Miki: Fragments (Complete)
Posted: Mon Mar 09, 2015 7:09 pm
Having recently awoken in hospital, minus a hand, Miki Miura's life seems to be coming apart at the seams. Now with the accident a mystery locked somewhere inside her head, and a new school on the horizon, Miki will be forced to make new friends, while coming to terms with the facts of her past.
FanFiction.net Mirror.
Act 0
1. Hospitals suck (This post)
2. Midnight Run
3. Day One
4. Roller Coasters, Therapists and Unexpected Slumber Parties
5. Racing at Sunrise
6. "Pride Only Hurts, It Never Helps"
7. Complications
8. Family Matters
9. Festival Frolics
10. Victories
11. Date Night
12. Letter's
13. Laces, Trains and Rain
14. Limited Time Offer
15. Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai
16. You Were There for Summer Dreaming
Act 1
17. The Truth Will Set You Free
18. Preparations
19. “The Tranquility of Repetition”
Act 2
20. Fallout
21. A Note on Settling Dust
22. Running Into You
23. Glorious Victory (At last!)
24. Defeat?
25. Derailment
26. Clean White Walls
27. On a Roll of the Dice
Act 3
28. Study
29. A Death of Dreams…
30. …And the Speechless Poet
31. Meet the Nakais
32. A Hostile Environment
33. Sea Salt, Blackmail and a Horse Named Kuri
34. Wine, Scandalous Advice and Moonlight
35. Glossy Brochures
36. The final call
37. The Interview
38. Just Like Old Times
39. Attack
40. Defence
Hospitals suck
I open my eyes slowly. Where the hell am I? Woken by the soft beeps of what is mistakenly a heart rate monitor I blink furiously against the blinding sunlight; soon my eyes have adjusted enough to give a slightly hazy view of the room. Oh.
The walls painted in a cool white are interspersed with pastel colour paintings, that I assume someone imagines to be relaxing, a soft wind rolls though the window, parting the cream curtains and gently rocking the tubes that run down a drip bag before vanishing into my arm.
Did I drink last night?
I don’t remember, I left for school on Friday morning and now, this. Trying to sit up I'm hit by a dagger of pain in my side, forcing me back onto the bed, I breathe heavily, the pain subsiding into a dull ache. What the hell? All my senses start to come back, as if I were a computer being rebooted.
Lifting my left hand my vision is filled with thick white bandages, contrasting harshly with my dark skin. I blink a few times trying to understand what I'm seeing. My hand is gone? I jump in surprise, causing another wave of angry pain from my protesting body.
What the hell? What the Hell!
This has to be a dream, I start to calm feeling relief rushing through me. It makes perfect sense, not remember what happened, no one else being here, this is a dream. So all I need to do is wake up.
… Nothing.
Just wake up. Please?
I start to scream, I don’t even realise I’m doing it as I clutch my arm to my chest. This can’t be happening. Oh don’t let this be real. A door slams open followed by the squeak of leather shoes on vinyl flooring.
“Miss Miura?” A panicked voice asks from what seems like a million miles away.
“W..what the hell I… is going on?” My throat is so dry it feels like I've swallowed a beach, I can barely form coherent words.
“You’ve been involved in an accident,” he says pouring me a drink from the jug on my bedside table, before helping me to drink. Even so I spill water down my chin and onto my chest, its freezing. His eyes follow the trail before looking away quickly, I almost want to laugh. Does he really think I'm worried about modesty right now?
“What h… happened?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, you were rushed in with incomplete paperwork,” he seems to realise what he just said. “But I can ensure you that medically everything has been handled professorially.”
“My hand?” I ask, this is beyond surreal.
“Yes, I’m afraid despite our best efforts it could not be saved. However, many people in your condition live full and rich lives.” Is it just me, or does not even he believe his own words?
“My side?”
Looking perplexed he picks up my chart from the end of the bed, disappearing behind it all I can see is a tuft of untidy red hair. Lowering the clipboard his golden eyes bulge slightly. “It would appear you also cracked three of your ribs and,” He checks the chart again. “Yes, you bruised your hip. Err, sorry about that.”
So I’ve lost my hand, and the doctor is as surprised by all this as I am. Figures, people are useless. Even with white coats and flashy jobs.
