Disclaimer: All characters, songs, lyrics and movies mentioned in this fic are owned by respective parties and most certainly not me in any way, shape or form.
This is just a one-shot I've come up with taking a small break from my main fic The Trio (and is in no way related to this), and It looks into the near-future after the Anime's conclusion.
"Good morning, dear Kamakurans. The time is almost 4AM and it is now time for the Soul Shift to end. We've had a lovely time here tonight, but for those who don't even know the meaning of the word 'sleep', we have the answer for your small-hours blues…"
In his hospital bed, the man with 3rd-degree burns over most of his upper half and a missing leg typified that description. Since they found him over 3 years ago he'd been confined to his bed without so much a word of what was going on. They'd found him floating in the bay the day after a major military exercise went badly wrong, and all things considered he'd been lucky to be alive.
"She's up way past her bedtime in a town that hasn't slept in an age…"
Alive he was, and he was sick of Diclonius FM. Being put on that station by the graveyard shift cleaners, it was a station designed – in the views of many- as a fatuous link to the most real threat to humanity in a generation that few people believed in. Mostly down to the fanatic-verging-on-insane efforts of the man's employers- and they would remain his employers until he regained enough strength to pick up a telephone and tell his boss where to stick his job. As of right now he certainly believed he had the strength to get rid of that god-awful noise….
"She's the Monstress of Music, the Queen of Kamakura Bay, She Is... Blu Sevens!!!"
His finger hovered over the OFF button with a vengeance, sweet dreams but a moment away…
"Good morning Kamakura bay! I am indeed Blu Sevens, and your nightmares are sweet dreams to me…"
He knew that voice. He froze. "Impossible", he thought.
"For those who are fortunate enough to be awake, I'm here to keep you going until the rest of town has to share your pain, and those of you out there with a quiet disposition, my good friend Harvey Walnut should have sent you to the land of Nod a while ago. So if you're one more Bill Withers classic from a blissful release your luck's just ran out!!"
Somewhere underneath the bandages that covered his jaw, he smiled. He wasn't sure she was keeping out of trouble, but she'd had her situation under control. Turning the audio down just a little, he relaxed into his bed. He'd wondered if she'd been living the blissful, peaceful life he set her up for, or running in fear from Kakuzawa, the puppeteer whose string hands always carried scissors.
"Before I hit you up with some stone-cold classic music from rock to alternative and all points in between, I gotta explain something for people that have never heard my golden tones. Unlike most of these fakers, I am a genuine Diclonius with two vectors manning the mixers and two in the music box, and they're staying in position all the way until 8 AM when most of you jerks should be on the way to work anway. I'll be chewing out some morons on the phones in between whilst trying to prove to the authorities I am not a danger to public safety, Whilst trying desperately to remove someone else's Rolf Harris CD and burn it."
He couldn't help but let a laugh out. Two choices, and she's gone for neither.
"So to avoid that situation I'm now going to blow some ears off. We kick off this glorious 4-hour stretch of aural chaos with something dear to my black heart for obvious reasons, a fantastic collective cover of one of Pink Floyd's finest hours. With the complete Another Brick In The Wall, This is Korn."
She'd had her life well in hand, so it would appear. He wondered for a second if he should get in touch with her or not, or to wait a couple of days to be sure, so that he could hear her voice again. It had matured in so little time he wondered whether or not his ears were playing cruel tricks.
#Daddy's Flown Across The Ocean#
#Leaving Just A Memory#
He froze again. 'Dear to my black heart'? That changes everything. Was she truly happy? Or has she been running this entire time, finding little holes resembling happiness and security to hide in whilst that monster looks to tie up a loose end?
#A Snapshot In The Family Album#
His brain ran miles in an instant. How many times had this record been aired in the past? Was this the only hand she'd reached with, or was it merely a point of release for the amount of times she'd been frustrated with her lot? Everyone gets frustrated, but not to the degree where a plausible solution was to skewer furniture or people with 3-metre invisible arms. He had to know what this was.
#Daddy what else did you leave for me?#
#DADDY, WHAT'D YOU LEAVE BEHIND FOR ME?#
She'd got his attention. He was sat bolt-upright in his bed, asking for the number of the station. He'd never been sure about anything his life- She still remembered him, and in some way she still needed him, even for a moment. One of the cleaners walked into the room, and noticed him sat upright. "Do you need a nurse?"
"No, I'm alright. Do you know the number of this station?"
"What, Dic FM?"
"Sure, I've got it in my pocket." The cleaner handed a chit to his scarred hand. "Do you need a phone?"
"Yes, please." Checking with the duty nurse in a nearby hall, the grabbed a wheelchair and slowly, painfully lowered him off his bed."You need change?", the cleaner asked.
"No, I have some in my drawer." Kurama said, reaching for some yen coins. He'd survived enough of his own mental torment to get this close to her, just for a moment.
#We don't need no education…#
After being wheeled down a large hall, he needed some help to stand up from his chair, but after the nurse offered to support his weak side he found dialling the phone little trouble. He was still young and strong, injuries aside.
"Hello, this is Diclonius FM, who'd like to speak to the DJ on the air?"
"Where are you calling from?"
"Kamakura general hospital."
