The Blind Leading The Blind

[Guest]

Interesting. I look forward to seeing more of this.
Why we wait for the next update, the above sentence started me wondering about something: are tactile computer monitors for blind people manufactured?

I noticed no one had answered this, so, in case you were still wondering...
They actually do make what are essentially strips that will output a line or so of braille at a time for computers, as well as full-fledged braille monitors (link), but they're expensive and rather unwieldy. One can only read braille so quickly without missing quite a bit, especially if one has callouses on their fingers from playing an instrument or any number of other things. There are a number of blind kids at my school, since we have a rather nice Visually Impaired department, and all of them that I know use audio screen readers and computers, since it's one of the more affordable options. I'm pretty good friends with two of them, and they usually have the screen reader going at about 4x speed, and neither of them are very good with braille. I can't speak about all blind kids, but I'd imagine this is a pretty widespread solution.

So there you have it. More than you probably wanted to know.

[darkmelee]

"All right, now take off your shirt."

I chortle loudly and make a face of confusion, met by his own laughter.

it's genuine, however when taken at the audacity of what it sounded like. she was caught off guard and laughed out loud. i should reword that a bit to prevent confusion of intent.

EDIT: crisis averted

considering i'm only really typing for about an hour or so each time, i'm making steady speed even when i don't think i'll pull it off, and with minimal errors to boot. if this were something grander, i'd be waiting until it was absolutely perfect and filled out entirely before sharing. still, don't get your hopes up that this will be every single day. i've surprised myself thus far.

[darkmelee]

CONTINUED -

"Why are you soaking wet? Were you outside the whole time?"

Or not. Okay then; this is easy enough to explain.

"We were out in the rain and had a hard time getting to the Aux. building." My face is giving off an unhealthy amount of displeasure at this explanation. "I had an umbrella, but we still sorta... stumbled around trying to stay under it. It was tough with us trying to huddle under my umbrella and still make it here in one piece."

My tiny ass parasol needs upgraded if this is going to continue.

He relaxes and takes a nearby seat, his desk chair presumably. it creaks with a whine when he leans himself back.

"You do know there's an indoor route to this part of the building, right?"

That better be another joke. No... It can't be. His inflection was too serious, too honest. I can't stop myself from vocalizing my thoughts at this.

"Son of a bitch. Are you serious?"

The Nurse is laughing from the gut after my reaction, rolling his chair back and forth on the floor like a child. He really didn't expect that from me, and I think the cursing made it all the more endearing. My filtration failed admirably, but it's no joke. He starts to get discuss the layout of the campus with me, still patting his thighs when he chuckles at my misfortune. It turns out that there are two specific paths to this part of the building itself, and another meant for emergencies that leads to a makeshift ICU.

"It's in case of, well, serious situations." His voice sobers to what could really be his normal voice if he weren't always attempting to lighten the mood. "There's a hospital down the road a ways, but sometimes we require prepping a patient. On rare occasions, we do what needs to be done here before it's too late. We want to help, but we can't always be ready enough, depending on the case." I can hear him clicking his pin in and out. "...But we try."

That's another reminder that this is no normal academy. There will always be a heavy cloud of uncertainty over this school. Friends could disappear without warning. A happy morning ending with a tragic night has likely occurred. I wonder if they've needed to use that room recently; if someone I've passed by today may soon find their way there.

I've never understood why anyone would want to be exposed to this sort of atmosphere; one where all of your hard work could still be in vain. My braille coach was a doctor, and I pressed him once about getting too close to patients he knew the fates of. His response was that it was his job to try and save them, anyone, if it could be done. He also told me about how there were times when he knew he couldn't save someone, and how it would eat at him if he got too close, but he did it anyway.

'Because it's their life, and not mine. It would be selfish of me to give up on them whether they're fighting for their life or wallowing in themselves in pity. I expect no less from anyone with a heart and soul than the ability to never lose hope, even when there are those who have.'

This Nurse would have gotten along with him well, I would think. Then again, Mr. Okane was also strict and old-fashioned, and might have doubts about this person's hit-or-miss humor.

He laughs again, this time more modestly. "I'm actually surprised no one showed you how to get here like that, especially in dodgy weather. Who was your guide? Isn't Mrs. Yoshino back yet?"

"If that's supposed to be my teacher, then no. She's not back from whatever's going on with her family or whatever that girl told us." That was a haphazard way of saying it. "Lilly Satou, from the Student Council brought me here, which is part of the reason we had so much trouble getting around in the rain. Two blind girls are still going to struggle in conditions like that."

My tone may have been too strong.

"Ahhh," he says, finally understanding something. "That's right. Lilly's only been here a few times, and I don't think she's ever come in through the halls before. It would make sense that she go the way she remembers, even if it's not," pausing bemusedly, "opportune."

Much of this information would have been a world of help earlier. It would have been nicer to simply stay indoors where I'm relatively comfortable instead of taking almost thrice the time to go the long way in the equivalent of flooded pothole. Still, Lilly did try her best to get me here, even if it is her job right now to help me get around. I mention that one of her friends helped us, but the Nurse can't place the name offhand.

He uprights himself, the creaking less prevalent this time, and wheels his seat seat back to where it must have been before he felt the need to move around his area with it. "Lilly's a good girl. She's a proper lady if ever there was one."

She seems too fragile, even if she has a strong character. Granted, we're both kind of helpless at times... but would she even ask for help? She's already accepted help, but I don't know what she'd be like in real need. I know I'd rather not, but I'd also prefer to be able to even deal with even half of the problems I have on my own. They're my problems, not anyone else's.

"But ," he interjects,"that's enough about that, isn't it?" He's standing again, walking away for a moment. He's probably getting my files. I can hear him fiddling with papers and drawers. Before long, he's returned himself to the chair with a squeak. It takes a moment for him to find his place in the folder, but once he's sure he's ready, he speaks.

"So, you do know that your Sertraline isn't here yet, correct?"

We're back to business, it seems.

"Yes, I was passed that info at the classroom."

I can feel my apathetic nature starting to show itself.

"Well, according to this, your past Doctor, Mr. Kanade was in the process of weaning you off of your Amitrips. Can you tell my why he wanted that?"

It should say it. Don't make me admit it.

"Doesn't it say in why the files?"

"It does," he admits, probably upset with my behavior at this point. "It says you overdosed four months ago and almost died." Yes, he's definitely not happy, but he's not getting angry about it. It's coming off as if he's ashamed of me. I don't like that feeling. "That's something you need to tell a medical professional when they ask you questions about your medical history. There needs to be a trust there."

"So?" he asks.

"...So?" I ask right back at him.

"So, what happened?"

I debate on how to respond to that, but resign myself to listening around the room absentmindedly. This isn't something I want to discuss. I can't talk about this so casually.

'I had a bad day' doesn't sound very responsible.

It wasn't very responsible back then, either.

Realizing he's purposely waiting on me to reply, I go against better judgement and say exactly what's on my mind.

"I just... I don't wanna talk about this."

"You know," he continues,"we're not a hospital, and we're definitely not a mental hospital. Every problem needs to be out in the open so we can help you. If we can't help you and you can't be trusted, we will not forgive deliberate abuse of our aide. I'm under orders to keep giving you that stuff in severely limited quantities, and even the other stuff I do not feel comfortable about you using. Your doctor had the same idea and wants me to slowly replace the Amritriptyline with Viloxazine, which is still not great, but maybe it can help you... be okay."

He uses these literal names like I actually keep track of it all.

"What I'm going to do for you is have you come by every morning for one month."

Wait. What?

"Every day, I'm going to give you an individual dose of your respective medication. I'm also going to watch you take it. We're going to do this until you're completely off the heavy stuff, which looks like only a month or two. When I'm sure I can trust you in full, I'll hand you the bottles and we can just be buddies form then on. Sound good?"

So every single morning for the next month or so. This is so frustrating. I understand his point of view on this; if I can be responsible enough and reliable enough to do exactly as directed, he will trust me enough to let me act on my own. I nod somberly.

"Good." His spirits are raised again, despite my sinking gut. "I'm really against potent meds, and this stuff is going to give you withdrawals when it's gone. It has an effect on your body in other ways, and I want to make sure you're not overreacting to the side effects either."

I remember Doctor Kanade telling me all this years ago. He said that it might affect my moods, even thought that's what it was supposed to help me with. He also earnestly admitted that it could also affect me sexually. I haven't been in a relationship that got anywhere like that, at least... nothing real. But he told me he "wanted me know", and that he wished to get me off of that strength of medicine as soon as we could verify I could be taken off safely, to prevent me from having worse problems like that down the road.

