Never again would he make the mistake of trusting this guy. And at first, the old man had done him a solid by taking his case to the headmaster. Now, he had a part-time job without fearing expulsion because of it. Jounouchi had been worried enough to bring it up with the only person who knew about it at the time. He was more concerned seeing if he could get a bit of leeway in the mornings. If Ishida-sensei could help with that, then he could also make up as many other medical terms as he wanted.
As both the doctor and the school counsellor walked out, Jounouchi only held back from telling them to fuck off out of a basic sense of respect for the nurse left behind. There was still hope, she said. Someone else would talk to him, and the decision would only be made then. He could still get out of this place. He followed the nurse to a door that she had to unlock to open.
This could be a trap. She smiled as an apology. The nurse led him to a different room, near the entrance to the service. She opened the door for him, bowed her head, and left. Inside, he could see walls line with shelves, two empty chairs and a desk in the middle, and another doctor sitting behind it: a middle-aged woman in an even whiter coat, long black hair tied in a ponytail, and little green dangling earrings.
She flashed him a welcoming smile, looking up from the documents in her hand. She introduced herself as Amano Chiyoko. Jounouchi did so begrudgingly.
The conversation could be better described as a very long line of questioning and confirming information she had in her hands. She asked more questions about his life, about what led him to be sent here. He confirmed some of what was in her notes there was no denying some things , but ardently challenged one of them.
One that you answered yourself. Jounouchi looked at the paper and recognized it as the one the other doctor had been filling up. She sighed, a little hint of aggravation barely visible on her face as she looked for something in the stack of papers in her hand. She found it eventually. Something must have made him worried. In light of it, perhaps it was normal for Ishida-sensei to spring to action, but he could have at least listened instead of immediately declaring that Jounouchi was going to hurt himself and that immediate action was needed.
Follow me, child! There was no questioning hat; he absolutely could. He just doubted it would change anything. With his gaze on a tile on the floor, he eventually decided he might as well give it a try. It was a joke. I thought it was funny. We all say things like that every once in a while.
It happens. He knew it looked way too convenient, but he had nothing else to show. Little else to do but nod, and try to explain the angle, and the situation to a minute detail, but even to him, it sounded more and more like a convoluted lie the more he went into it.
He did shut up eventually. He had nothing more to say, other than:. He could see it. We have to take these situations seriously. It can be the difference between life and death for some people. Like a hundred times now! I hope you understand. Just like that, he felt like he no longer had a leg to stand on. They would be returned upon leaving, he explained. He could either stick to his uniform or wear scrubs while someone brought his clothes. His sneakers were gone, replaced by a pair of ugly socks with silicone grips.
A disgrace, really. The man then had rummaged through the few belongings Jounouchi had in his bag, and confiscated a glass bottle, a pencil sharpener, and a cheap plastic lighter. Never mind the one loose cigarette inside his bag. Jounouchi sunk into his chair. The room was, well, it was actually better than his own, if extremely impersonal.
Everything was off-white: bed covers, curtains, furniture, walls, the ceiling and the tiled floor, the little radio on the desk. He was told he could decorate it if he wanted to. It was fine. It worked. The iron bed and thin mattress looked absolutely uncomfortable, but he could sleep anywhere and through pretty much anything. What forbade him from feeling welcome the most was that one little observation window on the door.
It was covered with a small metal plate that was kept shut with a padlock on the outside, but it gave off prison vibes nonetheless. Except for the little picture hanging on top of the desk. He had little interest in lavender fields, and no understanding of oil paintings. The little splash of colour was appreciated, but he would have preferred something different. He had been told to relax and look around on his first day.
A nap sounded a thousand times more likely. Maybe he could sleep for as long this lasted and not have to deal with any of it. He lied down, facing the ceiling. Not too long after closing his eyes, he heard the distinct sound of a key turning in a lock, He turned his head and looked at the door just in time to see the tiny metal plate on the door being lifted.
A pair of eyes, light hints of eye shadow and mascara, appeared behind the glass for a brief moment. They appeared to belong to a smiling face. And it would happen again, about fifteen minutes later: the lock turned, and the same eyes watched him briefly, once more.
He had been told about this, as he was being shown around the facility. He had been hoping that they would respect the fact that he was in his room at least. The next time the nurse checked on him, she brought some food with her.
He let the nurse go without a comment. It was too early for him, and he was not going to have an appetite by then, and yes, it was a stupid thing to be upset over, but he was already putting up with so much….
He sighed as he sat down at the desk. He opened the first drawer of the desk. Just as he had been told when he was briefed about what he could expect, there he found a blue notebook that could have honestly passed as an antique book due to its hard, fabric bound covers. He had been encouraged to write in it. Maybe he always was, I dunno. I told him I was tired, that I had considered skipping school that day. I said I wanted to go away. He asked me what was up with the bandages, if I had been in a fight.
