To me Walter White is a fascinating character, and I'd love to explore the moral dilemmas and struggles he faces with our very own Hisao Nakai. I've tried to match up the characters from KS to the show as best I can, with more to come. Also I am aware that some things contradict canon in both works, but I'm trying to make it so that it best fits my idea of where I want the story to go while remaining as close to the spirit as the source material as possible. I hope I managed it.
Please check it out, and as always feedback is welcome. I will appreciate any comment you have to make, no matter how long or short it is. If you like reading what I write you might want to check out the Rin story I wrote. But anyway, Breaking Hearts. Enjoy!
My name is Hisao Nakai. I live in Sendai, Japan. I am forty years old.
My wife is seven months pregnant with a baby we didn't intend to have. My sixteen year old daughter has burn scars all over the right side of her body from a childhood accident.
I am an extremely overqualified high school chemistry teacher. When I can work, I make around three hundred thousand yen a year.
I have watched all of my colleagues and friends surpass me in every way imaginable.
And in eighteen months, I will be dead.
* * *
Did you ever have a day which changed your entire life forever? I believe that every person ever born gets one.
Some people are lucky to enjoy the day like this which was given to them. Like winning a lottery. I used to know someone who struck gold with the first ever ticket he bought. The very first. He took off for the Caribbean and I never heard from him again.
Depending on how old you are, it could be an examination day. I've seen so many students, head bowed in ferocious effort, hands moving like a blur too fast to see, as they wrote down the answers that would literally determine their futures. I've had to counsel more than one student who suffered a nervous breakdown after the examination was over.
But if you enjoyed your special day...if the worst you had to worry about was a simple school paper...then I envy you. If there is a God, He has showed you the kindness and mercy that was denied to me.
My own day arrived on the day I turned forty. It was not something I would have wished on my worst enemy. Every time I close my eyes I am back again, going through the motions, every last detail burned into my brain. How the air smelled like that day. The colour of the sky. How it felt to suffer a near-fatal heart attack.
I had gotten up at a bad time, and I was running late for work. Instead of grabbing a slice of bread and rushing to school, I had to sit at the table and wait for my wife to serve a special breakfast for me. Rice with salmon, miso soup and seaweed flakes that spelled out '40' and a little heart shape. It was sweet of her, but such little acts of love and affection were common from my Lilly. She sat down next to me, moving carefully and slowly on account of her pregnant belly, and sipped steaming hot tea with a serene smile on her face.
We had been married a long time now, and the sight of her still made my heart skip a beat. Lilly turned heads whenever she walked around town, being unlike most Japanese women. Her mother was from Scotland, and Lilly inherited her blue eyes, blonde hair, and statuesque height. When we stood back to back and I wasn't cheating, she was a little taller than me.
“Is it good, dear?” she asked, her voice a soft lilt.
“It's very nice,” I said, smiling back at her. But of course, she couldn't see it. She was blind. Lilly had been blind since birth. She refused to let it stop her from doing anything, with a hint of steel that stood in contrast to her otherwise gentle demeanour. Through long years of living together I knew when she needed my help and when it wasn't necessary. It wasn't perfect, and we rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes, but which marriage didn't have its bumps in the road?
A thought struck me. Lilly couldn't have decorated the plate by herself. I stole a glance at my teenage daughter, Hanako. She had her head down and was chewing disinterestedly. At least she didn't have her ever-present earphones in at the table.
“Hanako, did you help your mum to make this? It's quite pretty,” I said, taking a stab at making conversation.
No response. Lilly put down her cup of tea with a small crash, which jolted her into an answer.
“Yeah,” she said. “Happy birthday dad,” she added, when her mother's frown didn't disappear. And that was it. Resisting the urge to sigh I picked up my chopsticks again and started eating quickly. She hadn't always been like this. She was the chirpiest, bubbliest, most hyper little kid imaginable up till the age of eight. Then there was the accident...
But I didn't want to think about that. The future already looked problematic. There was no sense in bringing up the past. Finishing breakfast, I stacked the plates in the sink and gave Lilly a quick kiss.
“Have a good day, honey.”
“I'll try. I love you. Stay off your feet and get some rest.”
“I will. I love you too.”
