Hey guys, I'm back!
It's been a few months since I last updated, but considering the last gap I had in between chapters, I'll take that as a win. Hope you didn't miss me too much.
Since I finished the semester, I thought I'd celebrate my free time with an update for y'all. The truth is I had been struggling with this chapter for a little while but ultimately decided to cut it off earlier than expected and post this so that I could work on the next part. I'm kind of annoyed at myself because if I had made this decision earlier, y'all could've had this chapter a few weeks ago, but I'll try not to think about it too hard. Anyway, let me just cut to the chase and give y'all what you've been waiting for. So, without further ado...
Please enjoy!
Chapter 21
"Bokushi-kun… Bokushi-kun, wake up!"
Feeling himself rouse from sleep, Bokushi opened bleary eyes to a blob of green that he belatedly registered as Miyoko after his eyes started to adjust. He took his gaze off of her to survey his surroundings, finding that he was in his bedroom. Even though he had checked to make sure he was in his bedroom hours before, he felt it necessary to check again. Just in case.
The fact that Bokushi even needed to check showed just how affected he was by that nightmare. In retrospect, everything about it was unrealistic, but the emotions he felt during it were certainly not fake. The loneliness, the frustration, the betrayal, all of it was still bubbling under the surface of his skin, ready to boil over at any given moment. But he couldn't give in to those feelings now. He had other things to think about. And with Miyoko present, he didn't have it in him to unload all of that on her either. This weekend-long playdate was barely halfway done and Bokushi didn't want to ruin it with his wallowing.
And so, he said nothing. He didn't mention the nightmare when Izumi came in to check on them, nor did he mention it when they got ready for the day. Instead, Bokushi tried to focus on the present and remember that he wasn't in that endless void anymore. Luckily for him, Miyoko proved to be an excellent distraction from his thoughts, and he clung to her every word like a lifeline that was keeping him tethered in reality.
"There's so much time to play today!" Miyoko said in between bites of her food. "We can do so many things."
They were now sitting at the dining table eating breakfast. Miyoko insisted Bokushi sit next to her, and Bokushi had no reason to decline. He was starting to prefer the proximity rather than the uncomfortable distance he was so accustomed to with his father, who only had time to briefly greet the two of them that morning before leaving the house in a hurry to attend some event he was invited to last minute.
"You think so?" said Bokushi. "In that case, what would you like to do first?"
Miyoko put her chopsticks down and thought long and hard, so much so that Bokushi had wondered if he should have just given her a few options to choose from instead. Eventually, she came to a conclusion, looking over to Bokushi with a hopeful smile. "Can you teach me more basketball?"
Bokushi would normally be excited at such a prospect, but at the word 'basketball', he couldn't help but bristle slightly, dragged back into his nightmare from hours before. However, he pushed past it, swallowing his discomfort to force an easy grin onto his face, ignoring the heavy feeling of dread weighing him down.
"Of course."
…
The air outside was warm and prickly on Bokushi's skin as he stood opposite Miyoko, his eyes glinting in anticipation.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Miyoko, already bouncing the basketball, nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!"
It was currently sometime after breakfast. Bokushi had gone and grabbed a basketball from upstairs—the spare one that Seijuro kept in the corner of his closet (because of course he had a spare)—so that he and Miyoko could practice outside in the back of the house. There was a brick patio area next to the garden, and Bokushi had deemed that, for now, this would be a fine place to go over a few simple skills.
"Now, I want you to try and get past me with the ball," Bokushi instructed. "Remember what I taught you when we were practicing the last time? Running without dribbling the ball for more than two steps is called…?"
"Travelling!" Miyoko recalled.
"Correct," said Bokushi, feeling the pleasant tingle of pride bloom in his chest knowing that his lessons were sticking. "While you try and get past me, I, in turn, will be trying to stop you." He crouched down into a defensive stance, arms spread. "You may begin."
Miyoko nodded but didn't make a move to drive past him right away. She instead held the ball close to her person, watching Bokushi intently. They had an impromptu stare-down, neither side making a move for a few seconds, and Bokushi couldn't help but get a sense of déjà vu.
His mind whisked him away to the Winter Cup semifinals directly after coming out of halftime. Bokushi's opponent was much taller and more skilled, but he had the same green hair, penetrating eyes locked onto Bokushi's own through those rectangular-framed glasses.
"I knew you would do this."
And yet the fact that his opponent knew did not deter Bokushi in the slightest. Instead, it just made Bokushi more determined to prove that none of it mattered because he would still win regardless. And because he always won, he was always right.
"Come, Shintarou."
