Song: It Doesn’t Matter by Alison Cross
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon and make no profit from this work of fictional fun.
Warnings: implied non-con, language
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Jun
June, 2009.
Hospitals were supposed to be under surveillance. The patients were to be accounted for at all times; their families trusted that they weren't allowed to come to any harm. Not allowed to disappear.
A claw-tipped hand slapped against the wall beside his head and Bachiko's grin filled Jun's vision. He stood motionless as the girl pressed her lips to his. She groped at his shirt and he let her--fingers digging between his ribs and over his chest hard enough to leave red marks down his skin for hours to come.
Staring into the burnt hair that frizzed about the girl's head like a blood-drenched halo, Jun let his body go numb and mind blank. He pretended not to hear the laughter in his ears, the screams.
Those cruel fingers tugged at the waistband of his jeans and Jun's eyes snapped into focus. With a guttural cry he pushed her away. The girl stumbled back a step, scowling. Skin cracked against his cheek and he hissed at the marks her nails left behind. Bachiko's fingers flew again to his belt loops; he caught her hands and tried to pull them away.
She was stronger than she looked. The reed-thin body pressed to his was nothing but sinew and bone, yet she managed to wrestle his arms back to the wall and press her hungry lips to his throat. The girl nipped and bit as much as she kissed and Jun squirmed beneath her. He lapsed back into non-motion, eyes squeezing shut as she held herself against him.
Snickering voices cut at his ears, making them burn. Jun's cheeks coloured in kind and he forced his eyes back open to stare at the outline of the janitor's closet. Why was there never one around when you needed there to be? Bachiko's thigh forced itself between his legs.
A spark lit itself in his belly and gave a single note of protest. Bachiko's lips stopped, though he already knew there'd be yet another tell-tale mark to cover in the morning, and the girl growled against his skin. In the darkness he thought her eyes shone red.
His entire body shuddered and Jun raised a foot to kick as hard as he could against the closet door. A second later it opened, a wide-eyed intern on the other side. Jun gave one last push against the startled girl and ran full tilt from the closet. The shouts behind him fell on deaf ears as he fled down the corridor, ducking around surprised physicians, nurses and patients alike.
Two corners later, a thin body slammed into his and they met the floor. Jun hissed at the impact and then scrambled to his feet. If he got caught because of…
His startled eyes landed on the girl he'd knocked into. The image swam a little, like it always did, but he reached out and grabbed Zoe's arm. “Come on!” The interns were already on their way, and Jun didn't waste any more time. He let her go as he started to run; the direction didn't matter so long as it was “away.” The footsteps at his heels told him that she'd followed.
Around another corner into a hall that was, blessedly, empty. It wouldn't stay that way for long, he knew, and Jun prayed to reach the end of the corridor before the interns could catch up. There was a dark spot in the hall, an open broom closet. Shoes squeaked on the tile behind him, and then a hand clutched his shirt and tugged him into the closet. His back met the wall hard and Zoe shut the door quickly behind them.
What was it with chicks and closets?
Jun dug his fingers into his curly, pale hair and wormed his way down the wall to the floor. Beyond the door, charging footsteps hurtled past their hideaway, and then dwindled further down the hall. In the darkness he shuddered and pulled his knees to his chest. His forehead pressed against his knees and his fingers twined behind his neck as he fought for breath.
Every inch of his body shivered and tingled; he could still feel her fingers there, clutching at him.
Biting back a sudden wave of nausea, Jun forced his eyes up to stare at the girl sitting across from him between the door and a bucket of rancid mop water. “What were you running from?” he asked, watching as her hair shifted its form. It never did seem to understand what colour it wanted to be--dirty, russet blonde one moment, and golden waves the next. The darkness snickered at him from behind a roll of paper towels.
“Doctor,” Zoe shrugged, “You?”
“Bachiko,” he managed without puking on their shoes. That was enough of a miracle for him to almost believe that there was a god… almost. Jun took a deep breath and willed his body to stop shaking. When he felt he had himself under control, he leaned back a little and let his half-lidded eyes rest upon Zoe. In the dim light the closet offered, he could just make out her hands once again playing with the sutures that held her wrists together.
His vision blurred and light began to swim about her figure; he really wished it would stop doing that. Zoe jerked, as if being pulled from a deep sleep, and those haunting green eyes settled on him again. They raked over his body like Bachiko's claws and pierced a lot deeper. “What did she want this time?”
“She's just being a pain,” Jun snorted and bit his lip to retain the laughter that wanted to follow. He stared instead at the swirling lights about her form. They meant something, the darkness told him, and he'd know what it was if he stopped being crazy. That was laughable, coming from a figment of his imagination; Jun wanted to cry. “Why are you running away from your sessions? Or did you finally realize that they don't help?”
Zoe's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed; all around her the air turned icy blue. A deep, ice-filled cavern juxtaposed over the closet and Jun fought to keep from shivering. “I never said it didn't help.”
“Your arms did.” The words tumbled unbidden from his mouth and behind a stalactite the darkness crowed in glee.
In a second, Zoe had scrambled to her feet and reached out into the air. Her fingers closed around a doorknob and the closet came crashing back around his ears in time for Jun to reach forward and grab her shirt tail. “Wait, wait!”
