Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ Happy Endings, And Other Lies ❯ Happy Endings: 3 ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter Three

 

It was in the hospital I learned that my metal plate had rebroken my thighbone. They had performed surgery on it and removed several splinters of bone that would have migrated to through my blood and into my lungs, heart or brain and if they had, would have killed me.

The news did not make me feel very good. Even with all the pain medication.

“We gained the services of a private clinic which will take over treatment and has more options for you than we can offer,” explained the doctor. I was bleary with pain and drugs so my parents consented for me.

I was put in an ambulance and transported to a very nice, very clean clinic where I got crammed into various machines and measured. A replacement thighbone was manufactured for me using cutting edge 5 Axis CNC equipment. The operation to pull and replace my shattered thighbone with the new one and its artificial hip joint, including repair to my pelvis and knee to prevent future injuries happened over coming days.

I missed a lot of school. I was in a daze from the pain medication, but they tell me they saved my bone marrow and blood supply for insertion into the new artificial bone. That was more operations. The damage to my lower leg was also fixed with some fancy cell stimulation and pins into my leg bones. The ACL was reattached properly, using the latest techniques and cloned cells from my own body, so no anti-rejection drugs would be required.

Eventually, after months, I was able to be returned to full consciousness and suffered through drug withdrawals. I was forcefed vitamin supplements while I was closely monitored for rejection of the titanium and surgical-plastic composite which made up my space age leg. All of it saved my life.

If only I wasn’t so depressed. I had three months of schoolwork to catch up on, and I’d have to start over on the cram school stuff.

Physical therapy was not as bad as before. For one thing I didn’t need pain pills anymore. The pain was gone. Therapy helped me get used to walking properly again, and building up my muscles. I was finally allowed to return to school.

 

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“Hikigaya. I’m sorry I pushed you. My family are surgeons. We were owed some favors and used them to help you,” said Hair Drills Hime. She looked all kinds of ashamed. Yuigahama also looked upset.

“I’m.. I’m sorry I didn’t just stand up for myself. None of this would have happened,” said the girl. Her orange hair had been replaced by proper Japanese dark brown, though the style remained the same. Her clothes were a bit more formal, and fit her better. It was an improvement, if I had to say so.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save your dog,” I finally said.

“You… you knew?” she spluttered.

“Someone told me,” I lied. I had figured it out myself. Nice girls.

A black sedan arrived. I recognized it. I stared. Yui stared. Hair Drills looked at us and looked confused.

A driver emerged from the car, in uniform, and opened the door for the princess, Yukinoshita-hime. Figures. She looked me up and down, inscrutable but just a hint satisfied. Cake Sensei arrived from somewhere.

“Ah, Hikigaya. I see you’ve met your benefactors.”

That was plural. Hair Drills I knew about. Yui wasn’t rich. That left… dammit.

“Thank you for your assistance,” I said bowing to Yukinoshita-hime with the correct amount of courtesy. It was her car that broke my leg in five places. It was her car which mulched my high school experience.

“It was the least we could do, considering the circumstances,” she intoned, as if practiced. That was nearly an admission of responsibility. I suppose that was all I would get.

“Great. Well, I need to meet with Hikigaya regarding his studies and the work he needs to do in order to catch up and the exams he’s missed. I’ll bring him to his classroom once that is done,” reminded Cake sensei. We divided up and I followed sensei at a decent pace without a cane or brace. It was freeing to be this normal again.

Instead of her usual desk in the teacher’s office area I ended up with her in one of the counseling rooms, with a stack of books and papers and sticky notes with due dates. It was a lot to deal with. It was the inevitable consequence for falling this far behind.

“Huh. I expected this,” I finally said.

“Well, that’s good at least. This is how you’ll be spending the next few months,” she warned. “In light of that, I can let you off of Service Club duties.” It was probably a good idea, for all the studying I need to do. But it was a bad idea for the same reason. I’ve been isolated for too long. I’ve hibernated. I’ve been that bear. I need to spend some time with people before it’s too late and high school is over.

“I’m going to go to club. I can spare a couple hours a day. I owe them something, at least. Show them I’m healed.” Cake sensei seemed to like that answer.

I had to do tests so we would figure out how much I’d forgotten in the last three months. This went on for several hours. I got lunch off. Then more tests. Cake kept checking in between classes and retrieving exams and pointing me at the next one or two quizzes and tests. When the end of day bell finally rang I gathered up the study guides, books, assignments and realized it was too much for one trip. I got a third into my bookbag, promising to get the rest in future trips.

I headed to the old building and climbed the stairs, without pain, and slid the clubroom door open. The two girls were waiting.