Suddenly, Bokushi caught movement in his periphery and his hand instinctively darted out because Shintarou was going to shoot the ball and he couldn't let that happen—
"Ah!"
Bokushi faltered at the voice, the basketball rolling to a stop next to the grass after smacking it out of his opponent's hands. He looked back up and Miyoko was in her brother's place, and the stadium he could have sworn he was just in was actually the garden. He exhaled sharply, shaking himself out of his trance.
He had to stop getting lost in memories.
"I apologize, I didn't mean to knock the ball away so forcefully. Are you alright?"
Miyoko seemed taken aback but otherwise unscathed. "I'm fine," she said. "How are you so fast?"
Bokushi glanced down at the basketball near their feet, expelling the remnants of the Winter Cup semifinals from his head. "Muscle memory, I suppose." He finally picked up the basketball from the ground, turning back toward Miyoko. "Would you like to try again?"
Miyoko held her hands out for the ball, perking up again at his question. "Yes!"
Bokushi's lessons on offense and defense resumed, and rather than basketball keeping his thoughts and memories at bay, it only seemed to exacerbate them even more. With every block and dribble of the ball, Bokushi felt himself dive back into the recesses of his mind, reliving his most important moments in every basketball game he's ever played. Every shot he made; every ball he's intercepted; every pass he threw; every game he won and lost; every bridge he burned and then rebuilt from the ashes… why? Why today of all days must he be haunted by his past? Why couldn't he just enjoy the present for once?
Over time, Bokushi's body began to ache with fatigue, but he didn't want to stop playing. He couldn't stop. His past kept chasing him and he had to keep moving to prevent it from touching him. If he stopped running, he'd be caught and swallowed whole.
He didn't want to be swallowed whole.
He didn't want to sleep.
He wanted to be awake.
His job wasn't over yet.
"Let's try again," said Bokushi. Sweat was dripping down the side of his face and he was panting for air, but somehow, all of that faded into the background when he kept his eyes on the ball.
"I'm gonna get past you for sure!" Miyoko proclaimed. Never mind the fact that she had never passed him before. Either way, Bokushi was prepared for it all the same. But when she lowered her stance and smirked, the past began merging with the present once again, and now Bokushi found himself face-to-face with Nash from Team Jabberwock, the older boy sneering down at him as he dribbled down the court.
"You think you outsmarted me with that? We both have the Eye, but I passed you, while you failed to pass me. The reason why is simple!"
"Here I come!" said Miyoko. Her left foot pivoted toward his right side, and Bokushi took that as a cue to move in that direction, but his leg seized up while shifting his weight, and the ball gradually became out of his reach. It was only when he saw the ground getting closer that he realized what was happening.
He was falling.
Falling, which was all he seemed to be able to do as of late.
Nash's sleazy grin flashed through his mind one last time as he pathetically flailed his hands out trying to find something to hold onto. But just like everyone in his nightmare, just like Seijuro and the rest of their friends from Teiko, nobody was there to catch him.
"We're on different levels!"
Bokushi hit the ground.
There was a flash of white behind his eyes—maybe it was the sun, or maybe his vision was acting up—but between one moment and the next, he went down. His hands and knees dug into the ground below him and it hurt. At least, it should hurt. Why wasn't he feeling anything?
He slowly lifted his head in time to see Miyoko rush over. She was frantically telling him something, but Bokushi, for the life of him, could not hear a single word she said. Everything sounded far away, like he was underwater, and someone was trying to speak to him from the surface. Then, as quickly as she rushed over, she disappeared from his sight again, leaving Bokushi alone in the garden.
He continued to lay on the ground, belatedly registering how haggard he truly was. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that was perhaps his own reminded him to breathe.
In for four... Hold for four... Out for four... Hold for four...
In for four... Hold for four... Out for four... Hold for four...
For the next minute, he repeated the same mantra. He kept this up until his heartbeat slowed down.
Once the fog in his brain began to dissipate, all of his senses came back to him one at a time. He could see the red bricks below him. He could hear the birds chirping in the trees. He could smell the freshly cut grass nearby. He could feel the pain shooting up his body.
The pain shooting up his body.
He screwed up his face.
Ow.
Just as Bokushi began to shift himself into a more comfortable position, he heard a door open, several footsteps getting closer to where he was. He turned and found Miyoko running over with Tanaka, who quickened her pace when her eyes fell on Bokushi.
"Young Master, are you alright?" she asked, concern woven into every syllable.
Bokushi was a bit slow to process her question and his tongue sat heavy in his mouth, but he tried to muster up the energy to give her an answer.
