Prompt 2: You're Pretty Like A Woman - Team AU
Title: Outline of a Perfect Image
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Masuda Takahisa/Yamashita Tomohisa
Summary: A school project leads to things Yamapi never expected to find, and what he finds suddenly becomes more important when an accident occurs.
Prompt: YOU'RE PRETTY LIKE A WOMAN
Warnings: Casual mentions of body parts.
Notes:
Upon deciding on the prompt, I wanted to explore body images. The JE boys -- especially Yamapi -- are known for their looks. What if there are other ways to achieve it? What if they lose it?
OH GOD the first part is like INFORMATION OVERLOAD. And its not even everything. In case it gets confusing: yes, they have Japanese names and speak Japanese, because the planet they're on is colonized by people of Japanese origin. The planet is named Aurora, because I am not naming a planet Tokyo 2.0 or Johnnys or NEWS, and it's not a particularly large planet, so there's only one University, with a capital U. And the education is different from ours, so don't be surprised if you see something weird. To explain better, Yamapi is more like an intern than a student in our education system, but here he's just called a 'student'.
Also, I write a boring Yamapi. This makes me sad, but unfortunately by this point I don't know how to change it at all.
. . . . . . . . . .
Yamapi groans as he reads the details of the final project for the Body Reconstruction program.
He only partook in the program because medical students were required to complete three. His first choices were Nanoscopic Surgery and Technology Embedment, with the first already finished and the second coming to a close. Since graduates only choose one of two directions, Yamapi only took Body Reconstruction because it requires similar skills as Nanoscopic Surgery.
Needless to say, he has never liked the program much. It wasn't as exciting as Nanoscopic Surgery, which focuses on how the human body works in nanoscopic scales. Neither was it as fascinating as Technology Embedment, which features fusing automatons into human bodies.
The process of rebuilding a body is surprisingly boring. After a genetic scan, it mostly consists of measuring and waiting as the replica grows to match the original. When the duplicated body parts come close enough to fit, a surgery is done to implant the missing body part into the person missing it, and then the whole process requires more waiting as the patient relearns the use of the part.
Yamapi supposes it's nice to have the technology to regrow any missing body part missing (with the exception of the brain), especially to those who lost their fingers or limbs by accident, but it just wasn't his kind of work.
He still has to graduate though, which means he has to complete the final project. The project itself is rather straightforward -- the University would collect volunteers who cannot afford to pay for a reconstruction, and the students would pick one they want to work on. The project would have to be completed within six months, and if the subject regains complete use of his or her body, it would mean a passing grade.
That wouldn't be much of a problem. While Yamapi isn't the most diligent student, he does pay attention to his studies, and he understands the process sufficiently.
The problem would be the text underneath the sign up instructions. It explains that in order to let students in the program understand the full course of rehabilitation, each student would have to be partnered with a student in the Physiatry program. It also adds that students have a week to search for partners themselves, and if they fail to do so, partners would be assigned.
Yamapi groans again. He hates searching for partners, especially for projects as important as this. He always feels insecure when his scores are dependent on the performance of other people, and there's always the risk that your partner gives up halfway through. And he doesn't know anyone in the Physiatry program. No doubt most of them would be kind souls with insane levels of tolerance and patience, but Yamapi generally isn't interested in boring people, and rehabilitation is nothing if not boring.
He sighs. Waiting for partner assignment sounds dangerous, but it seems like he doesn't have a choice. Who knows, it might even be fun, getting to know a new friend -- never say Yamapi isn't optimistic.
. . . . . . . . . .
Yamapi stood under a tree, looking around for a yellow cap. It would belong to a guy named Masuda Takahisa, his partner for the final project. They received each other's contact information when partners were assigned, but today would be the day they first meet and decide on what they'd work on.
Yamapi had sent a picture of himself when they'd come up with a date to meet, so that Masuda wouldn't have to ask around for a Yamashita Tomohisa. Masuda sent one of himself in reply, and added that he would be wearing a yellow cap that should be easy to spot.
From the photos, Masuda seems to be an average guy with a round face and a generous smile. From that smile alone, Yamapi thinks they should get along, as long as Masuda's capable of doing his part of the project.
Just a short distance away, Yamapi spots a yellow cap moving towards him. What he hadn't expected was the orange t-shirt and green pants.
Definitely a cheerful guy, then.
"Masuda-kun?" Yamapi calls out, waving his arm to gain attention.
