Until Someone Gets Hurt ((Not Open))

[Watanabe Nanako]

Continued from Just Fun and Games...

Nanako frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall of the hospital waiting room. The words of the two policemen standing in front of her were barely even registering, but what she did understand from what they were saying was that herself, Kiyama and the other two boys that had been in the fight were suspects, and being blamed for what had happened.

She could understand why they would assume so, for her, Kiyama and the blond boy, at least, but not the other kid. They were clearly Yankees, he wasn’t. And the younger boy that had turned up with the police… She hadn’t caught his name in all the rush, but he was definitely far from being a yankee. He seemed like a good kid.

She glanced over to where he was also being questioned, not that far away from her in the waiting room. Kiyama and the other two boys were being checked over and having their injuries looked at. Nanako hadn’t been as bad off as the others, and she had managed to get away with only some bruises, some scratches and a burst lip.

As one of the policemen in front of her spoke again, she sighed and looked back at them. “Look,” she said harshly, unfolding her arms. “As I’ve already said, we were not to blame.” She paused for a second, before another though occurred to her. “The arcade has security cameras both inside and outside, right? Check them.”

Before the policeman could speak again, she interrupted. “If you look at the footage, and take in all the evidence - which is kind of your job, right? - then you’ll see that those boys weren’t to blame, and that I was dragged, literally, into all of this.”

With that being said, Nanako leant off the wall, and straightened up. “If you’re done, officers, then I’m leaving,” she said, walking away from them. She hovered near the seating area for a moment, before she sat down away from the other police officers, trying to keep to herself for now. She mulled over what had happened at the arcade, and she sighed, tilting her head back and sliding down in the seat until her head rested against the low back of it.

Absently, she had lifted her lighter out of her pocket and started flicking it open and shut, but not lighting it. The voice of the policemen that were still there was slowly beginning to get on her nerves, but she waited until they were apparently done with questioning the younger boy, at least for the moment before she stood up and walked over to him.

“Hey, kid,” she said, sitting down in the seat beside the younger boy. “You alright?” She looked to where the police were standing talking to each other a small distance away, a small frown etched on her lips. She could only hope that they would take her suggestion to watch the security footage seriously.



((ooc - so, guys, let me know if this is alright, will you? If you think I should change anything, then let me know!))

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

OOC: Thanks for setting this up! ^0^

Ryosuke winced as the nurse wrapped another layer of a gauze bandage strip around his chest, tight enough to keep his evidently two cracked ribs from causing him too much pain or injury to his lungs, while still giving him just barely enough room to breathe.

He'd already gone through what felt like a decade in hell, though it had apparently been just an hour or two since he'd arrived in the hospital, and he'd only come around after the arrival, when the sound of something that was not, in fact, the sound of a yelling, enraged gang reached his ears. And yet, what he'd awoken to hadn't been all that appealing either, even if it was for the best. He'd been told about his newly cracked ribs, that he'd dislocated his right shoulder, and that he had a good number of nasty-looking cuts and bruises on various other parts of his body, which were also apparently cause for concern in the event any of them had caused some kind of internal bleeding. He was sure he'd been through enough X-rays within the first hour and a half of arriving at the hospital that he decided he might as well start re-smoking and speed himself towards his obviously untimely death from cancer.

Now he was upright in his hospital bed, his chest freshly wrapped in bandages, his right arm in a sling, though it and its attached shoulder were still oddly numb from the morphine used after popping his damn shoulder back into place, and wherever the worst of the scratches had been, he now had a nice patchwork of bandaids. AKA, his whole body felt like crap, like someone had run him over with a truck, then backed up to do it a few more times. His conversation with the doctors earlier hadn't been all that reassuring either.

"I don't remember everything--"

The doctors and nurses had exchanged somewhat annoyingly concerned looks at those words--Ryosuke was positive he didn't have a concussion or anything like that--

"--except getting hit from behind really hard and I think dislocating my right shoulder. And then someone had me in a chokehold from behind and another guy was attacking me with a crow bar. I think I went down after that after someone kneed me in the gut....I mean, it was a bunch of gang guys fighting, so of course I was...fighting back to defend myself and my friends..."

"You're lucky it's not worse," one of the doctors had informed him, narrowing his eyes. "But that's what the other tests will be for, to make sure nothing's wrong internally. You don't feel any pain inside your body, do you?"

Ryosuke had shook his head, no. Anyway, he'd been sure he was still under the effects of the morphine, so even if it was the case, he didn't think he could feel it even if he wanted to.

"We'll double check that then, but in the meantime, you rest. I think the police will be in soon to speak with you, if you're up to it."

Then they'd left, the nurse had come in to bandage his chest, and now that she was gone from the room, Ryosuke found he felt oddly alone. Though....he knew he wasn't. There was a curtain drawn around his bed, and he'd heard some fussing from the bed over, so he knew someone else, at least, was sharing the room with him. He just currently didn't have the gusto or the willpower to call out and find out who. Anyway, even breathing made him feel like he was puncturing a lung with his ruined ribs, so he was miserable.

