Running on empty [Emi's good end cont'd.] (updated: 3/9)

[edward_low]

Don't worry, it's not abandoned. In fact, I'm posting chapter two in about 2 hours or so.

Edit: Yeah, just did so, and made the necessary edits to the prologue and chapter one as well.

While it may not seem so, I've mainly been working on the middle portion, the fruits of which won't be seen for a few chapters yet. Getting down motifs, motives, scene ideas, triggers, links, fleshing out character details ... as much as possible, I don't want to do retroactive editing, especially especially because the formatting on this forum is annoying. The plot I've come up with is very ambitious and difficult to execute so I've got to do it right.

This is Chapter Two, again, so it's more obvious it's updated:

Chapter Two:

'High-intensity interval training.'

Emi had said these four words with the kind of joyful anticipation of a retiree announcing vacation plans.

'"Interval training"? That means I get to rest, right?'

I didn't much like the sound of high-intensity, but I was pretty psyched from completing my first five kilometre run the prior week. I had come a long way since my sedentary hospital life. Running wasn't so hard. I was ready for anything.

'Technically,' she replied, her smile widening by the second.

Oh. What a fool I was.

I don't doubt that Emi had been wanting to put me through this training a long time now. Ever since the Nurse's admonition, my track record (so as to speak) has been perfectly clean. No more sprinting, no more attempts to race the school's track star. Just patient and well-paced jogs aimed at distance rather than speed. I love our morning jogs: I've thought this a million times, though I've yet to admit this out loud. They were just taxing enough to require focus, refreshing my mind first thing in the morning. And the freedom. The knowledge that I've been running for twenty minutes straight and still have energy left to burn is something I've come to see as incredibly liberating. Sometimes it's hard not to laugh in exhilaration as I tear up the track during the final sprint. The lack of breath sure helps.

I haven't even mentioned Emi. I've seen her run countless times and it never gets any less breathtaking. It doesn't seem possible that her stature allows her to take strides that large, but she does. It's impossible that she moves her legs that quickly, but she does. And her sprinting is a whole different ball game. I'm certain when I claim to see a different, rarely seen side of her. Her eyes narrow, and you can visibly note her muscles tensing up. And her wicked smile is one shared by the valiant warriors throughout history who loved battle, every moment of it. Her aura completely changes. There is an Emi, well-known for being sociable, amiable, adorable, engaging, easily-distracted, attention-loving. Well, sprinting-Emi is not that Emi. I've often wondered what it would be like to hold a conversation with sprinting-Emi, whether she'd even recognise me in her single-minded focus, much less respond.

For quite a few days now I've been running with an insufferably cheery attitude, daydreaming, letting my mind drift to matters such as Emi, Mutou's latest scientific problem, and the future in general. This probably showed on my perpetually vacant smile and flagging pace. My timings were good but they weren't getting any faster, despite her shouted encouragement and taunts. Emi wasn't too happy about this, especially not when her own sprinting regiment was rather difficult and tiring.
And that's probably why she begged the Nurse to green-light her hellish new regime. He had smiled, wished me good luck, and euphemistically told me to report if I experienced any irregularities with my heart. Thanks Nurse.

So here I am, lying wide awake on my bed. Nearly two hours since my morning jog-sprint-jog-sprint-jog-sprint-jog-sprint-jog-sprint-jog-sprint, my heart rate has yet to really calm down, and my thighs the sorest in living memory. My mind was wholly preoccupied with breathing hard and I can't seem to recall smiling much, though Emi certainly was smiling a whole lot as she blew the whistle to signal a change of pace.

The room is unusually dark for this time of the day, with the sun's rays barely peeking out from the sides. I had drawn the curtains in a futile attempt to get some much needed rest. My body had the inertia of a large boulder at the bottom of the sea, but my mind kept buzzing about some nonsense, depriving me of any chance of sleep. I groan as I shift my weight, trying to slither to a different portion of the bed. My body is utterly wrecked and I still have that lunch date with Emi ...