The guy looks up with a large smile, "Ah, Yamashita-kun, right? Sorry I'm a bit late."
"Not at all," Yamapi says, glad that for once in his life, he wasn't the late one. First meetings are always awkward when you arrive late. "You're, uh," realizing that pointing out the bright colors might sound rude so Yamapi restrains himself from babbling that out, "taller than I thought you'd be. You know, from the photos."
"Oh," Masuda nods, "people tell me that a lot. I'm glad I'm not short! I can't help being kind of fat, though. I love food! And eating. They go together, so it's really only one thing."
"You're not fat," Yamapi says, and it's true. Masuda may be slightly plump (and even that's exaggerating because it's normal to have some fat on you despite what some people think), but Yamapi can see there are muscles under that bright orange shirt. From a physician's point of view, the young man looks fit and healthy.
"Thank you," Masuda smiles at him, and Yamapi has to blink a little because it's the first time he has seen a smile that wide and sincere. "You've nice, I hope we get along! Should we get started?"
Yamapi pulls out his personal computer from his bag -- his beloved foldable thirteen inch touchscreen.
"Here," Yamapi points at the screen, "I downloaded the files already. Do you have any preferences?"
"Ah, asking so suddenly?" Masuda exclaims. "To me, faces are simpler, but I have more experience in legs. I've heard it's the opposite for surgeons, though. What about Yamashita-kun?"
Yamapi shrugs. Attaching a leg or a nose actually takes the same amount of skill and time, so both would look well on his resume. He isn't sure how the professors intend to judge their complete works, but the University professors are known for being fair.
"Having working limbs sound more important than a complete face," Yamapi says. "Why don't we go for the middle and work on fingers or an arm?"
"Eh, so you haven't had a face change?" Masuda asks. He quickly adds, "I mean, I was just curious, because people talk about facial surgery all the time and I thought, since you have the access to all the equipment, just maybe...but it looks natural! Honest!"
Yamapi lets out a smile -- with his natural face, as Masuda puts it. "Huh, so I seem like the type to get face lifts?"
"But..." Masuda seems to ponder something for a while before blurting, "But you're so perfect!"
Yamapi blanks out at Masuda's outburst. It's not that he's unaware of his looks, because not only has he looked at mirrors and photos of himself but he also notices the people he attracts, and yet he's never had anyone told him he's perfect before. No one's perfect. Perfect is not really a definition and at such a time and age when money can buy you almost any face you want, the word perfect is just too strong.
Then he notices the blush on Masuda's cheeks and Yamapi's eyes widen in surprise. Oh. Apparently, his charms extend to Masuda-kun.
"Let's go with arms and start from there, should we?" Yamapi says lightly, attempting to play it cool lest it becomes awkward.
"Ah, um, sure, okay!" Masuda stutters.
Yamapi gestures to the screen, moving it so that Masuda can view it as well. Masuda seems uncertain as he leans over, ducking his head.
Unable to stop himself, Yamapi grins at the sight. They're University students, approaching their final projects and ready for graduation, yet Masuda's actions are so undeniably boyish -- youthful and innocent -- that, Yamapi decides, it's almost cute.
While Masuda scans the list of choices, Yamapi watches as Masuda's yellow cap bobs every time the guy so much as stirs. In a sudden act of playfulness, Yamapi plucks the cap off and twirls it in his hand. When Masuda yelps in protest and reaches to grab it back, Yamapi put the hat on himself, chuckling in amusement at the bewildered look on Masuda's face.
Pleased to meet you, Masuda-kun, Yamapi thinks to himself, all the while dodging Masuda's attempts at his hat (and carefully balancing his touchscreen).
. . . . . . . . . .
"Say, what's it like getting used to a new arm?"
Yamapi plops down to the chair next to Masuda, rousing the guy from his sleep. Startled, Masuda shoots up, frantically looking around until he sees Yamapi.
"Oh, Yamashita-kun? Ah!" Masuda exclaims, "I'm late, aren't I? Oh god, I'm so sorry, why didn't you just call me?"
Masuda has messed up the date in his hazed state. They had planned a lunch meeting, but it was tomorrow, not right now. Yamapi had been bored -- his friends were busy with their own work -- and needing a lunch partner, he thought he might as well use the chance to get to know his new partner. Since they'd shared their lab addresses and Masuda had given him an extended invitation, Yamapi had chosen to come in.