I did have problems with... things for a while, but it's eased up as the dosage has been dropping. I don't have as much drive, that's for sure. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"Since we aren't a mental hospital, if you have any issues you need to work out, Sae's room is just down the hall and I'm sure she'd love to help someone be happier. If there's something we can't handle, or something that causes problems with other students or the staff, you can be sure that we'll do what it takes to remove that element. Ineptitude from either side will not be tolerated."

"I understand."

"Good! I will see you tomorrow morning as soon as you can get out here. If you get lost, ask for help." The emphasis he puts on that makes me sulk in my seat. "Your prescriptions should be ready by then if the truck gets here on time this evening. Remember, we're here to help you, no matter how inconveniently." Again, his moods are impossible to keep a tap on. He's even whistling as he puts my papers away. I don't know recognize the tune.

I'm not whistling. I'm barely emoting at all. I knew this would be an awkward visit, but I'd hoped he'd be less involved than he is. His job doesn't require him to be so direct about dealing with a special situation, but he does it anyway.

He would have gotten along with Mr. Okane swimmingly if he were still in the business.

"All right, Ms. Kurei, we're all done here for now. If you got my message about your meds, then you must have also got the message about seeing Sae in her office, am I right?"

I nod, readying myself for departure. He helps me back through the doorway, and upon our exit, he points me in the proper direction. After several words of encouragement, much of which seems unnecessary, he makes sure I've got a handle on the situation before heading back into his own room. Closing it with a *thunk*, I find myself alone.

Lilly must still be outside. I listen as best as I can, but I don't hear anyone or anything else but the Nurse returning to his creaky desk chair. He's probably about to type some fierce comments on my visit onto his computer. He could also be the sort that plays Solitaire at all free hours as well. That might not be far off, actually... or that's what I hope, considering he'd have plenty to write about if he felt like it.

I should start walking.

Sighing, I lay my cane ahead of me and sidle the wall like I've done a hundred thousand times or more. The repetition of what I need to do to get places isn't lost on me. Every aspect of my daily life is routine or heavily practiced; or more, it was. If I'm expected to come here every day and learn where everything is, I'll have to work at getting it back into a rhythm. There's a lot required of me already, and it's making me queasy just thinking of getting lost. If I make a mistake about getting around, it'll be as much as admitting I'm not capable enough on my own. I need to memorize so much in such a short time.

My fingers have found a groove in the wall. Upon further probing, I've found the display for Mrs. Nobatou's room. This isn't too hard to locate if I can just take the shorter, more reliable indoor route from now on.

Again, every single location needs appropriated to a mental map. I could go everywhere in my house without my cane. Aside form that infuriating fluke this morning, I typically got around great. I know where the restroom is, everything in the kitchen (even when my stepmother doesn't), and every square inch of my bedroom. All of my drawers were arranged in a specific way, with my closet in similar array. It was all so predictable and personal. I knew that place and it was the one area where I truly felt like it was made for me.

And now I'm supposed to start all over again.

*Sigh*

This door isn't going anywhere, but my hand isn't willing to change that.

Why do I tense up like this? It's just another trained professional interested in doing their job. Okay, so their job involves talking to me, and my talking to them as well. That's what they're supposed to do, to try and help me.

Even when I don't want them to.

That's sort of what the Nurse said, too. That makes me smile, if only weakly.

I don't want to have meetings with the counselor. I don't want to talk, period. Why is that so hard for others to accept? Now, here I am, standing in front of another door, this time owned by someone who I'm required to spill my thoughts onto. I almost want to walk away and feign ignorance at the entire ordeal. it would be easy for today, but coming back to the Nurse for my medication would yield a showdown of some sort. not doing that would be even worse for me, literally.

Softly swearing something that would make my father proud, I rasp the wooden door. My knuckles are sore for some reason. I'm too tense.

A gingerly voice beckons me to go in. She was nice to me when I met her before, always telling me stories about her friends, and about her own crazy life. You wouldn't think she'd be so happy considering the sad stories she's shared with me, but she holds herself well. Nobatou's quite the talker, which was marginally annoying.

We got along well outside of school a few weeks ago, even if I barely spoke a word. Time will tell how our relationship will stand from now on as we are now a student and a superior. I guess I'll find out when my legs start working again.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fixed an assload of spelling errs

should be relatively clean now

i'm heavily debating whether to compile all of this if it ever gets done and post it as a complete project somewhere like fanfiction.net or something. if i end up doing that, then i may also take the opportunity to rework much of the text to take it up a level or two. for now, it's working out, but if i'm going to present it as a single story in some way, i'd like to make sure it represents maybe not the very best i have to offer, but at least something presentable.

i am infinitely better at plotting an overall story arc than fleshing out individual details so others can experience them on a similar level. if finished, then that cuts a lot of meat i'll need to work with later down the road. this story doesn't have a whole lot to it, really, and it's more reflective than plot-driven, but i'm still going to try.

i'm again regretting to neglect visual descriptions on basis of using a blind lead. i'm not going to change narrative for the sake of convenience however; that'd be awful. besides, this isn't the first blind character i've dealt with. naofumi's actually a more realistic take on another character of mine, who's actually sort of an avatar for myself. originally, i wanted to tell a story about her, but it wouldn't have worked at all, so here was have naofumi and all her troubles.

next part should be finished early wednesday morning. got almost done, but i have work tomorrow so sleep happens. gives me time to fix all the expected spelling errors and to see how many references to 'The Graduate' i can fit in without it sounding too derivative (this is a joke).

[darkmelee]

CONTINUED -

Somewhere between my knees locking up and my hands sweating, I found a way to open the door to the Counselor's office. Damn. Now I have to go in there. With little else to prevent me from following through, especially now that I've already begun, I force my way into the chamber and push the door back with my cane hand. I'm greeted by a scent incredibly dissimilar from the Nurse's office. This doesn't evoke a feeling of the medical community, more of someone's home. I smell perfume, even.

It's distracting.

"Naofumi, it's you!"

"Yes. Yes it is."

Bowing reflexively, I give a proper greeting from my position.

I can hear her getting out of her seat for a moment. "Sae Nobatou, if you didn't remember my name." The she sits right back down. What an odd gesture, but she probably remembered that she doesn't need to shake my hand or anything.

I nod and inform her that it's difficult to forget her. How anyone could take that the correct way is beyond me, but she doesn't even slow down. Without much of a segue, she's catching me up with anything and everything she's been doing in the past several months, or even longer. I only respond in quick, single word sentences, which still manage to keep the topic going. Her family, her friends, her profession, even her two cats; all these subjects are up for discussion with Nobatou... and I'm still standing at the other side of the room.

Her excitement seems unwarranted. It's not like I came here to hang out or anything. I unloop my hand of my cane's strap just as she insists I take a seat, likely remembering I've been in the room for some time. The Nurse was willing to manhandle me to my seat, but no such thing from Nobatou. No matter; I can do it without much trouble.

And indeed I do. I find two seats adjacent to her desk and select the left one. I plop myself down into a chair substantially more comfortable than the bin top I was using in what's-his-name's closet down the hall.

Wait. What is his name? I'll need check into that sometime, but not right now. At this moment, I'm taking a break. This is the first relaxing bit of furniture I've rested on since I left home this morning. I dismount my shoulder bag and place it on the floor beside my left foot, and my cane placed on the chair's right side. Everything in its place. I'd like to just stay here in this nice smelling, homey environment without interruption, but that's not why I'm here. I'm not sitting in the Counselor's to relax, no matter how easy it would be if I ignored the woman sitting across from me.

I can't ignore what's coming however, and I know that once she speaks again, it won't be the same relaxing scenario it is right now.

Maybe if I beg enough, they'll let me take one of these into the girls' dormitories.

"Liking the chairs, eh? They're fancy and new. I even have one over here on this side of the desk, same style and everything. My butt's never been so relaxed, and I try to make it to the baths outside of town every Thursday."

She speaks too frankly about her posterior, but maybe she's just too informal. I ask if she'd feel bad one if it went missing, but she just laughs it off. I was hoping for an answer.

"So, Ms. Kurei. How are you feeling today?"

Feeling? I'm feeling tired. I'm feeling in over my head a little. I'm feeling kind of helpless. I'm feeling sad. I'm still feeling a mild level of dampness.

"I've been better," I say, being honest, but not explicit.

"That's good enough, I suppose. You've also been worse, yes?"

"Yes."

Keyboard clatter comes to life in front of me, with mouse clicks not far behind. She told me she was very talented with computers and technology. I can't figure any of it out. My stepmother had a screen reader on our home PC, and it was nothing but a headache outside of reading encyclopedia information.

