Name of the chapter will be self evident at the end of it
Again, apologies this took so long to get out. It's only around six thousand words, but I hope you enjoy it!I also want to thank everyone who keeps reading. This fic is now at over 30,000 views. I had no idea that would ever happen. Thank you so much!
As always, comments and feedback appreciated
Act 2: Countdown
Scene 6: I'm Feeling Lucky
Saki's not at the pool this morning.
I don't think it's even fair to say that I'm here, either. I didn't wake up early enough to go to the pool for my usual swim, but I did manage to swing by to see if Saki was here.
The water is calm, with only the low hum of the pool pumps breaking the early morning silence.
In retrospect, I don't even know why I came here. Habit, I guess. I didn't get much sleep last night. I showered and tried, but when that didn't work I tried to do some reading. I thought that if I exhausted my body, my mind would follow, but it didn't work out like that. I only managed to doze off.
My phone finally vibrated a bit after midnight. I was alert to it before the first buzz even stopped, fumbling blindly for it. I opened it and my eyes focused on a single text message.
Out of the hospital. Heading back to Yamaku.
Are you okay? I managed to type back. I already knew the answer to that question on more than one level, but I couldn't actually think of anything more meaningful to say.
Nothing broken.
I hesitated here. I wanted to ask for more details...but...something told me I shouldn't. I just knew that if she wanted to share them, she would have.
After a few long minutes, I sent another message just as inadequate as my first.
Glad you're okay. Get some sleep.
My phone stayed silent after that. I don't even remember falling asleep. I just remember the alarm waking me up.
The breeze from the overhead vents combined with the humidity from the room chills me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and browse through that short exchange again, and think about last night. When I replay the scene in my head, something isn't right.
Saki was hurt, to be sure, but she seemed just as equally scared and frustrated. She was definitely in some serious pain – the marks she left in my arm while digging her fingers into it prove that well enough – but there was something deeper there. When Noriko suggested going to get the school to get help, she loudly protested. At the time, I had thought it was just her not wanting to admit how badly she had hurt herself, but Chisato's reaction to that...first understanding, but then having to use it almost as a threat to get Saki to move.
What happened there?
And then there was her attitude as soon as Nurse actually did show up. If I was in that situation, I would probably feel relief that someone had come to help. But Saki didn't behave like that. She just seemed...defeated. And not from the physical pain of her ankle. It was like all the life had gone out of her the second she saw him.
That's not a normal response to the situation. What makes it feel so startling is that it feels so similar to some of my own reactions when I was in the hospital, coming to grips with what had happened to me.
I shake my head and snap my phone closed with an audible clack. I'm either about to read way too much into this, or I'm about to let my mind wander to something equally unpleasant. Either way, I don't want to go down that road right now.
I turn and leave the pool area, the squeaking of my shoes on the tile the loudest sound the room will hear this morning.
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We're about ten minutes away from class starting when Mutou stomps in, his heavy footsteps announcing his arrival before he appears in the doorway. Given that he's here before half the class has shown up, all of us are just as shocked as I am to see him. He scans the room and sees our faces, giving a small smile.
“Don't look so shocked,” he chides us. “This does happen from time to time, you know.”
Every student that was staring suddenly finds something else to look at. I hear the older man chuckle as he sets his bookbag down on his desk, almost delicately. He leans backwards, stretching his back, and his eyes settle on me.
Uh-oh.
“Ah, Nakai. I was hoping you'd be here. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
The attention the class was giving to Mutou is now firmly affixed on me. I feel the weight of it, and it triggers some rather unpleasant assumptions as to what this talk could be about.
“Sure,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up.
I follow him out into the hallway, with the door closing behind us. Seeing as how there's still a few students that need to show up, I'm wondering just how private this conversation can actually be.
“I heard through the grapevine you had a rough day yesterday,” he starts, with little preamble.
I grimace. I shouldn't be surprised that the faculty would know about it, and soon enough, the rest of the school will probably follow suit. Having a student go to the hospital, combined with all the theatrics involved like an ambulance showing up is bound to have that kind of effect. Even in a school like Yamaku.
Probably especially in a school like Yamaku.
“You could say that,” I say, swallowing hard to quench my suddenly parched throat.
“I heard a little bit about it from Nurse. He's the reason I'm talking to you. He wants you to stop by and see him today.”