“Hikki!” said the excited Yuigahama. “Yahallo!” Is this some tribal greeting?

“Yo!” I decided on my answer. The princess seemed satisfied. She poured me a cup of tea, with a proper handmade cup.

“Thank you. Did sensei tell you?” I asked. Hime shook her head no. “I decided I should return to club properly. So, can you tell me about the services in my absence?”

“Well, we missed someone after your accident and he came back later, asking for help editing his… his novel.” I felt a tension headache.

“Let me guess. Fat guy, white hair, glasses, speaks with an old-fashioned accent? And the book was filled with chuuni garbage and declarative statements yelled at the top of his voice?”

“It seems your hospital stay has sharpened your perception ability to a nearly supernatural degree,” smirked, just barely, Yukinoshita-hime.

“I just had this feeling. He talked about it a lot when we did tennis warmups together.”

“You play tennis?” asked the princess. Yui was doing her impression of a spectator at said sport, pivoting her gaze back and forth.

“Only alone. Middle school was not a fun experience. I was hoping to reinvent myself at high school and showed up early, ready to begin a new and better social life. And then I got hit by your car trying to save her dog,” I said, pointing.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“At least I’m healed now,” I admitted. “No longer being in constant pain is a huge relief. I will never look past another crippled person again. Believe it!”

“So anyway, his terrible novel? How did that go?” I asked.

“It was terrible,” warned Yukinoshita.

“I… I tried to be nice, but… but it was really hard to find nice things to say about it,” said Yuigahama in a small voice. And this was Miss Cheerful.

“Really. And what was the outcome?” I asked.

“He joined the Literature Club which writes…. Fan fiction,” shuddered Yukinoshita with evident distaste. “Sensei said our performance was sub-optimal.”

“She’s wrong about that. Fan fiction is good training for real writing, though the critics tend not to understand the difference between the material and actual writing techniques.”

“Eh? Why do you know that, Hikki?” asked Yui, who looked slightly more disturbed than Yukinoshita-hime.

“I had a bad time in Middle School,” I reminded them both. “Still, that’s probably the best we could hope for in his case. Good job, both of you. What other cases have you dealt with?”

“There was a boy who looked like a really cute girl, from our class, who wanted help with tennis practice so he could get more members in the Tennis team,” explained Yuigahama.

“And how did you help?” I asked them both. They looked ashamed.

“Hayama and Miura took over the tennis courts and prevented us from helping him, and the Tennis Team disbanded as a result.” I’d been informed that Hair Drills was Miura. Her parents had actually been the surgeons who performed the leg operations, saving my life several times in the process.

“I see. And the pretty boy?” I asked.

“He’s become distant and studies all the time, like you used to.”

“Almost like there’s a common cause?” I said out loud. The girls winced. “So what have you done for him since this epic failure?”

I looked back and forth, seeing only reticence and shame on their faces. “I see. I’ll handle it.” I still have that copy of Fight Club on DVD. I’ll loan it to him.

“Next?” I asked.

“One of our classmates has been staying out late and coming home near dawn. Her brother was worried she was involved in compensated dating,” explained Yui, who was somehow in the middle of this. Compensated Dating was a code for teen prostitution in Japan, and while it was technically legal since the age of consent laws of Japan were ludicrously low, it was a national shame few wanted to admit.

“And you investigated?” I asked Yukino-hime. She nodded sadly.

“It wasn’t as bad as it might have been. We checked a maid café which might have been a front for a brothel, but she didn’t work there. We later found she was a bartender at an upscale high-rise building downtown. Its clean. She’s underage, and we’ve got Issiki’s father checking in every week to make sure things remain above-board, but she’s apparently doing this to make money for cram school because her family is too poor to send both kids to school, and they wanted to save up for their youngest daughter too.”

“Are there other scholarship options?” I asked.

“Probably?” answered Yukino-hime. “She wasn’t open to discussing it.”

“I’ll approach her with some options. There are specialized scholarships for kids with talents. Does she have any?”

“Saki-san is good at clothes. She modifies her own and if she wasn’t so busy she’d probably be in the Sewing Club.”

“Time is always at a premium. I’ll do some research,” I promised.

The door knocked. It slid open.

“Oh, Yahallo, Tobecchi!” shouted Yuigahama with false cheer to the dorky hairband noisemaker from our class. He was followed by Hayama, which got a glare from Yukinoshita. There was clearly bad blood between them.

“Ah, is that Hikki? Haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been?” asked Hayama almost disinterestedly. Yukino’s glare intensified.

“Fine. Just returning to school after medical absence. Was there something you need?” I replied wearing a mask of politeness as I rose to my feet unaided. He noticed my lack of cane. So he was smarter than he looked.