Right on cue, I hear a pattern of enthusiastic knocks on my door. Sounds remotely like Khachaturian's 'Sabre Dance'. I wouldn't know, because they cease abruptly as the door flew open on its hinges and Emi came flying through. Of course. I smile before realising a little too late that I was supposed to be cross. The final product was some sort of exaggerated grimace.

'What's the point of knocking if you're going to barge in uninvited anyways?'

'Knocks are a warning, not a request, Hisao.'

She said this good-naturedly, as if explaining the facts of the world to a cute but not particularly bright child. She sat on the edge of my bed without invitation, bobbing her head from side to side, as though privy to a tune I couldn't hear. I had no idea why she was here an hour early, or why she was contentedly kicking her legs up and down nonchalantly while looking around my room. It felt as if asking would have been inappropriate, and would have ruined the moment - so I didn't. Still, it is a comfortable silence, especially in the wake of her entrance. Silence between a boy and a girl in a tiny room; a quiet lull almost post-coital in nature, the room slowly filling with unsaid words that need not be uttered. It is a silence I am grateful for, as I feel my mind relaxing for the first time since waking up.

Emi is taking in the room with fresh eyes. Oh, right, this is the first time she's been here, isn't it?

I lean back further into my pillow that is propped against the wall, sleepily taking in the room: My borrowed books, forming an messy pile in the centre my desk, flipped around to expose their summaries. My exam notes tidily stacked and placed in an undisturbed corner. The grey curtains gently pulsating in the morning breeze. The standard issue, no-frills Casio clock mounted on the opposite wall. A wastepaper basket half-filled with tissues and empty cans of jasmine green tea. A large and wonderful collection of cardiac medicine on my bedside table. And an unusually quiet girl with the prettiest green eyes watching me nod off to sleep ...

[griffon8]

I’d recommend putting your new chapter 2 here, at the end of the thread, rather than where your now redacted chapter 2 was. Anyone new to the thread will see all these weird comments about a perfectly good chapter.

Just make a comment in the original chapter 2 post about it being replaced.

[Mirage_GSM]

That and if griffon hadn't posted I wouldn't even have noticed it was up...

Right on cue, I hear a pattern of enthusiastic knocks on my door. Sounded remotely like Khachaturian's 'Sabre Dance'. I wouldn't know, because they ceased abruptly as the door flew open on its hinges and Emi came flying through. Of course. I smiled before realising a little too late that I was supposed to be cross. The final product was some sort of exaggerated grimace.

You slip into past tense around here... with a few present tenses sprinkled in from there on.
Also some sentence fragments, e.g.:

Silence between a boy and a girl in a tiny room; a quiet lull almost post-coital in nature, the room slowly filling with unsaid words that need not be uttered.

Needs a verb... As does the entire last paragraph.

[edward_low]

thanks for the tense catch. i keep slipping back and forth between the present and past continuous. i notice that a lot of authors make the transition fluid and natural though. any advice regarding this? nonetheless, will make sure to proofread better in the future.

could you elaborate on the verb bit though? the last paragraph is intentionally verb-free. a continuation of 'sleepily taking in the room', or is that bad writing?

[Mirage_GSM]

could you elaborate on the verb bit though? the last paragraph is intentionally verb-free. a continuation of 'sleepily taking in the room', or is that bad writing?

The last paragraph is just a collection of nouns and their descriptions. Nobody is doing anything to/with them. I assume Hisao is looking at them, but it could just as well be Emi.
Basic rule of thumb: Everything that ends with a period needs at least a noun and a verb.
So you could change it like this:

...
Still, it was is a comfortable silence, especially in the wake of her entrance, a silence between a boy and a girl in a tiny room, a quiet lull almost post-coital in nature, the room slowly filling with unsaid words that need not be uttered. It is a silence I am grateful for, as I feel my mind relaxing for the first time since waking up.

Emi is looking at the room with fresh eyes. Oh, right, this is the first time she's been here, isn't it?