I try to keep a neutral look on my face, although my body language betrays me as Mutou sees me deflate slightly.
“Do I need to go now?”
“He said it was up to me, actually,” the teacher says, folding his arms. “I can see how tired you are. We're starting a group project today that will last for the rest of the week, so if you wanted to ditch today you should have no problem catching up with a random group when you get back to class tomorrow.”
Before I can answer, our conversation is cut short as I notice Hanako a few feet from us, arriving at class. Both myself and Mutou sidestep to allow her to pass, the older man inclining his head in acknowledgment. Hanako looks down and takes a few quick steps through the door, without so much a glance at either of us.
“Anyway,” Mutou goes on, “class is about to start. Do you want to go now, or later?”
I'm not sure I want to face Nurse just yet. I have a pretty good idea that it won't be a standard social call, given what happened to Saki – and myself – last night. I don't know if putting it off will change my apprehension about it, but it won't hurt to try.
“I'll stay. I'll go there after class.”
Mutou nods, the question settled in his mind. He holds open the door for me.
A few minutes later, the last few stragglers make it to class and take their seats, most of which are surprised to see their habitually late teacher at his post. While the energy in the room is definitely not as low as it was after the festival, there's a marked drop after the weekend. When Mutou stands up to take his place in front of the blackboard, as if by unspoken agreement, everyone seems to decide at the same instant to either straighten their chairs, their clothing, or their postures.
“Good morning, everyone,” he says, clearing his throat and smiling. “I trust everyone had a good weekend?”
Various murmurs of assent drift to the front of the room.
“Good. I'll be handing back the tests you took last week later during the class. Most of you did fairly well, but there's definitely some room for improvement. So,” he pauses, holding up a ream of papers, “I thought we'd do some group work over the next few days to see if that helps. I have a packet here for each group that covers everything we'll be going over the rest of the week. Each group gets one. There's a few questions at the end of each page that you'll answer, then turn the packet in at the end of the week...yes, Mikado?”
I turn to look at Misha as she puts her hand down. “The group only needs to turn in one packet, right?” she asks, with a bright smile.
Mutou flashes it right back at her. “Yes...but before you get any ideas, at the end of the week we're going to have another quiz on what you covered in the packet. So that means everyone in the group will have to contribute equally to learn the material.”
I can visually see Misha's spirit drain out of her with that comment. Poor Misha.
Mutou glances at the top sheet in his hand. “Listen for your name and the group you're in. One group will be a bit short. Afterwards, feel free to move around the classroom.”
All of us start to look around, and I can see everyone making mental notes in their head of who they want to be matched with - and who they desperately want to avoid - judging by the look on some faces.
“First group! Suzumiya, Komaki, Kawana.”
Two students at the front of the class near the door turn to look at each other, then behind themselves. I'm not sure I know who is who.
“Group two. Ooe, Inoue, Ikezawa.”
Hanako's the only one I know from that group...come to think of it, I should probably pay attention to who's being called because I still don't know the names of half of my class.
“Third group. Kapur, Miura, Suzuki.”
Okay...maybe saying I know the names of half my class would be a bit generous. Maybe a third. I feel confident with a third.
Suzuki's the one with blue hair, right?
“Fourth group. Nakai, Mikado, Hakamichi, Maeda.”
My attention perks up as my name is called. I turn to see Misha and Shizune already looking at me, then glance over beyond them to see Maeda. Takashi Maeda. I remember his first name. We make eye contact for a brief moment, and he closes his eyes and sighs heavily in boredom. It's the same sigh Shizune gives from time to time when she gets exasperated with myself or Misha, but unlike with her, this expression instantly comes off as annoying I can't put my finger on why.
Mutou is calling out other names, but now that mine has already been called, I only hear sounds and not the words they're actually meant to form.
Shizune is already rapidly signing something to Misha, and both their hands are a blur. I idly wonder if the two of them ever get scolded by Mutou for talking among themselves, even when there's no actual noise to disrupt the class.
After the names are called, there's a brief rattling of chairs and desks as we all move into a rough approximation of our groups. Takashi stands up and moves to the row in front of us, sitting backwards on a chair to rest his arms and head on the backrest. Mutou makes his way around, passing a thick pack of papers to each group. He hands ours directly to Shizune, who passes it around to each of us after a quick inspection. When it gets to me, I spend a few quick moments flipping through it.
(continued...)