Ryosuke's attention turned to the door to his room as he heard raised voices outside. He recognized the rather ugly authoritative tone of someone who could only be a cop, then a younger voice, a female one, which sounded much too tough and determined to belong to one of the nurses. Ryosuke found himself puzzled. When had a girl joined them? He couldn't make out the voices from in his room, though, and daredevil though he might sometimes be, he just didn't want to chance getting out of the bed.

Instead, he turned towards the curtain separating him and his roommate. Maybe he would chance a chat with the other, in the event it was one of his classmates. And even if it wasn't, he figured it wouldn't be long before the police came in to harass him about this whole mess, so if it turned out to be a bad idea, at least it would be short-lived.

"Hey, uh...." Ryosuke paused. Frig, he was talking too fast. Every word felt like someone poking a very sharp stick into his lungs. He had to be careful. "....anyone there? In the other bed?"

[Tsuchiya Satoshi]

There were cops everywhere. Two of them were chatting away in the distance, some more were talking to the girl Yankee, and she looked annoyed. Satoshi had tuned out what the cops in front of him were saying, he had started doing it sometime while they were at the arcade, when the ambulance finally showed up and he insisted on coming with.

The cops soon appeared to give up on questioning him, rejoining their comrades. Satoshi let himself sigh; glad he had some breathing room now. It was only a moment later that the girl from earlier took a seat next to him, “Hey, kid, you alright?”

Satoshi looked at her, focusing on her busted lip and scraps she had. He was fine, he wasn’t caught up in the brawl, thankfully, but she was. He didn’t even know her, but he knew his friends were caught up in everything and now they were being treated and the cops thought they were to blame.

It wasn’t fair.

He dipped his head, “I’m… I’m fine. But my friends…” He leaned against the wall, “This was my fault. If only I didn’t ask Kiyama-san to take me to the arcade…”

Satoshi stayed that way, letting his mind wander. His friends were being treated, but no one would tell him anything. He glanced out of the corner of his eye; the girl was still there next to him, not talking.

He frowned, when he left the arcade the first time, he didn’t recall her being there. So… when had she shown up?

“Um…”

Satoshi straightened up in his seat, “Thank you for being there, and for helping my friends but… I didn’t see you in the arcade when the fight started. How did you get involved?”

He wrung his hands together, Kiyama’s jacket still on him, “Ah, my name’s Tsuchiya Satoshi. Sorry for not introducing myself. Uh… this whole day has been…” He let his head fall again.

This day had been one big disaster from the start. From the gloomy skies, to the failed DDR attempt, to the fight with the gang members that hurt three of his friends, and to the rare attack of his heart condition. If only he had insisted they go somewhere else, like the beach. Nothing bad ever happens at the beach.

“I just hope everyone is okay… The nurses won’t tell me anything, and the cops aren’t any better…”

[Watanabe Nanako]

Nanako studied the younger boy carefully for a moment, both before and after he started speaking. His words made her frown, and made her all the more angry with the jerks that had started this whole thing… “You’re not fine; you’re worried,” she stated, before he went on to say that it was all his fault. That only made her frown deepen. There was no way in hell that this was his fault. After all, none of them could have known that a gang was going to show up.

“Kiyama…can take care of himself,” she said, glancing at the desk not all that far away where some nurses were standing, and then at the corridor on the other side of the waiting room. She sighed and looked back at the boy, before speaking again. “None of that was your fault,” she started slowly. Comforting others, as much as what she was saying was the truth, was something she wasn’t used to doing. But she was going to try, that was for sure. The poor kid looked so worried…

“Mindless thugs are just…well, that. What you see is what you get with them.” She’d had enough encounters with those kinds of assholes to know what she was talking about here. A lot of them just started fights for no reason, even if the people they were picking on had done absolutely nothing. As much as she had been in numerous fights. But…something about tonight struck her as being a little off, almost like it had been planned. Gangs that large didn’t all go en masse everywhere they went…

She shook her head. “Point is, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know this was going to happen.” Silence enveloped them for a moment after she finished speaking, in which Nanako continued to absently flick open and shut her lighter. However, after a moment, the boy spoke up again. “Um… Thank you for being there, and for helping my friends but… I didn’t see you in the arcade when the fight started. How did you get involved?” he asked.

“I kinda…got dragged into things,” she said, looking down at the lighter in her hand that she had stopped fiddling with for the moment. “Assholes decided it would be fun to…try something.” She didn’t say exactly that the guys had made a pass at her (hell, it had been more than just a pass), but she figured that the younger student would get the hint.