Hanako had slung her bag and was already walking out the door. “Bye mum,” she called over her shoulder, forcing me to hurry up to catch her.
She was silent throughout our drive to school. Hanako attended the same school where I taught, which had its good and bad points. It's true that I could keep an eye on her more easily, but it focused more attention on her from the other kids, which was the last thing she wanted.
Even with her long flowing hair that obscured most of her face, anyone could see the extensive burn scars that covered the right side of her body. She retained the use of both her eyes, something for which we were very thankful for, and she had undergone several skin grafts, but nobody could ever mistake Hanako for looking anything close to normal.
Teenage years were already hell on a young girl's self-esteem and confidence. Now take all the awkwardness and emotions and fits of irrationality, and imagine you had to go through it while resembling Two-Face from Batman. A boy made the comparison once, within Hanako's hearing. I was a hair from wringing his scrawny neck, and only Lilly's urgent pleas stopped me from doing so. Hanako locked herself in her room for a week after that and wouldn't come out.
“Hope you bought something nice for my birthday. If it's not a brand new Lamborghini I'll be very disappointed,” I said, trying to coax some conversation out of my daughter.
Silence. I stole a glance to see if she was listening to her iPod, but her dark hair masked her ears. I tried again.
“What do you think of the new math teacher, Mr Seizuka? I've spoken to him a few times, he seems like a nice young man.”
“I don't know,” mumbled Hanako. She shifted in her seat a little, turning away from me, and gazed out of the window instead. I gave up.
When we reached the school Hanako grabbed her bag and took off without a backwards glance. I resisted the urge to dwell on the times when I could give her a hug simply because I wanted to and she would return it without cringing and shying away like a wounded animal. I picked up my own bag and walked to my first class.
* * *
I hate teaching chemistry.
Maybe that's not completely accurate. I might like teaching it at a university, for instance. A place where all you had to worry about was whether or not your students grasped the subject material. Not being a glorified disciplinarian, psychiatrist, nanny and relationship counselor into the bargain. A place where the only students you taught were the ones who voluntarily signed up for your classes in the first place.
Perhaps what I mean to say is, I hate teaching at a high school.
I teach a few hundred students a year, depending on whether or not the Academy had hired a few more science teachers to help out. But more often than not, I was stuck teaching chemistry to a bunch of ungrateful brats.
Out of those hundreds, maybe four would get me. Maybe. Only four would truly understand, and appreciate the efforts I made, and followed up my lectures with questions of their own because they truly wanted to learn and discover more about the world around them. In those moments, I could feel satisfied. But they were rarer than finding a meteorite full of diamonds in your backyard.
At other times...
Well, at other times I idly wondered whether I could get away with burning down the school and fleeing to Taiwan.
You think kids hate school? Please. We teachers hate it more.
Think of talking to somebody, but he cuts you off just as you were about to say something important. You know how annoying it can be. That times a million is what teaching high school is like. Oh, and the endless grading of pathetic papers. The horrible food. I could go on. But that'll take a while.
I tried to tell the class about chiral bonds and not one of them was paying attention. Chemistry is so...beautiful, really. There's no other word to describe it. So elegant in its simplicity and design. So utterly wonderful how mankind has made use of it to achieve miracles in the fields of medicine and so much more. The study of chemistry is the study of life itself. How we were made. How we live. How we go back to the earth. But not one of those idiots in my class would ever truly understand or appreciate what I have to tell them.
Life wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to work in a lab. Conduct important research that would make great strides for human progress. Get published in journals and be read by some of the top scientific minds on the planets. Win fame and a bit of cash.
Lilly doesn't see it that way. She says over and over again she's happy with what she has and the life we have. But I know better. Lilly was brought up in privilege, never lacking for any want. Her parents loathe me, hate that their daughter chose to marry someone who could never provide for her the way they did. Lilly says she doesn't care. But sometimes in the long stretches of the night, after she's gone to sleep and I hear her quiet, regular breathing, I just lie awake and stare at my ceiling and admit that they were right. They were right, damn them.
Perhaps she sees it differently because Lilly loves teaching. She's one of those people who were born to nurture and educate others. Her forte is English, and both English and Japanese Literature. She's committed, dedicated and mastered the art of being the kind of teacher that students genuinely like and want to do well for. She could make lots more cash by giving private tuition to foreigners, but she prefers the community of the school. When she had to take maternity leave, there was a large send-off for her. Part of the reason why I don't just quit is that I know she looks forward to me telling her little snippets of what happened at school every day when I come home from work. God knows Hanako won't say a word.