"Sorry to hear that, Kensuke. What would you like to speak to the DJ about"
"I'm an old friend of hers, I'd like to chastise her for her dubious taste in Metal."
The operator on the other end of the line let a short laugh. "Good luck with that mate, you're on first after the song's finished, in about 3 minutes."
The nurse chipped in. "Sure you got enough money?"
"Only one way to find out", Kurama replied.
Those three minutes were an age and a day to him. But there was no way back now, and if it all blew up in his face he might not be able to afford a coffee to calm him down. There was also the matter of how to break the ice. All it took was a simple "Hello, Nana" and any last semblance of cover she'd have would be blown open, and quite possibly an arrest/assault before her shift would end. Too cool, however, and she wouldn't recognise him and just chew him out for being an incoherent old fart.
"You people gotta realise that as great a song that is, it's totally out of context unless you've seen The Wall, and there really ain't no excuse as you could pick it up for less than a round of beers. I'm taking some callers whilst your ears rest up a second, and I've got all night to chat and kick back. Right now we have… Kensuke who's holed up in hospital right now, sorry to hear you're sick!"
"It's nothing to compared to what I've been through waiting to hear your voice."
Silence. "Bad move, Kurama" his brain yelled out.
"………Well. Uh, heh, I understand you wish to dare test my patience by criticising my choice for metal." She clocked it. She knew who this was.
"Yeah… Korn's a bit unusual for 4AM waking up early-shifters. Don't suppose Megadeth would be better for that 'Get-the-hell-up-or-we'll-keep-on-playing-this' theme?"
"Hehehe…Okay listeners, that was Kensuke from the hospital, probably the Psych ward. Trust me, you really really really don't want to hear me berate this grease spot on the station, so I've prepared some Godsmack for you, this is 'I Stand Alone'"
More silence. This was not good. Maybe he really had pissed her off. The operator came back onto the telephone.
"Please hold, Kensuke, this call is going private."
Kurama handed his last coins onto the phone, with the nurse struggling slightly to hold him up for such a long time. And then the moment he'd waited over 3 years for came.
"You've sure been keeping yourself busy, Nana."
"Are you Okay?" tears were in her voice.
"I was flung backwards from the explosion. My left leg bought it and I've been burnt to a cinder. I'd hoped for this chance to speak to you again. To say I'm sorry."
"Why, Papa? It's thanks to you I'm still sane. Well, sane as you can get sitting in a record studio at 4AM opposite a man with enough names for his pee-pee to fill a phone book."
"Nana, I'm serious. Has anyone tried to get at you?"
"No. Nobody knows me. I've kept my head down up until now, I'm doing well in school and this radio thing won't be going on long, I'm just bringing in money for my friends" - This was reassuring to Kurama.
"Straight from the studio to school? Are you ins… oops."
"Hahaha, there you go again. My guns are holstered, and unless I get potheads calling at 6 that's where they're staying. Papa…"
"I want to come visit you. I just want to see you again."
"Come see me tomorrow. I want to talk about… the other girl."
"Who, Papa… oh yeah, I know who. What time?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"I… love you Nana." Now he was in tears.
"I love you too, Papa. Bye b" – his quarters ran out.
Kurama was led there in the sweetest sleep he had in his entire life. Dreams flooded his mind of Nana getting of the helicopter all those years ago, towards what would be her gutsy fight (and dismemberment) against the Other Girl. She'd never been happier in her life up to that point, and he spent his entire slumber reckoning she hadn't aged a day since, that she'd be the same bright young child he'd always known.
"Mr. Kurama?" A nurse shook him. Startling him from his dream, he rose slowly.
"Your daughter is here to see you."
He shook the cobwebs and reached for his glasses… to behold a young woman in her late teens with long, bright lavender hair in a sober dress. Tears were in full flow under her sunglasses, and he wondered for a second if she was wearing them to hide the tears, or if –thanks to the DJing- her eyes would melt on the slightest contact with sunlight. For one second, he was barely sure it was her.
"You look… different." Words truly escaped him.
"You told me I was a Silpelit a long time ago. That's my curse, Papa. To live twice the life in half the time."
"Nana, that's no curse. That's never a curse. A lot of people barely live one life."
"I hope you're not talking about yourself, Papa."
They hugged… for an age and a day.
"What of Lucy?" he asked.
"That's the awkward thing, Papa."
"Awkward?" - She lent into his ear, to make sure nobody else would hear.
"She's living with us. She hasn't been out on her own since that night."
"… Then you're still in trouble. He won't stop until he gets her back, and even then I don't know"
"That's why I'm doing what I'm doing. Get as many fronts against him going as possible, even if it's in a graveyard radio slot."
"I don't know how long I'll be here for. They say I'm doing well right now."
"Then get some rest, and forget about me for a little while."
"… I can't do that, Nana." She started crying again on hearing that.
"… Hang in there. Next time I'll bring some more friends. They need to know about this wonderful man that kept me from going off the rails."
That made him feel good, just for an instant. His past sins were forgotten, perhaps?
"You'd better go. You're running late."
"I love you, Papa" she kissed him on the forehead, and walked out, sobbing.
"Yes, Papa?" she turned around.