“Ah, my name’s Tsuchiya Satoshi. Sorry for not introducing myself. Uh… this whole day has been…” The boy trailed off. “Watanabe Nanako,” she said in return. Nanako pursed her lips together as her gaze went around the waiting room again. She wasn’t sure what to say, and she felt slightly bad because of that. Interacting with other people, especially in tense or emotional situations, wasn’t something she had ever really expected to have to deal with.

“I just hope everyone is okay… The nurses won’t tell me anything, and the cops aren’t any better…” Nanako sighed, glancing at the cops, who were still talking to each other. “Hate to break it to you, but none of the cops I’ve ever met have been useful.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “I’m not good at this…comforting stuff, but…” She trailed off for a moment, before her gaze went back to him. “…they’ll be alright, I’m sure.”

She placed a hand on Tsuchiya’s shoulder and squeezed it gently in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. She was slightly awkward as she moved her hand away and brought it to rest in her lap. “I told the cops about the security cameras in the arcade. Hopefully we’ll get out of this without being in too much trouble, if they watch the footage,” she said, contemplating whether not to just go over to the desk and demand that they be told how Kiyama and the other two boys were.

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

The first thing that Kiyama could lucidly recall was the stringent burn if that antibiotic against his forehead.

A few blinks later and he was able to make out the crinkled face of the nurse in front of him, mumbling something about "kids these days" that Kiyama would probably agree with. Beyond her were lights that were way too bright and that pungent, sterile odor that only could mean one thing... Realizing where he was, a shudder ran through his body. The nurse grabbed him firmly by the chin, repositioning his head before applying another piece of gauze soaked with the caustic-smelling solution to the corner of his mouth. He suppressed a wince.

"Don't you start with that now," the nurse said, dabbing at the cut. "You handled it so well before, like you didn't feel a thing. Let's just finish this as easy as possible." The woman quickly finished patching up the injures Kiyama had accrued that afternoon, cleaning cuts and wrapping joints. During the process, the boy noticed that felt numb. There were still plenty of places that hurt -- no, it wasn't that. It was that he felt... disconnected, was the best way he could describe it.

...had be been drugged?

The thought was disturbing, but a bit funny too. Kiyama almost chuckled, but was quickly cut off by the nurse grabbing his face again, smearing a bandage over the side of his face.

A few minutes later a doctor appeared, shined a light in Kiyama's eyes, then asked him his name and the year and who the current prime minister was. After making a joke about how no one ever got that last question right nowadays, the doctor looked over some notes, his face suddenly growing grim. Finally, he advised the boy to "take it easy" and "stay out of trouble", as bruises or sprained wrists or even bouts of catatonia weren't anything new. For that last one, the doctor mentioned that he'd been given a low dose of some medicine that "should have worn off by now".

Then he signed off on some papers and left.

Before the nurse followed him out, she turned to Kiyama with a frown on her face. "Your charts are going to the front desk... where there are some people who'd like to speak with you," she went, and she left too. Kiyama supposed that was the dismissal he'd been waiting for. It was strange; he got the feeling that he should be anxious and he knew why he should be anxious but it just wasn't happening that way. Lingering was this weird, somber longing to make sure everyone was alright. Yes, that would be exactly what he would do.

That thought stayed with him when he slid off of the examination table and slowly made his way towards the door. It only took two shaky steps into the hallway to see "some people". Surrounding the nurse's station were a bunch of blue-clad men looking very annoyed, discussing something in very impatient voices.

Police officers.

Kiyama grimaced. Despite whatever medication, hadn't quite shaken off the edges of his stupor, and was quite sure he wasn't ready for some type of interrogation. Then, of course, the last thing a yankee ever wants to do is talk to the police, guilty or not. Close to the cops, in the waiting area, he spotted two familiar-looking figures. Tsuchiya and Watanabe were sitting next to each other and... talking? Kiyama wasn't quite sure if he liked that, but they both seemed to be safe and sound and there were police and nurses not two meters away just in case...

He wrinkled his nose at his wonderfully inconsistent views on the authorities.

No one quite seemed to notice that he'd been loitering in the hall -- not the nurses, not his schoolmates, not the officers. As much as he wanted to go over and check up on the other two teens, he wasn't quite up to a barrage of questions from the cops... or come to think of it, he got the feeling that the other two kids might give him a bit of a hard time as well, given that whole episode he'd just gone through.

So, as casually as he could, he slipped his hands into his pockets, spun around on his heel and walked back into the medical unit.

As he moved, he glossed over the hand-written tags outside each of the doors, until he reached a room with a pair of names he recognize. After a few more steps, he stared at the door, before it flashing the last images he remembered of the Tsukimori and Mizusawa -- laid out, unconscious, battered and bruised and... Instead of a frantic despair he'd fallen to at the arcade, there was this heavy, dull dread that felt corporeal enough to knock him down on the floor. Kiyama Ryuichiro did not like hospitals. By definition, they were a place for when bad things happened, and he wasn't so good at dealing with bad things. Especially when those bad things happened to people he happened to like.