I leaned back further into my pillow that was is propped against the wall, sleepily taking in the room: My borrowed books, forming an messy pile in the centre of my desk, all on their backs to expose their summaries*, my exam notes tidily stacked and placed in an undisturbed corner, the grey curtains gently pulsating in the morning breeze, the standard issue, no-frills Casio clock mounted on the opposite wall, a wastepaper basket half-filled with tissues and empty cans of jasmine green tea, a large and wonderful collection of cardiac medicine on my bedside table... and an unusually quiet girl with the prettiest green eyes watching me nod off to sleep ...

This way it is a list of things he is looking at.
Oh, and I moved the realization that Emi was here for the first time a bit, since it was breaking up a train of thought.

*If they are on their backs, the summaries won't be exposed...

[brythain]

i keep slipping back and forth between the present and past continuous. i notice that a lot of authors make the transition fluid and natural though. any advice regarding this?

I use the present tense to convey immediacy; it reduces the chronological distancing. When that happens, the godseye-view wider perspective weakens and the reader feels less 'omniscient'. This allows for more emotional rapport, especially if the character is in first-person POV. However, it needs tighter editorial control, because of that closeness. The reader can't know so much more than the character does, relative to the distancing afforded by third-person POV and past tense.

Fluidity and 'naturalness' come with practice, I suppose, speaking only for myself. Try reading it to yourself, and getting editorial help from people like Mirage_GSM is a huge bonus. For now, just stick to one tense, no matter how awkward, because it's easier to handle.

[edward_low]

*If they are on their backs, the summaries won't be exposed...

yes i kept reading that and wondering to myself whether the phrase 'on their fronts' even made any sense hahaha

Re: first person immediacy, i do agree. i think i'll stick with the past tense. present has that disgusting sensation of a thoughtcatalog second-person perspective

[edward_low]

This is a short chapter.

---

Chapter Three:

Hisao's asleep.

I don't really blame him. Interval training is hard and a challenge by design. Unlike set distances or timings, the terms 'jog' and 'sprint' are entirely subjective, and it's up to the trainee to push him or herself to the limit with a sense of spirited honesty. If you conserve energy during your sprints instead of running like your life depended on it, it defeats the entire purpose of the training. But by the looks of his awkward sleeping posture and slightly swollen thighs, it seems like Hisao was very honest today.

I'm smiling like an idiot. Right to the brim. I don't think I've loved him this much before.

That's probably why I let him doze off, as some sort of reward. I'm a little surprised at my actions myself. I shot through Hisao's door like a torpedo, expecting to tackle him onto the bed - but he was already in bed. The room was surprisingly dark and cosy due to the drawn curtains, an atmosphere that caught me completely off guard. I blanked out for a little, unsure of what to do. It had dawned on me that I had never been in his room before. And now, I'm here with little more than a vague purpose. Absentmindedly, I take a seat on his bed, noting that the mattress was identical to my own. It is certainly a pleasant room (thanks to the walls being any colour but starkly whitewashed), even if a bit bare. Other than a tokenistic photograph of his nuclear family, everything serves a purely functional purpose. Almost like a hotel room, except that hotel rooms tend to do a better job of disguising their role by throwing in a mass-produced pop art painting and a vase of pretty artificial flowers. Hisao transferred in just two months ago, ending a long hospital stay. So, not a hotel room. More like a ...

I wonder if he realises how closely his room resembles a hospital ward?

The walls are a quirky shade of yellow that go easy on the eyes, in contrast to the harsh glare of clinical white. Therein lies all the difference. Hisao thought he left the hospital, but the hospital never left him. And it never will. Every day he returns to this room, swallows his many medicines, goes to sleep, and dreams of a future that may or may not come. His past will not be outrun: not when his past does the running.

'You can't run.'

It's the genetic footprint in every cell, present in every muscle fibre, every bone. The word is 'chronic', and the definition is 'here to stay'. Your high school dormitory room is temporary; cardiac dysrhythmia is forever. That's what a life-changing event is: something that can never be changed back. Even Emi can't run from her shadow, I know, I've tried, so what chance have you, Hisao ...?

'You can't run.'

This is a voice filled with malice. A voice I know very well. There is a vice-like grip on my left wrist. I look down slowly. It's my right hand, acting on its own volition. My hands are trembling. I am trembling.