Every single time we get a call, things go straight in the shitter. I can handle my old man on my own better than any of them. He asked me what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to go to sleep. I tried to backpedal, but it just made me look worse I think. I tried to explain, but he was set on… I literally just wanted to have an honest talk, but he took it personal. He kept saying that I was going to hurt myself, and that I had to be protected at all costs, and think about what this means for this establishment, and that he decided that this was best for me.
If you ask me, I got the feeling that he cares more about having a perfect record than he cares about me. And if I gotta be here to make sure his reputation stays good, then to hell with what I want, right? He kicked the desk in sheer frustration. Loud thud. He hoped nobody heard it. Then he leaned back into the chair, leaving his head and arms to hang from the back, letting these ragdoll physics pull painfully on his muscles and on the stitches that he had rushed to get last night.
He added a little something to his diary entry. It looked a little like natto under all the red. Yeah, probably, he thought to himself. He crossed that line as many times as it took him for it to no longer be readable. And in the corner of his eye, when his gaze wandered away from the page, he saw a second blue notebook pressed between one of the legs of the desk and the wall. Jounouchi ducked under the table and picked it up. It had some tape stuck to the back cover, probably what had kept it firm against the wall for as long as it had been there.
Judging by the dust it had collected, it must have been a really long time. I have been admitted again. To note, I came to this place willingly. Condolences were unnecessary, but I had to accept them for the sake of not making myself look worse. Keeping up appearances is exhausting. I need to be careful, though. That I thought of coming here, I mean. Not at all how I envisioned it would go.
I do deserve a break. Odd place for a break, yes. The other clinic is nicer, but I might have to meet people I know.
The doctor is the same from last time. She was pleasantly surprised that I had gained some weight since then. It would. I never bothered arguing against it. Looking at his own diary entry, Jounouchi really hoped that whoever had written this was his senior by at least two years. He skimmed through the pages, not really reading anything else. Just looking at the handwriting and the absurd amount of entries in the diary was enough. He counted seventy-eight entries of similar length.
It was all very blue. The boards on the walls, the menu overhead, the chairs, the long tables, all of it in baby blue. The white walls made the cafeteria look spacious even thought it had only four tables and sitting space for about thirty to forty people. He had found it odd how a bunch of them had been silently sitting with lost expressions on one of the couches when he had walked past them a while back.
But now, seeing them go through the motions of grabbing a tray, approaching the cafeteria staff, asking for food, and finding a table to sit at, all while talking to each other? All of it made them look unmistakably human. From closer up, exceptions stood out: one rapidly tapping her foot, two goofing around and clashing empty trays, another one bemoaning the inclusion of bell peppers, a boy humming a tune. The girl in front of Jounouchi, someone about his age, with short black hair, turned around with a bright smile, and said hello.
Too energetic. Too talkative. She started babbling about the food always being cold and the microwaves on the sides of the cafeteria, and then she excitedly noted there was pudding for dessert. Jounouchi harbored the hope that she might have been in a situation similar to his. He followed Mari to her table, at her insistence. The rest looked mostly tired, mostly bored, mostly angry at something on their trays, but talkative nonetheless. Jounouchi had no idea what they were talking about.
He made some small talk with most others, until an older boy in a striped red shirt sat to his left and struck conversation with him. I missed the last one for being here. Jounouchi thought about it. He tried to relate to the other boy through that.
Get a bit of common ground and then move on to another topic. The moving on part never happened. He got a long list of recommendations that got progressively weirder as it went on. It was good to be enthusiastic, but this was dumping way too much enthusiasm on anyone. They could still bring a Jump issue to school every once in a while, but not let anyone other than a close friend see it. Much less a girl.
Just as he was done talking about one particular series, and Jounouchi had begun hoping that was it for now, he brought up one more title. They seemed close. It was probably for the best to stay out of this one and be a spectator of their quarrel, just like everyone else at the table.
The boy that stood out as the youngest in their group lifted his gaze from his plate, and in his eyes, one could see something make a connection. He stood up hurriedly, the chair loudly silencing the entire cafeteria. The table erupted into disorganized chatter immediately after, and only calmed down when one of the nurses told them to quiet down.
He told this story to Honda during visiting hours, after he took off his chest the unfairness of the circumstances that had led him to be there. With some reservations. They were not alone, and other kids were talking to other people at their own little tables, reasonably apart. There were nurses nearby too, walking around to make sure everything was ok. Whenever one walked by, Jounouchi made a point to look grateful that his friends had been allowed in, even if it was only a short-lived exception.
Maybe a strike or something? I think some these people might be on sedatives. Some stuff makes sense, like, no smoking. I went through the trouble of sneaking into your house to get your pillow and some clothes. Be a little more grateful you have something to wear other than those scrubs, dammit. Jounouchi paused, looking at a young girl who was enthralled in a cheerful conversation with a man about twenty years older, who had brought her some brightly colored pens.