It had been a weird past few months, and Kiyama wasn't sure where he stood with either of them, but when all was said and done he really liked and respected both the boys. But if they both had a room here then certainly the worst couldn't have happened, right?

Kiyama raised a shaky hand to the door and rapped on it twice, hoping he would get an answer.


OOC: So I randomly came across this... one idea about perhaps substance intoxication befalling my character ^^;;

[Tsuchiya Satoshi]

ooc: So XD I hope this is okay, CJ.



Satoshi knew Watanabe was right, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was his fault. He was the one who wanted to go to the arcade; he was in the one who insisted on Kiyama taking him, he was the one… who caused Mizusawa and Tsukimori to get hurt. He was sure of it. And now they were stuck in this hospital, with cops who didn’t believe a word any of them said.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, finding Watanabe looking where the cops were standing, her hand giving his shoulder a little squeeze before letting go.

“I told the cops about the security cameras in the arcade. Hopefully we’ll get out of this without being in too much trouble, if they watch the footage.”

He let his head face forward again, nodding at the other girl’s words. Surely, once the cops watched the evidence, his fellow upperclassmen would be in the clear and the gymnastics team wouldn’t be in trouble.

…Right?

A movement down the hall caught his attention, but as soon as Satoshi turned to look, it was gone, but he could have sworn…

No, Kiyama would be in one of the many hospital rooms, being treated as the two sat there. He shook his head, heaving another sigh. As if he could feel her eyes on him, Satoshi bit his lip, “Uh… I thought I saw Kiyama-san, but I guess…” His eyes fell to the floor.

It was horrible, feeling like he was the root cause of everything that had happened that day. Despite Watanabe’s kind words, they didn’t stick well enough to lift his spirits. He wrung his hands together, even though the sleeve of Kiyama’s jacket was still covering them. It was as if, to add on top of everything else, just to show how small he was.

A pair of shoes entered his field of vision, shoes he did not recognize, forcing Satoshi to look up.

Right at a police officer.

Instantly the small flame of hope inside of him went out, and his eyes fell once again. A rustle of papers sounded in front of him, before the cop finally spoke.

“Before we take a look at the security cameras, we’d like to ask you a few more questions…”

Satoshi clenched his eyes shut, his fists balling up in his lap.

“It won’t take too much of your time, we still need to ask your friends some questions too, before we take a look at those tapes…”

Satoshi finally looked up, eyes hard, “But--!”

The cop held up a hand, a pen entangled in his fingers, ”Once we finish our interrogations…”

But at this point, the first year began to tune out the cop again. It was useless trying to persuade them otherwise, and he let his back hit the wall with a thud.

Stupid cops…

[Watanabe Nanako]

Nanako wasn’t sure what else to say to reassure Tsuchiya, since her previous words didn’t seem to have had much effect, despite him nodding like he understood. She couldn’t blame him, however. After all, his friends were somewhere in the hospital and he had no idea where, or how they were. She was trying very hard to resist going up to the desk at the nurse’s post and demanding to know how the other boys were, even if they wouldn’t tell her where exactly they were.

Her fingers played with the cuffs of her dark grey hoodie, and she crossed her ankles, the chains on her sneakers making a tiny clinking sound as they moved. She glanced over at the nurse’s station again, but there wasn’t anyone there at the moment. With each passing second, she was getting more and more tempted to storm over there. If it wasn’t for the fact that if she did it while the cops were still present, she could get into more trouble, and normally she wouldn’t care about that fact, but Tsuchiya would probably go down with her, and she didn’t want to risk that.

Her gaze went back to Tsuchiya after a moment, but he was staring down at the hallway, and she glanced over at it, seeing no one there, before looking back at him as he started to explain. “Uh… I thought I saw Kiyama-san, but I guess…” Tsuchiya said, his voice fading off at the end, leaving the sentence hanging. Nanako’s lips twitched as she looked back at the hallway, wondering to herself. But surely if that had been Kiyama there, then he would have came over to see if Tsuchiya was alright if they were friends.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of one of the cops. She glanced over at the other side of the waiting room to see that his buddies were still there as well. The scowl from before returned full force to her face as the cop spoke. Could this asshole not see how upset Tsuchiya was about this? But, of course, cops never tended to be nice or considerate in any situation that involved Yankees - and this situation included three altogether.

Nanako wasn’t even listening to the cop anymore either. All she could hear was a dull drone, just like the sound of the man’s voice, but it didn’t make any sense. She was too busy thinking about how much of an ass this cop was, as well as his freakin’ buddies at the other end of the room. If I hear one more noise out of his mouth… she thought to herself, closing her eyes in annoyance and trying to tune the guy out further. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to know when to shut his trap, nor when people weren’t even listening to him, and he spoke again.

That was it.