"I… I fell," he eventually replied with, still trying to comprehend what just happened. Even his own voice sounded foreign to him.
"We were playing basketball and he fell over," Miyoko explained. "I think he hurt himself."
Bokushi allowed himself to be rearranged into an upright sitting position, Tanaka intently scanning his body but stopping when she got to his legs. He decided to follow her gaze and realized both his knees were grazed, blood sluggishly seeping out of the open wounds.
Bokushi couldn't remember the last time he had injured himself like this before. In fact, he may have not injured himself like this ever.
It shouldn't have even been a big deal. But just like when Nash pulled that ankle-breaker on him during the Jabberwock vs. Vorpal Swords match, the moment his body made contact with the floor, he froze up from the shock of it all. Maybe it was because he was still so afraid of being seen as weak, worried that if he didn't meet up to other people's expectations…
"Your job is done. Sleep now, Bokushi."
Bokushi screwed his eyes shut as a fine tremor passed through his body.
"Bokushi-kun, does it hurt?" Miyoko asked. She was crouched next to Tanaka, peering down at his injuries.
"I will be fine," said Bokushi. An automatic reply he didn't even realize he gave until the words left his mouth. Tanaka gave him an all-knowing expression.
"I'm sure you will, Young Master," the maid said. "But does it hurt?"
Bokushi paused for another moment and considered her question properly. He was so used to not acknowledging his true feelings that to deflect from the question was pretty much second nature to him. Many times, from the end of middle school to the beginning of high school, he had to step up and be the protector, the one to take the burden off of Seijuro. He had to be the strong one when Seijuro just couldn't take anymore. The cost of this meant Bokushi had to suppress his own emotions in the pursuit of victory. His worries, his sadness, his pain, all of it was abandoned so that he could be the perfect captain and perfect son that his friends and family expected him to be.
But that was back then.
Now, things were different. He didn't have to lie and omit details to keep up an image anymore, which meant there was no reason to ignore questions related to his well-being. For once, he could be honest with himself and other people.
"Yes... It hurts."
He could see the relief flash across Tanaka's face at his admission before she nodded in understanding.
"Alright. Thank you for telling me, Young Master. We should dress your wounds."
She stood up, Miyoko following her lead. Bokushi made to stand up as well, but Tanaka stopped him.
"Forgive me, Young Master, but I don't believe we should agitate your injuries any further. Please allow me to assist you."
Before Bokushi could even ask what that meant, arms snaked under his legs and around his back, lifting him clean off the ground. There was a moment where Bokushi went rigid, completely taken off guard, and Tanaka faltered at how stiff he was.
"Are you alright, Young Master? The pain isn't getting worse, is it?"
Bokushi blinked himself out of his trance and realized what was happening. Tanaka had decided to spare him from the uncomfortable walk back into the house by simply carrying him there herself. This was the first time anyone had done something for him like this.
He slowly shook his head. "No…" he said, a little breathless. "I'm fine."
Tanaka hummed in confirmation, tightening her hold on him. "Good. Then let's get inside, shall we?"
Bokushi glanced back up at Tanaka, who caught him staring and gave him a reassuring look. He vaguely wondered in the back of his mind whether Seijuro had any similar memories of getting hurt. Except, rather than a maid, what if it was a different woman carrying him? One with long red flowing hair and a radiant smile as bright as the summer sun.
How Bokushi wished he could have seen that smile in person.
But it was okay because he still had the rest of his family, his friends, and all of the kindhearted staff who welcomed him without judgment and did nothing but go above and beyond. He had far more than he could ask for and far more than he believed he deserved. For Bokushi, this would always be enough.
He sighed and relaxed in Tanaka's hold, finally allowing himself to relinquish control.
"Alright."
And that's it for now! Apologies if it was shorter than you expected, but this just felt like a good place to leave off.
I thought it would be interesting to portray Bokushi experiencing a form of dissociation because I still believe that even while separated, both Bokushi and Seijuro still experience similar mental health issues. They didn't just become cured because they're two separate people now. Judging from what I have seen in the canon, they seem to both get triggered when they're close to "defeat". In the case of this chapter, the trigger was Bokushi falling and hurting himself.
I also wanted to more clearly establish the fact that Bokushi no longer has the stamina of a 16-year-old. Now that he's in the body of a child, he runs out of energy much faster, and so if he's not careful while playing basketball, something like this could happen again unless he starts to build his stamina back up.
Anyway, that's enough rambling from me, so I'll call it a night. I'll give myself a bit of a break before working on the next chapter, but I hope not to take too long. Thank you for your patience in advance.
Read and review, please!
Until next time!