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It was almost time. Barley a second before crescent pattern stockings clattered loudly into the classroom, it was already planned like this.
He was just existing. Just a borrowed body in a seat. It’s only when the back of her hair threads through the gape of her chair in front of him his story starts.
It was a masterpiece. Stroke by stroke, bristles and fibers caked in red liquid creating innards and flesh with a pale finish.
He’d wanted to tear his skin off. Maybe it might have made it easier to breathe. This hadn't been his body. It wasn’t Hanako’s, it wasn’t even Yugi Amane’s; a boy that’s decayed like the vegetation he was. Disgusting.
This body was the creation of decayed trees recycled into something beautiful. Something life-full. Something hopeful. Something strong and nauseating.
You make me sick.
You make me sick.
You make me sick.
His concave chest breathed, blood flowed through his veins.
ba dum
ba dum
ba dum
He swallowed a drop of saliva that crept down his throat. His warm hands pulsated. The static feeling of a radio that’s flipped frequencies vibrated through his palms. He could feel the nakedness of his cheek; clean, no scarring, no bandages, no seal. Something he not only hadn't experienced since he had become an apparition, but hadn’t experienced it in the normal world either. To feel the cool air on his cheek. To be able to feel exposed skin was so unnerving. He struggled not to put his hand to his face just to cover it up a small moment.
It was hard. There was too much pain.
Why did it feel like air left the chest down a staircase of levels? It hurt to feel the breath leave his lungs so broken and fragmented. There’d been a slight note of a whistle as it broke through a gate of teeth and then...it was gone.
What was this feeling?
He looked down his torso to watch his chest expand with and then deflate. Balloons are so easily inflated... unless they pop. He felt winded. He’d have to get used to the right amount to take in and then expel once his hands stopped shaking.
“Shut up, Yamabuki.”
His forearms draped over his school desk that got marked up in the thin coating of graphite atop the surface. He’d examined one that was clean; his skin unmarked except for the print. It had been a familiar habit but this time he didn’t need to lick his fingers to wipe up the crimson smudges left behind caused by the friction of rubbing cakey semi closed wounds onto the surface.
Pure unadulterated hatred started to simmer.
You disgust me.
The fact that I have to look at you.
Why am I looking at you?
Oh, Yashiro.
That’s why.
He’d do it for her.
The satisfactory click of his moon charm pen collapsing into itself. It’s too savoring to describe just how comfortable the solidarity time waster is; just how safe it is. By the time he goes home it will be around time for the moon to come out. A few hours after that another day of life has been fulfilled. So he keeps pressing on the pen over and over... it helps him survive.
He was just so unstimulated... mind body and soul. To believe, to dream, to think and experience any wonder that he could feel or try to put into words that would reach the neurons in his brain.
“Yugi, please listen to me.”
“Are you listening to me?”
Tsuchigomori with both his elbows on his desk hunched over him; his curving spine formed into a protective barrier around his student leaning in close. The other students clattered on in an echo of excited chants buzzing in their brains talking about the weekend and handing back their assignments.
“Hey.”
I’m being attacked.
I’m being attacked.
I’m being attacked.
Like a feral cat backed into a corner his nails grabbed the edge of the desk bracing every nerve ending in his body.
"Ah Yugi come in. ”
“You wanted to see me Sensei?”
“Yea.. I wanted to talk to you about the chatter in class today. Yashiro san’s been pretty aggravated. I don’t want to make assumptions but-
“I feel a seating change is gonna be in order soon if you guys can’t keep this out of class ok? ”
He’d never looked up once from his book as he spoke. Never made eye contact dowsing him in pitty or respect it was just indifference. A school boy causing a ruckus that needed to be quelled. It was just life as a teacher. A checkmark on his agenda.
There’d been a faint knock on the open door.
“Oh... you're still here?”
“Oh, yea sorry,” Tsuchgimori hastily packed up his books as he chuckled to himself, “Sorry Yugi, didn’t mean to take up so much of your time. Just keep the antics down, okay? You're usually such a good student. I know I can count on you.”
He’d quickly tapped his shoulder to accentuate the gesture and trust in the boy as he’d touched the door with his other staff member waiting in the entrance.
The educators walked off together; their voices echoed in the hallway.
“We’ve been calling you for 15 minutes.”
“I know, I know. I had to catch up on some late tests and then had to deal with this little situation. But yea, so where did we decide tonight?”
Hanako had just stood there in the empty classroom. All those times he wouldn't have given for Tsuchigomori to walk out on him to just let him fester.
He’d thought maybe this was what pretending to care felt like. A Tsuchigomori that didn’t hover about him, didn’t probe him and didn’t pinch the remnants of minuscule fat on his arm when he secured bandages tightly for it only to unravel within seconds proving what good it actually did.