Her patience snapped, quickly standing to her feet, her lighter falling out of her hoodie pocket at the fast momentum. Her lack of height didn’t concern her in the slightest as she stood beside the rather tall cop. “Hey!” she snapped, and she didn’t think she had been this annoyed by the ‘authority’ in a long while. “Why don’t you just shut up until after we know what’s happened to the other’s, alright? What the hell would you need to ask us anyway? I already answered all your questions, and I’m sure the others will too, when they‘re ready to!”

By now the other cops had turned around after hearing the commotion, and a few passing patients and staff glanced over too, but Nanako couldn’t bring herself to care. “Look, we’re saying nothing else until we know that they’re alright, and they’re ready to talk also. So why don’t you just go watch the security tapes now, instead of just ending up wasting time around here?” Finally finished with her rant, she stooped down and picked her lighter up off the floor and sat back down heavily in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, flicking the ligher open and closed.



((ooc - this…isn’t all that great. And sorry it took so long! D:))

[Mizusawa Taku]

ooc: I am so sorry that this post took lightyears to write. ><;; But I feel so much better now because at the very least, it came out fairly decent! ^^ I hope it's good enough!

ic:
It felt for a while like he was floating on a cloud. A cloud of complete and utter pain. Except as time had passed by, the pain had dulled slightly--still there though, and something told Mizusawa that it was just hiding right now. It would be back soon enough. But this place, wherever it was...it really did look like he was on some kind of cloud. Leastways, the only thing he could see, feel, all around him was some kind of black fog. He was laying on it, and it was soft...and it looked like the sky was really close, but getting dark too.

He looked in front of him and saw a figure. Someone really tall, and muscular-looking. A head of shaggy black hair...He squinted his eyes and tried to sit up, but the pain that was still hiding seemed to throb suddenly, as if warning him of what would happen if he got up. So instead he lay there, staring as the figure moved closer. Who was it?

Mizusawa...

The voice echoed from somewhere inside his head, and yet he also knew it was the voice of the person in front of him. He recognized that voice. The sound of it speaking his name sent chills throughout his body.

"Ki-" he began, but it hurt too much to speak. Kiyama... his mind spoke for him instead.

The person in front of him seemed to hear the voice too, and finally he moved close enough now that Mizusawa could see all of his features. He was wearing his school uniform, his well-defined jawline (at least, well-defined compared to Mizusawa's) accentuating the concern in his face, his beautiful dark eyes. Mizusawa felt a ghost-like shiver run through his body, as if it weren't really there. Seeing that sort of concern for him, coming from Kiyama...

Kiyama, I...I'm so sorry... He tried once more to get to his feet, but he couldn't do it. He felt too heavy, and the pain...it was warning him again.

Kiyama knelt down beside him instead, the concerned look on his face still there. His eyes focused only on Mizusawa's, the look so intense that Mizusawa had to fight with himself to maintain eye contact.

Why...? Why did you do it, Mizu? Kiyama's soft and beautiful yet haunting voice echoed through his mind. Mizusawa shivered again.

Kiyama had given him some kind of nickname...Mizu. ...Why? And...

What...? What did I do? Something in him wanted to know why Kiyama was acting like this, why he was talking to him in this way. Where they were wasn't important right now. After all, he was with Kiyama.

Suddenly, the look on Kiyama's face became more soothing. He didn't speak for a moment, just stared down at Mizusawa with...some kind of look of compassion, care, and...could it be...

love?

You came there...to the arcade... Kiyama began, his voice soft, still concerned, but somehow calming at the same time. [/i]...for me.[/i]

The arcade...Mizusawa had forgotten all about it. His body was tingling now, the pain still somewhere deep in the back of his mind, but the anticipation of what was happening far too strong now for the pain to match.

How...how do you...

But Kiyama wasn't going to answer him. Why, Mizu? ...Why would you let yourself get hurt like that for me...? His hand reached up and began to stray over his face, gently touching at the wounds that somehow still seemed to be there.

Kiyama knew. He had to know. And if he didn't...then this was the time. It was now or never.

"I..." Mizusawa struggled. It hurt, but... He didn't want to talk with his mind. He wanted to use his own voice, his own lips to tell Kiyama. "I love you...Ki...ya...m--"

"Come on, wake up, sweetie. Whoever that is, they aren't here right now."

Someone was slapping the side of his face, gently. The hands were warm, and for a moment, Mizusawa wondered if it was Kiyama. But the voice...it had belonged to a female. And now, as he began to open his eyes, he had to do it slowly. Wherever he was now, it was no longer dark. In fact, it was too bright for his eyes to adjust right away. He opened them very, very slowly, looking up to see a face hovering over him. A woman's face, someone he didn't know.

He stared at her for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his sight so that he'd be able to speak properly, ask her where Kiyama and that strange, dark cloud world had gone, when suddenly, the pain hit him--like a brick wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, couldn't help crying out, having forgotten everything that had happened, not knowing where he was, feeling only the immense pain throughout his body, and now a sense of loss that Kiyama was no longer with him, especially when he'd been about to tell Kiyama...tell him everything...