“Why should I?” Zoe twisted out of his grasp with a snarl. Her fingers curled around the knob, but it didn't turn and Jun hated the lumps caught in his throat.
“Fine,” he managed and let his hand drop back to his side. He tore his eyes from her and twisted his fingers back into his unruly curls. The lumps migrated down into his stomach to roll upon the churning waves of nausea. “Run away! Leave me alone. You always do.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the door to open. He waited for it to shut, and knew that when it did he wouldn't be alone. Bachiko always found him; it was only a matter of time. She'd be pissed, too, the way he acted.
The boy jumped when two hands pushed firmly against his shoulder. Zoe just rolled her eyes and squeezed her bony self between his body and the door. Jun let her settle against his side, and squeezed his knees more tightly against his chest. Beside him, Zoe did the same and he could hear the stalactites dripping water further away in the cavern.
“Y'know,” Zoe's whisper echoed against the cave walls, “Sometimes, I'm scared of her too.”
His stomach turned over entirely and a great sob broke through the dam. Jun hid his face against his knees and pretended that the hand on his back was comforting.
Art “class” was his favorite time of the day. They let him have art supplies in his room, but there was nothing like a few dedicated hours where he was allowed to sit around and do nothing but paint. Even if half his work was ruined by splatter from the others. There was one drawback to their art period, and she was sitting near one of the windows with purple paint up to her elbows by the time that he arrived that morning.
Jun ducked his head and quickly looked for somewhere else to sit. A space near Zoe had been left unoccupied, he noticed, and dashed across the room to claim it before Chihako could. The girl scrunched her nose at him, flounced her matted and ribbon-knotted hair, and went to sit next to a large “boned” boy that Jun didn't yet know. He stuck his tongue out at her and caught Zoe staring at him.
“What?”
Zoe shook her head in reply and rolled her eyes. Leaning back over the table, the girl picked up a few pots of paint, one by one, and put each in a line between the two of them. Jun grinned at that and when the pad of paper being passed around came to him, he ripped them each a sheet before passing it on.
He grinned at Zoe who rolled her eyes again, but this time she did it with a smile. Inspired, Jun bent to his piece of paper and dipped one finger into a pot of paint. The therapist that worked with them was talking; he didn't listen.
Though they were only given a limited selection of colours, Jun had long since learned to mix any hue he wanted out of them. The tables were covered in paper because of this, and by the time that his painting was approaching completion there were already a thousand little spots of colour decorating the sheet around him. There was just one that he was missing…
“Pass me the green,” he muttered to the girl at his side, who promptly did and then peered over his shoulder.
“Who's that?” Zoe asked.
Jun frowned and glanced at her. “You.”
Zoe had a strange look on her face, he thought. The colour that began to swirl off of her was pink, which he found appropriate though he couldn't place why. “My eyes are hazel,” she argued.
Staring into her emerald green eyes, Jun wasn't sure what to say. He was cut off by a blue paisley skirt that stopped before their table. They both looked up and Zoe's doctor smiled. “Zoe! Jun-san. Good morning to you. I thought I'd come see what you two were painting.”
Dr. Mizuno's eyes had gone toward the painting Jun had been working on and he couldn't help but straighten his shoulders with a little pride. He picked the page up as she reached for it, prepared to hand it over, when a pink-slathered palm slapped down on the middle of the paper.
“Zoe!” Mizuno gasped.
Staring--glaring--at his “friend,” Jun watched as the girl's mouth bobbed for air. Her fingers curled into a fist, further smearing the wet ruins of her own face. Red flashed across Jun's vision and it took him a moment to realize that the colour was radiating from him. The revelation did nothing to alleviate his anger, especially when he realized that Zoe's attention had returned to her Doctor. They were talking about something, but he couldn't fathom what.
Zoe stood up and shook the drying painting from her hand. She spared him a single glance as she muttered a half-hearted apology and ran for the door. Jun snarled and grabbed up the painting. It was ruined, anyway, so he balled it up and threw it across the room. A paint can smashed into his forehead a second later, and then the screaming started.
He stared into the mirror and picked the green from his skin. It would have been faster to use soap and a wash cloth, but both remained in place on the counter top. Behind him, his roommate knocked uselessly at the bathroom door.
The permanent darkness under his eyes only drew out their brilliant colour, icy and cold under the crown of blonde eyelashes. He tugged in irritation at one cork-screw curl which insisted upon hanging in his face, and then carded his fingers through the thick lot of it. Huffing, the boy buried his other hand alongside the first and turned from the sink to stomp the unfulfilling two paces available in the bathroom and plop down upon the toilet seat.
Voices tugged at his ears, incessant and unintelligible, while the knocking of his roommate became one with his heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended not to feel the claws of demons ripping at the legs of his jeans.
“Jun,” one voice called louder than the rest. It didn't sound like his roommate and when he lifted his head to stare at the door, the knocking had stopped. His elbows cramped in protest to his moving them and his back shared their complaints. How long had he been sitting there?