We had a fun musical keyboard program though.

Mrs. Nobatou isn't playing a game though. She's probably not reading an encyclopedic article either. Most likely, this is about me. Eventually, the typing slows, but the mouse sounds continue. She presses the subject again.

"How much 'worse' have you felt, Naofumi?"

Unlike the Nurse, her happy composure doesn't leave her voice. Nobatou makes no effort to match the tone of her topic. She was like this the last time I spoke with her too. She'd talk about her husband getting into a car wreck like it was just another day to her. Poor guy. His accident was equal to the woman getting an extra soda in the machine that day. I smile at remembering that, but also recall what we're discussing now. I answer truthfully.

"A lot worse."

"You know, Naofumi, there are many students here right now that have also had days that were a lot worse than they were used to. Some show the results, and others keep it hidden or inside. I think yours is inside, medical or not. I can't cure a missing limb or a weak heart, and I can't make the pain go away..."

That's a lot of 'can't's.

"...but I can help you deal with it if you are willing to let me. That's your call. Either way, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

She doesn't even comment on her gaffe. I don't bring it up.

"But I am going to ask you another question before we start setting up your appointment schedules, if that's all right."

"If you're asking me about it, I don't know if -"

"No, nonono!" She interjects, catching me off guard. "What I want to ask you is..." She leans in closer, her perfume may actually be too strong for such close proximity like this. "..how did the date you talked about last time go? Did they like the gift? I forgot to ask last time I talked with you, and we didn't get to talk until after... well..."

Wow. That brings up a lot of bad memories right there.

"It didn't go over well, but they appreciated the gift."

It wasn't really a date. It was more like a casual dinner with a friend. It was their birthday, and I treated them to a decent meal. It wasn't too expensive, and I could afford a small statuette of an anime character they said they'd been a huge fan of. It was great to be with them and have some fun... until I ruined it.

I told her how much I liked her. Once she understood what I really meant by it, she made it clear that there was no more to talk about. Our food went unfinished.

It was a mess. She wasn't mad, but she was... off. She thanked me for everything and told me she'd still remain my friend, but it didn't feel that way from then on. Something between us died that day. It played out in my head so perfectly, but reality was less forgiving. She started to avoid me more and more, always missing her by a handful of minutes or a few hours. Eventually, she just ignored me, even when I was right there. So long as she didn't make a sound, I'd never catch her. But, I could catch the faintest scent of her, and I always knew, and it hurt.

It hurt so badly.

It was just another thing to be ashamed of, to resent. She wrote me off without a chance to mend our friendship. That friendship was important to me, and it was gone after that. What already miniscule social circle I had dwindled to nothing. They didn't like me anymore.

I'm still ashamed of myself.

This isn't normal either.

I'm not normal.

Right as I was beginning my medication, all this happened. It kept getting worse, like it wasn't working correctly. The antidepressants had the opposite effect. After almost two months of suffering through myself, it exploded into something I couldn't control, a monster taking over my body and making me do things to myself I didn't want. The bottles were practically empty, but maybe if I were lucky...

At first I just moved slowly.

Then, I coughed.

Then, I stumbled.

Then my chest went crazy.

Then, I was confused.

It was...

It was...

I'm tearing up, and I can't hide it. She not asking me why, but I think she knows it's something important to me. Conceivably, she feels remorse for bringing it up. Nobatou didn't know it would make me sad. She's the Counselor; it's her job to get us to open up about our problems. But I can't do this, not right now. The chair isn't doing anything to make me feel better anymore, and the fact that I'm obligated to visit the Nurse every damned day on account that he doesn't trust me isn't raising my mood any higher. She probably won't let me out of her sight, either.

I wipe my eyes and apologize for my display. I only allow the smallest sample of audio to replay in my head from the detoxification procedure when I snap back into focus.

And I'm now in the Counselor's office again.

"I'm sorry," I say, clearing my throat and giving my best shot at regaining my composure. "I got caught up thinking about stuff." I sniffle and hope dearly I'm not smearing my snot when I cover my mouth. I shouldn't be so easily affected like this. Ever since my overdose, I've been getting more and more emotional about every up and down I go through.

The Counselor offers a tissue box, but I refuse. I don't need it. I just need to get my thoughts in order again. That was about six months ago when I mentioned that to Nobatou. That's incredible that she could remember, even if her innocent inquiry turned out sour like this. In her profession, listening is key, and she is a good listener, even if she can sometimes take to long-winded stories on her end. I'm baffled at why she hasn't already gone into another one, but I'll be visiting her a lot from now on, and I'm bound to learn more than I ever wanted to about her life.

Dammit, I can't stop choking up.

Doctor Kanade warned about withdrawals becoming worse as it dwindled. Every day seems like a mix-tape of every available emotion I can muster, only it's been eaten by an old cassette player and I can't fit it all back in for it to function like it's supposed to. It's so damn frustrating. Is all this supposed to be part of it? If it is, I don't fucking like it.

"Are you gonna be alright? If you wanna talk, I'm right here. And I'm always going to be right here." She abruptly adds, "Except for Thursday evenings and Sundays. I'm usually at home or at the baths, like I said earlier." She's rummaging her desk for something. her feet keep knocking into the sides of her desk, the deep metal booming with each hit. New chairs; old desk. "If it's any consolation, I think you're really pretty, and any guy who turns you down better have a good reason. Also, I need to remind you that what I just said was a compliment and not some sort of advance. I've... gotten in trouble for saying things like that to people. It's supposed to help with confidence, when you give someone real positive feedback, not crap form a book that isn't honest..."

I'm mentally sighing. The Nurse turned out to be a medical professional with a low batting average for jokes. Sae-chan is a child with a degree in Psychology.

She giggles with delight when she finally uncovers whatever it is she's been searching for.

"Here it is. I thought I made some, but I couldn't recall just where I threw them."

I'm still not in the loop here. My expression gives me away, thankfully.

"Hold your hand out," she tells me. I comply, and she places a wide card into my open palm. At first, it seems like any other sort of memo card, just a bit thicker. I almost say something to that effect when I notice some sort of grit to it. No, it's not grit. I bring my other hand to it and realize that it's a phone number pressed in braille. Even the border is very tactile and interesting.

"Is this your cell or something?" I ask. If it is, that's an extra step to being accessible, hands-down. Most would just pass the numbers along in conversation or put it into my phone manually. This is almost more respectful to a sightless person.

She says, seemingly through a smile,"Yes, it is. It's my card. It even has the numbers and stuff printed on it in regular characters so other people can read it, too. I'm guessing you still have that cell phone, right?"

I reach down into my bag and plunder the very bottom, emerging victorious with my simple, but effective, flip phone. It does phone things. That's all I ask of it.

I bring it into what I hope is her sight, open it and shake it a little. "It's the same one and everything. My stepmother wanted to get me a new one, but I didn't need it."

"So you still don't call her 'Mom'?"

I consider it.

"She wasn't my Mom until I spent two weeks in a hospital."

Unwilling to press further, possibly saving for future chats, we begin planning for said subsequent visits. We eventually agree on Saturday afternoons, after the half-day. She runs the idea of appointments twice a week to me, but I don't need more obligations. Maybe later.

Just as she starts to go off on a tangent about how her cousin Ohtani needs to visit his chiropractor at least three times a week, her work phone rings, cutting her off. Deciding our conversation to be at an end, she wishes me farewell and reminds me again when I'm "charged with seeing" her. Again, she just throws that out there like she has no problem with it. It's not like I really do, but it's the thought behind it that matters, too. Happy to take my leave, I make good time to the hallway, but she has more to say just as I pull the door to a close.

"Hey! it's cold out there now. Don't you have a jacket or something?"

I reopen it enough to not seem completely rude and assure that I'll be fine. After closing it, I regret that I couldn't have pilfered one of those seats for my dorm room.

Retracing the wall in a reverse direction from before, I manage to reach the entrance just as another person comes through it. I'm very grateful I wasn't any closer, since my face prefers to not have such intimate encounters with fast moving solid objects. I reposition my cane straight down, so as not to accidentally trip someone. A brisk chill runs across my cheeks as the chilly air, causing me to shiver for a spell. Unsure of exactly who it might be, I just sort of stand there like I'm lost for a minute as they keep a steady gait the length of the hallway. I secretly hope for it to be my guide, but they don't ask me anything, or even comment on my presence. No doors open, so they're going through one of the routes the Nurse mentioned.

I'll practice later when I know what the hell I'm doing. Right now I need to find Lilly and get back on track with the tour. I check my special watch to find it's only been around forty five minutes. Maybe she got bored and wandered off. I seek my unique umbrella from the rack - or maybe it's more of a bin; a combination of the two?

