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The first minutes after Odajima’s face meets the ground seem funny, almost. The pain shooting through his body isn’t new; fights are common, and sometimes, he’ll also get beaten up pretty good. A rare occurrence.
Odajima is good at fighting. More than good, if he’s allowed to say so himself. When he loses, it will be in a fair fight, against a very strong opponent. The bruises, he can carry them around proudly. That kind of defeat, he’s ok with it. The kind he is not ok with is when stupid brats gang up against one of them.
Just like now. He didn’t go down easily. He fought back, as hard as he could, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. Those guys aren’t even students, that much he was able to tell before the first punch landed on his face. But they were harassing a student down the corner of the street, and everyone turned a blind eye. Not like Odajima can blame them. Who would wanna go against such creeps? He’s weird enough not to care, but normal people do.
Someone grabs him and turns him around so he’s seeing the sky and the endless stars. A curse, a mocking laughter, someone stomping their boot down on him. He hears something like a crack somewhere inside his head. Maybe it’s just his imagination. The pain isn’t that intense, it’s not like he cracked his skull or anything. But he feels blood on his face, tastes blood in the back on his throat. Disgusting.
More punches and kicks and a frantic hiss as the guy keeps beating him to a messy pulp, yelling threats and warnings. By now, other voices reach Odajima’s ears, too. People calling out; to him? To the bastards? One eye is still half-open and as he drops his head to the side, he can see people gathering around, phones coming out of their pockets.
And then nobody is touching him anymore. And somehow, that’s when the pain floods in, takes over and makes him choke. The darkness, just a hold of steel around his throat, stealing his oxygen. A helpless gasp as he tries to raise his hand, but his body isn’t obeying, doesn’t understand what Odajima’s brain is asking.
Everything goes black when he hears the sirens in the distance.
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On his first night in the hospital, the voices are too annoying. Comatose, some say. Semi comatose, others decide. Minimally conscious. Doctors and their complicated definitions of every little thing…Odajima wants to tell them, to leave him alone, all he needs is some rest. But it’s like he’s swimming and sinking, can’t keep his consciousness afloat, can’t open his eyes no matter how much he wants to.
He sleeps. Or at least, that’s how he interprets those long breaks of thick darkness where he’s alone and no sound reaches him. When he’s awake, he’s not really awake because his limbs are rebelling against his mind. He hears light steps from time to time, a nurse or a doctor. Something about a surgery; did Odajima have a surgery? Sure didn’t realize it, but maybe he did between feeling the cold pavement under him and regaining consciousness in this uncomfortable hospital bed.
If only he could scream. If only he could…
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On his second night, he recognizes Sachio’s voice. Odajima calls it a second night in his head because that’s the only way he can keep up with time. Whether this is truly his second night or not, he isn’t really sure. When he’s pulled out of his sleep and floats back to the surface, that’s when he acknowledges a day has passed.
Sachio isn’t alone, the others are here, too. Odajima would laugh if he could, would reach out to touch them. Instead, he can only listen to the voices like a distant call with no signal. Broken phrases in between static noise, like the old TV at his grandpa’s house. Even those stolen words in between are bathed in worry. Odajima feels bad, a little. He would tell them he’s ok, if he could. He doesn’t want them to think he’s dead. His brain is perfectly fine, it’s that stupid body of his that refuses to cooperate. Just a twitch of his fingers, that’s all he wants. The slightest proof of his existence.
On the fourth day, it’s Shidaken’s voice he hears.
“…Sachio hasn’t stopped looking, you know? Witnesses say those guys often caused trouble around the area. Not sure why police never did anything, but yeah…we haven’t given up, so you shouldn’t, either.”
I haven’t. I really haven’t.