The doorknob twisted and caught upon the lock. It jiggled once again and then a faint tapping began on the other side of the door. Tap, drag, tap, drag… the noise went on as a giggle sounded. “Jun,” the voice sing-songed. “Let me in.”
“Don't do it,” said the soap dish.
“You should listen to her,” instructed his roommate's toothbrush. “You know what she's like.”
“Exactly!” the bathtub faucet squeaked and he frowned because he hadn't touched it, but the water was turning on anyway. Was he supposed to take a bath? “Not letting her in is going to cause a lot more problems. Just go along with it.”
“Jun,” Bachiko called once more.
The boy frowned and began to unbutton his shirt. “I don't wanna,” he complained and tried to stand up. A dizziness over took him and the boy sat back down.
“That doesn't matter.”
And it didn't. He nodded to himself and when the last button had been dealt with, he let the cloth slip from his shoulders to the toilet seat behind him. He leaned forward, then, his elbows finding a familiar home upon his knees, and stared at the baseboards. The tapping at the door stopped and the knob shook again.
Jun drug himself to his feet and shuffled the mile to the door. His fingers twitched as he reached for the knob. There was a barrier between his fingertips and the knob. Though he couldn't see it, it was there, and his fingertips pressed against it. Out of his reach the knob twisted and ground against the lock, but the bolt remained firm.
“I can't open it,” he muttered to the accusing air.
“Come wash yourself,” hissed the steaming water. Ignoring the clatter of the doorknob, Jun finished stripping and grabbed the washcloth from the countertop. He lowered himself into the scalding water and scrubbed his skin raw.
There was a man watching Zoe. He had been watching Zoe for the past few days--Jun saw him around noon, standing in the corridor outside the game room, staring at the girl inside. He wore a green jacket.
Jun stood by the nurse's station and watched the man stare at the oblivious girl. He hadn't spoken to Zoe in two days, but he still didn't like this man.
One of the nurses stopped to ask the man a question. Jun couldn't hear them, but the answer could be read upon the man's lips: “Doctor Mizuno.” The nurse nodded and continued on her way; the man returned to staring.
“You should go talk to him,” a voice stated from behind him.
“I don't talk to perverts,” Jun grumbled.
The nurse behind him startled and dropped the papers she'd been filing. “Excuse me?” She asked as she bent to gather them.
“I said I don't talk to perverts,” Jun repeated and glanced down at one of the sheets that had landed over the tip of his shoe. A thin, fragile-looking hand plucked it off a moment later and the nurse climbed to her feet. The disorganized stack of papers was clutched to her breast like a life line. She must have been new.
“I'm sorry,” the woman smiled as her eyebrows sank into down-turned crescents, “What pervert?”
“The man,” Jun waved his hand in the direction of the green jacket only to find that it was no longer present. His eyes darted to where Zoe was frozen beside an immobile chess board--alone. Shoulders sinking, Jun ignored the confused queries of the nurse and took three steps toward the game room.
Zoe's head snapped up in an instant and green eyes met his own. An arctic wind stung his back.
Jun turned upon his heel and marched back to his room. Schoolwork was better than her company, he reminded himself. A faint pat, pat, pat of slippered feet on tile informed him that he was being followed.
“He's wonderful,” Bachiko gushed. She was splayed spread-eagle across his mattress, her hair flowing behind her like the leakage from a gunshot, and staring at his ceiling. Jun turned another page in the history book and snorted.
“He is wonderful,” Bachiko warned and turned her head to face him.
“Sure,” Jun shrugged and flipped close the textbook. The loud bang of it made him jump even as he tucked his hands behind his neck. Underneath him, the chair gave a protesting squeak when he leaned it back onto its hind legs.
“Regal and charming,” Bachiko sighed. She grinned at the ceiling like a lover and it wasn't hard to imagine what she saw there. “Like a prince should be.”
“Too bad he likes blondes.”
The girl's eyes glowed crimson in the sunset light. They narrowed into bloody slits and she hissed, “He's mine! She'll give him to me!”
“I'm pretty sure Zoe is through with you,” he muttered and kicked the desk he was sitting at.
“She belongs to me,” Bachiko grinned, “She'll give him. She always does.”
Jun's fingers knotted into fists and his nails scraped bloody lines into his skin. “What do you need her for anyway? She doesn't listen to you.”
“Shut up!” The girl ordered and sat up in one swift movement. She climbed off the bed and advanced on the desk. Jun winced with each stomped step and bit his cheek when her fingers clamped on either side of his face.
“She's mine!” Bachiko hissed, “You're all mine. Just like he will be.”
The lips that clamped over his own kept him from answering. A shout from the doorway and then Bachiko was pulled away. “You aren't supposed to be in here!” The orderly making rounds frowned at Bachiko. He turned a shameful glare at Jun and then carted the giggling girl out the door. She blew a kiss before the door shut.
Left alone, he shivered in the dark.
“We still haven't talked about Zoe,” the gravel-voiced giant stated from the other side of the poker table. Jun stared at his cards, grabbed a handful of chips, and cast them to the middle of the table.
Two more silent bets were made and then Doctor Shibuya put his cards down. Jun waited for the man to announce that he was folding, but the words never came. “Jun…”
“She's back. Big whoop.” Jun shrugged.
