I am Kisa.
And the person I love…
…Isn't You, is it?
That beeping sounds familiar.
My eyes open, to a white ceiling. My breathing sounds shallow to my own ears, because of how it echoes, and I'm wearing an oxygen tube in my nose. The sheets are starchy and stiff, and I can smell antiseptic. I can taste…
Iron-y. Is that blood? They don't have blood after death, I thought. I never got the full Gospel from You.
You killed me.
I open my mouth wide and start to scream.
Hiro rushes into the room and presses on my shoulders as I thrash, yelling crazy things, like I'm alive and You're not here to hurt me. Finally, I settle down, and I know that my face is covered in tears because they're reflected on his.
In a very small voice, I sigh, "Hiro." His face is pressed into my shoulder again, and he's not even trying to stop the loud sobs that shake my bed. "Why does my back hurt so much, Hiro?" I ask after a while.
He freezes, and sits back. "Akito tried to kill you."
"Yes, He did," I agree quietly, not associating myself with the helpless little girl sitting on the hospital bed. I was stronger than that. You didn't try to kill me; it was her, the child, the immature, naïve one, who doesn't understand the real nature of love.
"Well, he was choking you, and then, after you'd fainted, he started," he swallows, as though he is trying not to vomit, "stabbing you. W-with a knife that he got from the dining hall, no one even knows when. He's told Hatori that he likes to have one around in case he n-" he stops altogether, takes a deep breath, and finishes, "in case he needs it."
He keeps talking for a long time. I fade in and out, but I hear the important parts. They had rushed me to the hospital, and I had needed a blood transfusion. You had gotten very close to my spine, and they would be testing me for sensory response. The physical therapy would be several weeks…and I stopped at that.
"Hiro, I was wrong about everything," I said, interrupting him. "I don't love Him like that."
"I'm glad," he smiled, thumb stroking my hand as he held it. "But I'm so sorry this had to happen, Kisa."
I closed my eyes, for a very long time. I'm sure he thought I had fallen asleep. "Say it again, Hiro."
"What?" he asked, eagerly, willing to help in any way.
"Hiro… my name." My eyes open again, blearily, and I try to smile for him, because he needs it more than me.
"K-Kisa," he sobs, and he's really crying, not like in the library when I told him I didn't love him even though I do. There is a difference between how adults cry, because their hearts hurt or because someone died, and how kids do. One is an admission, a guilty thing saying, 'Yes, I am hurting, but I still have some dignity.' The other doesn't care. If every person we know marches through the room and laughs at him, Hiro won't care.
He is crying the way he cried for me whenever I would fall on my bike and skin my knee. This is out of relief that I was okay.
"Hiro, I think I want to be that person again. Do you think that will be alright?" My voice is weak to my own ears. I feel tired again.
He nods, and laughs, and cries some more, before I'm drifting to sleep. Struggling, before I went, I say, "There are only three kinds of love, Hiro, and I know which one is for you, now."
I go to sleep and I dream of You, because I still love You.
Maybe I'll figure out a way for You to like me, someday.
When did I say it was complete? Well, it is now. (Cue applause) Oh! And, for those who don't know (wow, people other than Adi are reading this - thank you!) this was written mostly as a gift to Adi88. Yay. I love how she spoke Hiro's name with every single sentence. The world around her seems more real to her.
Sorry for torturing you, Adi. You're not really going to kill me...right?