Chapter Text
It all started with a comment a research intern had made in passing. “You should tell some people you trust about what you’re going through,” she said.
Before that point, Natsume was peacefully minding his own business, enjoying the peace that came with the lack of missions and waiting for the medicines and the treatments to run their course.
“Most if not all people would hate being here, so some company would really help with that misery,” she continued as she started scribbling vitals from the monitor onto a clipboard.
Natsume kept silent. If he did hate hospitals, he probably would never admit it. After all, over the years, hospitals had become such a ubiquitous part of his life that admitting to hating it would be tantamount to admitting that, with the cycles of classes, missions and hospital visits, he was in hell every day.
And he didn’t have the time nor the emotional energy to hate anything else either.
Besides, what reason would he have to hate hospitals?
The hospital was supposed to be for rest. The few days in between were meant for recovery and it was supposed to be for lying alone in bed, knocked out on sleeping draught, while Persona could do little to force him out. Over time, the solace had soured into something else. Over time, his own emotions over the long drawn hospitals were gradually becoming harder and harder to keep mum. And whatever small talk the intern was trying to pull off was pushing at just the right buttons.
It wasn't like he asked to be there. Every single time, he had been dragged there despite his protests, or worse, he had been dragged there completely unconscious.
Whatever she noticed, it must have been obvious. Natsume was certain though, with the all too frequent missions, the hospital visits, the missed classes and the subsequent isolation from the rest of the class, his mental health had probably taken a hit.
But was it that obvious?
She started to fiddle with the IV. “I don’t know the details of what missions you’ve been going through, and I know you might not be able to talk about them… but having people around helps you know.” She could have noted the dark circles under Natsume’s eyes, his unnatural silence, or even just his downturned lips that never rose further up than straight line.
Visitors help? An obvious fact Natsume need not affirm. A little social interaction would be beneficial to anyone, but the issue of keeping his own life a secret, keeping his classmates at arm’s length so they didn’t get involved with the dangerous abilities class was a risk he toyed with every day.
He didn’t want visitors, and he didn't need a whole speech from a total stranger telling him his decision was wrong at worst, questionable at best.
She didn’t take the hint though. “A little company can really go a long way, the treatments can only do so much to extend your life. You have to look for purpose in your life elsewhere, something that could keep you going.”
The endless missions are a reason to keep going. He retorted sardonically in his mind, but he didn’t say anything else.
Or maybe she did take the hint, since he didn’t talk a lot after that.
The frequency of hospital stays increased at a disturbing speed. He had been stuck in there too many times to count, and it didn’t look like things were getting better.
Eventually the doctors were frank and professional with him.
His body was a mess. His life-shortening Alice had done a number on his organs. They’d say terms Natsume would probably understand if he listened more intently, but they muddled together into something Natsume preferred to just condense into three words.
He was dying.
And with all that was happening, yet with nothing else he could do, he was conditioned to find any distraction in anything that changed among the very monochrome view by his bed.
The walls didn’t change much. The door only opened and closed with the come and go of others. Sometimes the curtains were pulled open, sometimes they were closed.
Backdrops and inanimate objects never changed, but if ever they did change, it was because of one simple thing, and he hated to admit that the overly friendly nurse may have been correct. And if anything did change, it was the people that went in and out, left a greeting, checked his charts, made some unfunny joke about the weather.
It was the company that helped. Company distracted him.
Visitors distracted him.
He soon opened up to Ruka about his hospital visits. He never hinted at needing company, and a part of him would have rather Ruka minded his own business.
But it could help. And he reminded himself it was up to Ruka to decide his next move.
At the same time, he knew at the back of his mind, there was only one move Ruka would make, that would be consistent with the unwavering loyalty he has known his best friend to have in the years they’ve known each other.
Ruka would visit, every day, every two days, or whatever the nurses or doctors would allow, or whatever Natsume would allow.
Either way, progress was progress.
Some of his classmates soon caught on, and Natsume soon got used to the occasional visitor.
It didn’t mean he had to talk to them, though. When they came, he rarely had the energy or the inclination to say anything beyond a noncommittal greeting. Still, every visitor gave him a reason
He was soon counting them, cataloging them, by their demeanors, then by their expressions.
And who could blame him? Stuck inside a white box, he had very few options to distract himself with, but at the same time, he had never had the predilection to engage.
What was his limit? How many visits a day could he get before it became more harmful than actually beneficial?
Natsume could never get a good estimate. Some visits were short. Some were long. Some were awkward. Some were professional.
Still, he liked to count, particularly when there was nothing else to do, just to carry him through the hospital stay and through his own dark thoughts.
And sometimes, counting, cataloging and appreciating the company actually worked in making him feel just a little bit more alive.
He woke up in the hospital again.
The sun streamed into the room. Just outside he heard the patter of shoes on the floor and faint morning greetings. Almost instinctively, he pulled up a little catalog in his mind, ready to count visitors and throw them into boxes with tiny labels. He slowly sat up, took a deep inhale and winced as his chest protested.
Why did he feel like it would be such a long day?
Maybe because he could have sworn he had been asleep for a while? He wasn’t too sure.
Half asleep, his body in a world of dull aches, he counted one, as the door slid open.
The first visitor was the doctor.
The doctors in the hospital were the no-nonsense, get-straight-to-work types of people with indomitable poker faces. The closest they would ever get to a friendly greeting was a simple good morning or a comment on the weather, nothing Natsume would have ever been interested in returning.