“You used to talk about her all the time,” Shibuya folded his arms upon the edge of the table. “She's been back for two weeks. I know you two have been speaking.”
“So?” Jun leaned back in his seat to stare at the man properly. He kept his cards close so that the Doctor couldn't see them. “Just like it was before, right? I thought the point of this shit was to deal with new issues, not dreg up the past.”
“But it is new, isn't it?” Shibuya persisted. He raised his hands to his chin and rested his scraggly maw upon them. The big, bushy caterpillars poised above his eyes rose a few inches towards a hairline that had long since run away, screaming. “She was supposed to be better, and then she comes back to us. You two were very close before she left, but you haven't even commented on her now.”
Jun chewed his bottom lip, “That's not new, it's different.”
“How is it different?”
“Well, one is the addition of something to a pre-existing object or, in this case, situation and the other is something altogether unlike anything that was before,” Jun tipped his head to one side, and half his vision swam with chunky blonde curls. He debated pushing his hair out of the way and found he lacked the energy to do so; it didn't matter.
Shibuya smiled softly and nodded. The chubby fingers that had long since glued a wedding band to his left hand tapped together; he always tapped them when he was frustrated. “So, then, how is this situation different?”
The boy heaved a sigh and debated kicking the table. That would only get him a reprimand or, worse, a hurt look, and so he turned his head to stare out the window instead. From the view of the Doctor's office, he could just make out a nearby park with children playing on the jungle gym. He missed parks. “It doesn't matter.”
“You say that a lot,” Shibuya noted, not for the first time, and reached into the middle of the table to stack the bet chips. Jun's hand slapped onto his cards to keep the man from peeking. “I wonder what does.”
The question rang in his ears through afternoon schoolwork and dinner, and mocked him from the barely visible disk of the moon peeking around the top of his bedroom window. His roommate snored softly across the room. The door cracked open and Jun squeezed his eyes shut against the light. The back of his eyelids burned orange as the flashlight beam racked across his face. The orderly shut the door and continued down the hall. Jun counted the steps until he couldn't hear them anymore and opened his eyes.
Twisting about in his bed so that he could see the moon in its full glory, Jun let his temple rest against the freezing glass. Supposedly there was a rabbit on the moon; Jun only saw a devil. He shuddered at the demon's yellow grin and sat up. The floor was as cold as the window pane, but Jun ignored it. He concentrated upon putting one silent foot before the other and crossed the room to the door.
Cracking it open without the hinges giving a betraying squeak was much harder than it looked. The orderly turned the corner down the next hall as he watched and then Jun squeezed his body through the tiny gap he'd left between the door and jamb. He pulled it shut behind him, heard the bolt slide in, and left in the direction the orderly had come from.
“Invisible. I'm invisible.” Jun lipped the words as he passed the silent doors on either side of the hallway. Over and over again he said it, all the while staring the blinking red eye positioned in the corner of the hall ceiling. He passed under it and through an archway that once had held a pair of double doors. Turning right, Jun found that he was heading for the hospital exit--that made sense.
At the end of this hall there was strumming.
Jun stopped once he realized that the noise wasn't in his head. Lips pausing halfway between one reiteration of “invisible,” he tilted his head as a dog might and listened. The strumming was music, and he thought it might be a guitar. It drifted from the next corridor over, and though it lead away from his intended target, Jun felt himself pulled towards the sound.
The music turned into a tune and gradually became a song. There was no singing but the notes struck an understanding deep within his bones. By the time that he found the room it was coming from, he was shaking. Jun forced his fingers to close around the door knob and it turned readily beneath his hand. A jarring strum interrupted the melody and then there was a 'clap' as a hand slapped over the strings of the guitar to still them. Zoe sat on her bed, cross-legged and thin in her over-sized nightshirt, with the instrument in her lap and moonlight streaming through the window.
“Get in before they see you,” she said after a moment. He stepped into the room and shut the door. Zoe put the guitar down beside her on the bed and scooted back toward the pillows. With just a glance at her sleeping roommate, Jun crossed the room to his friend's bed and climbed onto the foot of it. They stared at one another and Zoe plucked at the cuffs of her pajama pants.
“What do you--” She began to ask.
“There's a monster on the moon.”
Zoe's eyebrows rose to her hairline. After another, tedious silence, the girl leaned to the side and twisted her head up so that she could see the moon hanging above. “Nope, looks like cheese to me.”
“There is!” He frowned and clutched his ankles. “It's always been there, just no one has looked for it.”
“Is Bachiko telling you her stories again?” Zoe sighed and sat up straight once more. Raising her hand, the girl carded it through her frizzy nest of hair. It turned to pure gold in an instant and then the colour faded back to dust.
Fingers tightening upon his ankle, Jun stared down at his white knuckles. “Why does everyone assume that everything I say is somehow connected to Bachiko?”
“Because it is.” Zoe snorted. She leaned back into her pillows and crossed her arms over her chest. “You follow her every order like a love-sick puppy. Always have.”
“I don't love her.”
Silence drifted between them until Zoe sighed. “There isn't a monster on the moon, Jun. It's just the moon. It's made of rock, lacks an atmosphere, and circles the Earth in eternal orbit. People don't live there.”