“Couldn’t I get a transplant hand? You can get a new heart can’t you?” The words seem hopeless as soon as they leave my mouth. It can’t just be a case of you lost your hand, too bad. Can it?
“I’m afraid it does not work like that,” trying and failing to be subtle he checks his watch. “Listen I have to get to another patient, I’m not really scheduled to be here you see,” he says apologetically.
I thank him for his time and watch as he leave the room. My manners are ingrained into my being, despite how I might be feeling. Before he left he mentioned he would send some nurses to attend to me, but if they are as useless as he was they can stay away.
— — —
My time passes numbly between watching television, sleeping and being poked and prodded by every white coated maniac that seems to be feeling bored. Thankfully I'm able to walk short distances only after a few days of being bed ridden. I never want to be pushed around in a wheelchair again. So I can add wandering the halls to my list of activities.
Never having any visitors, I think the staff are feeling sorry for me, doing my best to wave off their concerns I think about my family. Dad’s not around, apparently in prison but I have no idea, and mum? Well she’s either drunk, asleep or both. I don’t care that much, but she at least could have put the bottle down for one visit?
I’m surprised my grandfather has not arrived yet, then again he has been growing increasingly fed up with my lacklustre behaviour at school. I’m not to blame this time though, surely? I still can’t remember anything after nearly a week, this at least seems to keep the doctors entertained. After throwing me in a white tube that makes a sound like a old car trying to change gear they conclude that there is nothing wrong with my head, and with luck my memories should return by themselves.
I don’t think I care honestly, my life is over one way or another. Knowing more details would just depress me.
With the days growing increasingly longer my pain is slowly replaced by boredom. I’m still in quite a lot of discomfit of course, but it’s faded into the background like music at a restaurant. That is until my left hand starts to burn uncontrollably causing teeth clenching pain, apparently this is phantom limb pain and its quite normal, explained my new friend the physical therapist. A women who is so cheerful it makes me cringe.
“Good afternoon Miss Miura,” A nurse walks into my room unannounced, pulling me out of my depressing whirlwind of thoughts. “How are we feeling today?”
“Bored and in pain,” I say grumpily, not moving my eyes from the television. Though I’m not really watching it.
“Well then this will cheer you up.”
I’m handed a pink flowery envelope, turning it over shows my name but gives no clue as to the sender. Intrigued I clamp the letter between my knees. Bottled orange juice seemed lost to me forever until I learned this trick. Tearing the letter open I’m greeted by a wall of signatures and small notes. A message from school?
Ignoring the nurse, who starts to prepare my pills I read through the messages. Each is more bland and generic as the last, this wasn’t some kind-hearted attempt to cheer me up, it was a class project. Well I hope they had fun. I go to place the card on the nightstand, when I notice a message tucked into the bottom corner.
‘Miki, please be safe and come back to us soon! - Everyone at the track club.’
I smile softly, taking the little paper cup containing an assortment of pills to reduce pain and swelling. Choking back the pills I grab a glass of lukewarm water to wash away the chalky aftertaste.
“There we go, told you that would cheer you up!” The nurse beams at me.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. I guess the track team writing did cheer me up, running is about the only thing I'm any good at. Well running and getting into trouble.
— — —
“Come on, move it or lose it sister,” the physical therapist says, herding me towards her torture chamber. Her Australian accent just detectable, why she would come to Japan I have no idea. Perhaps she was a tourist who got lost and just decided to stay here?
“I’ve already lost it,” I sneer, falling into a reluctant step beside her.
Her teeth flash as she shoots me a glowing smile. Some people smile with their mouths, she smiles with her entire freckled face. “Miss Miki, you’ve only lost what you're willing to give up, now get a move on.”
“You're too cheerful,” I complain.
“Well one of us has to be, have you been working on your stretching?” Her blonde haired head bounces with each enthusiastic step.
I sigh, “Of course Miss Montrose.” Like hell I have.
“That's good, we can work you extra hard today now you're all limbered up,” She opens the door to the therapy suite, grinning at me. “Oh and call me Julie.”
— — —
My grandfather finally arrives on my thirteenth day of hospital incarceration, to find me lazing in my visitors chair, my legs propped on the bed. We watch each other for a long moment, he takes in my messy hair, thinning frame and obvious bandaged stump with a frown.