"Shhh, shhh," the woman said, trying to hush him. Her voice was demanding, but the look on her face was more worried than anything else. She picked up a piece of gauze and was placing it over the side of his face, where that big gash from the gang leader's punch had been.

Slowly, he became aware of where he was and what was going. This woman was a nurse...and he must be in a hospital right now. Someone had dressed him in a hospital gown. There seemed to be some needle stuck into the wrist of his right arm. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth was gone, and he could no longer feel any dripping from his nose, but the smell of antibiotic was close by, and the burning on all different parts of his face told him that the nurse had had to use quite a bit of it on him after what the man had done.

He reached up with his left hand to gingerly touch his mouth, could feel how swollen his lip had gotten, before his hand made its way to his nose, which hurt quite a bit more. But the nurse gently grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand away.

"Leave it be," she told him, as if scolding a child. She looked as concerned as the Kiyama in his dreams had. A Kiyama that he was slowly and--regretfully--beginning to realize had not been real. "You took quite a bruising," the nurse continued, fiddling with a few more bandages. "Thought you might be in a coma for a bit, although it's very possible you suffered a concussion. And as for internal injuries, well, we can't be too sure just yet..."

The woman left for a moment to go wash her hands at a nearby sink, and for a moment, all Mizusawa could do was watch her, his hand straying up once more to touch at his face, heavily bandaged in some areas, a lot of the gauze wrapped around the top of his head. The memory of having his head smashed into the floor before falling unconscious swept through his mind, and he winced at the thought of it. Now he was just beginning to give himself a worse headache...

"Looks like you could have some bruised ribs, if not worse," the nurse continued, drying her hands on a towel before moving back towards him, one hand on her hip and the other now reaching for a clipboard. "You just rest for now while the doctor looks at your chart. OK?"

Something about what the woman was saying left Mizusawa feeling cold and worried, despite the warm temperature of the room, but it didn't occur to him that that worry had everything to do with tumbling. Instead, he watched her give him one more concerned look before making her way out of the room.

Once the nurse had left him, the pain in his body began to grow worse. He suddenly felt very alone. Where was Kiyama...? Ryosuke? Tsuchiya? What had happened to everyone? Were they also here? Were they even okay? Something in the back of his mind was also bothering him, something that gangster had said to him before he'd been knocked out, but for some reason he couldn't recall what it was...

"Hey, uh...."

There came a somewhat strangled, muffled voice from nearby. Mizusawa turned his head towards the sound, but the movement hurt the side of his face too much. Instead, he focused on just listening, even his somewhat labored breathing going softer so he could hear.

"....anyone there? In the other bed?"

It took a moment, but Mizusawa finally recognized it. The voice. Something about it was different, but the tone and everything...it was definitely Ryosuke. In his worry over the other boy and after that dream about Kiyama he'd been having, he hadn't even begun to focus on his surroundings all that much. He knew now he was in a hospital of course, but he hadn't even considered he might be in the same room as someone else.

"R-Ryosuke?" Yup, like in the dream, it still hurt to talk. He winced. "...You okay?" Another pause. He had to ask though. Maybe Rysouke would know... "Where is...Kiyama? ...Tsuchiya?"

It occurred to him just then that earlier, he must have been speaking out loud...Hadn't he been saying how he felt about Kiyama in his dreams...and then the nurse had responded? He felt a shiver running through him, hoping Ryosuke had not heard that, if the other boy had been here all this time. And more importantly, if the other two were in the same room as them...

Just then, there was a knocking. At the door. It sounded distant, for some reason. Mizusawa opened his mouth to say something again, but nothing came out.

ooc: I completely forgot to mention the knocking, Lee. SO SORRY. ><;;

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

OOC: Okay, I'm not really sure if some things were mentioned in the posts already, so I'm assuming some things about the room placement. Hope that's okay! And don't worry about the knocking thing, Alex! @_@ Also, sorry that this is pretty short; but I didn't want to go too far.


It seemed like Kiyama stood at the door for a while, though he couldn't be exactly sure.

But no one was answering. The longer the apparent silence went on, the more he got to thinking. Maybe they were asleep? ...or unconscious? They had to be okay if there were here, instead of some more serious ward of the hospital, right?

That weird numb, looming feeling mounting again, Kiyama raised a hand and bowed his head, muttering an "excuse me" while pushing the door open. As he peered into the door, he noticed that the boy he saw seemed to be very battered but conscious and stable. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he shuffled into the room.

Again, he looked at his teammate that lay in front of him. Instead of seeing the Tsukimori Ryosuke he was used to seeing, the person he saw looked much like some weird blonde mummy-looking... thing. For reasons beyond Kiyama, something about the scene struck him as funny, and he had to bite his tongue long enough to let out a sincere-sounding, "Tsukimori, are you okay?"