When he wakes up and there’s no faint light trembling over his closed eyelids, he assumes it’s the middle of the night. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s actually scary. It’s like he’s on pins and needles, and his skin feels like it’s burning. He wants to move so badly, but once again, he’s stuck. He thinks of his friends, of the school, of all the fights they won, of all the happy photos in his phone. What was the last photo he took before that stupid afternoon? Right, that big fish he caught last week with Todoroki…
Todoroki. The thought alone makes Odajima crave for some fresh air. He’s petrified, from head to toe, can’t even blink. All the chaos stored safely in his head, all the harrowing thoughts dancing in his mind, all the gut-wrenching emotions clenching his heart until it shatters into little pieces. He cannot rectify anything like this. How terrifying, to have a body that belongs to someone else, because it sure as hell doesn’t belong to Odajima right now.
How disturbing, that the only one who can pull him out of this is himself.
Life is twisted like that.
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On the fifth day, Odajima feels warmth from somewhere close.
It’s quiet, he notices with a small delay. A bird cheeping out of the window, somewhere. But inside, it is quiet. And yet Odajima senses a presence, can tell he’s not alone. Ah, maybe this is it, his end, this is how he dies, maybe it’s the angel of death or something. If he had a voice, if he could use his damn voice, he would ask directly.
As the minutes pass and the warmth settles in his chest, he recognizes the feeling. Familiarity. Peace and serenity and familiarity. This cannot be the angel of death for sure. Open your eyes, Odajima orders himself. Open your eyes already.
He doesn’t open his eyes. Eventually, he drifts back into uncertainty, into that draining agony that makes him feel like he’s stuck in the worst depths of a trash bin, under all the rubbish piling up. At night, he wakes up again, screaming in his head. Help. Get me out of here.
On the sixth day, he’s surprised to hear Hanaoka Fujio’s voice. “Doctors say there’s still hope for you. Did you know even Doroki came to see you?”
Doroki?
Todoroki.
His heart does something, Odajima can tell. He pushes himself, to move a finger, to wiggle his toes. Fujio pats his head gently; Odajima wants to smack that hand away.
“I hope you’ll pull through. Sacchi is still so pissed but also very worried. You have to wake up or I don’t know what he’ll do.”
I’m sorry. I want to wake up, too.
Fujio sighs. “Doroki is also quite weird. Weirder than usual, can you imagine?’’
Oh no, did I break him? Is he lonely? Is he going fishing completely alone?
Wake up, wake up, wake up….
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When he falls asleep this time, Odajima dreams. He dreams of his friends, and Oya High, all together. They’re somewhere in the mountains, camping for the weekend. Too loud for his tastes, he leaves the others and do down a steep path on his own.
He dreams of a river at the end of the path, Todoroki sitting casually there. Odajima calls out to him, but he can’t hear his own voice at all. Still, Todoroki turns, and Odajima smiles. A big smile that Todoroki doesn’t exactly share, but what does it matter? Odajima runs towards him, almost stumbles on the way. The river isn’t very deep, but the water is crystal clear and the temperature is very cool.
They sit, and they fish, and every time Odajima tries to speak, it’s like his ears fail him. But Todoroki talks, he answers everything, and Odajima can hear every single word. It’s funny, ‘cause usually it’s the other way around. Funny, because whenever they go fishing together, Todoroki is the quiet one, and Odajima is the one that won’t stop babbling.
He doesn’t wanna wake up. If he can’t move, can’t blink, can’t speak…if the real world is so tough, why should he wake up? He doesn’t mind staying in that dream forever, sharing this space with Todoroki. Running across the shore, splashing water, laughing under the sun…it doesn’t matter if he cannot hear his own voice. Just hearing Todoroki’s voice will be enough, he doesn’t need anything else.
In the real world, he never had the courage to tell him, because he was terrified of losing him. Terrified of grossing Todoroki out, of scaring him. But this is Odajima’s dream, and the shackles of insecurity bind him no more.
So he says it, and even if he can’t hear himself, he knows Todoroki heard it. His face, always stoic and indifferent, it seems to soften now at Odajima’s words. No smiles, even a dream world has its limits, Odajima guesses. But a hint of it, a glimpse of happiness that this beautiful illusion isn’t breaking, isn’t futile.