Either way, he responded when he thought it natural, like when he gave a noncommittal grunt as the doctor shifted from a talk of pleasantries, to a panegyric soliloquy on projects, initiatives and recent discoveries related to Alice biology that could “change the field forever.” Natsume could probably grasp at least sixty percent of it if he had tried hard enough.
But adjusting the tape on his IV seemed like a better use of his time and attention.
Then he shifted again to updates on his condition, then Natsume decided to at least half-listen.
“Imai has taken care of the superficial ones already… but we did some tests on your heart while you were asleep…. Experiencing a massive strain… increase the dosage…overuse…Some are still experimental but…”
Natsume didn’t think it was worth a response. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Persona had told him already. Solving the “overuse issue” was tantamount to solving global poverty and it was completely impossible without taking those at the top. Advising him not to overuse his Alice was starting to seem more like a mere pleasantry, or a fulfillment with the obligation that came with Hippocratic Oath.
Unfortunately, that was all the doctor could do.
As long as Natsume was in the dangerous ability class, it wasn’t going to end. As long as Persona was breathing down his neck and dragging him to some other mission, that massive strain on his organs would eventually birth another monster, the dosage of the medicine would increase and Natsume’s body would give out.
That was the most probable chain of events.
It could end in a grand explosion or like the whittling of a candle’s flame, he didn’t know. At that point, he didn’t care. He looked up at the doctor one last time, his own mouth a thin straight line.
That same serious expression was plastered on the doctor’s face, and somehow, Natsume found it almost comical. Some pity or empathy would have probably been nice, as they articulated some bleak diagnosis. Yet, they gave their prognoses like they were identifying the symptoms of a cold and prescribing some Vitamin C.
Eventually, they said their goodbyes, said they’d be back the next morning to check on him, and just like that, they left Natsume to his devices.
He was exhausted, yet helpless from a rollercoaster of emotions that would never make it past his stiff exterior, then he was drowsy from a combination of sleeping drugs yet restless from having spent the past few days in bed.
Natsume was disoriented but lonely. The past few days were a blur, and although there had been visitors every now and then, either they hadn’t stayed long enough or Natsume just hadn’t been lucid enough to tell the difference.
The second type of visitor came soon after; another nurse strode in with similar professionalism.
“Are you in any pain?” She was a different type of visitor, because at least, her tone still held some warmth and some human concern despite the quick and efficient way she went about her work, hooking and unhooking tubes, hanging another IV bag on the stand, then asking about bowel movements and pain levels.
Natsume shook his head.
The nurses did not care for amicable time-wasters as they artfully walked through the intricacies of their everyday tasks. Still, they were better than the doctors at shifting their focus from the medicines to the patients almost instantly.
She sighed. “If it gets worse, you’re going to have to tell me.” She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We’re trying to help you here.”
He didn’t know much about patient-doctor confidentiality, so he wondered how much she knew about his case. The existence of the life-shortening Alice shape was general knowledge in the field of Alice biology, yet he wondered if she ever thought about the bullet wounds or the whip marks and she just chose to remain silent.
Or maybe she was even forced to remain silent.
He pondered for minutes or maybe hours. It turned out the IV bag could have been medicine, or it could have been a sleeping draught. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, or maybe even half a day. Half drugged as he was, profoundly disconnected from the rhythm of time, he could have sworn that as soon as the nurse had left and Ruka entered the room.
Three.
Natsume mustered a soft “good morning,” not because he was feeling particularly friendly or talkative, but because Ruka worried, and he was the type of worrywart who would call the nurse at any irregularity on Natsume’s side.
And, if Natsume were honest, the best situation he could ever find himself in while in the hospital was alone with Ruka in the room. He’d prefer to make the most of it.
“You’re finally sitting up.” Ruka heaved a sigh, and broke into a soft smile. “We were worried. After Reo left, we caught up to you and Sakura… you wouldn’t wake up…”
When it was him and Ruka in the room, Natsume had more energy and courage to look back at the past few days, he had been tacitly avoiding. The blur of colors, and flashes of the intense throbbing in his head, the weight of his half baked body trying to defend those two idiots who chased him all the way to the warehouse were all part of an uncomfortable conglomeration of experiences he would have preferred to forget.
Whatever the nurses had him on, it dulled the pain and trauma of that day to a bitter memory he could disown if he chose to. Still, there were parts of the memory worth revisiting. “How is she?” Natsume asked.
Ruka immediately knew who ‘she’ was. “Prescribed bed rest, but Imai said she should be released by tomorrow, then back to school on Monday.”
Natsume turned to the calendar on the wall, and quickly counted back. It was Saturday.
The glance Natsume spared was minute, or it should have been. Ruka followed his gaze and turned to the calendar, then the most natural question followed. “Any news on when you’d be out?”
“Nothing yet.”
It was in Ruka’s body language, in the way he dropped his shoulder as he spoke. In the way his eyes shifted, first from Natsume’s face, down to the bed, to the tubes and the machines, to the bandages over burns.