He took a few cautious steps over to Tsukimori's bedside, figuring that he probably felt as good as he looked. Which, at the moment, was like absolute crap. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking toward the wall.

"Uh... That's a pretty dumb question, right?" This time the chuckles did make their way out. It was kind of funny to Kiyama, though he knew it wasn't. He should be concerned; it was a serious situation that was seemed to be in part his own fault. He really knew all this somewhere in the back of his head but he couldn't help but feel... flighty and detached?

Kiyama looked back to the boy in front of him. He had been in a lot of fights, and he guessed that the blonde had been in even more than him. It was just so rare that they ended up this bad. While the sheer scale of the brawl at the arcade had blown anything that he'd personally experienced out of the water, he couldn't help but think that if he'd handled things a bit differently, if he hadn't lost sight of Tsukimori when they were trying to make their escape... The other yankee had gone out on a limb for him during that fight, and while he'd only suffered a few cuts and bruises...

Kiyama bowed slightly in apology, hoping he hadn't offended or upset Tsukimori in any way. He didn't exactly know what to say, and whatever chemical was... influencing wasn't spurring him to say anything that wasn't exceedingly dumb.

But something occurred to him when he raised his head again, looking past the blonde's hospital bed and at the pastel-colored curtain partitioning off the room. That looming feeling returned, as he knew who was supposed to be on the other side of the room. If Tsukimori Ryosuke was a plenty capable fighter and still ended up like this, Kiyama could only imagine...

One of his hands had left his pocket and was wrapped around the railing of Tsukimori's bed, half because he was still pretty nervous and uncomfortable and half because he thought he might fall over if he didn't.

"Well... um, is..." Kiyama sputtered, with no concept of what he was trying to say or wanted to say. That Tsukimori almost always seemed up for conversation. He didn't exactly want to push the blonde if he wasn't up to it, but he hoped that a broken arm or cracked ribs or whatever the hell was wrong with him wouldn't deter him from breaking the ice that Kiyama seemed to take with him wherever he went.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

OOC: I pondered ways to get Ryosuke out of your way in the post (Mizusawa and Kiyama XD) and I came up with a pretty cruddy excuse. But all the same.... Have fun! I like this post! Not mine, but the whole thread in general! (Seriously, mine is BAD. But it was still fun. XD And I guess I'll join the folks in the hall then!)

Ryosuke had begun to think that maybe there was no one in the other bed, that maybe he'd been hearing things from somewhere else--not their room--and that now he really was alone, when a voice finally came back to him. Ryosuke had only just settled back against his pillows when the person spoke.

"R-Ryosuke?"

Damn if he didn't know that voice. The other boy sounded like he was having a tough time talking too. Maybe he'd also cracked a rib or something?

"...You okay?" A pause. "Where is...Kiyama? ...Tsuchiya?"

Ryosuke tried to relax his chest a bit to keep from causing himself the same pain speaking earlier had.

"Yeah, it's me, Mizusawa. I'm...." He cringed. Talking too fast. Though he guessed that talking at all was going to do some number on him. That would be hard to live with for even a few days, let alone the few weeks he probably needed to heal his damn ribs. He had no idea how he was going to last. "I'm craptastic. You don't.....sound too good either, but...." He paused to take a rest and shift a little. "...I'm just glad you're alive."

The last he'd seen of Mizusawa at the Arcade had been a circle of the gang members around him, pounding on him. It felt like a nightmare, thinking back on it now. A real nightmare, knowing that Mizusawa had gotten involved, and technically all because of him, Ryosuke, for having brought the gang there in the first place.

"Not sure about....Kiyama or Tsuchi--"

Ryosuke had barely gotten the words out before there was some knocking at the door, and he sighed. He had the feeling this wasn't going to be something good. Probably the police. The nurses had probably told them the boys were awake and ready to talk...

But as the door opened and Ryosuke furrowed his brow, frustrated at the prospect of having to recount a story he wish had never happened, Kiyama walked in. Or not really....walked in, so much as seeming to just stand there, studying the place. Ryosuke didn't even know what to say, he was so intrigued by what the other guy was doing.

And grateful. He was really grateful Kiyama had made it out okay. He was guessing Tsuchiya was good as well, then. He'd probably been the one to get the police, though Ryosuke couldn't actually recall when the police had come in to stop the fight. Certainly some time after he'd been knocked out...

Kiyama began shuffling into the room, watching Ryosuke carefully. The blonde Yankee just stared back. His classmate's face made some weird transition in emotions, watching him, before he seemed to decide to officially settle on concern.

"Tsukimori, are you okay?" He got closer. "Uh... That's a pretty dumb question, right?" Then he chuckled.

Chuckled. Kiyama Ryuichiro was...chuckling. In a hospital. When he had a face covered in bruises and probably a body full of his own injuries as well.