“This is my friend Tobe, and he’s got a problem he’d like help with.”

“Eh, Hikkitani, Hikkitani-san,” he corrected,” I’ve got a crush on this girl and I wanted to know if she likes me but it would be bad if she rejects me, see.”

I looked at the dork, and then at Hayama and raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” I said. “Be a man. Getting rejected by my crush was the best thing that ever happened to me. It opened my eyes to reality. It will do you good to face her, tell her your feelings and find out for yourself. Every man has to do that at least once. Usually several times. Accept responsibility for yourself.” Both Yui and Yukino nodded sharply in agreement.

“Bbuh… but, you’re supposed to help me?” complained the dork. Is the hairband all that’s keeping his brain working? If it comes off will he stop speaking? Is it that easy? No, stop being distracted. He’s got a stupidity field. He must.

“We help people help themselves. And we’ve just done that with advice, both by another man and the affirmation of two popular girls. We are not wrong.”

“Sorry, Tobe,” offered Hayama Hayato, another name that’s nearly fake, probably a victim of the local epidural regime at the hospital. Whatever cocktail they use, the mothers must be tripping balls when they name their kids like this. I sighed.

“So who’s the girl, anyway,” I asked, curious.

“Ebina Hina,” said Hayato. I looked at Yuigahama and she face palmed.

“Is that bad?” I asked. Yui nodded. So did Hayato.

“Fujoshi. Obsessed with Yaoi. Smart, but loses control in public. Miura keeps a supply of Kleenex for her frequent explosive nosebleeds. She’s likeable when she’s silent, but then she opens her mouth,” Hayato explained. Tobe looked depressed at this.

“And you chose her?” I said, somewhat aghast.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said, quoting some Lifetime Network dreck nobody believed but divorce attorneys.

“Huh. Well, I stand by my advice. Tell her. Maybe she’s got a heart in there after all. Or maybe she’ll humiliate you with a harsh rejection and you’ll develop better taste and discover a part of yourself you never knew: maturity. Good luck to you.”

The two looked dejected and left.

“Harsh but fair, Hikigaya,” decided Yukinoshita.

“Poor Tobe,” remarked Yui.

“Any other projects?” I asked.

“There was an overnight trip to act as student counselors for an elementary school in the Chiba mountain campsite. They were bullying a little girl and there was really nothing we could do to help her.” I nodded in sympathy. Another life ruined by school bullying. She would either grow stronger or be yet another suicide in the nation with the third highest suicide rate in the world. Japan doesn’t believe in mental health. They consider it a source of shame.

“The school trip is next week. You should make preparations. We’re taking the Shinkansen down to Kyoto and spending two days there walking around the monuments and seeing the historical sites. Rooms are reserved for everyone and the cost was paid by the school alumni foundation.” Of which her family were major contributors. I’d checked into that during my recovery.

“Thank you. That should be fun and make for good memories. I can finally walk around and enjoy it, too,” I reminded them. “It is wonderful to be without pain for the first time in two years.” Both girls looked happy to hear this.

The bus ride home wasn’t as bad. I could stand without trouble and no Yankees were hogging the handicapped seat. Ironically it went unused. My bag was very heavy and after bath and dinner with Komachi, I settled into study before bed.

 

The following morning was a much less laborious process than previously and my surgical scars were neat and well healed, gradually fading. My parents waved goodbye as I cooked breakfast for Komachi and I. I prepped us bentos as I worked. I was careful to grab my DVD of Fight Club for Totsuka, I think his name was, and journeyed to school. In another life I would probably ride a bicycle but I’d had enough terrible injuries for my lifetime, thanks very much. Small and large trucks raced well above the speed limit like they were hunting for Isekais to murder.

In the classroom I found the pretty boy, looking very depressed.

“Hey. I’m with the Service Club. Hikigaya. I wanted to loan this movie to you, talk to you after you watch it, okay? I think it will help.” He looked up at me, confused. “Girls don’t get it. I do. I wasn’t there to help when you needed it, so sorry about that. Just watch it and get back to me, okay?”

“Uh, okay, Hikigaya,” he said, confused. He flipped it over, reading the actor’s names, seemingly interested.

I looked around for Kawasaki but she wasn’t there yet. I wondered if she was missing school due to sleep deprivation.

The mob of riajuus were a lot quieter than usual, and the glasses fujoshi was crying in the corner. The bell rang for start of classes. Tobe entered with Kawasaki and the teacher who looked like she’d been chewing them both out, probably for lateness. Tobe looked at the fujoshi and his expression was heartbroken. He went to his seat, uncomfortably close to the girl he’d made cry. Man up, is all I can think.