He omitted a few details. There was no sense in getting her worried when there was nothing she could have done to help. Jounouchi recognized what it was straight away.
A virtual pet. The screen stared blankly back at him. The primary emotion he felt when looking at it, was that he was going to miss school. Pretty amusing that he would, he thought. He laughed. She confiscated it.
They talked some more, she left, Jounouchi waited. Exhaustion almost had him falling asleep on his chair within the next five minutes, but Yugi was there, before that could happen. And Jounouchi retold his story for the third time. Jounouchi nodded. That exhausted. All he wanted was for the entire world to slow down a little, but he stuck to his argument. He was fine. He placed a few creaking wrappers on top on the table, covering them with his hands.
Once he let Jounouchi see, his gift was regarded with a whistle of appreciation. Trading cards. Not just any of them. These things were practically new to Jounouchi. Yugi had got him into them just this week, and all he had was a starter deck, because those were cheap. And even with his options limited, he had found it fun. Why did these pieces of cardboard sell at such a premium? Ten booster packs. That was a good start. Before that, another nurse, the one with copious amounts of pomade in his head approached them.
Jounouchi handed him the booster packs and sleeves with a defeated sigh. Confiscated, he assumed. Yet the man gave the cards a cursory glance, and smiled. Both he and Yugi sighed in relief. Yugi, however, immediately looked confused at this. It used to be that they had to be imported. Kind of a crazy expensive hobby. The one where Yugi always attracted trouble or someone unpleasant whenever he picked up a new game to be obsessed about.
And Duel Monsters was his latest obsession. It was as if fate wanted to test the limits of his interests, actually. Yugi blinked in confusion, but quickly seemed to understand where the question was coming from. We had a visitor at the shop today. Whoever that was, they can go shop somewhere else. Someone from school… There were some really unsavory types in there.
All anyone could do was try. His dad failed to show up. The hospital provided toiletries, and the towels were better than the ones he had anyway. I got news about the second one.
All it would take would be for a very convenient mention about that laundering scheme of his, and he should be willing to initiate negotiations. Although it is funny that this would lead me into that sort of place. Jounouchi skipped forward to another page, his eyes fixated on a paragraph that had been struck out.
I wonder how the rest of the kids back there are doing. The more I think about it, the less lucky I feel. I did it for the sake of the two of us, and I seriously thought it would be great at the time, but I obviously got the short end of the stick here. My little baby brother has some catching up to do. You have to admit he made a good one of keeping appearances up for so long, but the board now knows what was actually going on underneath.
They probably were as surprised as I was. And he stays there. Time stands still. His eyes mock me. Not son, not my name. He dropped the act. Everyone saw it. That was akin to kamikazeing yourself. I have great plans, and the first step is to restructure this entirely. Jounouchi grimaced. This person was probably not right in the head. Or actually that bad? Either way, this was the kind of people that made sense to have here.
Not Jounouchi. Jounouchi had a very simple obstacle to circumvent. Not his dad, not his mom, not his school or himself. Just his shit luck. He should probably have been.
All he felt as he skipped through the pages, not really reading anything more was displeasure of not feeling quite there. He was physically in the ward, but he had mentally clocked out. He wondered what was up with that. He ran his fingers through the pages, the air gently grazing his face. It happened so slowly. Neko-chan wan-chan dete oide Ashita wa suteki na sankanbi Muteki no tensai shindou wa Chuuni de kuchihateta.
Dame dame konna jinsei Ruikei kore made nan byaku nen? Nebaarando no shujin ni Kasareta gokujou no shuushinkei. Shooto sunzen Kaiba-sensei Kakimushitta te wo nirame Douse douse yarinaoshi Jinsei risetto botan.
Dame dame konna jinsei Ruikei kore made nan sen nen? Nebaarando no shujin ni Mukashi wa tashika ni waraetanda. Waapu sunzen Kaiba-sensei Sakimawatte uketomete Douse douse yarinaoshi Jinsei risetto botan. Burafu no ue ni mo san zen nen Sono te ni noru ka to san oku nen Shourai no mira wa nan dakke? Dame dame sonna jinsei Miminari ga jama surunda Aa, dare kashira sou yatte Shikatte kurereba yokattanda. It is possible for memories to be viewed, altered, and transferred between bodies.
These memory chips are used by the rich to obtain eternal lives in carefully selected bodies, while for the poor, selling their own bodies and conserving their souls in the chips often become the only way to earn a living. An electrolytic cloud in the sky serves as a barrier between the heavens of the fortunate and the underworld of the destitute, making this social division impregnable.
One day, a man named Kaiba wakes up in an empty room with no memories, a mysterious hole in his chest, and a locket holding the picture of an unknown woman.
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