“Maybe they did,” Jun replied softly. “A long time ago.”
The girl scoffed and shook her head. “Alright, I know you Japanese like your mythology but there is no princess on the moon, okay? Much less a monster.”
“How can you be sure?” Jun's head jerked up to stare at his 'friend' and felt his ankle begin to bleed. “How do you know it's so innocent? Just because it looks that way doesn't mean it can't destroy us!”
Any and all humour that had been in Zoe's features died in that moment. Her lips settled into a thin line and the breath she drew in, then let go, was very slow. “Jun. You do realize it's moments like this that keep you locked up, yeah?”
“Because you know so much about how to get out of here, huh?”
“At least I've been outside in the past two years,” Zoe retorted.
Jun smirked, “And we all know how that ended up.” One hand shot out and caught Zoe by her wrist, tugging her forward. He lifted the arm up so that she could see it; the sutures were highlighted perfectly by the bloody moonlight. “Yeah. You're a picture of mental health.”
Zoe ripped her arm from his grasp and shoved him. He fell off the bed with a thump and lay there, frozen, when her roommate turned over in the bed across the room. They glared at each other, each still as a rock, until the other girl settled herself and her even breathing resumed. Jun's face split open in a grin he couldn't seem to keep hidden.
“Touch a nerve, Zoe?”
“Get out.”
“Gladly.” Jun pushed himself off the floor and went for the door.
He opened it without caring about the squeaking hinges, and then slammed it behind him. “I'm invisible,” chanted down the hall and the orderly passed him without comment.
Three days later it occurred to Jun that there was something odd about that. He first thought of it at breakfast when he was facing down an overweight boy who thought that everyone else's breakfast belonged to him. Certainly the ability to be invisible would have saved him his bacon and a black eye. Afterward he went to art period and spent the entire time drawing crescent moons over his paper. Zoe snorted at it, so he drew a line of red across her wrist.
Shibuya said that he looked like a panda. Jun would have rather been invisible than sit on that couch a moment longer.
“Can't we play?” He asked and looked to the table where they sat during poker games. The doctor shook his head and leaned forward on his elbows.
“We haven't been having good talks, Jun. I need you to concentrate on this.”
“What's the point?” Jun lifted a brow and let his hair obscure his eyes once again. “I'm never getting out of here.”
“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Shibuya replied. The man's fingers tapped together. “You know that line of thinking isn't helping.”
“Yeah, and these talks aren't doing much either, are they?” Jun scoffed. “Just admit it. I'm fucked up. I'm not learning how to deal.” Light burst around Shibuya's form and the boy squeezed his eyes shut. The blaze of red leaked under his eyelids to try and blind him. “Getting angry isn't how you deal with kids, you know.”
“I'm not angry,” the Doctor sighed, “I'm just disappointed.”
“Liar.”
Jun opened his eyes in time to see those great meaty fists knotting into ham-sized balls. His breakfast encounter flashed before his eyes and then the Doctor relaxed. The red swirling did not stop, however, and Jun couldn't help but feel that he'd been right. Red meant anger.
“Jun,” Shibuya paused on the word and waited until the boy looked him in the eye, “We've spoken about this. I know that being here is hard for you, but it is the best place. If we work together to get these… thoughts of your settled, then you can go on out-patient leave and return to your family. Right now, I just can't let you go in good conscience.”
“Fine.” Jun climbed to his feet as the timer on Shibuya's desk went off. He didn't respond when the Doctor called after him, and shut the door soundlessly behind him. Shibuya didn't follow.
“I'm invisible,” he told the air and headed for the front of the hospital.
The children at the playground were demons. Jun sat on the park bench and watched them swarm the monkey bars and slip one-by-one down the clown's nose. It was buried to its head and the crabs ate its flesh, but still it was smiling. He could relate.
“You're not supposed to be out here,” said the wind.
It swirled into the figure of a woman in a long skirt. She sat down beside him. Jun twisted his fingers together and leaned his elbows upon his knees. “They're not real,” he explained. As one, the child-demons turned, like a flock of rabid birds, and pulled a passing jogger to the ground. They were eating him and no one cared. The sand was churned into red-brown muck beneath their brilliantly coloured tennis shoes and sandals; he could hear the mothers nearby, laughing.
“Am I?” the wind-woman asked. She didn't care, either.
“Sometimes,” he shrugged and stood up. 'Slowly,' he reminded himself as one of the child-demons raised its head. The creature stared at him for a moment and he stilled. The wind touched his shoulder--he ignored it. Only when the child-demon bent back to the feast did he stand straight and begin to walk off. The wind followed.
When they were a safe distance from the massacre, and the carnage once again sounded like laughing children, Jun continued, “Sometimes you aren't. It's hard to tell which is which.”
“I imagine so,” the wind agreed. “We should go back.”
“Why?” Jun stopped and turned to face the wind. Her short, dark hair blew lightly in the breeze and Jun thought that maybe she was real this time… not that it mattered. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head to one side as he waited for the so-called answer.
“Because I can help you,” Dr. Ami Mizuno replied with a faint smile. “I promise.”
