Saki nods, a bit guiltily, as if she knew all along this revelation would have this impact on myself and others. “I haven't been there for the last week at all, and even before then, I was missing out on meetings. Besides,” she offers weakly, “there's nobody to take me like Chisato does with band.”
“I could stop by your class after school and make sure you make it over there, if you're still in the wheelchair for a few more days,” I volunteer. It would be something I could easily do.
Saki ponders this, but then shakes her head. “Thank you, but...no. I've made up my mind. I was never in it for the art anyway. It was just something I was doing as part of my therapy, I guess.”
I nod automatically, but Saki can see I'm not really comprehending. She sighs, then continues.
“When I first came to Yamaku, the doctors that were treating me suggested I get into the arts club, because it would be good for my hands and motor control. So I did, mainly to keep them and my parents happy, but I never did give up the violin. That's better therapy anyway, and whatever I can't do with it, I can do on my own time...but...”
Her voice takes on the monotone of someone giving an explanation for something personal while trying to remain detached from it. It's one I've heard from her before, and one I've used myself more often than I probably should.
“After what happened that night, I did a lot of thinking this last week. I realized I just don't have the time for both clubs, especially with the recording project with Chisato. Art club was kind of fun, but it's just not as important as the other things to me.”
“I'm sorry,” I say, more to fill the silence on my part.
“Don't be,” she replies with a shrug that sends ripples out from around her body. “It's just the way it is.”
A few more seconds go by.
“Are you doing anything after classes today?” Saki asks, looking up.
I check my mental calendar and find it blank. “I don't think I am, why?”
“If you were serious...could you take me to the art club after school? I need to talk to Nomiya and make it official, I guess. I could use the emotional support.”
“Of course,” I say. “Why, is he bad?”
Saki shudders. “He takes art and what he does very personally. I've been in his club for over two years now, and if I tell him I'm leaving like this, I don't think he's going to take it too well.”
“Alright. I'll take you there, and then to band afterwards, if that's where you want to go.”
“Thanks,” she says, the traces of her thousand-watt smile visible again. “Well, enough about me. What about you? Get in all your laps yet?”
“Ah, no...” I sheepishly reply.
“A few minutes ago you said you were faster. Try one now. I'll time you,” she says teasingly.
“How do you know how fast I am?”
“What, you think you're the only one checking out the available eye candy in the morning?” she winks.
Ah, there it is. That feeling that I'm being teased, but not quite; the constant on-edge feeling I have around her that challenges me to keep my own wits sharp.
I didn't realize how much I've missed it this last week.
“Alright then,” I answer, my voice filled with a fake confidence as I move back towards the end of the pool. “Let's see how I do.”
I reach the edge and get into my facsimile of a starting position, taking deep, measured breaths. Saki watches the clock at the end of the pool, and when the second hand sweeps past the top of its arc, shouts the word “go!”
I take off, rocketing off the wall with a powerful kick. When the water starts to slow me, I paddle with all the strength I have, trying to time my kicks to keep me surging through the water. A few seconds later I start breathing in time with every stroke, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. I can feel my heart beating strong.
I mentally count down the seconds in my head since I started. I should be reaching the end of the pool about now...
No sooner does that thought occur than I slap the edge. I know I'm making great time. I turn around and power back, giving it everything I have. I feel my body starting to protest, but I ignore it.
It's only for a few seconds, but it stretches out to so much more. I reach the end of my lap and stand up, brushing my hair back out of my eyes. “How'd I do?” I pant, looking at Saki.
“Not bad! You're two seconds faster than you were when you started a few weeks ago!”
“That's it?" I say, crestfallen. “I put everything I had into that, and all I managed to shave off was two lousy seconds?”
“Hey, don't feel bad! That's a huge improvement for only a few weeks.”
“I thought I'd be faster than that,” I groan.
“You aren't going to be much faster while you're wearing a shirt,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
Just come right out and say it, why don't you?