He can't help but find it slightly comical. Masuda seems easily rattled, or maybe Yamapi just naturally confuses the guy, but it is fun and Yamapi sees no reason to point out Masuda's mistake immediately.
"I think you drooled on your arm," Yamapi points out instead.
Masuda glances at his arm, then proceeds to blush (again) and look horrified while clearing his desk to find a tissue. While forcefully rubbing at his arm, Masuda looks up at Yamapi.
"You should have called," he pouts, close to a whine. "I'm not leaving a very good impression, am I?"
Yamapi takes the chance to look around. Masuda's lab is a simple one unlike his own, with dirty petri dishes and unfinished experimental chips laying everywhere, Masuda's lab is clean and orderly, with marked files on the shelves and unfinished ones with proper labels on the desks.
He blames the difference on their majors. Physiatrists work with complete bodies, their experiments are with actual people and their reactions while relearning their bodies. Yamapi has to work with body parts all the time, there should be litter all around his lab.
Yamapi looks back to Masuda, who is biting his lip and looking worried. He decides to come clean, "I haven't seen you work yet so I shouldn't judge," Yamapi says. "And actually, we're meeting tomorrow. I just walked past the building and thought I'd swing by and check out your lab."
"You scared me," Masuda accuses, but he looks more relieved than angry.
Yamapi raises both his hands in apology, "Sorry. It is lunch time, though. Would you like to grab lunch together?"
At the notion of lunch, Masuda flashes a bright smile at Yamapi, radiant as sunshine. It reminds Yamapi of the beach, bright and refreshing, and Yamapi wonders if anything gets the boy down. He doesn't bother to suspect whether the smile is fake, because no artificial smile could be that infectious.
When they bite into lunch, Yamapi relaxes along with the taste of food, just as he always does. Masuda, on the other hand, looks entirely ecstatic as he tears into his lunch.
Yamapi always did like people who properly appreciated their food.
"So, what's it like getting used to a new arm?" he asks again, now that they could have a full conversation.
"Eh, you were seriously asking that?" Masuda says with a mouth full of food, but the words are clear and Yamapi doesn't spot any unwanted food sneaking out.
Now isn't the time to be envious of people who can talk with their mouths full and make it sound as if they aren't. "I'm curious." he explains, "I mean, that's what we're working on, right? And you must have had some experience. All I've done is watch arms grow in tubes."
"It's not really much," Masuda shrugs, "I've only helped before, I've never felt it myself. They say it's odd though, feels different."
That was to be expected. Duplicated limbs are always different from their original, regardless of how well the regrowing process goes. Your limbs grow with you, your muscles adjust to how you use them and your body changes along with everyday decisions you make, what food you eat, what actions you do. No lab could reproduce all that.
"And of course, as expected, a lot of people complain that their fingers don't listen. I wonder if fingers sense how you're going to use them?" Masuda adds offhandedly.
Yamapi doesn't know what to say to that, so he bites into his food instead.
They fall into silence after that, not exactly awkward but not quite comfortable either. Yamapi tries to think of something to say, tempted to break the silence, but Masuda seems content with eating so Yamapi leaves it at that. Fortunately, they finish eating at around the same time.
After they clean up, Yamapi brings out the outlines he wrote the day before, and they start discussing how they should work together. Masuda wants to watch the rebuilding process at least more than once. Yamapi wouldn't mind watching the rehab, though he doesn't find it necessary. Together they come up with a schedule -- two months for Yamapi to rebuild a complete arm, two to three months for their patient to regain its use, and a whole month left for them to put it all on paper.
"Looks about perfect," Yamapi exclaims with a pat on the table, and Masuda nods in agreement.
They're both gathering their things and ready to go when Masuda suddenly says, "I'd be volunteering at the shelter tonight, and they have a few people in reconstruct." With a welcoming smile, Masuda asks, "Would you like to come?"
Yamapi thinks about accepting, because from what he's already seen Masuda's a wholesomely genuine person and he enjoys getting to know him. But he remembers his own plans for the night, a party his friends had invited him to. These things should not be compared, but his own plans seems petty even to him.
"I'm busy tonight," he says vaguely, not giving details.
"Ah, of course," Masuda replies easily, but the disappointment on the guy's face is obvious.
Yamapi wants to explain that he's not rejecting the offer, he just couldn't attend tonight, but he's already said no and he wonders if there's a way to take back a rejection because he can't think of any. Not without saying what he'd be doing at night, and he doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want Masuda to think he's the partying type either (even though he is, not always but still rather often).