It's been out here long enough to be mostly dry. I pull it closed, twist it flat and fasten the clasp, rendering it compact once more. Still a tiny bit of resilient moisture, but my cell is sturdy enough in its casing, and the two books are all but tattered as-is. Even this bag is too old to last much longer under use with the flap not locking shut like intended Assembling myself to make sure I'm not having any lingering emotional baggage from the talks in this place, I reloop my cane's strap, which seems to be wearing out. I'll need a new cane soon, anyways. This one's got a slight bow to it and all of it's caps are worn unevenly. Other than the clothes I have, which will barely be getting use if the dress code has anything to say about it, all of my possessions are starting to show an age unbefitting them.

Maybe I look older now.

I bet Lilly's mobility cane is new, or at least in perfect condition. Segmented canes are usually too thick and noticeably weightier for me, but this would be a great opportunity to try one out for a while, to get a good feel for it. I should probably wait until I'm more familiar with the grounds first. I open the door, being sure to ease myself outside without getting my cane stuck in the doorway. Upon my exit, something stirs from my left. I call out, and sure enough, Lilly's soothing and very lady-like sound calls back. I'm not sure how feminine I come across as by voice alone. She must have been sitting, because I can hear her back sliding up the outer wall as she rights herself. I move to her.

"You can have your book back," she says to me wearily.

"Too much for you?" I ask. It's not a terribly complex book.

"Yes, actually."

Maybe Lilly's not a terribly complex person. I take my book from her outstretched hand and place it in the bag, directly on top of its brethren. As we pick up where we left off, I can't help but grin.



______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

uh oh

language

relatively short time to type, but this took FOREVER to fix all the typos and i have to redo all the italics in the text window since it doesn't carry over from my program on account of code.

ALTERNATE TEXT

"I think you're pretty hot Naofumi," she told me.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Nobatou?" I said back at her.
"Pretty much," she said back at me, which is from her, and not me.
And then I leaped over her desk, obliterating her keyboard with my Knee of Justice™ and straddled her with the strength of probably three or four baboons. Then we did stuff I can't type here.

TRUE END
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i'm not typing tonight. i need to get actual rest instead of just sleeping when it's required of me. i'll try to get myself into a groove about how often i can keep this up. originally, the title was meant to be just the first part, even though lilly is a major character later. can't say how much more there is to this first story, since it takes place over one day. there were originally three stories like this that that span really only a few months. i'm judging how quickly to move along so i don't dawdle, but i also don't want to rush anymore. it turns out better when i have a break between halves of an entry. still, i have obligations in the form of earning meager wages, so i'm going to slow myself down and make sure i know what i'm doing as this moves forward. as such, just hang tight, it might be a day or two, but i'm thinking about it all the freaking time now so i'll probably do something soon.

also, to keep from making extra posts, i'm going to continue just using the aftermath sections of the story posts to say anything that i feel should be said (as thus) and to just fart around every once in a while (as seen above). if you guys find typos or wtf moments, feel free to pass it along (like you have been, thank you), and i'll get on it next time i stop by (which i have also been keeping up with, because not too many). i can't edit the one labeled 'guest', so that's off limits (like it has been). that'll teach me to not click [automatically log me in].

[Mirage_GSM]

You know, Naofumi, there are many students here right now that also days that were a lot worse than they were used to.

I think this sentence could use an additional word or two.
Other than that nice going.

[charmisokay]

I would like to thank you for sharing this with us (:
I like it, keep up the good work.

[scott1and]

Still enjoying this. Nothing like a well written fic.
Keep it up

[MrBackpack]

Fantastic story, I can't wait for more.

[darkmelee]

CONTINUED -

Before we depart from the entranceway, Lilly informs me that Mister Danbaki was here a few minutes ago along with the group of students I arrived with. They're probably covering much more ground than we are. This has been taking too long, and now we've been held up by my obligations within the Auxiliary building.

"He wanted me to tell you about seeing the Nurse and Counselor." She sounds a touch disappointed by this. "I don't think he realized where we were.” Lilly’s begun folding her cane out. “I simply told him I would let you know."

I can believe this. Just as she finishes setting her cane, I decide to ask her about it.

“Have you always used a segmented cane?”

I don’t predict much harm asking. To be honest, I haven’t met many other blind people, let alone of a similar age. I’ll be in a whole class of them in a few days.

People like me.

“My, my. It’s been a while now, hasn’t it...” She passes her cane from hand to hand, probably balanced on its point. “I’ve been using one of this style since before my last school. It sort of became more comfortable over time. Is yours not the same?”

I shake my head, then question my action.

“No,” I begin. “I’ve always used a straight cane. I prefer it to be light and easy to move. It can be a hindrance in small spaces or long trips on a bus, but it’s suited me pretty well all this time, even if it is a little out of shape.” That last line being literal, I figure Lilly to be the best person to ask.

“How do I get a new cane at Yamaku? I’m thinking about using a segmented cane like yours from now on.”

She doesn’t hesitate.

“So far, I’ve only needed one, but I was told to bring it up with the teacher or the Nurse. They both have the authority to order our mobility canes, but you need to be exact on your desired length. One boy overshot his own height on accident.”

He’s either very short, very dumb, or bold as all hell.

I have a mental dispute on whether to return to the Nurse and ask him personally about obtaining a new cane, but immediately overrule the thought with the reminder that I will be visiting him once every day for a month, at the very least.

Maybe tomorrow, then.

I tell her that I’ll think more on the matter later.

Lilly asks me where I'd like to go next, now that I'm done with my business here. She mentions the Library, which was in the main building. It would have been a good place to start earlier, before I was wanted elsewhere, but she insists I'll need to get used to the layout first, so I don't get lost as easily. She starts listing all sorts of places this school has on offer, from a pool to a baseball pitch. I'm not one to swim, and sports seem counter-intuitive. She even mentions the town down the road, but that could be attempted at a much later time, after I've figured out where I'll be staying the next few years of my life. There's plenty of time to wander down a strange road at a future date. It's getting cooler out here anyway. I remember that she's been out here the entire time, and I'm still sporting moisture on my hems.

"Lilly, aren't you cold?"

"Not really," she replies. "I have my jacket on, and I managed to stay mostly dry earlier when it was pouring." She laughs toward me. "Thank you for worrying about me."

She very well could have curtsied at me also. I understand she went to a private school for girls, but she makes me feel inept at being female. I mean, I can't even like guys. That's supposed to be number one priority for girls my age. Instead, I'm some bizarro chick who likes other girls, has no tact whatsoever, and possesses a seemingly infinite amount of angst.

If you remove the status of blindness between us, we're complete opposites.

“Naofumi, has anyone mentioned anything about the dress code to you yet?”

“No." Come to think of it... "Actually, nothing at all.”

Aside from banned items, there really hasn’t been much of a commotion about what I’m supposed to wear here. I know there’s a uniform like my old school, but other than that, I have no specifics. My last school was quite strict about its dress code. I hated it.

I think our colors were violet and black. That was never something really necessary for me, since I had all of my facets labelled and wore the full set each day. Collars down, socks up, shoes fastened tightly. Skirt hem to middle finger and shirts were never open-buttoned. Anything out of order was punished, and I wasn't a fan of long skirts in summer or skirts in general come the winter season.

"Well," Lilly begins. "There aren't a lot of particular rules to go by. Typically, uniforms are to be worn during school hours or class-related activities unless stated otherwise. You always have your options after-hours, of course, and just so long as it's not too risque or obscene, you can wear practically anything."

*groooowl*

A gurgle in my stomach has informed me that I am prodigiously hungered. I passed on breakfast in order to make the train on time, and never got around to filling that void. Unable to hide the sound post-mortem, I offer a destination for us to continue our conversation, namely "a place where food comes from." She declares that the cafeteria be our target, and we continue our discussion on the move.

"So what exactly will I be wearing on school time, then? My last school was fairly strict about how we were to present ourselves..."

"The uniform itself doesn't require much, to be honest."

She skitters her cane across the sidewalk unevenly, splashing unavoidably as she does. It's good for me, since I found myself keeping time with her steps and it will force me to focus on my own rhythm. This is a lot easier without us being confined so closely as before. Even the cement is far more manageable to tread, despite retaining a thin lie of water. In fact, this path is starting to become famil-

"Unh!"

I'm nearly tossed over, interrupting whatever she was beginning to say before my functional hiccup just now.

Lilly gasps, startled. "Are you all right?"

I take a second to regroup.

"Yeah. I'm fine," I breathe out.

I'm so stupid, sometimes. I was resting my cane too heavily against my waist.