Ruka stared at everything, and when he looked back at Natsume, he shook his head, clearly disappointed. “Ah… you shouldn’t be rushing it anyway. It was a miracle you survived the kidnapping and the explosion in your state, but knowing you, you’d probably be bored here… I’m going to Central Town tomorrow. I have to buy some props for the play, so, just let me know, I can buy some comics in Central Town, bring Yoichi if you want company…”
As naturally as the conversation started, it gradually found its own way through everyday topics, and Ruka had the unique ability of just transforming all of it into something Natsume wanted to listen to. He talked about the Alice fair, then about final exams, and Natsume was reminded again. Since Ruka had a very clear dream of becoming a vet one day, he needed to perform, and for that, he needed to study.
“...During class, I’ll make sure to take some notes, just in case you wanna study too…” Ruka trailed off.
Hopeful or Delusional. Ruka was one of these things, or maybe he was both of them. Natsume couldn’t deny though that whatever feeling Ruka emanated was contagious, and it had kept Natsume going, one way or the other.
It was two years ago when the symptoms worsened into something Natsume couldn’t ignore. Somewhere around that time, hospital visits evolved from a “just in case” to a “must-do.” When doctors started off warning him not to use his Alice, begging him not to, then suddenly devolving into giving him some friendly advice he may choose to take at his own convenience.
The cynic in Natsume knew he probably wouldn’t make it past sixteen, and it wasn’t worth it to make the effort in school, only to die a few years later.
“...but it’s only in case you wanna study, you never needed to. You were always smarter than me,” Ruka said “I’m just thinking… when we graduate and we get to leave, I hope we get to go to the same university…”
Hopeful or Delusional. Whatever Ruka was holding onto wasn’t Ruka’s own fault. It was Natsume’s fault for planting it anyway.
A part of him had wondered how Ruka hadn’t yet taken the hint that Natsume had no drive to think about college. Still, another part of him was painfully aware, he was feeding into Ruka’s delusion through his overt acts and his own choice of words.
“Just send the notes, I’ll look through them,” Natsume muttered. “It’d be a drag to be held back over absences like this.”
Ruka could have been blindly believing him or he could have just been humoring him. His face lit up, then softened within seconds. “So you are gonna work with me one day?”
Natsume shrugged and leaned back on the bed. “Too early to tell.”
Admittedly, he had only ever said yes because it made Ruka happy. If he gathered the energy to look through the notes, it would be out of humoring Ruka, dealing with boredom for a close second.
It was a balancing act. Ruka was hopeful or delusional. One of those, but at the same time, it was that blind conviction, keeping Natsume hoping, trying… surviving.
Maybe that delusion was good for him. Maybe that was the reason he never told him. Or maybe it was just because there was a time and place, not when Natsume had a hundred other reasons to live and not when Ruka was flitting from topic to topic that confidently and passionately.
It wasn't often they were alone like that, free to talk to their liking. It made the whole hospital stay bearable and Natsume wished Ruka wouldn’t leave.
The doors of the hospital room soon opened, and another group came in.
A few seconds of silently watching later, Natsume counted at least ten of his classmates, but narrowed them down to two types.
There was Shoda, then the others, all with their own fair share of pleasantries that Natsume passed on with grunts of acknowledgment at the most. And there was Kokoroyomi who kept to himself, and Natsume was grateful for it. The smile he gave Natsume as their eyes met was unsettling at most, and Natsume chose to ignore it. For as long as Natsume had known Kokoroyomi, Kokoroyomi had never breached that silent trust between them.
The conversation died down, and they talked about visiting the central town on Sunday. And the conversation had Natsume thinking about her of all people. She probably would have wanted to go.
"She's still here, right?" Natsume said, as soon as the others had left.
"Who?" Ruka asked.
He stayed behind to clean up and he was taking an unreasonable time gathering a few of the wrappers, scattered on his bedside table. It wasn’t like it was a bother anyway.
Natsume didn’t complain though. He preferred the company, especially since it was Ruka. "Polka dots," Natsume said. "She hasn't been discharged yet, right?"
"Not yet."
“So she’s not joining you guys in Central…”
"Looks like it..."
He could imagine her whining, and she had a very annoying squeak to her voice that rang in his ears everytime she spoke, but a twinge of guilt that settled in his chest, at Ruka’s response.
"She should be discharged by Monday,” Ruka added,
It was his fault she was stuck in the hospital. It was his fault she couldn't go to Central Town.
His mind went back to the box of Howalon she had left him, then to that annoying smile. Then, he was back at the warehouse and at that moment, she had jumped right on top of him.
That idiot.
She was the idiot, and if he let the devil in him argue, he’d say she brought her hospital stay upon herself. She was overly careless. She had this hero complex, pushing her stupidity and recklessness to new levels.
Still, if she hadn’t come back, he’d be dead.
And…if he had just been a little more careful with the flames and the explosions back then…
“You look tired,” Ruka said.
Only when Ruka pointed it out did Natsume even notice it himself. His head was throbbing and he had sunk back on the pillow, tracing black spots at the ceiling just above him.
Black spots on a white ceiling wasn't a normal view for anyone.
“Should I call the nurse?” Ruka said.
Natsume could have responded or Ruka could have just taken a hint.
Seconds later, a nurse was fiddling with an IV. Ruka’s voice was the fuzzy crackling sound of an old receiver, just clear enough for a quick goodbye.
And Natsume was alone, a victim of his own tormented mind. The nurse had eventually closed the curtains, talking about how a dark room could better help with a migraine.
Then the sixth visitor came, when Natsume was barely lucid enough to get his bearings.
Her voice traveled across the dark of the room.
“He's awake?”
“Doesn't look like it.” Imai’s voice?