Would he admit he hated that too?
“Look at them all Amane! Look!!!”
“I see the stars Tsukas-”
“Look look!” Tsukasa had run; diagonal of his brother, arms spread out like a rocket ship.
“Tsuk-”
“They...they” Tsukasa had put a finger to his lips as he stopped zooming around to catch his breath. Breathing seems foriegn to someone who was so awestruck. “They... the... Amane!!!!” He’d cried with a halt like a child that was too rambunctious after numerous warnings and got himself hurt. He stood still pointing his finger to the sky.
“What are you-”
“They should hold hands! They should hold hands!” He grabbed for his twins wrist desperately and abruptly; it almost caused Hanako to drop the equipment in his hands.
“They should hold hands like...
Hanako followed Tsukasa's shaking finger. It traced unsteadily in the air. He couldn’t see the stars that were being connected. No, not stars. Bodies. He’d traced the people on the rooftop.
His twin was gasping by this point, digging his jagged bitten nails into Hanako’s skin. Pin prick holes appeared...but they never drew blood. Tsukasa had followed all of Yashiro's classmates like a constellation that connected to form a sparkling shape.
Did Tsukasa even see student bodies anymore?
Did he remember what they all looked like?
He has seen the kid but how cut off was he...
His sharp incisors stretched from cheek to cheek; squinched eyes were completely a glow.
“Amane they should hold hands!”
“The paper dolls! Look, they are holding hands! They are always gonna be together aren’t they?”
“Let’s run away together. To the real world!”
She pulled him down so he could stare straight into her translucent eyes. He could see Yugi Amane through them, but her gentle hands cradled his neck and he can feel her tendrils of hair mixed with his own and it’s so comforting that he didn't even care at that moment. He braced his hands on the rooftop in case he lost his balance, but she had him in her grasp.
He’s not going to fall.
He’s not going to fall
Everything’s ok
It’s all ok.
Her words might as well have been a lullaby; so soothing. He was in a warm room, in a warm tent fort with a planetary projector playing overhead. Everything is... manageable.
What are you scared of?
There’s no reason to be, it's all ok.
Why do you feel this way?
Please don’t.. please
Don’t take her away from me
With you I feel safe.
He’s in a warm room in a warm tent. Tsukasa is beside him. His knees are to his chest. He hears the roar like thunder vibrate. But there’s not even a drizzle that pelts their window. It hurts all over. He can’t understand... It’s something about having to leave... not being able to be a magician to stop the clock on the wall.
The sound hurts.
It’s agony.
The stars keep him calm; they light up the tent in little firefly beams of light. Tsukasa doesn’t do that. He just can’t understand... it makes Amane more scared.
He looks up at his twin, who hovers over his head on all fours of the scratchy carpet.
Why do you get to not feel like this?
Yashiro’s pull was so strong for someone so fragile? If a foot slipped her bones would break the second after her twisted ankle sent her toppling down the staircase. She was so clumsy. Yet she’d kept her feet balanced supporting them both. He was the one falling, he was the one tripping. Her grip gilded him down though with not a second of hesitation; it was just one foot after the other. Like how anyone would handle life. She really was so much better at this then him. She really deserved everything, but life wouldn’t give her another step so as he looked down the last protruding piece of wood that would barely fit her plump ankle... he’s falling.
Falling
Falling,
Like when you dream of walking to the edge of the building. Or when you stand on the ledge of a 3 story school window. It’s all the same you know to wake up cause the minute you're about to hit the ground; hit that last step the panic sets in and he was then fighting for both their lives. He had to stop her.
The pain throbbed from this heart to his gut, it was nauseating.
Why?
It was as threatening as the soccer ball he had been bunting on his knees up and down, up and down while he waited for the right opening in the goalie's defense to make that finishing kick. That had been only a couple of days ago playing soccer and sports living a lie as a normal school boy, but his stomach had felt like his knees could then and It hurt so much he could retch.
“Hanako kun are you ok?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t know what she'd been more surprised by the fact that he didn’t correct her or the fact that his fingers had bunched his pant legs so tight he'd cut the circulation at his knuckles and his skin lost all color completely.
“Are you scared Hanako kun?”
His mouth had run dry but he didn’t avoid her gaze; she looked at him with the softest uncertainty. She beat herself up after, reminding herself he was a ghost. He’d been dead for so long of course he didn’t remember what this feels like.
But that wasn’t it at all. She never needs to know that.
He’d put a leg over the bicycle. Her chatter and squeaky babbles stopped for a second as she tried to haul her body over after him but her ankle got caught in the pedal. He grabbed her with one arm and held her tight flush against his body so they both didn't fall, while in the same moment he had reached down shifting the pedal.
Clumsy radish legged Yashiro. She’d stopped the wheels in his mind...her spinning ankle.