“You're not my doctor.”
“I can be,” she offered her hand out, “Come back with me.”
The wind swept through them and took her away for a moment, but then she was back and her skirt was shorter than before. Ice blue ribbons waved upon the wind. Ice… Jun shook his head and the image cleared. Mizuno was just a doctor, he reminded himself, and snorted. “You can't even help Zoe.”
Light pulsed around her body and he had to close his eyes. One hand rose to rub the bridge of his nose, “Just leave me alone.” Fingers grabbed for his sleeve, but he jerked away and moved into the grass of the park.
“Jun-san!” Mizuno called after him and he broke into a run.
His flight carried him to the edge of the park. Though his legs begged him to stop and his chest screamed for air, Jun pushed his way through the crowded streets of Tokyo without a care for those who got in his way.
Demons wove their way in and out of the crowd, jeering and pulling at his arms and legs.
“What hope do you have?” Snickered a cat-eyed beast that swam along the storefront windows.
“You can't escape,” said a man with a newspaper that stood on a corner. Jun paused a moment to stare as the man twisted into a strange shape--a creature that resembled nothing so much as a lamp-post with bug's eyes.
The creature reached for him with a tentacle-like arm and he screamed. He turned to run and shoved a woman who blocked his path. A shrill whistle went up from the crowd. It followed him down the street and became a raven-winged bird.
“It's not real!” His mind screamed as he ran, dashing through the traffic to a symphony of tires and honks.
Hands reached out and grabbed him. They pulled him down a side road and were gone; Jun ran on, heedless, and the noise of the major streets quietly ended. With only his own, heavy breath pounding in his ears and his heart clogging his throat, Jun stumbled to a walk. His knees shook, protested, and gave; the boy ate dirt and skinned his hands.
For a long moment it was all that he could do to breathe. His gasps for air became shaky, and then they turned to sobs.
“Why are you crying,” asked a pair of tiny, brilliant hi-tops. Jun sniffed and looked up at the chubby-cheeked demon that stared down at him. She was sucking on a human finger; it had on a ring which looked familiar.
The demon popped the gory digit out of her mouth and offered it to him. Jun rubbed his nose with a grimy fist and shook his head.
“Small Lady?” A woman called as she came around the corner of the next side street. Jun stared at the woman and his mouth went dry. Two long, blond tails of hair hung down like ribbons trailing behind the woman's every step--they were natural, that was obvious in an instant, and as pale as his own. She stopped a few feet away and stared back at him in much the same manner.
“Momma, I found a boy!” The girl--who was no longer a demon, but a young child in a sailor uniform--proclaimed. “He's sad. Can I keep him?”
In an instant the dazed look vanished from the woman's eyes and she beamed at the girl. “Well, I don't know about keeping him, but I do believe that he should come home with us. Help him up, Small Lady.”
Jun scrambled to his feet before the girl could touch him and then she claimed his hand, anyway. The very sensation of so innocent a touch, like nothing he'd received in years, made him return the girl's smile. Small Lady popped her lollipop back into her mouth and pulled him along behind her mother.
They walked home; Mrs. Chiba lead the way with her paper grocery bags tucked into her arms, Small Lady filled the middle, alternately sucking on the lollipop and holding her mother's skirt. Jun trailed behind them like a lost puppy.
Along the way he learned that Small Lady was six-years-old. She liked rabbits and ducks, her favorite colour was blue (but, she insisted, she looked better in pink,) and her father worked with “homeless people.”
At that, Mrs. Chiba interrupted to clarify: “Not homeless people, he works with children.”
“Homeless children,” the girl said with a shrug. Jun was beginning to get a bad feeling about this and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. One glance of Small Lady's eyes forced him to walk again, though he couldn't fathom why. Maybe she was a something of a demon after all, if only a tiny one.
“Today is Momma's birthday. She's going to be old,” Small lady chattered as Mrs. Chiba unlocked the front door to their two-story home. It was moderately sized, Jun thought. Visions of his father's old house, which could have fit theirs into it several times over, swam before his eyes and he blinked rapidly to clear them. Small Lady's hands once again closed around his fingers and she guided him up the stairs.
The inside was painted in brilliant, sunny yellows. Even with the curtains drawn over the front room windows, there was enough light spilling in from the open archway into the kitchen that it seemed to illuminate the whole house. Carefully place mirrors gave the illusion of space, and the smell of lilacs floated upon the air.
Mrs. Chiba dropped her keys and the grocery bags onto the kitchen table. “Jun-kun, there's a phone in the living room. You should call your parents and let them know where you are.”
“… kun?” He muttered into the still air of the entryway. Still standing beside him, Small Lady clapped a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Leaning toward him, the girl whispered, “You have to forgive Momma. She thinks that everyone is family. It's because she's old.”
“I can hear you!” Mrs. Chiba laughed from the kitchen.
“I love you, Momma!” Small Lady giggled and dashed into the kitchen. She dragged a chair out from the table to climb on so that she could reach the grocery bags. For a moment, Jun just watched the happy pair putting away their groceries. A wink of light reflected the ring Mrs. Chiba was wearing hit upon a metallic phone nearby.