Todoroki flicks his forehead. “You talk too much, you know.” He says. “I knew already.”
Isn’t his dream just wonderful? Why would he ever want to wake up?
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On the ninth day, Odajima hears the nurses gossiping again.
“That boy keeps coming back, you know? The one with the glasses.”
“Oh, yeah, I saw him, too. He comes when everyone else has left and always sits by his side. They must be really good friends. Poor him…”
Isn’t it unfair? He wants to see him, too. Odajima wills himself into opening his eyes; isn’t he tired yet? Lying down here all day, not moving, he can do much better than that. How much longer is he gonna be stuck in this pathetic situation? He keeps waking up from that perfect dream, to a reality cruel and pessimistic. Please help me, he screams in his head. Please, do something, I need this to end.
At night, the familiar warmth becomes his company again. This time, he can put a name on it, he knows. It makes his chest ache and he roars in his head, bangs against his inner walls. He has to get out somehow, he has to snap out of it, he has to fight until he bleeds.
There’s a hand on his hand. “There’s a new spot you’re gonna like.” The voice, so quiet, it’s like velvet. It gives Odajima shivers. “It’s perfect for fishing.” Todoroki continues. “I went there yesterday, it’s pretty isolated.”
Perfect for you, then, you don’t like crowds. Why can’t he say it out loud? All he wants is to turn his hand and wrap his fingers around Todoroki’s, but once again, his body defies his heart’s wishes and his mind’s orders. Odajima wants to cry, but there’s not a single tear running down his face. Don’t go, Todoroki-chan. I need help, don’t leave me behind.
Todoroki’s hand squeezes around his, just for a second. Then his phone starts ringing and he pulls his hand back completely. Everything else is quiet in the room, and when he picks up, Odajima can actually hear the person on the other end of the line.
“Found them.”
Found who?
He hears Todoroki taking in a long, sharp breath. “I’m on my way.”
The hand touches his face this time. Odajima wishes he could lean into it, wishes he could press a kiss on those fingers. Maybe he should try going back to sleep, otherwise he’ll never get to see Todoroki again.
“Don’t die while I’m gone, Yuken.” Todoroki says, his voice shaking with rage. It rips Odajima’s heart apart. Desperately, he fights to open his eyes, even for a single second. But the steps are already fading, and soon, silence swallows everything again. How is he ever going to pull out of this?
I am dying. Come back and save me before I rot.
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The next morning, his friends are surrounding the bed. They talk over each other, but Odajima understands each and every one of them perfectly. They found the guys, they taught them a lesson. They had to physically remove Todoroki from the scene because he was one punch away from beating them to death. Odajima’s heart swells with pride and affection in his chest. So close to smiling, so close to laughing, to reaching out and pulling them all into a tight embrace. Thank you. Thank you for stepping in before he killed anyone.
Another pat on his head. “You look awful, by the way.” Sachio tells him. “You have to wake up and do something about it.”
My hair must look awful for sure, I agree.
“You really have to wake up.” This time, Sachio’s voice is quieter and much closer to his hear. “For us, and for him.”
The words stab him like a knife, leave him breathless. He wants to yell and howl until his throat hurts, until his voice is hoarse. He wants to fight until his body goes numb, to collapse under the weight of exhaustion, to release all that energy sleeping in him. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to hours, and eventually, he knows it’s dark again and everyone is gone. A nurse comes and goes, a doctor comes and goes. Inside his head, Odajima laughs. He mocks them, because that’s all he can do. All the power of science and medicine, and no one can pull him out of this misery?
Inside his heart, he laughs until he’s crying. They pour out, his emotions, flood his veins and make his organs burn. Is this his end? Will he grow up a fragile guy lying in this bed that needs to be thrown away immediately? Will he only listen to the stories his friends share as they embark on new journeys, leaving him behind? And what if they forget him eventually? They will, won’t they? It makes sense.