I look down at the fabric clinging to me, feeling it pull on me, suddenly self conscious. “I guess I won't, will I?” I muse, turning to look at Saki.
Her eyes are sparkling with the same look of encouragement I've seen from her when she challenges me to push myself. My heart skips a beat under its intensity, as it always does.
“Want to try it again?” she offers, her voice soft.
I know what she's implying.
My fingers come up to my collar, absently brushing it, feeling the roughness of the fabric enchaining my neck.
This shirt is weighing me down in more ways than one. I'm scared, but the answer is yes.
I do.
I do want to try again.
Before I can change my mind or think myself out of it, I reach down to the bottom of the shirt and pull it up over my head in one smooth motion, water streaming from it. I crumple it up in my hands and throw it to the side, the sodden garment coming to rest on the concrete with a wet smack that echoes through the room.
Now that I've made the decision, I don't want to think too hard about it. Don't think about the cool air on your bare chest. Don't think about how the water feels against it directly. Don't think about the scar you've exposed for the first time to anyone since your operation. Don't think about the girl who can see it.
“Go!” Saki shouts.
Revitalized by adrenaline, I take off again, the water streaming around me. The lack of drag on my body is immediate, and I can feel the difference as I seem to slice through the water, and it just ignites something in me.
Powering through, focusing with everything, pushing myself as hard as I possibly can...for the first time in months, I'm truly cutting loose, physically and mentally.
It's primal. It's visceral. It's liberating.
Excitement swells in my chest with my thundering heartbeat. Nothing can stop me!
I push harder...
I mentally note that in a few more seconds I should be at the edge of the po-
WHAM!
Pain!
White hot pain sears through my head while white hot stars sear behind my vision. I try to cry out, but instead I suck in a lungful of water, and start flailing, trying to figure out what the hell just happened...
I'm completely disoriented, and oh god, my head my head my head!
I vaguely think I hear someone shouting, but it's muffled, as if from a great distance...
Don't panic!
My feet manage to find something hard, like concrete, and I desperately hope it's the bottom of the pool. I push up break the above the surface of the water, coughing violently. The coughs rack me so hard I retch, blinking hard to drive back the waves of nausea.
I feel hands on my shoulder.
“Calm down Hisao! Just breathe, you're okay!” Saki's voice rings in my head next to me, its urgency cutting through the fog of agony in my head. I tense up, trying to at least hold still while my body calms down so I don't end up accidentally lashing out and hitting Saki.
“You're okay,” she says, her hand moving up to the one I have firmly clamped on the top of my head. “Let me see...”
I try to calm down, sucking air in through my teeth to combat the throbbing in the top of my skull. The pain isn't helped by realization of what just happened and how stupid it was.
I was going so much faster than I thought that I slammed headfirst into the wall at full tilt.
“Hisao, let me see,” Saki says again, with more force.
I move my hand away from my head, and I can feel Saki tenderly probing through my hair with her fingertips. I grimace in pain as she touches my scalp and hiss loudly.
<<Art by rtil>>
“No blood,” she comforts, her tone soothing. “Breathe, okay?”
I nod, trying to control my breathing, the tickling in the back of my throat threatening to start another coughing fit. Slowly, slowly, my heartbeat calms down along with my breathing. My head is still pounding, but it's becoming more of a dull roar. With a final slow exhale, I try to regain some equilibrium.
That's when I notice where Saki's hands are; one on my shoulder, one splayed out across my chest.
Right over my scar.
I tense up like a deer in the headlights, my face turning hot.
Saki goes quiet when she senses the change in my demeanor. I can't look her in the eyes, so I sense - rather than see – her staring at it.
I logically know I can't be like this forever. Someone besides my doctors and family is going to have to see this sooner or later. I even know that it's not practical to wear a shirt in the pool, if for no other reason how harsh the chemicals are on fabric that isn't designed for it.
I logically know all this, but damn me if I was hoping it wouldn't come up so soon, and definitely not like this.
(continued)