Jun gulped and drug his feet toward the object. He sat down on the couch beside its table and reached forward to pick up the receiver. The boy startled when pounding feet entered the room and looked up to see Chibi Usa disappear up the stairs to the second floor.
With his heart still in his throat, the boy picked up the phone and pressed numbers he long since thought he'd forgotten. The phone rang in his ears and for a moment Jun was certain that the machine would pick up.
“Hello?” A distant, gruff voiced asked.
Jun swallowed and wet his lips. His fingers knotted at the knees of his jeans. “Dad.”
“Where are you?” The man asked. “This isn't the hospital's number.”
“I…” Jun chewed on his bottom lip. He could feel the irritation dripping out of the phone like slime. It ran down his cheek and stained his shirt blood red. The boy sucked in a deep breath. “Can I come home? I promise it'll be better.”
“Jun, we've been over this,” the voice sighed. Jun slapped the phone back onto the receiver and buried his face in his hands.
A hand touched his back and the boy jumped. To her credit, Mrs. Chiba didn't take her hand away and only smiled when he looked at her. There was a brightness to her eyes that he didn't like, and her fingers brushed gently away the bangs obscuring his eyes. “She was right. I'm getting old,” the woman said after a moment, “and today is our celebration of that. Would you stay for dinner? I think I'd like to have you here.”
“I'll stay.”
A delighted shriek erupted from the stairwell and in a moment there was a child-demon clutching him about the neck. Jun jumped in surprise, laughed, and after a moment returned Small Lady's hug. Mrs. Chiba smiled and stood up. “I'm glad. Mako-chan is supposed to be here to help us cook, soon.”
“Yay Aunt Mako-chan!” Small Lady crowed as she let go of her hostage. The girl jumped and clapped her hands, “You'll like Mako-chan, Jun-san, she's a Goddess of cooking!”
Mrs. Chiba nodded her head. “I should go prepare the kitchen for her. Jun-san, please make yourself at home.”
Small Lady grabbed Jun's hand and he let her pull him from the couch. The phone rang and Mrs. Chiba moved to answer it. “Come see my room! I have Sailor V video games!”
“Sailor V? What's that?” he asked and was lead up the stairs. The girl gasped in horror.
“Mamo-chan!” Mrs. Chiba grinned against the receiver, “When are you going to be home?”
“Daddy!” Small Lady stopped in her assent of the stairs and turned to watch her mother. Not knowing what else to do, Jun followed suit. They watched as Mrs. Chiba's smile wavered and waned into a pathetic shadow of its former self. The fingers that had been playing with the phone cord stilled as she nodded to the conversation only she could hear.
“I understand,” the woman said after a few moments. Her voice was light, but the upward tug of her lips twisted Jun's gut into knots. “I hope you find him. We'll be waiting whenever you get home… No, it's okay! Be safe.”
Small Lady took the last few steps back down to the landing after her mother had put the receiver back upon its cradle. “Momma?”
“Your father has had an emergency come up at work,” Mrs. Chiba explained. “He might not be in until late tonight.”
“Is he okay?” Jun asked. Her bright eyes turned upon him and the smile she gave him, though sad, was still true.
“He's fine. One of the boys he works with went missing and they're trying to find him. He and Ami-chan might be out all night.”
“Oh,” Small Lady sighed. She looked back up at her playmate and reached again for his hand. “Ami-chan is a doctor. She works with crazy people.”
The sense of dread he'd been fighting since he'd met the two resettled into his gut. It was then, as he turned, that one of the photographs hung on the wall caught his eye. A very familiar green jacket…
“Mizuno Ami,” he stated and from the corner of his eye saw both females startle. Mrs. Chiba took a step toward him, her eyebrows knotting upon her forehead.
“How do you know that?”
Jun swallowed thickly and toed the wood of the staircase step. With slow determination, he forced his chin up again and peeked through bouncing curls at the woman staring at him. “Can you tell me how to get back to the hospital?”
Jun sat at the counter and wished that she would say something. Normal people screamed and shouted when they found out that they were harbouring a lunatic; Mrs. Chiba made tea.
Small Lady sat to his right and stared at him in the manner which only small children could get away with, and Jun stared at his hands while wishing that he were anywhere else. A steaming cup was set in front of him and he picked it up to sip.
Mrs. Chiba lingered over her own cup. “It took me years to figure out how to make this.”
“Tea?” He asked, eyes flickering up to her face.
“Mhm,” Mrs. Chiba nodded and took another sip of from her cup. “Things like this never came easily to me. I owe Mako-chan a lot… It seems no matter how bad I was at this, or how many of them I inadvertently poisoned, my friends were always willing to help me through it.”
“Oh…” Jun's eyes returned to his tea.
“Do you have any friends there, Jun-kun?”
The boy wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue and tapped his fingers against his mug. This felt like one of his counseling sessions. He looked up again to make certain that it was Mrs. Chiba he was facing and not the fat, arrogant doctor his father had picked.
It was, and his lips twitched before he ducked his head again. He had to force his mouth to open, “Sorta. Not really.”
“That's no fun,” Mrs. Chiba sighed.