“He’s always sleeping,” she said. ‘I couldn’t even show him my new star last time.”
“I don't think he’d care too much about it.” Cold and blunt but reasonable. It was definitely Imai.
A rustle of clothing, the creaking of the doors, then a hiss.
“You idiot, get back here! Don't wake him up.”
“But he might be awake… I— Let me go! It’s so unfair! Everyone got to see him while I was asleep!”
The other voice was definitely her.
“Hey, you bonehead, don't you dare do that again. No way am I letting you die on us— ow!”
Angry whispers. Then the medicine dragged him under, until all he had left for companionship was his own thoughts.
The sixth visitor was annoying, demanding and with a voice that grated. But that tenacity he cursed was the same one that saved his life. That annoying high pitched squeal and the words that followed had pulled him out of his own rut had him moving far away from the thought of detonating the explosives at the warehouse, killing everyone.
For a mere split second, back at the warehouse, that voice was the only thing egging him to live on. Alone, safe, at least a few years worth of a life right in front of him, he couldn’t help but find pure comfort at the only voice that had been pulling him back to the land of the living.
You idiot! Do you have a death wish?
And down under, in his restful sleep, and the dreams that followed, it was the voice that kept him thinking about a future.
Mikan turned out to be more annoyingly curious than Ruka, and Natsume would have preferred never to see her, especially not in the hospital of all places.
But when Natsume was in the hospital three to four times a week, and when he only had that small window in the late afternoon, between classes and missions, it was stupid to call it a coincidence that he found her there at the same time as him.
Still, his mind went into overdrive as she turned the corner, the heels of her boot scratching on the linoleum tiles of the hospital.
“Ah Natsume!” Her voice was a mix of surprise and wonder. Not at all appropriate for a hospital, as agreed on by the nurses who shushed her almost immediately.
Her eyes were wide with questions, flitting up at his face then down at his hands, and Natsume was quick to pocket the meds he just got. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Visiting.” Technically, he wasn't lying.
“Visiting who?” She asked curiously. There was likely no ulterior motive, still, that grin which followed such an incendiary question was a little annoying.
“An acquaintance.” The doctor was an acquaintance technically.
“Do I know him?” Mikan pushed.
“Growing up, did anyone teach you not to pry in other people's businesses?” Natsume turned on his heel, ready to walk away.
“Hey, I'd tell you why I'm here!” Mikan said.
Natsume wasn't listening and he was already a good few meters away, almost comfortably out of ear shot.
Footsteps followed from behind, and suddenly she was right next to him again. “I'm visiting someone with the life-shortening Alice. Tsubasa-senpai’s friend.’
Even before he was even aware, time had stopped. He was frozen in his tracks, and the paper bag was cold, and the cracking of the aluminum of the medicine wrappers in his pocket was deafening.
Did Mikan hear it? Would she ask about it?
“Are you okay?”
Natsume wasn’t. But he was at least “okay” enough to keep walking away, if she’d let him. But Mikan had a way with her words, or it could have all been a simple coincidence.
But as Natsume stood and turned back to her, he couldn’t help but ask himself: how much had Mikan figured out already?
“He has this Alice which shortens his life span every time he transfers his soul to dolls. The doll comes to life, but he just gets sicker and sicker… and what I don’t understand is… Why can’t he just stop using it? He’s letting himself die… but for what?”
He narrowed his eyes and stared ahead. He wanted to be alone, but at the same time, he had been listening, and maybe she had figured out that since he was listening, he probably cared at least a bit.
Wittingly or not, she was taking full advantage of it. He noted the crack in her voice and the way she had gripped him tighter on the shoulder.
“There’s so much more to live for…”
And that was the problem with Mikan. She saw the world in shades of black and shades of white and Natsume could only respond with a mere shrug, because if he said anything else, it would devolve into a three hour lecture, then knowing her, an argument.
“I know this is a rare Alice shape, and maybe I’m overreacting over nothing,” she said in between sniffles. “But I think of Hotaru… and if she had this, I’d tie her up just to stop her from inventing things if I had to…” Her mumbles soon devolved into bubbles. And somehow, Natsume found himself leaning on some abandoned corridor of the hospital, Mikan getting her bearings right next to him.
“Natsume, can I ask a question?”
He didn’t give her permission, but she asked anyway. “If Ruka had a life-shortening Alice shape, wouldn’t you stop him from using his Alice?”
That time, Mikan never really did ask Natsume for an answer to that question, nor did she press for any more information. Fortunately, she had distracted herself from her own curiosity by entertaining other concerns, then other emotions.
Natsume had been a simple casualty, but he wasn’t complaining about it either.
That encounter with Mikan ended with a few of his classmates from the dangerous abilities class calling him for a mission, and there was no time for awkward goodbyes or explanations.
The question stuck to him, like a scab that itched at the slightest jostle or touch, and he hoped never to have to answer it. If he were to give that question the time of day, he’d come out a hypocrite or a liar.
He convinced himself he just didn’t have the time for it.
It was around winter, a few days after the Christmas ball, when Ruka first accompanied him to the hospital, and the last check up before most of the doctors took a New Year’s break.
“You didn’t have to come,” Natsume said.
“I’d rather you weren’t doing things like this alone,” Ruka said. His words were softer than a mumble, but that wasn’t a sign of a weak will. Ruka was leaving no room for protests.