"...I found a divot in the sidewalk and got caught up in it. I wasn't paying attention, and it got me pretty hard in the gut."

She makes absolutely sure that I'm alright before we continue. She's so polite and kind to me. I don't know what I'm feeling about this, but it's not affection or something more amorous like that. It's more like an actual feeling of compassion. This girl seems genuinely nice to me, and it's a welcome change.

Man, that smarts. I bet the cane's even more bent out of shape now. That's what I get for neglecting basic skills. When you're young, it's expected that you'll bump into things or trip yourself up every now and again. Not now, though. I'm supposed to be self-sufficient, or at least capable of surviving on my own for a little while without an accident. So far, I've stumbled twice today.

When our pace picks up again, Lilly gets back on topic. I'm still trying to get the pain to go down, but I listen as I would any other time. She's very easy on the ears.

"You said your past colors were violet and black, yes?"

I agree, secretly checking my cane for new bends every so often.

"Well, Yamaku's colors are green and white, skirt and shirt, respectively."

She seems so fascinated by that fact. Colors are... an abstraction to me. I'd imagine she's in a similar mindset. One of my teachers when I was a small child explained it to me that colors were like textures to people with sight. Almost everything has them in some way, but people who can see can 'feel' them with their eyes from a distance. It's still difficult for me to grasp. That is a frustrating fact when seemingly everything is built with visual design in mind, something I simply do not understand as more than a ethereal concept.

Sight itself is something I can't hammer down. It's another abstraction, something that everyone seems to have but me, but can't be thoroughly comprehended without experience. This is the only world I've ever known, and I cannot fathom any other existence than this.

"Lilly, do the colors matter to you?"

Maybe she has similar thoughts on the matter. She doesn't answer right away, possibly finding her words. Her gait slows for a spell, but returns to form once she starts speaking again, her cane marking the rate.

"My sister said that they suited me. She said that my hair went well with it, and that I looked very pristine. It probably still does, I'd think."

I'm not sure what I would look like in green and white, given my hair color. My stepmother calls it a 'messy red-brown mat'. Or, I should say, that's what it's like every morning when greeting her. I'd like to get it cut, but with fall becoming much cooler now, I can deal with the length reaching my collar by the season change. I'd like to not shave my legs for the next several months at the illogical hope of building a layer of fur resistance, but this skirt business is going to stop me, no doubt. High socks, perhaps?

"Is that all, just a skirt and a shirt?" I ask. This isn't sounding near as confining as I was expecting from a school with so much funding. That's pretty lax, if it's true. Then again, there are likely students in attendance who may be unable to adhere to a less lenient dress code, given that some students may have deformities or lack adequate coordination.

"They are official shirts and skirts, but there are minor variations of them to suit different builds and body types, if I remember correctly. Shoes are recommended to be a dark color if you need something particular, nothing too distracting. Otherwise, they are comfortable formal footwear. Boys have ties, and we girls have ribbon bows around their collar also. Mine is a bit disheveled, but it's alright if it's not perfect. And we have blazers for this time of year..."

I am no good with bows or ribbons. It's supposed to be like tying your shoes, but it's never turned out well for me at formal events. Somehow, I can take a simple task and turn it into an exam on finer finger movements, and then fail it like it was the only option.

Now, ties; I can do ties, and that's supposed to be even more particular.

While I'm thinking about it...

"Is this the kind of school that allows, umm, customization? I mean, like using a tie instead of a bow, or a short-sleeved shirt swapped for a long one, or stuff like that?"

My rhetoric is astounding, but I managed to convey the point without fumbling too harshly. I've either stumped her, or she's thinking awfully hard. Again, I'm doubting if my overall take of her abilities might have been overgenerous. Finally, she speaks.

"Now that you bring it up, yes. I know for a fact that girls can wear a boy's uniform as long as they keep their own blazers for use, and we actually have two sleeve lengths for different seasons, but they allow the students a choice in the end."

She mentions that there are quite a few girls who wear ties, and at least three she can think of that she'd heard say of them wearing a complete boys' uniform.

"It's just a way for us to express our individuality. Although one of the girls does so out of necessity, since I've been informed that she has no arms, and a skirt would be scandalous should she be eating."

That's... a humbling thought.

"Also, we are allowed personal decorations, so long as they're not too distracting, either. I always have a nice bow in my hair, and sometimes wear my rosary."

She follows up by asking me what I'd like to change or personalize, but I tell her I'd need to try it all on to know for sure what feels right. As much as I want to fit in, I like the idea of standing out a little, but not while drawing all of the attention. I'd cry if I gathered a crowd. I guess someone's supposed to help me get it all set up tomorrow at ten o'clock or so, a student helper for the blind class. She tells me as much, and, although I'm not very open to the idea of having someone else help me sort out my own clothing, I grasp the idea that it needs to be done. So, I accept it and tell her that I'll be prepared. I'm not sure how involved Lilly is in this situation, but I've already told her, so I can't take it back.

I wish speech had a redo function.

Lilly can keep a conversation going, for sure. I simply listen and follow along our way. She mentions that we'll be doing this again tomorrow afternoon after classes end, and I'll get to explore the classroom itself as well. I make a mental note to remind her of the alternate route to the Medical section the next time we make our rounds.

They do a half-day here on Saturdays, which is welcome. I like my time off, but I'll need to get into the habit of visiting my new therapist, Mrs. Nobatou every week before enjoying my lack of a schedule to adhere to.

'Therapist'. I don't like that word. 'Counselor' works, but it's not totally accurate. As long as I'm here, Nobatou will be the one gauging my mental status and keeping up with my personality. She wants me to open up to her - I know she does - but I just can't yet. I should be prepared for the Nurse to do daily checks on me as the transition between medications takes effect; whenever we begin in earnest, that is. He'll be interested in my status also. I assume that he'll want to work on that subject tomorrow.

I've always had anxiety and emotional troubles. My father had clinical depression, so it didn't seem like a big deal when they diagnosed me so long ago. It would come and go, moments of desperation or sudden sadness. At first it was small doses daily to keep me steady and stable, but I just felt myself getting pulled down deeper.

Gah, I need to get that out of my head right now. I don't have room for it.


________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

this part is boring and has a lot of talking.
the next part will probably have a lot of talking also, but more personal topics.
every part has differing levels of talking and personal topic dispersement.
except for probably the last part.
it may have the least of one or the other.
i wish this were a dance sequence.
yeah. that'd be cool.

the armless girls is not rin. just getting that out there.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ALTERNATE TEXT -

"Naofumi. Has anyone told you about the dress code yet?"
"Nope," I respond to her question, like I've been trained to do for queries.
"The uniform is baby oil and fishnet stocking. Only baby oil and fishnet stockings."
"Sweet."
And then everyone was sexy.

BEST END

[scott1and]

Gah, I can just see my writing prowess shitting itself in the corner, as your cowers over it, laughing.

In all seriousness though, this is good. And long, which is a nice bonus. On another note ,don't know if it's just me, but does Lilly say "My, my" too much? Am I just imagining it?

[darkmelee]

Gah, I can just see my writing prowess shitting itself in the corner, as your cowers over it, laughing.

In all seriousness though, this is good. And long, which is a nice bonus. On another note ,don't know if it's just me, but does Lilly say "My, my" too much? Am I just imagining it?

it's one of those things that she says a handful of times in the actual game, but it's become one of those memorable traits. the shimmie plays that up a bit if you ever browse there enough.

i think i'm only up to three or so times total, and i assure you, it's not going to happen too many more.

also, i'm not that great. i'm much better at designing plots, characters, and planning events, but less capable of writing them out in prose so other people can understand it. thankfully, the only thing about KS that really stands out from the real world is the school itself, so as long as i'm realistic about things, it should work out fine. also, if i had done this third-person, it would be a completely different experience by now due to ~VISUAL ADJECTIVES~ and the ability to witness exactly what's happening around and not just what she thinks is happening. less personal, but assuredly more descriptive. if i saved up a part for every week instead of every day or so, it might actually be better, but for now, I think it's doing alright. this first story is actually almost done, with only so many parts left.

as a bonus, i used a word counter a little while to see how many words i've vomited up so far and the original text document before minor tweaks ended up at 19,577 so far (not counting anything i may have added for the sake of interest or cleanup to the posts).

holy. crap. and i ain't even done with the first chapter yet (of three). i'll be working on it later tonight, likely.

[darkmelee]

CONTINUED -

The cafeteria is very noisy. I don't hear many separate voices or anything, but the sound of trays and idle chatter carries a long way, echoing throughout the large room. I'm getting nervous about this. At my old school, I was never one to get my own meals. Would we be standing in line? I don't know how well that would work upon thinking about it. How would we both carry our food and locate a table in such a expansive area? Just thinking about navigating the cafeteria to scour a seat is making me uneasy.