“Hello Miki.” His voice has a low rumbling mummer to it. Standing before me he looks the same as ever, a mane of greying purple hair framing his soft leather face. It’s still possible to make out the outline of muscle below his plain white shirt. To some he would be intimidating. To me he’s just granddad.
“I didn’t think you would come,” I raise my eyebrow at him.
“I’ve been away on business, I was hoping it was possible to leave you for two weeks without you getting into trouble.”
Shrugging I move my feet to give him somewhere to sit. “How's mum?” I ask.
“Doing well, it’s you I'm worried about.”
“I’m fine,” I blatantly lie.
“Doesn’t look like that to me.” He chuckles lightly taking a seat. I’m glad he came.
“I guess not,” I pause before continuing. “I’ve really messed up this time haven’t I?”
He considers me for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.
“This perhaps was not one of your best moves, although, perhaps this is fact an opportunity”
“Opportunity?” I remark, trying to scratch a hand that is no longer there. Damn it.
“Well, just take a look.”
He hands me a clearly well-read pale green and beige pamphlet. On closer inspection it turns out to be information on a school. Yamaku Academy? Flicking through the pages certain words start to jump out at me. ‘Specialist care’, ’24/7 nursing staff’, ‘inclusive environment’. Wait, Is this what I think it is?
“This is a school for the disabled?” I say, flabbergasted.
He nods slowly, going to say something, but I cut him off.
“I am not disabled!”
“Well, I’m afraid by almost every legal definition you are,” he says calmly.
Great, just great.
“And how is this an opportunity exactly?”
“They have a reputation for academic excellence.” he smiles brightly.
“So that rules me out then.” I groan. My schoolwork is fine, I guess. It just never holds my interest for long. I could do better if I could take my lessons in short sprints instead of long boring marathons.
“I believe you will surprise yourself, and me, given a chance.”
I would continue to argue, but we’re interrupted by the nurse pushing her squeaking medicine cart into the room. She looks shocked to see I have a visitor, momentarily speechless.
“I have to have my bandages changed now.” I sigh, hoping he gets the message.
Luckily being a layer for a number of years nothing slips past my grandfather, rising to his feet with the grace of a much younger man he bows to the nurse, before turning to me.
“I’ll be back later Miki, okay?”
I nod solemnly.
“Don’t fret dear, not all change is bad.”
<Home> Next >>
FanFiction.net Mirror.
Act 0
1. Hospitals suck (This post)
2. Midnight Run
3. Day One
4. Roller Coasters, Therapists and Unexpected Slumber Parties
5. Racing at Sunrise
6. "Pride Only Hurts, It Never Helps"
7. Complications
8. Family Matters
9. Festival Frolics
10. Victories
11. Date Night
12. Letter's
13. Laces, Trains and Rain
14. Limited Time Offer
15. Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai
16. You Were There for Summer Dreaming
Act 1
17. The Truth Will Set You Free
18. Preparations
19. “The Tranquility of Repetition”
Act 2
20. Fallout
21. A Note on Settling Dust
22. Running Into You
23. Glorious Victory (At last!)
24. Defeat?
25. Derailment
26. Clean White Walls
27. On a Roll of the Dice
Act 3
28. Study
29. A Death of Dreams…
30. …And the Speechless Poet
31. Meet the Nakais
32. A Hostile Environment
33. Sea Salt, Blackmail and a Horse Named Kuri
34. Wine, Scandalous Advice and Moonlight
35. Glossy Brochures
36. The final call
37. The Interview
38. Just Like Old Times
39. Attack
40. Defence
Hospitals suck
I open my eyes slowly. Where the hell am I? Woken by the soft beeps of what is mistakenly a heart rate monitor I blink furiously against the blinding sunlight; soon my eyes have adjusted enough to give a slightly hazy view of the room. Oh.
The walls painted in a cool white are interspersed with pastel colour paintings, that I assume someone imagines to be relaxing, a soft wind rolls though the window, parting the cream curtains and gently rocking the tubes that run down a drip bag before vanishing into my arm.
Did I drink last night?
I don’t remember, I left for school on Friday morning and now, this. Trying to sit up I'm hit by a dagger of pain in my side, forcing me back onto the bed, I breathe heavily, the pain subsiding into a dull ache. What the hell? All my senses start to come back, as if I were a computer being rebooted.