Times like that, he was reminded why he preferred to keep his own schedule of hospital visits private.
On good days, he never told Ruka about it. And on bad days, when his head was clearly heavy and his stomach was a tight, yet disheveled, knot, he didn’t have much energy to refuse or to even lie to Ruka about his whereabouts.
On those days, Ruka won the mind games between the two of them.
“You shouldn’t have to face this alone, you know?”
“And you shouldn’t have to make your friend’s problems yours.”
“I choose what to make my problem.” Ruka was right. Who was Natsume to deprive Ruka of that choice? If anything, it was that encounter that had planted a seed of guilt inside him.
“If Ruka had a life-shortening Alice, wouldn’t you stop him from using it?”
That was the reason he had never admitted the life-shortening Alice shape to Ruka in the first place. Ruka wasn’t an idiot, he probably did take the hint, but Natsume was careful with his words when it came to conversations about his physical state and he had left just enough vagueness that Ruka could never be too certain.
And luckily, Ruka never asked, but even if God forbid he did, Natsume would probably never stop using his Alice. Defying Persona meant everyone was in trouble, and he refused to let that happen.
Was he selfish? Selfless?
“If Ruka had a life-shortening Alice, wouldn’t you stop him from using it?”
And he leaned towards selfishness as Mikan’s question echoed inside him again.
Ruka must have sensed something. His pace quickened, his hand on Natsume’s shoulder was heavy, the grip much tighter. “You okay?”
“You know, I met Mikan in the hospital.”
“Mikan? When was that? Was she okay?”
“She was visiting a friend.”
Ruka’s relief was palpable. Natsume continued. “She has a friend with a life-shortening Alice and she asked me if I would stop you from using your Alice if it was the life-shortening type.”
“Would you?” Ruka’s question was clipped, in a knowing manner, as if he was sure Natsume would have interrupted him if he said anything else.
“Yes.”
“If Mikan had a life-shortening Alice, would you stop her from using it?”
“I’d call her an idiot if she used it.”
“Would you stop her?”
“I’d threaten to burn her hair if she tried to use it.”
“And if she just nullifies it—”
“I’ll find a way…”
“Yet…” Ruka trailed off, and their pace slowed as the hospital came into view. “You struggle to even take care of yourself.”
Natsume raised one eyebrow at Ruka. “Do I?” Ruka looked away, a sardonic half smile still visible from his side profile.
“I’m going in now..” Natsume turned towards Ruka, making a big show of skipping two steps as they reached the landing of the stairs by the entrance of the hospital. The winter air was dry and it clipped at Natsume’s throat. He bit back a cough, and probably would have keeled over if Ruka hadn’t caught him from behind.
“And you let me come with you,” Ruka said. “It’s progress, at least.”
If Persona was feeding Ruka information about Natsume’s state, Natsume wouldn't be surprised. If it was really just Ruka’s own perceptiveness, pushing Ruka to constantly toe the line between what Natsume would prefer not to share and didn’t need to and what Natsume would prefer not to share but needed help with, Natsume wouldn’t be surprised either.
Ruka was a worrier, and a very annoying one at it. He was blindly hopeful, but he was Natsume’s best friend.
Whether or not Ruka even knew with certainty what Natsume’s physical condition was, it didn’t seem to matter. Ruka had made a good call that day, accompanying Natsume to his check up, and Natsume would be lying if he said he hadn’t been leaning on Ruka’s shoulder all the way to the doctor’s office.
Natsume blamed the changing of seasons, and the shift from winter to spring, that at times seemed gradual while at other times seemed almost too sudden.
The weather was a fickle thing, falling to single digits on bad days, going up to 20s on good days, and if anything, it was messing up whatever Alice system inside him was keeping his body intact.
When Ruka asked, he didn’t mention that he may have used his Alice just a bit too much back in the Hana Hime den. Maybe he had overexerted himself when he fought with Yakumo that day while searching for his sister, and maybe he had spent just a little too much energy creating Alice stones in between missions.
No. It wasn’t any of that, it was definitely the weather.
And he held that answer like it was the only thing keeping him working. Maybe if he convinced himself long enough, his body would agree.
One day, he had been sent by Persona to the harbor, and he had seen dark gray spots as he created a fire wall allowing the cargo ship of the ESP to dock.
The air was bitingly cold, making it difficult to control the flames. It was the warmth that followed as the sun rose over the horizon that sent a slashing pain through him as Tono amplified his Alice.
Natsume stifled a scream.
Then, it was the exhaustion that came with dealing with the weather of all things, that had him falling six feet down, into the cold water.
It was cold. It was dark. Then, he passed out.
The doctors had increased the dosage of his drugs. Imai had been in the room with him, treating him for a little longer than usual. The nurses had kept the oxygen mask overnight.
The doctor didn’t want it removed. The beeping of the machines was louder, more numerous, a cacophony of sounds that were impossible to tune out.
The room was strangely smaller than usual. He was in and out.
He had counted seven people, and his hazy mind had narrowed it down to three: the doctor, the nurses and Imai.
And there shouldn't be more than that.
The doctor said, “no visitors.” Imai repeated the same thing when the doctors left, as if he knew a half asleep Natsume would be lucid enough to remember.
When Ruka finally got permission to go in, it could have been hours or maybe even days.
“Hey, just in case… you’re awake?” There was a crack to his voice, and a squeak towards that last word, and it sent a twinge through Natsume’s chest.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you worry. Natsume didn’t have the energy to speak.