They’ll forget about him. They’ll find jobs, make families, travel around the world, rule over a new gang, perhaps. And Odajima will wrap his weak roots around this bed until they’re fusing, he’ll become old and wrinkly. Or best case scenario, his brain will give up on him and they’ll let him go over to the other side.
The steps he hears are slow, as if someone is dragging his feet. They step inside the room, they’re breathing a little heavy. Odajima tenses; maybe it’s a crazy murderer, maybe he’ll stab him or strangle him. Will spare him the eternal pain of a boring, miserable, predictable life. As the person approaches him, Odajima can almost taste it on his tongue, the expectation.
He feels the shift as they sit down on the mattress of the bed. Two hands take one of Odajima’s in his own, and suddenly he feels alive like never before, feels overwhelmed, feels a breath fresh of air. “What else do you want?” Todoroki whispers, and he sounds defeated, crestfallen. “I took care of them, what else do you need to wake up? What else do I have to do?”
Oh no. No, no, no.
The sleeping monster in Odajima’s chest roars. It claws Odajima from the inside until he’s wailing in his head. His eyes burn, his fingers feel like bubbles popping. The answer is right there on the tip of his tongue, but he has no voice, no power, no authority. He’s not the one ruling over his own body anymore. But Todoroki is holding his hand tightly, his thumb brushing over Odajima’s knuckles, his touch as light as a feather.
Please don’t go, he cries. I’ve dreamt so long, I don’t wanna dream anymore. Don’t go…
He’s gonna burst. His head hurts, the blood is pumping in his veins, his heart is pounding in his chest.
His finger. It twitches into Todoroki’s hands. Just one finger, then a second one. Todoroki holds his breath, or maybe Odajima is, he can’t tell. His headache is getting stronger, how annoying…and that scorching feeling in the back of his eyes, why does it feel so overpowering? And if it’s night, why is it bright? Oh, maybe it’s the lights from the ceiling, they should turn them off-
He’s blinking. It takes a minute for Odajima to realize why he’s so blinded all of a sudden. He’s blinking.
“You’re awake.” Todoroki breathes. “You’re…awake.”
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It takes more than 24 hours until they are alone again. After all the mandatory checkups from the doctors, the group of people bursting into his room, Shidaken’s deafening laughter of relief, some tears…time passes by relentlessly, and in the end Odajima has a headache again. He tries not to sleep, because he’s horrified of sleeping, trembles at the idea of not waking up again. He still struggles with his movements, just a little bit. Nothing that’s gonna last.
But when he’s finally alone with Todoroki again, the sun has set once more. It doesn’t matter anymore. Odajima doesn’t wanna be stuck in a dream anymore.
So he says it out loud, again.
“I like you, Todoroki-chan.”
Such a relief, to hear his own voice again. He thought he didn’t mind if he never heard it again, but he’s happy that it’s back now. Happy that he can use it to be honest with his feelings.
Todoroki inhales, then exhales. A long, quiet sigh that Odajima doesn’t know how to interpret. Todoroki is still sitting on the bed with him, and now he’s looking somewhere between their hands. Odajima considers it for a moment, making that tiny move and touching him. He decides to hold back for a minute.
“I just wanted you to know.” He adds. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I just wanted to tell you now that I can. Because being unable to tell you has been really scary. You asked me not to die, and I didn’t.”
Another long moment of silence. Silence has always been comforting with Todoroki, but maybe this time, it won’t be. Maybe this time, Odajima risked it a little too much. But he still doesn’t wish he could go back and undo it.
Todoroki raises his hand to Odajima’s face. And then he flicks his forehead. Is he dreaming? “No, you didn’t.” he says quietly. “Thank you for not dying.”
A small smile blooms on Odajima’s face. “Thank you for taking care of those bastards.”
“I better keep a closer eye on you from now on, just in case.”
Damn him…Odajima hates the stupid lump forming in his throat again, so he tries to cover it up with a chuckle. He nods, fingers wrapping around Todoroki’s. Slowly, carefully. Todoroki doesn’t pull back.
“Yes. You better not leave me alone again.”
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