Ryosuke rolled his eyes. "Come on...don't look at me like that. I know I...look like crap--you don't look....so hot either, Kiyama." No sooner had he said the words and taken a better look at his friend and classmate that he realized Kiyama really didn't look all that good. And not even in the sense of being physically injured so much as out of it and....flighty? He didn't even know how to describe the other guy's actions, but none of the words coming to mind for the Kiyama he was looking at now were an accurate description of the Kiyama he took classes with. And the chuckling...

"What kind of drugs are you on?" he mumbled under his breath, watching the other guy carefully. Then he remembered the bandage around his chest and the sling for his shoulder and shuddered. "Maybe I'm the one on drugs...."

Kiyama suddenly bowed a little, and Ryosuke felt his eyes widen in surprise. He didn't know what was going through the other guy's head, what he was doing, but everything had happened already, and in the end, they had been okay.

"If that's an apology...or something, I don't need it....You don't have to....I'm the one who brought those...guys in there in the first place...." Ryosuke lowered his own head at the thought.

"Well... um, is..."

"Is wha--?" Ryosuke cut his words short to bring his good hand up to his chest. Another pathetic stab of pain....this was going to suck, having to deal with this for another day, let alone week. He took a tender but deep breath, then tried again. "Is what what? What is what...? Kiyama, what kind of medicine are you on?"

Watching the his classmate grip the railing on his hospital bed, Ryosuke suddenly had images of the dark haired Yankee prancing around the room and swinging around randomly placed bed poles and....

"Kiyama....you're...officially a mystery." He took another breath. "A tumbling, chuckling Yankee mystery." He shook his head in confusion, then gestured over to the curtain separating his bed from the one on the other side of the room. "I'm not entirely...sure you're up to talking...to anyone else, but..." Ryosuke punched a hand into his pillow, frustrated. "Sorry...It just sucks....to have to talk....like I have asthma or something...."

He pointed towards the curtain again.

"Mizusawa is over there...." Ryosuke didn't say anything more. He got the feeling one of the other two guys would have something to say of their own. In the meantime, he fumbled around in his sheets, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of his bed and on his feet. He managed to sit up after some efforts flailing. "Hey guys....I'm gonna....go find a bathroom. If the police come...looking for me....tell them I died and can't tell them....anything."

With some effort, the blonde Yankee hoisted himself to his feet and began what felt like the equivalent of a zombie death march out of the room and into the hospital hallway. He was really hoping he didn't get stopped along the way. If so, he at least had the excuse of the bathroom to keep him moving.

[Tsuchiya Satoshi]

ooc: This post is so depressing and I didn't know if Marysa wanted Ryosuke to meet up with Satoshi and Nanako so...



He wasn’t sure how long the cop was hovering over them, talking in that monotone way that did seem to waive their worries for their friends. It didn’t help his mood either, the more the cop spoke, the more his spirits seemed to dampen.

There was a break in the cop’s tirade, and Satoshi took that moment to sigh in relief. Maybe now they would get some answers…

And then the cop started up again.

Satoshi grit his teeth, unused to feeling so helpless and angry and… frustrated at the same time. He was two seconds away from yelling at the cop, when Watanabe shot to her feet, her lighter falling to the floor, “Hey!” she snapped, and she didn’t think she had been this annoyed by the ‘authority’ in a long while. “Why don’t you just shut up until after we know what’s happened to the other’s, alright? What the hell would you need to ask us anyway? I already answered all your questions, and I’m sure the others will too, when they‘re ready to!”

Satoshi stared at the Yankee girl, his eyes wide at her outburst.

Only she wasn’t done.

“Look, we’re saying nothing else until we know that they’re alright, and they’re ready to talk also. So why don’t you just go watch the security tapes now, instead of just ending up wasting time around here?” With a huff, she took her seat next to Satoshi, flicking her lighter.

The cop stuttered, trying to find words as his buddies made their way over. The first one to reach them had his eyes lowered, as if in a condescending glare, “Now see here, Miss. We all discussed your idea, and while it’s a good one, we find it more beneficial to get all the facts first, before looking at the tapes.”

Clenching his fists, though they were hidden in Kiyama’s jacket’s sleeves, Satoshi tried his best to glare right back, “No.” He shook his head, “There’s nothing more we can say that we haven’t already told you.” He stayed rooted in his chair, “My friends are hurt, and I don’t know if they’re okay, and I just want them to be okay. If…” His anger quickly vanished, his eyes welling up with tears, “If anything were to happen to them…”

He dropped his head, trying not to let these cops see they got to him, giving them the satisfaction that they got him to cry. And he especially didn’t want Watanabe to see him like this. As if he was weak...

He can’t do gymnastics; he can’t save his friends from harm…

Satoshi really was weak.

His vision started to blur, and he rubbed his arm against his eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they kept on coming. A hiccup surfaced, jolting his small body.

Today was the worst day ever.