I close my eyes. Slow, deep breaths. Don't think about anything. Calm down. It is a while before I can open them again.

Hisao's restful expression is largely serene, though his brows occasionally furrow in concentration. His hair is unruly, as usual. His presence is a steady constant. His peaceful oblivion calms me down further. It's what I came here for, after all. I exhale audibly. I can feel my heartbeat slow to a more normal pace, and my lips curling into a bitter smile.

I lean forwards to kiss him in his sleep. When our lips meet I can almost forget about the tears steadily staining the blanket.

[Mirage_GSM]

Nice scene.

It had dawned on me that I had never been in his room before. And now, I'm here with little more than a vague purpose.

Personally I think present tense is more suited to first person narration, but using past tense is fine as well. You can't use phrases like "and now I'm here" , though...

[edward_low]

i think i'll begin this scene in media res (this chapter has to be largely in present tense), so, starting from when she sits on his bed - does it work now?

[AntonSlavik020]

Seems like a decent enough story, though Emi certainly isn't my favorite. I missed the redacted chapter 2 since I took a multi-month break from the site, but from the sounds of things I wouldn't have enjoyed it anyways.

[azumeow]

This is a voice filled with malice. A voice I know very well. There is a vice-like grip on my left wrist. I look down slowly. It's my right hand, acting on its own volition. My hands are trembling. I am trembling.

I close my eyes. Slow, deep breaths. Don't think about anything. Calm down. It is a while before I can open them again.

A painfully accurate description of PTSD. Can't count how many times I've physically hurt myself in a small way like that to help fight of "those" thoughts.

[dewelar]

Still watching, still waiting for something that gives me a reason to buy that this is Emi's voice. If anything, it was a bit jarring to hear that they're still at Yamaku, because for me to believe this to be Emi's voice she would have to have undergone some major changes, and I don't know that I can see it happening to that degree in the course of (at most) six months (and from the text it seems like it's substantially less than that).

This leads me to another thing that's itching in the back of my head: the lack of a time frame. Hisao's been there "a few months" according to Emi. The entirety of the game, through to Emi's good ending, takes about two months. Did I miss some other allusion to when this is taking place, or is the feeling that I'm getting that entirely too long has passed without Emi having seen Hisao's room yet valid ?

So that you don't think I hate the whole thing...

This is a voice filled with malice. A voice I know very well. There is a vice-like grip on my left wrist. I look down slowly. It's my right hand, acting on its own volition. My hands are trembling. I am trembling.

I close my eyes. Slow, deep breaths. Don't think about anything. Calm down. It is a while before I can open them again.

A painfully accurate description of PTSD. Can't count how many times I've physically hurt myself in a small way like that to help fight of "those" thoughts.

I've occasionally wondered if that's why Emi leaves her stumps untended for periods of time. Also, Emi's discomfort with Hisao's room being like a hospital makes sense (hey, I used it as a plot point in Developments, so of course I think that ). Still...right now, this story gives off the vibe that you want to use certain parts of Emi, while grafting other pieces onto her that don't necessarily fit.

[edward_low]

I wouldn't think this was Emi's voice either. But it's worth noting that we only ever experience Hisao's narrative voice in KS - and I'm a big fan of unreliable narration. That sort of open-ended potential makes it great for fanfiction. At least that's what I think.

I won't spoil anything, but suffice to say: this entire story is about reconciling the Emi you know and the Emi I introduce.

The whole 2 months thing is amazing help though. I had no idea it was only two months and didn't know how to find out how long it was. That only makes it better. I'll change it when I get back.

[brythain]

Your writing is much better when you subdue your urge to make Emi sound acadEmic.

Other than a tokenistic photograph of his nuclear family, everything serves a purely functional purpose.

Things like this sound more Emi-ish if something like 'other than a token photo of his family, everything is purely functional' is used. From my perspective, there are too many oddly technical or literary lines/phrases/individual words scattered throughout the narrative so far. They tend to break immersion. (Yes, I've done it too, I apologise.)