would die without that one hand, just because he lost that one hand. Before he knew it, he felt how something rolled down his cheeks, and he lifted the stump to wipe it away, before realizing what he just wanted to do, so he instead did it with his left hand. He couldn't fight back the tears, so he let them go. He would die, he was sure of it, staying on a place where a man could die from a common cold, on a place where the food was being dropped from great heights and the toilets were mere holes in the ground. Instead of killing him immediately, they had decided to give him a slow and painful death. And they had also made his last days way more difficult by taking away a hand.

Okay, that was it. He couldn't take it anymore, and pushed himself up, being difficult with one trembling arm. Hiroki felt weak, disgusting, miserable – no, he wouldn't spend his last days in misery, like a coward. With a loud thud, he landed back on the table (he lay on a table) when his arm couldn't pull his weight. When he placed his hand for a second try, he felt how the soft hands of Milly helped him sit straight up on the table.

Something whirled around in his stomach. The discomfort, and weakness. He knew he didn't want to be weak during his last days. He was Hiroki Ishiyama, a French Japanese, he could take it, he thought. In his young years, he had gone through a lot – okay, you could say he had gone through a lot the past five months, because it was that way. In those months, he was evolved from a weak child into the rather mentally strong young boy he was. And then, there was Milly, for whom he'd always would fight.

Within a few days, he wouldn't be anymore, so it couldn't hurt to finally tell her what he feels for her. And now they were also all alone, so what better other chance than now? "Milly?" she turned her head, and Hiroki knew his cheeks should be tomato red by now.

"I, eh, wanted to tell you something I wanted to say a long time…" No, not so slow, it had to be more direct, "Do you like me?" That was too direct. Milly's eyes widened and started to back away, startled by the question. Hiroki realized this had been a fault of his, reached out for her with his hand. "No, that's not what I meant! I…" Dang, what was it with Ishiyamas and their love lives? "What I meant to say was: would you like me, or even love me, if we were in a different situation?" Milly, not knowing how to react on this sudden question, shook her head and ran away, still startled. Hiroki's face dropped in disbelief. He had at least expected a clear answer, not this. Even when she didn't really have an answer, it should be clearer than running away.

It took Hiroki at least half an hour to get outside, out of the infirmary, through the corridor and the door without trembling too much and without the chance of fainting. He hid the stump in his pocket, after he had tried to bandage it. Then, he walked outside, his stump in his pocket. Everybody looked at him and everywhere he came, they whispered. It had been a secret meeting between him and XANA, so of course the whole prison knew. He decided to ignore them and he walked to one of his usual standing places. In the distance, Milly stood all alone in the crowd. She was looking at him, like everybody else. For this one time, Hiroki didn't respond, and he simply walked on, without giving her one more look.

He just wanted to be left alone for one moment with his stump and his thoughts.

I'm feelinng better now! And Hiroki's not... I kinda feel bad for doing this to him now, but it's necessary. And in the flashback, I tried to eep the French simple, because they aren't really good with it, using it for the very first time. When will Hiroki finally die? Why did Milly just run away? How long can William still serve as the human personification of the pure evil itself? Whaddya think will happen next? Net time on 'Simulation': Ulrich is getting nightmares, and Yumi doesn't know what to do about it. Chapter seven: Would you trust me? will be posted on the 13th of February! On with the reviews:

Bluedog197 (I'm better, thank you! It's getting better with school, though I have a large amount of tests coming up)

Furantsu (You don't have to wait any longer, just one week max, I hope you like it)

Josh Xana (here's the update)

See ya next time!

-DutchWriters2