"Are we still meeting tomorrow?" Masuda asks, cocking his head to the left.
Yamapi looks at Masuda, trying to read the guy's body language. Masuda looks like he wouldn't object to another lunch together, but it could just be that Masuda doesn't want to appear rude.
He wonders whether it would hurt if he flirts, just a little. Masuda had looked like he wouldn't mind the other day, blushing and commenting on Yamapi's looks. But thoughts of parties and drinks and flirting in the dance pool come up and when Yamapi puts all that against Masuda's smile, he feels as though there's something vile in his throat.
"Only if you want to," he finally says truthfully.
"Should we meet here, then?" Masuda grins, and Yamapi feels the atmosphere lighten up.
They argue on whether Yamapi should pick Masuda up again tomorrow until unthinkingly, they've walked back to where Masuda's lab is. Yamapi jokes that he brought Masuda back to where he found him, and under the bright sunlight, Masuda laughs.
. . . . . . . . . .
Waking up to an intergalactic call was not something Yamapi counted on when he went to sleep. Eyes blurry from tiredness, he forces himself up, wincing to see the words on the monitor indicating that the call was made by Nishikido Ryo from some Gamma galaxy somewhere.
Figures that Ryo wouldn't even bother to check what time sector Yamapi lives on.
It wouldn't do to hang up, either, because when Ryo wants to contact someone, he's the type that keeps calling until he gets through. Yamapi accepts the call with a sigh and lies back into the soft futon mourning his lost sleep.
"It's not working anymore," Ryo's assertive voice comes through.
That wakes Yamapi up instantly. Ryo could only be talking about one thing by that, and Yamapi dreads the full meaning of his words.
Ryo is a voyager. People born on spaceships, people who view their spaceship as home, who are more used to small, confined spaces and the vast darkness of space than to fields of extended space and open sky. Yamapi doesn't claim to understand how voyagers can continue traveling for so long, but he respects the pride they have of their inhabitation, and Ryo accepts him in return.
When Ryo was a child, his parents had thought planting an experimental radiative chip in his brain was a good idea. It was promised that the chip could control electronic devices by thought alone, but while it does work sometimes, it also gives the user a severe migraine. It was also, regrettably, irremovable.
By adjustment, the chips were rendered harmless and useless in most experiment samples. However, most people weren't voyagers and didn't live in huge electronic devices their whole lives. The modification had lowered the amount of pain, but Ryo still felt it from time to time.
As a single case, Ryo was ignored the physicians, and had been resigned to live with the headaches until he came to Aurora. They met by chance, and Ryo's story piqued Yamapi's interest immediately. He had already been studying Technology Embedment, and for his final project, he modified the chip in Ryo's brain to lessen its effects. It also led him to discover how much he enjoyed the subject and subsequently, helped him decide what he wanted to do in the future.
Yamapi had known it wouldn't work forever, though, and had warned Ryo about it. The chip had been with Ryo too long and had worked its way into Ryo's system. Since Ryo's body recognizes it as part of itself, the chip fixes itself -- thus returning to its previous injurious state.
But he didn't think it'd be this soon. It's only been two years since Ryo had left the planet. With Yamapi's calculations, it should have been ten years until Ryo's body caught on the change.
"Where are you?" Yamapi asks nervously, wondering if redoing the modification would work.
Even completing the program, he's still a student, without the proper experience to deal with this.
"Nowhere near Aurora, if that's what you're asking," Ryo replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "I just thought you should know."
Yamapi thinks of his current project, the one with Masuda, and he wonders if he could pull time from that to analyzing on Ryo's chip. Because of the project, he had neglected looking into it, despite telling Ryo that he would spend time researching.
"I've been busy on another project," Yamapi says honestly, full on ready to blame himself for ignoring his friend, "I-I'm sorry, Ryo."
"It's not your responsibility anyway," Ryo says. "Don't concern yourself over this, it's not worth it."
Yamapi recognizes Ryo's subtle ask for help. Ryo hates relying on other people, it comes with being a voyager, and even calling Yamapi must have pained him. Even if Ryo hadn't bothered to check that it was three in the morning for Yamapi.
"How far are you, then? As long as you come by, we can try working on it."
There's a pause until Ryo answers, "Ten months, maybe."
Yamapi takes in a deep breath. The Body Reconstruction project would be finished by then, he should be able to come up with something. And even if he doesn't, the same method might work again.