So yes, Lilly loves doing what she does. For me, I want more. I don't want my wife to worry about the bills. I don't want my daughter to be mocked for wearing shabby clothes, not when the cruel people of the world already have so much to mock her for. There's another baby on the way too, my goodness. The government keeps saying we should have more children, but I'd like them to deal with sleepless nights and dirty diapers for me if they're so enthusiastic about it.
All these worries. All these thoughts. All these fears. They add up.
Not one student has wished me a happy birthday. Well it's not like they know and I'm really far too old for this anyway.
Class ended, and not a moment too soon. I was stuck with a big bunch of papers to grade in too short an amount of time. I locked up the lab, can't have any young fool come in and wreck the place. Lots of sensitive equipment here.
I texted Hanako. “Need a ride?”
A few minutes later, I got a text back. “K”. Just that one letter. Is it too much trouble to put an 'O' in front of it?
She hurried towards my car, her head down, arms pressed tight against her body, moving like a scurrying squirrel. Nobody waved goodbye, nobody called out a friendly farewell. As sad as it sounds, Hanako would prefer it that way.
Silence in the car on the way back. I suppose it's too much trouble to ask for Hanako to tell me how her day went. She dashed out of the car as soon as we reached home and fled into the house. I take my time parking, before going in.
* * *
“SURPRISE!”
Lilly stood in the middle of the living room, beaming. A few friends surround her, both mine and hers. There are a lot more of hers. Hanako is off to one side, but there's actually a ghost of a smile on her face for once. How much of her taciturn mood this morning was a ploy?
I kissed Lilly, and greeted the rest of the guests. I'm touched. We don't usually have parties or invite people over, what with Lilly's pregnancy and Hanako's people phobia. But they made the effort for me today.
Someone slapped me on the back, hard enough to make me wince. “Happy birthday Hisao, you old bugger,” said Akira. I can't believe she made it down just for me.
Akira is Lilly's older sister, which makes her older than me too. I pointed this out and she just laughed it off. But while Lilly is tall with long hair (not to mention with pretty much the most perfect rack ever designed by God and genetics), Akira is shorter, slimmer and looks almost androgynous. Her short blonde hair styled in a pixie cut doesn't help matters either.
I pressed a beer in her hand, noting she'd already downed one can and took one for myself. As we drank, I thought about how different Akira is from Lilly in terms of personality as well as looks. Lilly's refined air and deliberate, gentle nature gives way to Akira's energy, rough-edged humour and boisterous personality when the sisters are together. Still, they do love each other very much. When Lilly's parents refused to come to our wedding, Akira was there, not caring a jot what they thought. It was a gesture that I have never forgotten.
“How's teaching high school brats?” she asked.
“Oh, you know. Sometimes I feel like killing them all,” I said, with a chuckle at the end.
“Please don't do it Hisao,” she replied with mock horror. “The paperwork will be horrible.”
Akira is a police inspector with the Criminal Investigations Bureau, specialising in drug trafficking and firearms. She's one of the very few female police officers around, one of the even fewer in the CIB, and she's pretty much the only female of her rank for miles around. She's tough and takes no shit from anyone, and as she can drink and crack wise with the best of the boys she's also won their hard-earned trust.
“Come here you,” she said, seeing Hanako trying to edge her out out of the living room and back into her room. Hanako let out a muffled squeak, but allowed her Aunt Akira to give her a hug. Hanako pretty much heroine-worshipped her, and was one of the very, very few people she allowed to get within five feet of her.
Some time later and with another beer in my gut, I started to feel a little dizzy. Two was usually my limit. Even though it was my birthday, I left the guests to their revelry and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. Akira was there, smoking a cigarette. Lilly must have told her politely but firmly not to smoke in the house.
“Want one?” she said, proffering the pack. I waved it off.
“Came out to get some fresh air, but thanks to you I'll get lung cancer instead,” I joke, leaning on the wall beside her.
“One stick? Please.”
“What about you? Aren't you worried?”