Lifting my left hand my vision is filled with thick white bandages, contrasting harshly with my dark skin. I blink a few times trying to understand what I'm seeing. My hand is gone? I jump in surprise, causing another wave of angry pain from my protesting body.
What the hell? What the Hell!
This has to be a dream, I start to calm feeling relief rushing through me. It makes perfect sense, not remember what happened, no one else being here, this is a dream. So all I need to do is wake up.
… Nothing.
Just wake up. Please?
I start to scream, I don’t even realise I’m doing it as I clutch my arm to my chest. This can’t be happening. Oh don’t let this be real. A door slams open followed by the squeak of leather shoes on vinyl flooring.
“Miss Miura?” A panicked voice asks from what seems like a million miles away.
“W..what the hell I… is going on?” My throat is so dry it feels like I've swallowed a beach, I can barely form coherent words.
“You’ve been involved in an accident,” he says pouring me a drink from the jug on my bedside table, before helping me to drink. Even so I spill water down my chin and onto my chest, its freezing. His eyes follow the trail before looking away quickly, I almost want to laugh. Does he really think I'm worried about modesty right now?
“What h… happened?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, you were rushed in with incomplete paperwork,” he seems to realise what he just said. “But I can ensure you that medically everything has been handled professorially.”
“My hand?” I ask, this is beyond surreal.
“Yes, I’m afraid despite our best efforts it could not be saved. However, many people in your condition live full and rich lives.” Is it just me, or does not even he believe his own words?
“My side?”
Looking perplexed he picks up my chart from the end of the bed, disappearing behind it all I can see is a tuft of untidy red hair. Lowering the clipboard his golden eyes bulge slightly. “It would appear you also cracked three of your ribs and,” He checks the chart again. “Yes, you bruised your hip. Err, sorry about that.”
So I’ve lost my hand, and the doctor is as surprised by all this as I am. Figures, people are useless. Even with white coats and flashy jobs.
“Couldn’t I get a transplant hand? You can get a new heart can’t you?” The words seem hopeless as soon as they leave my mouth. It can’t just be a case of you lost your hand, too bad. Can it?
“I’m afraid it does not work like that,” trying and failing to be subtle he checks his watch. “Listen I have to get to another patient, I’m not really scheduled to be here you see,” he says apologetically.
I thank him for his time and watch as he leave the room. My manners are ingrained into my being, despite how I might be feeling. Before he left he mentioned he would send some nurses to attend to me, but if they are as useless as he was they can stay away.
— — —
My time passes numbly between watching television, sleeping and being poked and prodded by every white coated maniac that seems to be feeling bored. Thankfully I'm able to walk short distances only after a few days of being bed ridden. I never want to be pushed around in a wheelchair again. So I can add wandering the halls to my list of activities.
Never having any visitors, I think the staff are feeling sorry for me, doing my best to wave off their concerns I think about my family. Dad’s not around, apparently in prison but I have no idea, and mum? Well she’s either drunk, asleep or both. I don’t care that much, but she at least could have put the bottle down for one visit?
I’m surprised my grandfather has not arrived yet, then again he has been growing increasingly fed up with my lacklustre behaviour at school. I’m not to blame this time though, surely? I still can’t remember anything after nearly a week, this at least seems to keep the doctors entertained. After throwing me in a white tube that makes a sound like a old car trying to change gear they conclude that there is nothing wrong with my head, and with luck my memories should return by themselves.
I don’t think I care honestly, my life is over one way or another. Knowing more details would just depress me.
With the days growing increasingly longer my pain is slowly replaced by boredom. I’m still in quite a lot of discomfit of course, but it’s faded into the background like music at a restaurant. That is until my left hand starts to burn uncontrollably causing teeth clenching pain, apparently this is phantom limb pain and its quite normal, explained my new friend the physical therapist. A women who is so cheerful it makes me cringe.
“Good afternoon Miss Miura,” A nurse walks into my room unannounced, pulling me out of my depressing whirlwind of thoughts. “How are we feeling today?”
“Bored and in pain,” I say grumpily, not moving my eyes from the television. Though I’m not really watching it.
“Well then this will cheer you up.”