At lunch break Yui approached me and we took our bentos to the club room. Miura showed up a minute later, furious.

“That’s some kind of gratitude you’ve got, Hikigaya,” she complained.

“Excuse me?” I responded in bafflement.

“You made Ebina cry. And Tobecchi is heartbroken.”

“Did he confess?” asked Yukinoshita from the doorway. Miura scowled at her arrival.

“Obviously. And was soundly rejected.”

“We predicted that, and told him to confess anyway, not rely on proxies to do it for him. We don’t support cowardice. Why is the behavior in your clique such a bother to others?” asked Yukinoshita.

“I presume this mess has been simmering for some time,” I said. Yui and Miura nodded.

“And neither yourselves nor Hayama defused this situation despite all the opportunities and forewarning, yet tried to shift blame by bringing that Boy here?”

“He’s a man now, Yukinoshita. He came here a boy, but he actually confessed. Grant him that much courtesy. It’s a man’s burden to be rejected by girls, and a girl’s burden to do so with dignity which makes her a woman.”

Yukinoshita considered my words.

“Well put.” I nodded. Miura looked deflated at this.

“It couldn’t end any other way. Ebina is going to need to grow up some time, and you don’t plan to shelter her for life, do you?” I said to Miura. “As for Tobe, he’s taken a step in the right direction, being rejected by a pretty girl is something all men experience.”

“Even Hayama?” snarled Miura, trying for an exception.

“Yes,” responded Yukinoshita with a tone so frosty the actual air seemed to chill. I shivered. So did Yui. Miura glared at this. She turned and stormed out. Some minutes later a red eyed Ebina Hina arrived and stood in front of us.

“You told him to confess, didn’t you?” she said to me. I nodded.

“Yes, yes I did.”

“And we agree with him,” said the girls.

“Even you, Yui?” gasped Hina.

“High school relationships are temporary. We’ll be studying full time for college starting next spring, and nobody will have time for relationships or friends,” reminded my now brunette clubmate. I nodded sadly in agreement.

“Is there any future in your hobby?” I asked. “Or is this just a sickness that’s going to take over your life and leave you a Christmas Cake?” She frowned at me.

“You’re already hurting your friends. You’re a burden on Miura, even if she won’t say so, and you’ve broken Tobe’s heart. He’ll get over it. Pretty girls make graves, after all. He might make better choices in the future because of you. And now Hayama will have to pretend he wasn’t instrumental in trying to shift this burden onto our club, when this is really just a personal matter between you and Tobe. Something we insisted was his decision and his responsibility, as a Man.”

“I… I hate you, Hikigaya,” she finally said. I nodded in acceptance. I could live with that. She bowed for the sake of politeness to the other two and left the club room, slamming the door behind her.

“Well, shall we eat?” I asked. The girls looked appalled, but we ate quickly before the lunch hour could expire. Yui and I returned to class, her more reserved than I, glared at by her clique. When school ended I entered the teacher room and gathered up the rest of the study books and assignments, filling my school bag and a reinforced knapsack I’d brought for this purpose. It was heavy, but it worked. I moved to the club room and found Yukinoshita using a slim laptop to research sewing-based scholarships for Kawasaki. I sat next to her so we could coordinate our search terms and create a document with links so our troubled client could finally get a good nights’ rest and still achieve her goals of college. After two hours work we had enough.

“So you can just email this to her?” I verified.

“Yes. It’s less disruptive and should be well-received,” answered the Ice Princess.

“I wonder if there are any scholarships for her brother Taishi. A scholarship for him would reduce the financial burden on their family and perhaps allow their mother to spend more time with the kids, and maybe reduce the stress on the eldest sister?” I suggested. This raised an eyebrow in Yukinoshita so we researched that and forwarded some links with descriptions to my sister to share with her middle school boyfriend, Taishi. That had been going on for some time, during my time under the knife. They seemed to be forming a strong bond. Komachi was a good girl, even if her studies weren’t going great. She was in cram school with Taishi, trying for Soubu like her oniisan. It was probably better than going to Seitokai Yakuindomo. That place was coed, but had a weird reputation.

“Very well. We’ve accomplished a great deal today, some of it distasteful, but still a great deal. We shall see you tomorrow?” inquired Yukinoshita. I nodded.

“Until then.” I exited the room, the building, and the campus in street shoes and heavy bags for the bus ride home. It was crowded as usual and I was relieved to get home to my little sister’s cheerful face and news about Taishi and Saki applying for scholarships.

Bath, dinner, and studies until late allowed for largely dreamless sleep.

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