“Nah I'm indestructible,” said Akira, a smirk playing on her lips as the lit cigarette dangled from her fingers. “Shouldn't you be back inside?”
“You know me, I'm not so good with crowds. Besides, I gotta leave soon.”
That got her attention. “Leave? Now? Why?”
I sighed, looking up at the evening sky, not wanting to face her directly. “I've taken on a second job. With the economy how it is, and Lilly not being able to work for a few months after this, well, money's a bit tight at the moment.”
“Hisao,” said Akira firmly, no trace of her usual levity in her voice. “You know when it comes to things like this, you can always count on me. No questions asked.”
“I know that, Akira. Believe me, I appreciate it more than I can possibly express. But...”
“But what? I've spent half my life looking after my little sister. I'm not going to stop now,” said Akira. Her cigarette was forgotten, her eyes were locked on me.
I spoke slowly, not out of fear of giving offence, but because I was giving voice to thoughts that had been lurking in my head for many months. Maybe even years. I wanted to say it right.
“Look Akira, that's exactly it. I know you and Lilly are close. That you've always protected and looked out for her, since you were both kids. But I married her. Her happiness is my responsibility now.”
I pause. Akira said nothing, letting me continue.
“How much of a man would I be if I can't take care of my Lilly?” I said, my voice nearly breaking. Akira still looked stern for a moment, but then her eyes softened.
“Idiot,” she muttered, punching me lightly in the arm. But she didn't say I was wrong. I knew she understood what I was trying to get at.
“What kind of a job is it? Robbing banks?” she asked after a while.
“Yeah I work for the Yakuza now. Nah it's just the night shift at this convenience store. Terrible hours, terrible pay, but every little bit helps right?”
“Good God. I'd rather strip dance for the money.”
“I don't think there's much demand for forty year old high school teachers. It does have its perks. Not a lot of people come in, so I can grade papers and catch up on my reading at the same time.”
“You be careful alright? Sendai's pretty safe, but some nut with a knife could come in and stick you up,” said Akira. She'd smoked her cigarette down to a stub, and out of deference to me, flicked it beyond my fence.
“I'll try.”
“Maybe Hanako could get a job?” offered Akira. We both thought about it for a moment. Then we both shook our heads. Hanako hated the outside world as it is. Besides, I didn't want to disrupt her education in any way.
“I respect you for this, Hisao. I really do. But see here, if you ever need my help, you don't hesitate one second. You pick up that phone and give me a call. If there's anything I can do, I'll do it,” said Akira at last.
I give her a smile. “Thanks Akira. I will.”
A door opened, and Lilly came outside. “Hisao? Akira?”
“We're over here honey,” I call to her. Lilly joined us.
“Akira. Are you trying to persuade my husband to smoke?” she said in mock admonition.
“It was either that or asking him to leave you and elope with me,” said Akira, shrugging. “He said no to both though.”
Lilly laughed, one hand on her cheek. “Oh Akira, you're horrible.”
“That's what they all say down at the office,” said Akira, giving Lilly a hug and a kiss. “See you later little sister.”
“Aren't you staying?”
“No, I gotta bounce. There's still some paperwork I need to get done.”
“I'd better go too,” I said, checking my watch. “It's almost time for my shift.”
Lilly looked a little disappointed, but nodded her head. “This isn't how I imagined celebrating your birthday, Hisao.”
“A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?” I said breezily. I lean in close to Lilly, one arm around her waist, my other hand resting protectively on her tummy. We kiss, and again it's like we're back in that golden wheat field, when we were both young and stupid, every time like it's the first time we fell in love.
“See you soon,” I said, as both Akira and I prepared to leave. I don't know how long Lilly stood on the doorstep, straining to hear the faint rumble of my car as it sped away into the city, taking away two of the three people she loved most in all the world.
* * *
Remember what I said earlier, about how much I hate teaching?
I take it back. Working as a clerk in a convenience store is a million, million times worse.
It's located in one of the rougher edges of town. A few of the street lamps are broken, the paint on the buildings faded and peeling. I pray no one tries to steal my car.
You stand at the counter, ringing up utterly mundane purchases as a succession of morons files in and out of the store, hoping against hope no one throws up in an aisle cos you'll have to clean it up. There's other things to hope for too, like not having some punk wander into the store and slit your throat for the cigarettes and liquor in the locked glass case behind you.