I’m handed a pink flowery envelope, turning it over shows my name but gives no clue as to the sender. Intrigued I clamp the letter between my knees. Bottled orange juice seemed lost to me forever until I learned this trick. Tearing the letter open I’m greeted by a wall of signatures and small notes. A message from school?
Ignoring the nurse, who starts to prepare my pills I read through the messages. Each is more bland and generic as the last, this wasn’t some kind-hearted attempt to cheer me up, it was a class project. Well I hope they had fun. I go to place the card on the nightstand, when I notice a message tucked into the bottom corner.
‘Miki, please be safe and come back to us soon! - Everyone at the track club.’
I smile softly, taking the little paper cup containing an assortment of pills to reduce pain and swelling. Choking back the pills I grab a glass of lukewarm water to wash away the chalky aftertaste.
“There we go, told you that would cheer you up!” The nurse beams at me.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. I guess the track team writing did cheer me up, running is about the only thing I'm any good at. Well running and getting into trouble.
— — —
“Come on, move it or lose it sister,” the physical therapist says, herding me towards her torture chamber. Her Australian accent just detectable, why she would come to Japan I have no idea. Perhaps she was a tourist who got lost and just decided to stay here?
“I’ve already lost it,” I sneer, falling into a reluctant step beside her.
Her teeth flash as she shoots me a glowing smile. Some people smile with their mouths, she smiles with her entire freckled face. “Miss Miki, you’ve only lost what you're willing to give up, now get a move on.”
“You're too cheerful,” I complain.
“Well one of us has to be, have you been working on your stretching?” Her blonde haired head bounces with each enthusiastic step.
I sigh, “Of course Miss Montrose.” Like hell I have.
“That's good, we can work you extra hard today now you're all limbered up,” She opens the door to the therapy suite, grinning at me. “Oh and call me Julie.”
— — —
My grandfather finally arrives on my thirteenth day of hospital incarceration, to find me lazing in my visitors chair, my legs propped on the bed. We watch each other for a long moment, he takes in my messy hair, thinning frame and obvious bandaged stump with a frown.
“Hello Miki.” His voice has a low rumbling mummer to it. Standing before me he looks the same as ever, a mane of greying purple hair framing his soft leather face. It’s still possible to make out the outline of muscle below his plain white shirt. To some he would be intimidating. To me he’s just granddad.
“I didn’t think you would come,” I raise my eyebrow at him.
“I’ve been away on business, I was hoping it was possible to leave you for two weeks without you getting into trouble.”
Shrugging I move my feet to give him somewhere to sit. “How's mum?” I ask.
“Doing well, it’s you I'm worried about.”
“I’m fine,” I blatantly lie.
“Doesn’t look like that to me.” He chuckles lightly taking a seat. I’m glad he came.
“I guess not,” I pause before continuing. “I’ve really messed up this time haven’t I?”
He considers me for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.
“This perhaps was not one of your best moves, although, perhaps this is fact an opportunity”
“Opportunity?” I remark, trying to scratch a hand that is no longer there. Damn it.
“Well, just take a look.”
He hands me a clearly well-read pale green and beige pamphlet. On closer inspection it turns out to be information on a school. Yamaku Academy? Flicking through the pages certain words start to jump out at me. ‘Specialist care’, ’24/7 nursing staff’, ‘inclusive environment’. Wait, Is this what I think it is?
“This is a school for the disabled?” I say, flabbergasted.
He nods slowly, going to say something, but I cut him off.
“I am not disabled!”
“Well, I’m afraid by almost every legal definition you are,” he says calmly.
Great, just great.
“And how is this an opportunity exactly?”
“They have a reputation for academic excellence.” he smiles brightly.
“So that rules me out then.” I groan. My schoolwork is fine, I guess. It just never holds my interest for long. I could do better if I could take my lessons in short sprints instead of long boring marathons.
“I believe you will surprise yourself, and me, given a chance.”
I would continue to argue, but we’re interrupted by the nurse pushing her squeaking medicine cart into the room. She looks shocked to see I have a visitor, momentarily speechless.
“I have to have my bandages changed now.” I sigh, hoping he gets the message.
Luckily being a layer for a number of years nothing slips past my grandfather, rising to his feet with the grace of a much younger man he bows to the nurse, before turning to me.
“I’ll be back later Miki, okay?”
I nod solemnly.
“Don’t fret dear, not all change is bad.”
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