“Whatever they’re making you do out there… It’s not easy, is it?” Ruka said. “This weather… it’s really got your number.” And Ruka said the word ‘weather’ like he didn’t believe it himself.
“Weather,” Natsume whispered, desperately convincing himself or Ruka.
“They said you’ll be here for about two weeks. That’s our whole spring break.”
Who cares? What else was there to do but go on a weekend trip to Central Town?
“MIkan is asking about you. She said you’re never there for meals. I say you’re never in the dorm,” Ruka said. “I told her I don’t know, and that you’re never in the dorm either. She’s worried. They all are.”
“Tell them I’m fine.” Natsume was surprised to see that, despite the weight on his chest and the dryness of his throat, his voice came out audible albeit hoarse, very hoarse. “Busy.”
“She’ll be suspicious, you know. She’ll ask. Just like I did.” Ruka lowered his head, gripped the edge of the bed, as if he was hesitant, maybe even terrified to touch Natsume.
Did he look that bad on the bed?
“I’m fine. It’s the weather.” It was a stupid attempt at reassurance bundled up in a stupid excuse and how long would Ruka believe it? If anything, the most he could convince Ruka of was that he wasn’t dying, not just yet. “You still wanna be a vet?” Natsume asked.
Ruka furrowed his brows, likely surprised at the sudden question. “Of course I do.”
“Then, tell me about it.” If he was gonna be in the hospital, he would rather not be talking about hospital things.”
Ruka at least understood. “When we graduate, I'll go to college, study to be a vet. We can set up a farm and maybe Mikan would join us,” he said. “You like her don’t you?” A simple yet useless question for Ruka, at the most a distraction for Natsume. Still, it was understandable. Ruka was fighting fear and hopelessness, challenging whatever delusion Natsume had created and Natsume would rather Ruka was thinking about that, instead of his condition..
“I talked to her about it, she said it’s an amazing dream,” Ruka said. “Maybe if I ask her one day, she would. It gets me excited, you know, just imagining what we could do once we get out of here.
A pang simmered in his chest, condensing into a weight that Natsume once again attributed to the weather. The beeping of the machine quickened and Ruka paled. “Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?”
Natsume took as deep of a breath as he could, but it wasn’t much and it ended with a crack and a soft wheeze.Ruka had definitely heard it, he had nodded and bit his lip as he turned to the door, screaming for help.
Nurses and doctors were once again his constant companions and Ruka visited a few more times, still only enough not to arouse suspicions.
Through the hustle and bustle, Natsume only had the energy to let out two words. “No visitors.”
The doctors and nurses would have mentioned it. It was probably in the ICU rules, but just in case, he said it.
He was just in no mood to count visitors or think about company, and the ICU was crowded enough with his own thoughts.
At the end of the day, Ruka respected his wishes. No one but the dangerous ability class knew he had been in the ICU for a week. All the class knew was that he was on a mission for a few weeks. All Mikan knew was that he was busy with other things.
But in the hospital, alone with his thoughts and whatever drugs he was on, he entertained the most useless and disgusting thoughts, full of what-ifs and self torment and ruminations of a bleak future.
If Mikan had the life-shortening Alice, what would he have done?
He definitely would have hated to be kept in the dark. He would have gone to Hotaru, forced an answer out of her, broke into her lab, looked for any hints. If Mikan was in danger of dying from Alice overuse, he would never let her use it, even if he had to steal a hundred or even a thousand Alice suppressants.
No one should have to die from something as cruel as life span shortening Alice.
At the same time, he believed no one should have to waste their time and energy visiting someone who was going to die to their Alice soon anyway.
He was everything at once.
He was a liar. He was a hypocrite. He was selfish.
But, god, he was just very selfish.
When Natsume had recovered from what they had called a quick but almost fatal bout of pneumonia, they lowered his pain killers. The stimulants around him came up sharper, yet rough around the edges. As soon as they were given the chance, his senses returned on high alert.
He was transferred out of the ICU a day later, the wires were out of his chest, but an oximeter remained clamped to his finger. They left an IV on his arm, just simple rehydration and antibiotics to battle the infection.
And the doctors didn’t wait. His first visitor that morning had been a doctor, coming in with a clipboard.
This time there weren’t any pleasantries.
One year.
The doctor had started with two words and he ended with a spiel that could be summarized with only two words.
One year.
And how long was one year? It was a terribly long time and a terribly short time.
To think he had only known Mikan for less than a year should have been enough proof for him that a year was a long time to live.
To think that he had only known Mikan for less than a year, and he would only have known her for a little more than a year, was enough of a reminder that a year was also a very short time.
The doctors weren’t his therapists and they weren’t his friends either. They talked about treatments. They talked about pain management and they talked about “if he just managed his Alice properly maybe…,” yet they spoke about it like Natsume had a choice.
He was just relieved to see him leave.
The nurse was the second visitor, coming right after the doctor gave him an ultimatum. She checked his vitals, his blood. It was a strange feeling to be given a deadline and to suddenly be tested after everything, to be reminded with every beep of the thermometer, and the beeping of the machines, and with the blood that came with pulling at the needles, that Natsume was still alive.
And he’d be alive for at least one more year.
I’m alive.
But I’m gonna die.
But for now, I’m alive.