Lilly is less unprepared, which is to be expected, and has me trace the wall just behind her. Our tapping and sliding is making it even more clustered aurally. I can focus on our own motions, however, and keeping up with her indoors is much easier than outside. After only a minute or so of sidling, she asks me to stop for a moment. While we wait, I place my hand on the nearby wall. Upon doing so, I realize that there is a marker here. Following it a short ways, I find a sign with elevated braille on its face.

[Please wait and we will be happy to assist you with your order. For the regular service counter, approach from the opposite direction. Thank you very much.]

Wait, so we're in a line, just not the same line? I move closer to Lilly's position and keep my hand upon the wall as I go, but the wall gives way to a counter top. It's very smooth, metallic and I've probably smudged whatever shine it may have had. All of my worries have vanished about this process. This is easy to remember and easier to exercise.

"I don't actually eat in here that often," she tells me. "I prefer much quieter places to eat and relax, but we should be fine as most students are in their classes at the moment."

I can't recall hearing the last bell chime. It must have occurred when I was... distraught.

Within very little time, we are greeted by what sounds like another student, only from behind the counter. Again, this is making me question what kind of things they allow the student body to take part of. Remembering Lilly's talk about a girl with no legs has my brain go into overdrive about who may be serving us. I doubt it's her, but it is something to think about.

Lilly greets our server happily, mentioning offhand that I'm not used to this sort of thing. I don't know the menu either, but tell her that I'll be willing to accept anything she's prepared to eat herself. She offers to pay for all of this as well, which I try to prevent, but she overpowers me due to her bewildering sense of kindness. There isn't much time between our order and our service, a rarity in most places I've eaten before. They must keep everything out in the open for easy access, or maybe to prevent surprise shortages.

Lilly slides a small tray over to me, much smaller than I was expecting, but manageable enough to not be a hindrance while walking. I wasn't really paying any attention to the food items she was requesting. Hopefully, none of it will kill me, as if I had a secret allergy or something similar. My companion thanks the server wholeheartedly, and I bow and give my thanks as well, not wanting to seem ungrateful. Then, she turns and heads away from me, calling for me to follow.

I hear the *ting* of her cane on an empty seat. She calls out, but no one answers. I've had others joke with me about that; staying silent when they were actually there. This place - these people - so far seem to be very understanding and compliant. I might not have anything to fear in terms of practical jokery.

I find my own seat next to Lilly, place my tray gently on the table, and take my seat. As I did before, I rest my cane to my right side against the table, and my bag next to my left foot. Predictability is key to my lifestyle. She folds her own cane as she has been in the habit of doing and jumps right in, herself. I'm not the only one who was hungry, apparently.

Feeling about the tray, I locate a carton of milk. It's covered in a light moisture, but the waxy surface prevents it from becoming difficult to handle. How quaint and practically assumed this item is, a staple of public and private schools alike since nobody knows when.

If they do know, then they looked into it online.

After taking a nice healthy swig, I can't help but giggle.

"It's chocolate milk," I say happily. It's been so long since I've had such a simple, but nice thing to drink as chocolate milk, or any bit of chocolate for that matter. I've almost completely ignored sweets over the years, increasingly favoring sodas and juices, or alternatives like fruit instead of cake or pie. I tend to prefer sushi to anything at a dessert bar, when given the choice.

She almost sounds worried, when she asks, "is that alright? I thought you would like something sweet, but I wasn't sure exactly what your tastes were." She tears open a bag of some sort, presumably a prepackaged bread, and asks if she made a correct assumption.

"Right now, yes. Usually I avoid sweets, but this is just a nice thing for now."

She's so nice to me. It can't all be from her Catholic school's training - or is it conditioning? Maybe it's more than that. Perhaps her family is just as polite and sophisticated in their behavior as Lilly is right here. She probably gets along well with them. Of course, I doubt there's as large a disconnect within her family's circle than there is with my own. Having devoured my own bread within two immodest bites, I decide to ask her about this.

Finding it difficult to speak like this, I take another drink of my milk and swallow before giving it another shot. My manners are still shaky at best.

"I know I might be crossing a line here, but do you get along with your family?"

She takes a quick sip of her own drink before answering. "Yes, I think so. My sister and I are very close. We live together, and she is the one who drives me to and from school every day."

That must be nice to have someone so close in your family to bond with. I want to ask her about her parents, but I feel that the question could also be turned on myself, and I'd rather not get into all of it. If she asks me, I will answer truthfully though. If I'm going to pry into her personal life, I can afford a small yield of admissions on the current topic. She gives off a very accepting vibe.

I have no siblings, so I've always wondered how different my situation would be with a sister or brother to be there. Then again, if it weren't just myself and my stepmother, I might be less apt to wonder such things. Some passing footsteps draw my attention briefly, but they pass on without incident, and I return my attention to speaking again.

"it must be nice, to be so close to your family," I tell her honestly.

She surprises me. While shuffling her tray slightly, she speaks much more softly than her usual proper tone.

"I'm not... very close to anyone but my sister."

I may have opened a wound, inadvertently, or possibly brought an unwelcome thought at least.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She laughs that little laugh of hers. She's so quick to forgive, and seemingly more quick to move on. I can't do so as easily. I stagnate on unpleasant memories and ideas. I can only forgive those who are honestly repentant.

I tend to fret about disappointing others.

"It's fine, really," she begins anew. "I've just spent so much time with her these past many years. I cook for her, she helps me get around. We're best friends, although..." Lilly opens her own beverage, "...she's been having to work much more often lately," and takes deep swig, possibly imagining it to be a much harder beverage.

She continues. "My parents are far away right now, and I don't really know them very well anymore."

My own parents are far away, literally and figuratively.

"I didn't mean to bring the conversation down like that," I admit. I was only curious, but I feel bad now that I've created such a melancholy mood.

"Again, it's quite alright. Really, if I were with them right now it would-"

She's heard something, and after a second, I realize that I too have picked up on it. A quiet, but distinct melody is in the air, hiding amongst the abstract clatter of the room. It's origin is most unfortunately within my shoulder bag.

It's my stepmother. I know it's her from the musical ringtone she'd assigned herself. It's not like I'm worried about it, but I don't feel like talking to her right now.

"Do you need me to show you outside, if you'd like some privacy?"

I think about it.

"No. It's never anything important." Lilly figures my input on this at an end, and she goes back to her meal. I put my own food back on the tray, being sure to place it where it won't get in the way should I move to something else on display, and reach to my bag. Raising the entire thing onto my lap, I open it's weak flap and rustle out the cell phone.

"But I'm going to go ahead and answer it, just in case. I won't be offended if you overhear anything."

Well, I'm mostly sure we won't be having any sort of uneasy conversation.

Even out in the open, the melody is shallow and noticeably digital. Hopefully, it isn't too distracting to those around us. No one has shouted discontent, so I'd imagine that nobody actually cares about phone usage outside of a classroom. Bringing the device near my face, I open the flap and press the accept key. I hold it to my ear as expected and try not to sound as apathetic as possible.

"Hey," I say without emotion, voiding my original intent.

"Hi there. It's me." Like it would be anyone else. "Well, how's it going? Did you get to the school alright? I told you to call me when you got there."

The reception is shoddy here. She's coming through, but she sounds more meek than usual across the line.

"It was fine," I say. "The bus was cramped and I got here on time. I've just been getting the lowdown on the place. I got sidetracked and must have forgot."

That part was a lie.

Her television is adding more static to her already fuzzy sound. Really? Can't you turn off the tv when you're talking to me just this once?

I bet she's got a glass in her hand right now.

"Yeah, okay... I was just checking up on you, you know? Just making sure you're all right and everything."

She sounds tired.

She's been at it since I left the house.

"I'm actually kind of busy right now," I lie again. I'm not above lying to her. "Can we talk later?"

She almost sounds relieved when she responds.

"Oh, yea. We can talk later, sure. I'll check back some other time, then. Okay?"

*clink, clink* comes across the line from her end. I was right after all.

"Okay," I agree, lacking enthusiasm, but happy to be off the hook for now. It's not that I hate speaking with her so much as we have almost nothing to talk about that doesn't end in an argument.

Her inability to judge her own limits being one of those things.

After sharing goodbyes, we each end our respective ends of the conversation and I close the phone for now. After returning it to the bag, I don't feel much like eating anymore.

"I'm feeling kind of worn out," I say aloud.