But that's nothing, nothing compared to the utter mind numbing boredom as you wait for the minutes to slip by. An hour feels like a century. When I first started I couldn't believe that there was anything that would make me prefer grading papers. But the night shift had done it. I looked forward to correcting mistakes and making big red marks all across my students' papers as I lulled the hours away.
Then the door opened and I froze. Oh no.
It was my absolute worst nightmare come true. Two kids from my school, from my class. They walked in, laughing and giggling like they hadn't a care in the world.
The guy did a double take when he saw me. “Mr Nakai?”
I had no idea what to do. Do I smile? Do I wave? Do I pretend to be someone else who just coincidentally looks exactly like their high school chemistry teacher?
I settled for a nod of greeting and a simple “Hello.”
The girl tugged on his arm, dragged him away to an aisle where I can't see their faces. There was the sound of muffled laughter. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palm, enough to hurt.
Eventually they brought a few things to the counter, biting their lips to keep from laughing outright. I rang up their purchases, my face a blank mask of stone.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you Mr Nakai. Uh, see you in school.”
They leave, and there was little I could do but glare after them. By tomorrow the whole school would know. Damn them. Of all the terrible luck. I slumped down on the counter, burying my head in my hands.
“Dude. Wake up, dude.”
I jerk awake. “Sorry...” Then I realised who it was standing in front of me.
He was a little older, a little skinnier, and a lot more unkempt. But he had the same messy dark hair, the same extremely thick glasses, and the same air of rampant paranoia about him.
“Kenji?”
He leaned in closer. “Mr Nakai? Is that you?”
“Uh, yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
Kenji Setou was a former student of mine. I taught him once, long ago. He was a fairly average student, but I remember that he dropped out before graduating and vanished after that. I'd always wondered what became of him.
“Give me a pack of smokes man. Hurry up.”
I reached for a pack, taking the opportunity to study him. He was wearing a hooded jacket far too big for him, hands in his pockets, looking nervously in all directions. He didn't look relaxed or comfortable at all.
“Hurry up man, hurry it up.”
I put it on the counter. Kenji snatched it up and threw some money at me.
“Hey!”
Cursing idiotic dropout kids, I scrabbled on the floor picking up all the notes and coins. They didn't add up to the price of the cigarette pack. I stood up again, but he was gone. I cursed and pounded the counter with my fist. Any discrepancy in the bills at the end of the night, and I'd have to make up the difference out of my own pocket.
I stepped out of the store, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Maybe I'll call Akira down to bust his ass. I looked around for a while, and then I saw him. He was standing on the edge of the street, deep in conversation with two other guys. They didn't look like the kind of guys who would be interested in gardening and a nice crossword puzzle. No, they looked like they ate iron bars and crapped molten lava.
Then as I watched, one of the guys pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Kenji.
A gun. I hadn't seen one in real life before. A gun was something out of a movie, something you'd expect to find on the streets of America. Not Japan. Not here!
Kenji was frozen. Even from where I was, I could see he was trembling. I don't know what came over me. All I knew was that I stepped forward and yelled as loudly as I could.
“Hey! Hey, you! Stop that!”
The thug with the gun turned towards me, and quick as a flash Kenji took to his heels and fled like all hell was after him. The thug cursed, and aimed the gun at me instead. He fired.
I swear, the bullet must have missed me by inches. I could feel the wind from the slug as it passed over my head. The deafening noise of the shot filled my ears. I nearly filled my pants. I didn't give a damn what happened to Kenji. I just had to get out of there.
I turned around and ran, ran for my life, expecting at any moment another bullet to come flying out of nowhere and blow out the back of my head.
Then a sharp pain gripped my chest. A finger of ice trailed up from my hands and up my arm. I couldn't fell anything except that sense of terrible cold. The pain in my chest was getting worse. My legs gave way, then I crashed to the ground. I knew I had to get out of there. I knew I had to move. But I couldn't. All I could do was to sink to the ground, ready to embrace death.
I thought of Hanako. I thought of Lilly, and the baby. As the blackness slipped over me, the last thought in my head was of how I'd failed them.
Somewhere far off, a clock chimed midnight.