His moods were hitting highs then lows at a record pace.The prospect of all of that amplified everything from the beat of his veins on his neck, to the viscous red liquid in the bottle the nurse had pocketed.
“Do you need something to help you sleep tonight?”
Then, to the beeping of the machines.
“No.” Natsume shook his head, fell back on the bed and turned towards the wall.
When he woke up again, the sun was weakly streaming through the window and Ruka was by his bedside. “When I found out they moved you back here, I—”
“Ruka.” Natsume was calm. “You had breakfast with everyone this morning?” It was definitely morning, but Natsume couldn’t tell how early.
“Yeah. Then we went to Central Town. There’s the sports festival coming up so they asked for help preparing props… and everything.”
“Everyone’s busy with it?”
“Others are just enjoying the spring break.”
“Mikan?”
“She keeps herself busy but…” Ruka looked away, towards the window, but for no apparent reason. He could have just been avoiding Natsume’s gaze for all Natsume knew. “She asks about you… a lot. And I can’t just keep telling her you’re on a mission. She’ll worry herself sick eventually. I–”
“No.”
“You don’t have to tell the whole class but if Imai’s brother knows…I know he won’t tell his sister but Imai’s not stupid. Even if I don’t say anything, she’ll find a way to know, and she’ll probably want to tell Mikan as much as I do but—”
“The doctor said no visitors,” Natsume reiterated firmly.
It was a lie. At that point, everyone should have been allowed since he was in recovery, and Ruka could have pushed for it if he tried.
Natsume had covered his bases. He told the nurses he didn’t want visitors, and when Ruka opened his mouth to speak, Natsume shut him down once again. “They can wait. I’ll be out before school starts. I still have to go to that ceremony since I’m part of the student council.”
“So you don’t wanna tell Mikan, even after everything… Is it because you don’t trust her? Natsume, she went—”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Even Mikan?” His voice softened to a lull. His eyes narrowed intently at Natsume’s. Ruka was confident and he had every reason to be. “You’re lying.”
It was so simple but Ruka made it so difficult. “Just tell them ‘no visitors’.” Natsume deadpanned.
Ruka’s face crumbled, and he had the expression of a wounded dog, as he looked away. “I wouldn’t do something you didn’t want me to do. These are your wishes and I know I should just respect them, but it doesn’t mean I agree with them.”
Natsume fell back on the bed, turned towards the wall and closed his eyes.
There were footsteps, the door slammed behind him and Natsume found himself alone once again.
Visitors were distractions, but it didn’t mean they were the good ones either.
There was relief in the solitude that came with an empty hospital room. At the same time, there was foreboding in knowing he’d have to face the others eventually: Others but particularly, Mikan.
There was a point where Natsume would say he hated her. He hated everything about her.
Not because she was Mikan, but because she represented everything he couldn’t have.
And the occasional dream that brought with it pictures of a farm, Mikan in braids and a blue plaid dress wasn’t pleasant memories alone, but also a source of heaviness on good days and searing pains on the worst of days.
She had brought out the worst in him.
And Natsume remembered why “no visitors” had been such a good idea from the start.
Ruka was crying.
It was the muffled kind. It lacked that sniffles, the whines or the babbling Mikan loved to pepper her own with. Ruka cried in deep exhales, in wracked sobs, and the occasional crack in his throat. In the darkness, the shifts in his breathing were all the more perceptible. In fact, they were deafening, then haunting, and Natsume couldn’t go back to sleep.
Ruka didn’t have to stay overnight but he did.
Ruka promised he’d stay strong, and he was really trying
Ruka said he’d take care of him, and despite Natsume’s insistence that he’d rather Ruka save that energy for Mikan, Ruka stayed.
It was a routine check up, in between Christmas and New Year, and the doctors had asked him to stay, just for two nights.
The first day was already eventful in itself.
The doctor had come in early in the morning, strangely talkative, for someone assigned to a 7AM shift and Natsume was in for a lecture.
“The Alice system courses through the major organs… think of it as a quasi-circulatory system.”
Natsume’s mind occasionally wandered.
Did the doctor just use quasi with a twelve year old? Fortunately, Natsume knew what the word quasi meant.
“A person's cells can only divide so many times and the Alice of a person with a life shortening Alice either accelerates the division of the cells and the channels are compromised, especially when an abnormally powerful Alice runs through them…”
Then the doctor explained, Natsume’s body was compromised twice over, once by the flames that ran through his body, damaging the organs in his wake, another by the accelerated division of cells and his rapidly aging internal organs.
The rapidly aging organs and their injured outer layers were the problems Imai had been putting a band aid on, but that was all they were t: band aids.
Another doctor came in, and didn't give too much about the origin. Instead, he rattled off things Natsume would understand.
One kidney has stopped working, the other was at half of its capacity. Part of his liver had shut down and his heart was overworking itself.
That evening, Natsume let Ruka stay as one more doctor explained the prognosis.
If he kept using his Alice, he would be lucky to still be alive by March, and as the doctors left the room, Natsume told Ruka the truth himself.
He’d be giving his all against the ESP. He’d be giving his all to break Mikan out.
To hell with delusions, to hope, to timelines, to what-ifs.
What was there was there. The words were right in front of him and the doctors spared him no attempts at sugar coating. By March he’d be dead.
He sat up in bed, looked out the window. The streets were illuminated by one street light. The snow that fell from the sky was like glitter. On the ground, it glistened like a silver vinyl.