"Who was that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My stepmother, just checking in on me." It felt more like she was forced to, the way she casually gave up like that. "She wasn't in any state to really hold a topic anyway."

Noting her silence at this, I fill the opening with exposition.

"She'd been drinking, and she's not one to stop until she can't help it."

"Hmmm." She sounds sad about this. "Do you have problems with drinking in general, or is it more when she drinks that it becomes a problem?"

When she wants to be forward about something, she jumps right in there. I try to be as clear as I can and explain.

"I have no problem with alcohol itself. I have no problem with people drinking; it's not a terrible thing in rational doses and can be a fun thing-" adding very hastily, "not that I've had a whole lot, mind you." Nice save, 'Fumi. "My real problem is when people use it as an escape... when they set a bottle in front of them and always reach the bottom, no matter how big that bottle gets, no matter how deep..."

My fist has clenched reflexively. Allowing myself to calm down, I do my best to relax.

"Anymore, she's not one to give up on a bottle..."

I may understand why my stepmother drinks, but I don't agree to it. We all have our troubles...

I've been just as neglectful.

I'm about to backpedal the topic when a voice barges into our presence. When I say 'barge', I mean it.

"Heya, Lilly!"

This is an unfamiliar voice at a familiar volume. It's a young woman, definitely, but they have all the traits of Danbaki when it comes to indoor voices. She's likely a student, and obviously an acquaintance of Lilly's. I'm not comfortable enough to say anything of value, so I hold my own and down the rest of my chocolate drink. Lilly addresses our guest as I set the conquered beverage container aside.

"Ah. Hello, Shiina."

The girl then laughs like a crazy person.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ALTERNATE TEXT -

"Do you have a problem with people who drink, Naofumi?" Lilly asks me, the light scent of scotch on her breath.
"Not really; just those who drink way too much."
"My, my. We have a problem then, don't we?"
She then busts a bottle of liquor that she was secretly storing on her person *wink, wink* on my temple, and the pain is immeasurable. Then I am dead.

BAD END

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

stay tuned for the threesome

SAME BAT TIME (not really). SAME BAT CHANNEL.

there's something i REALLY want to do for a part near the very end of all this. i don't wanna give anything away considering how long it will be before then, but i hope i can get it all sorted out to make it extra oomphy. i just need some technology to agree with me for long enough to make it happen. again, i have a looong time til i get to the third chapter, let alone near the end of it, but it would be great to be able to do it and have it ready when i want to use it. no promises, but i'm gonna try the hell outta it.

[charmisokay]

I think I'm in love with your story.
No really its good (:

[scott1and]

I think I'm in love with your story.
No really its good (:

It's like I went back in time and wrote it myself. Except there's no such thing as time travel, and I didn't write this.

[darkmelee]

CONTINUED -

"Lilly, you're so good at that! I didn't even need to tell you who I was~."

I've already imprinted that voice into my brain for eternity. I doubt Lilly would have trouble accomplishing that much either. Still, it's a very friendly and cute voice, just too loud for casual speech like this.

"You can call me 'Misha', too~. Everybody else does."

Misha. I knew a Misha back at my old school. This is certainly not the same person, as that girl had been sent to a detention center last I heard. She messed up a guy who told her off in front of the school one day. I guess she took his insults about her attitude to heart. The guy's buddy said that he was laughing his ass off all the way to the hospital because they filmed it. It was definitely solid evidence that she needed an intervention of some sort.

No, this is a different girl entirely. Still, the name 'Shiina' strikes a different chord in me altogether; it's my natural mother's name. I almost want to say it, but there'd be no point other than to draw attention to myself in front of a stranger.

"Oh! Is this the girl~ you were supposed to help out today, Lilly?" She's talking through a grin. "She actually, umm, looks pretty cool~." She sounded almost impressed for some reason. What the hell kinda vibe am I giving off, exactly?

I don't believe you.

Her speech is interesting, always ending on highs and lows. It sounds like she's holding a plastic bag of some sort, and shaking it as she talks. It's probably full. The crinkling noises don't mesh well with her voice, though. Lilly also notices.

"Is there a reason you're in the cafeteria during class?" Lilly asks her. "I know there was going to be a meeting today, but I didn't think it would be on school time."

"Snacks~," the other girl replies, shaking the bag for emphasis, likely forgetting I'm even here now. "The meeting carried over a bit, and Shichan wanted a bunch of snacks and stuff for everyone to make up for it."

My guide speaks again while I start to stash away what unopened food I couldn't finish into my shoulder bag. I'm totally hanging on to the extra sweet bread; I'm betting it's the kind with filling, judging from the weight.

"Are you having any luck with understanding her better, yet?"

Misha lets out a surprisingly despaired sigh, though her speech doesn't reflect the action.

"Yes... and no~. She keeps throwing words at me I don't realize that I don't understand until it's already too late, but she just keeps going. It's frustrating when it's at its worst, but only challenging when it's at its best." She taps her foot on the tiled floor abjectively. "I can't tell if she's trying to help me get better, or if she's trying~ to lose me on purpose."

"I'm sure it will get better over time. Shizune can be somewhat... hardpressed on things."

"My hands are sooo tired from all the talking she wants me to do~."

Okay, now I'm confused.

"Your hands are tired," I try to grasp this, "from talking?"

"Shichan's deaf," Misha adds. "She can't talk out loud~. She uses sign language."

"Oh," I say, and leave it at that. Well, that supports my Student Council member-per-disability theory.

"I've been learning it, but Shhichan's just... it's hard." After adding this, Misha paces on the spot, or maybe she's tapping her feet in time.

A life without sound. That in itself seems... miserable. My whole life is based on sound and touch, with smell behind it with taste far off in the 'Extras' category. Now that I think about it, the only reason for that might be because I lack sight. If this is all I've ever known, then I'm sure that girl is in exactly the same position, just without a sense of hearing.

A world without music.

Sign language in general is a style of communication that is totally out of my context. There's supposed to be a lot about facial expressions and lots of little nuanced motions. It's literally impossible for me to do without some sort of haptic or tactile feedback. Even if i learned it fully and could say things to someone who relied on it, I would have absolutely no way to understand anything they would return to me.

It would be as if we would be completely out of touch with one another without an interpreter to even let each know that they exist, and that makes me sad. In my experience, nothing exists until it comes into some sort of my own perception. I hear a voice and I immediately associate it with a person, but I really don’t know much of anything about them other than their existence unless they come closer or allow me to feel them in some way. not everyone is okay with me feeling them, that’s for sure. That makes personal touch very important to me.

I shudder.

Would it be better to be cut off from the world, or to be cut off from others? It's not uncommon enough that someone be born without sight nor hearing. That is frightening to me. To be in a state of existence with no form of interaction aside from stumbling around and reacting on instinct. Touch may still be there, but there’s nothing to associate with it; no characterization, no love, no understanding.

It the sort of thing that causes me to question the legitimacy of The Miracle Worker.

I've begun to think too deeply into this, and it isn't until I hear my name that I'm called back into order.

"Misha, this is Naofumi. She's the reason I couldn't make the meeting today, regrettably." She doesn't sound incredibly torn about it. I pass along a casual "Hello", and she does likewise, but Lilly's not done yet. "I was wondering if you might be able to help us for a little while."

Uh, oh. More walking already? I'm not feeling up for more of that at this point.

"Yea~, sure Lilly. Whatcha need?"

"Well, first," she begins, rising from her seat, "I would like it if you stayed here with Naofumi while I visit the ladies' room for a moment. After that, I need to make a phone call that shouldn't take too long." She's already begun constructing her cane. "Then, if you don't mind... I'm supposed to show her the dorms, but..."

Misha laughs loudly. I can't tell if it's genuine or just rowdy of her.

"Wahaha~. That's right! You don't even live here, do you?"

*beep-beep*

"Huh?" Misha says aloud, echoing all of our thoughts.

That sounds like a stopwatch, but I don't have one. I obviously doubt Lily has one, either...

"Aww, crap! I forgot~ Shichan's timing me on this! I'll be right back~, I just gotta drop these off upstairs. It should only take a minute or, err, a couple!"

And with that, her footsteps trail quickly away, Misha sending a reassurance that she'll be right back, as if we didn't hear her the first time. Come to think of it, I'm sure everyone heard her. I wonder if she's deaf, too. I'm not confident in it, but I don't dismiss the idea.

Lilly, defeated, slides back down to her previous spot. After assuring me that she can wait without consequence, we just sit without incident. At first we're simply quiet, but soon, Lilly feels the need to fill the silence. I'm a little shocked as at how.

"Naofumi, do you have a boyfriend or anything at the moment?"