“But you have sorta-friends, right?” Small Lady frowned and stuck her chin on the counter top. Jun glanced at her and couldn't help his smile.
“I guess. There's Zoe. She isn't bad. We fight a lot, though.”
He startled when Mrs. Chiba laughed. She shook her head and swallowed her mirth when he looked at her. “Oh, it isn't you. It's just that… One of my closest friends, like a sister to me, she and I fight constantly. We can't help it, we're too different. But if she needs me, she knows I'll be there, and vice versa.”
Jun nodded a little and wrapped his hands around the hot ceramic. After a moment, the woman leaned against the sink-side of the counter and put her face close to his. Their eyes met and he felt himself sinking into their peaceful depths. “Jun-kun. I can understand why you don't want to go back… but running away isn't an answer. Trust me. I've tried it. Maybe if you spend more time with this Zoe you can be her real friend?”
Hope sparked and died in an instant and Jun tore his eyes away. “I'm sick. We both are. Who wants to be friends with a sick person?”
“Maybe you can help each other,” She suggested. “Who better to understand, than someone who knows? Maybe you can get better.”
“What if I can't?” Jun whispered. “What if it's something that can't be fixed? What if this is just how I was supposed to be?”
A small hand touched his elbow and Jun turned his head to see Small Lady wrapping her arm about his. She leaned her cheek to his shoulder and smiled. “It doesn't matter. I like you just as you are, and so does Momma. Right?”
“That's right.” Mrs. Chiba smiled, and a soft white light filled the kitchen. Jun had never seen this emotion before, but it touched him and filled him and helped him out the door.
Small Lady held his hand as they walked to the hospital doors. When he paused at the entrance, she squeezed his fingers and gave him a radiant smile. Jun's feet remembered how to walk and he made it past the threshold.
Mrs. Chiba touched his shoulder gently, and then went to the nurse's station nearby. The woman there was staring at him and muttering into a phone--the orderlies wouldn't be too far behind.
Jun's eyes dropped down to the girl beside him. This time, when his curls threatened to block his vision, he pushed them back himself. Small Lady giggled, and then a voice pulled her eyes to the side. “Daddy!”
She broke from his side and raced toward her father across the lounge. Chiba Mamoru's eyes tore from Jun and he grinned for his daughter. The man bent down and met her with arms about her middle, pulling her up against him as he stood.
“You brought him to me,” a familiar voice whispered from behind a pillar. Jun's head jerked round to face the red-head who now peeked around the stone column. Her eyes were for no one but that horrid green jacket. Jun swallowed bile and his hands curled into tight fists.
“I didn't.”
Bachiko didn't even blink. She headed past him, mile-long hair tumbled down over the tresses of her violet gown, toward front desk where the Chibas waited, and the red that filled Jun's vision was his own. One hand snatched out to grab her arm, digging into the flesh as Bachiko shrieked. Her eyes glowed like blood-red lights in the darkness that surrounded them.
The heads of the adults snapped up; Jun didn't care about that. He pulled Bachiko around to face him, ignoring the claws that raked against his arm and face, and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her, and she screamed as he screamed. There was nothing but white silence in his ears.
Hands pulled them apart, and dragged him down a hallway. In the hours that passed, locked into a dark bedroom, all he could remember were Small Lady's eyes watching as he was locked away.
“Jun?”
He turned his head and looked at the doctor entering his room. The vision of her tried to waver and warp. Jun planted a mental “foot” on it and Mizuno snapped into focus.
The woman offered him a weak smile and gestured to the chair at his desk. “May I? We need to talk.”
“You're not my doctor.”
Mizuno pressed her lips together as she pulled the chair out and sank into it. “I am now.”
When she realized that he wasn't going to respond, Mizuno twisted her fingers together and leaned forward on her knees. “Jun… I know that this is difficult, but there is something that I must ask you and I need you to tell me the truth.”
The boy shifted just enough upon his bed that he could stare at her. She nodded to herself and continued, “Some of the things you… said to Bachiko this afternoon. There were implications… We've spoken with her, but I need you to tell me. Has Bachiko ever touched you against your will?”
Jun leaned his head back against the wall. The minutes kicked by until Mizuno sighed.
“It doesn't matter,” Jun cut her off.
The woman's lips settled into a thin line. “Of course it matters. I need a 'yes' or 'no,' not an ambiguous--”
“No, it doesn't,” he stressed. Mizuno's mouth shut with a click. A smile tugged at the corner of Jun's lips and he had to laugh. “She isn't going to touch me again. Ever. I owe her nothing.”
The doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then she shook her head and stared at her knees. Jun watched this, and the conflicting swirls of colour emanating from her thin form. Eventually he sat up a little, arms hooked about his knees, and waited until she met his eyes. “It doesn't matter.”
The colours surrounding her solidified into a deep blue through which swam dark shapes torn from the depths of the ocean. The scene filled the woman's eyes, like windows into the abyss. “Yes or no, Jun.”
He settled back into the corner of his cell. “Yes.”
Mizuno Ami rose from the chair and gave him one last, long look before she returned to the door. There was a figure waiting behind it, in the robes of a Priestess. His vision filled with violet, and the world went up in flames.