Winter was beautiful, but after receiving a clear prognosis, after coming to terms with his impending death, it became a haunting reminder. He would never go out to the streets and bathe under the warm sunlight again. He would never feel the summer air, hear the cicadas out on the streets, or feel the thin cotton of their summer uniform brush against his skin.
He’d never smell morning dew or the buds blooming again. He might never see the colors of spring, the green of the grass or the flowers in full bloom.
It was terrible luck to die in winter of all seasons.
And Natsume hated to be left with his thoughts.
“Natsume, you’re awake?” Ruka’s voice was soft.
“I’ve been for a while.”
“Did I keep you awake?” Ruka asked. “I only realized how loud I was when you sat up…Sorry you should be sleeping and I should've… ”
“Ruka,” Natsume said. “Don’t apologize.”
“No. I—”
Ruka shouldn’t have had to apologize. “It was my fault. I’m sorry,” Natsume lulled.
His fault for overusing his alice? His fault for getting Ruka this close in the first place, for planting false hopes?
He couldn’t tell.
One thing was for sure, he almost regretted letting Ruka in on this much of his condition. Ruka didn’t deserve this pain.
That night, Natsume listened to Ruka’s muffled sobs, knowing full well that the guilty pang in his chest was well deserved. He had built a delusion and a false hope of a future. And maybe despite all the hints, Ruka had held on to it.
Ruka had been with him in the hospital a few times, he’d stay by him in the waiting room, picked up meds, but he hadn’t seen the depths of Natsume’s state until Christmas Eve a few days ago, until he sat next to Natsume as the doctor explained his prognosis.
Until Natsume told him himself.
I don’t care. If it’s to save Mikan, if it’s to take down the ESP, then I’d rather die there.
That three month prognosis of the doctors would soon whittle down into two months, maybe even one, maybe even less than that as they discussed their plans and Natsume’s convictions.
“No it wasn’t… I told you back then in the forest that I had known all along. Natsume, I did know all along. They’d tell me that you were in the hospital for overusing your Alice. First for a day or so, then it happened every month… then every few weeks. Back when we first learned about Alice shapes… I figured it out quickly, but you never looked like you wanted to talk about it. So i thought, if we’d just talk about the future, if we’d just make plans, just maybe, I had over thought it, or maybe you were fine. Or maybe if I talked enough about the future, it could happen to both of us. Maybe you’d find more reason to live. Maybe they’d find a cure— I…” Ruka could have mumbled himself to sleep and Natsume could have believed that, if it hadn’t been for the violent sobs that followed. Ruka was finding it difficult to speak.
Still. he pressed on, like there were a hundred, if not a thousand other thoughts, he was meaning to release into the dead air. “I wanted a farm, and I wanted to work there with you. Natsume, we’re only twelve. I wanted to grow up with you, fight over Mikan with you…”
If it wasn’t dark, maybe Ruka would have seen it. Natsume was thankful for it. Luckily his own tears were the silent ones and he let his own apology die prematurely at the tip of his tongue.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
He shouldn’t have let Ruka in on this. There shouldn’t have been any visitors.
“Just give me tonight,” Ruka whispered. “Starting tomorrow, we can pretend this never happened. I’ll protect Mikan and I’ll protect her with my life. Everything you couldn’t do for her, I’ll do it.”
And it turned out Natsume didn't need to speak and it was probably better that he didn't.
Eventually, Ruka’s words softened into hiccups, all twisting at Natsume’s gut.
Finally, they settled into soft snores and Natsume fell asleep soon after.
Ruka and Natsume had been with each other through thick and thin, it was only natural Ruka would know exactly what he wanted.
Protect Mikan.
How many times had he told Ruka just that? And it was very characteristic of Ruka to hold on to a promise.
Hell, Natsume would trust him with his life, if he needed to, but in the end, he would still choose never to burden anyone with that big of a responsibility.
He woke up to Ruka slumped over on a chair by his bed.
There was a dull pain in his stomach. The beeps of the machines were incessant. How was Ruka able to sleep so peacefully? Or at least as peaceful as one can be slumped over on the bed. Natsume was sure his back would hurt by the time he woke up.
“Ruka.”
His name was enough to jostle him awake. “Natsume!” His eyes were wide and red rimmed and he sat up, pulling Natsume close.
Natsume bit back a scream as his joints and the wounds protested the abrupt movement.
“Sorry. I know it hurts but… you wouldn’t wake up…” Ruka could have been crying.
Natsume couldn’t tell, but if he could, he would have consoled Ruka as soon as he woke up. His throat was scratchy and every part of him was way too heavy, and he was in constant pain.
You woke me up now. I’m awake. He hoped whatever face his mustered through the fog of consciousness would be enough.
“Hotaru brought you back, I—.”
Hotaru? Who’s Hotaru?
His thoughts naturally fell to the person always right beside her. There was someone always by Mikan, but he couldn’t put a name to them or a face, to that constant. Naturally, his thoughts flew to Mikan.
Is Mikan okay? “Where's Mikan?”
Ruka’s face darkened, and he looked away. “It's a long story.’
“Ruka, I'll be here for god knows how long. Just say it.”
Just like that, Natsume was given a new lease on life, after a stabbing then a complete abdication of the power of the principal.
They said it was a gift but Natsume preferred to believe otherwise. It was a curse and it would remain a curse until he breaks out of the academy and finds Mikan himself.