My mind has tripped over itself. I'm assuming she's not implying anything here, but my brain still goes on the defense. Words are becoming difficult to grab, and I fear I only have so many to work with right now.

"No," I reply, keeping it concise and nonspecific. Feeling like I've earned it, I ask her why she would want to know.

Her response is, "I was just wondering if you were going to be breaking any hearts during your stay here at Yamaku." She hums lightly in the wake of her words, biding her time until Misha returns from whatever fate she's set for herself by getting distracted.

You could tell her, you know. It's not that hard. It's not a secret or anything.

...But I don't tell her that. It's not a secret, but it's a little early to really get into all of it. Maybe some other time, when I'm more comfortable around the people here. They seem... normal and nice. I've already almost forgotten that most everyone here has problem of some sort.

Does Misha have a disability also? If she does, I have no way to detect it without directly inquiring, and I don't want to seem rude or anything.

I wonder who Lilly's going to call. I’d imagine it to be her sister, the way she talks. She'd rather speak privately, which may be why she was so concerned about being nearby when I answered my cell earlier. I don't think it's anything personal, but she's allowed to be selective in her openness should she feel like it.

Or she's going to talk about me, but I sincerely doubt that. Still, she can use the restroom without me, really...

"Lilly, you can go to the bathroom if you need to. I can survive on my own for a bit."

How much longer than that is yet to be known.

"It's alright," she assures me. "I'd rather not just leave you here by yourself."

I have a feeling she might intend to be in there a while, but doesn't have the heart to bring it up. She's a lady all right.

I ready a protest in order to convince her to just go, but footsteps hurry themselves in our direction again with an even *clop-clop-clop*. Even before stopping, and after we've already deduced their source, Misha lets herself be known to us, a sour pitch to her normally lilted voice. She came from the completely opposite direction this time, so there's another route I'll need to explore someday.

"I got yelled at~," she tells us guiltily. "At least, she was doing all sorts of stuff with her arms while she said it all, so I think that's the same thing as yelling."

Lilly is quick to comfort. "I'm sorry we held you up, Misha."

"Wahaha~! I'll be fine! it's not like she's gonna kick me out or anything. She really wants me to get better at sign language so she can have somebody to talk to." Misha seems unperturbed now, like the past few minutes never even happened. "I think Shichan wants to be in more regular classes, but she can't do that if she doesn't have a translator~, and Mr. Conner isn't going to follow her around all day~ when he has students to teach."

It's odd to hear a foreign name so suddenly, and teacher as well. Granted, I don't suppose they would deny anyone with proper credentials the opportunity to work here.

They're talking again, but I'm not really paying much attention. They exchange some small talk before Lilly decides that she needs to make her move before something disastrous occurs. When she's left the scene entirely, Misha jumps right into talking, thankfully taking her volume to a respectable level before doing so.

"So, if Lilly's the one showing you around... You're blind too, aren't you?"

For some reason, that hits me a little harder than it should.

"Yes, I am.” Wait a tick. “You didn't notice before?"

Sounding somewhat ashamed, “No. I’m sorry, I really didn’t think about it too much.” She sits in what used to be Lilly’s seat next to me. “And now that I see your cane, I feel pretty dumb~.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her. I was always under the impression that my handicap could be spotted, even if I didn’t wear the sunglasses or move around too much. I’ve always heard about sightless people who would have wonky eyes or blank expressions. I’m quite expressive with body language when need be, even though I’ve been told that my eyebrows don’t convey much emotion. I try to keep my eyes open more than closed, another trait that is supposedly against the grain.

“Your eyes are really pretty, though~.”

It’s a shame they don’t function as they should.

She gives me too much credit on my looks.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I’m not as confident in my appearance.”

“Fair enough~,” she tells me, and with that, the topic is dropped. it sounds like she has something in her mouth when she says this, but I can’t be sure. She wastes no time in proceeding to the next subject.

“Soooo~, are you a transfer student, like from a regular high school?”

“Sort of. They called me a transfer, but it’s really not, technically. I would have been here almost two months ago, if I hadn’t...” I try my best to dance around the issue, “...I was held up for a time.” There will be an opportunity when I can come clean without regret, but I’m not feeling the need for it at this point. “I was going to be home-schooled instead for that time, which is where the discrepancy is about a transfer. Instead, I ended up just taking a break until now.”

I needed time to find my balance.

“Haha~. And now you’ve got almost two months of backlogged homework to make up~!”

Something I hadn’t considered, true. I’m suddenly regretting the gap my stepmother and I agreed upon. Honestly, she may have been attempting to appease me, but I’ll end up paying for it more than I would like.

I’m going to seize this moment and this girl a similar question.

“So, you know why I’m here.” I grab the grip of my cane and tap its side against the table a few times. “What brings you here, Misha?”

She’s clicking her heels when she speaks; she’s so animated about everything she does.

“I wanted to learn sign language~, and I heard that Yamaku has a good course for it.” She pats her hands on the table as if she’s remembered something important... or she just likes to make noise when she’s talking, as with the plastic sack. “Plus, I get a lot of practical experience~, so it helps. I... I wanted to get out and do something different somewhere new~. You know, to start over.”

There’s a sincerity to her voice. I should be using this opportunity to make a fresh start, to finally take a step in the right direction for myself. She must want a new life as well, but that only serves to spring up the idea that she might not have liked where she was in general. She’s not saying it clearly, so it’d be best to comply and not instigate the thought. She likely wouldn’t press me on it, from what I can gather, even if she is very social.

I smell bubblegum.

“Is that gum I’m smelling, or is it you?”

She practically snorts.

“Wahaha~, you’re just like Lilly. Nothing gets by her. You want a piece? it’s normal flavor, but it’s chewy~.” She’s not even trying to cover up the chewing noises she makes now, smacking and popping irregularly. She’s like a kid right now, happily doing something simple to entertain herself.

I nod, and say, “If you wouldn’t mind, actually.” She tells me to hold out my hand, and shortly thereafter, she’s delicately placed a round ball of gum, sheathed in crinkly plastic. Her fingers lightly graze my palm when she does so. She’s has a soft touch, but I probably should keep that thought to myself. No need to get myself wound up about idle contact.

I unwrap the candy, placing its empty wrapper on the used tray in front of me. it’s a bit stubborn when I first set it in my cheek, but after a few times of crushing, it gives way to the desired effect. It is awful chewy.

I didn’t get gum very often. My stepmother has partial dentures due to a childhood accident, and she’s had a stigma with thin-textured candies ever since. It’s not that she ever stopped me from getting any; I just didn’t want to do something she couldn’t. It became obvious as the years went on that there were still more things that she could do that I was unable to replicate.

She is an architect, and regularly designs office buildings and homes alike.

I will never be able to do such a thing as a career.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Again?

“No, I do not. Lilly asked me the same thing. i don’t know why everyone seems so interested in my status.”

“Wahaha~!” Okay, that was kind of loud. as if she realizes, she tones it down and continues. “Sorry... It’s just... I know you can’t see, but,” she whispers, “you’re getting a lot of looks in here~. Lilly has good hearing even in noisy places. She must have heard people talking~.”

I don’t like the thought of people watching me or talking about me.

“It’s probably because of you talking to me, a person who they’ve never seen before, who isn’t in uniform or in a class when most students are supposed to be elsewhere.”

I’m getting anxious about this, and I may have come off as unappreciative. I can feel myself tensing again. I don’t want the attention. She says it’s positive, but I can never be sure. I don’t see what she does; I can’t understand what it even is that she’s picking up from it.

Misha moves in closer.

“...Are you okay?”

I exhale. My chest is taught for a moment, but it subsides. I can’t get so out of control over such little things. It's not healthy, and doing so puts too much stress on my body. “Yea. I can’t... I don’t like an audience.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” she says. I try, I really do. “Still, it’s the good kind of attention~. I’m totally surprised you don’t have a boyfriend though. There are lots of guys here you’d probably get along with...”

You know what? Fuck it.

“Actually, I’m not interested in...”

Why did I start that sentence?

On second thought; no. I don’t want to talk about this after all.

“...Nevermind. I’m not interested right now.”

I don’t think she’d understand, anyway.

“That’s cool, too,” she says, blowing a bubble afterwards. It pops, and I can hear her dismay when it’s apparently covered her face, a danger altogether unique to such childish actions.

“Eeuuugh, it’s all sticky~!”

I can only hope that she knows what that sounds like without context.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

more talking
i had to redo a lot of italics and stuff since i accidentally hit the BACK BUTTON ARRRGGHHHH
i'll go back over it again later

no alt text right now because NO TIME GOTTA BLAST

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
i changed the smallest of things