"Will I see you then?" Yamapi asks.
"Maybe," Ryo says, and Yamapi promptly hears a beep announcing the end of the call.
Yamapi stares at the clock for a while longer before flouncing himself back onto bed. Even after having his perfect night's sleep being disturbed, Yamapi had always been good at falling immediately asleep, and it doesn't take long before he falls into slumber with Ryo's call weighing on his mind.
. . . . . . . . . .
On his third attempt to calculate the exact mixture he would need, Yamapi nearly screams in annoyance. It should have only taken seconds, that was how simple it should be but the numbers were jumbled in Yamapi's brain and what is it with this blazing weather, anyway?
"Are you alright, Yamashita-kun?" Masuda asks beside him, "Am I bothering you?"
Yamapi looks to his right, where Masuda sits watching. As promised, Yamapi invited Masuda to watch him work in the lab. Unfortunately, everything irritates him today -- his work, his projects, the computer in the lab, the unfinished arm in the tube, the weather. The cloned arm should be nearly identical to the one it's based on, but the bones weren't growing to the right length, and what was the point? No one really has symmetrical arms anyway.
"It's fine," Yamapi snaps, then looks up in alert when he notices who he's speaking to. Masuda looks devastated, eyes wide and lips trembling as he shrinks into his chair. Yamapi instantly feels terrible. It just proves how bad a host he was.
"Sorry, I'm just...distracted today," Yamapi apologizes.
Masuda shouldn't have been on the receiving end of his wayward temper, no matter how bad his mood is. When Masuda doesn't reply immediately, Yamapi begins to panic. Everything was already going wrong this day, and he manages to offend his partner on his project as well?
After a nerve-wrecking wait, Masuda finally says, "How about taking a break?"
Yamapi eyes the half-grown arm in the tube, waiting for the right nutrients to prompt its growth. Not only do the procedures need to be done on schedule, but Masuda is here today only because he wants to understand how it works. He takes a quick glance at the stack of research papers he collected for Ryo's case, begging for attention.
"Can't," Yamapi says with a sigh, "this needs to be done today. And you're here to watch me work, not loiter around."
"If you say so," Masuda looks up at him, and Yamapi lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he sees Masuda's trademark smile. "I don't really mind. How about I go get us something, then? Food? Drinks?"
Yamapi wonders if Masuda is looking for an excuse to leave for a while, but decides that its not worth pondering over. At any rate, refreshments would be a nice diversion to this mucky day.
"There's a vending machine down the hall on the right."
Masuda bounces up straight away, hair flouncing. Yamapi isn't sure why he's suddenly noticing this, but Masuda's hair looks really soft, like it hasn't been exposed to excessive chemical solutions. Fluffy and silky and light even under the artificial lighting, Yamapi thinks with a hysteric chortle.
"What would you like?" Masuda asks.
"Anything not caffeinated," Yamapi replies. Caffeine would only make him more twitchy, and he doesn't want to get any more wounded up than he already is.
"Coming right up!" Masuda pipes, sounding like he'd recovered completely from being affected by Yamapi's sour mood. Not that he expects to drag Masuda down, but any normal person would have been at least displeased.
The door closes with a click. Yamapi finds himself looking at the closed door, cleanly white compared to the rest of the room.
Distracted was the right word. Or more like preoccupied. Yamapi could barely concentrate, and he feels terrible already but the more he thinks about it the more irritated he gets until he's sweating with restlessness. Yamapi hates feeling less than adept, it feels like he's failing himself somehow, especially when he knows he's capable of doing a decent job.
In the midst of musing, he fails to notice that Masuda's back until something cold is pressed against his palm, earning an undignified yelp from him.
"Oops, I didn't mean to scare you," Masuda says, "But you looked so serious and I didn't know what to say!"
Yamapi takes hold of the bottle, not bothering to retort that saying anything would have made more sense than just pressing the drink into his hands.
He twists the bottle open, noting that Masuda got him some kind of juice or something that was equally as healthy. The guy probably chose it to play safe, since some people don't drink sofa and others dislike the bitter taste of tea, but he sees the same bottle in Masuda's grip. Maybe he was thinking too much and the guy simply likes this type of drinks.
They drink in silence, Yamapi gulping it down and Masuda quietly sipping. Yamapi gladly notes that this time, the silence is comfortable instead of stressing.
"I should get back to work, huh," Yamapi says after a while, genuinely regretting that he has to leave this comfort.
It takes a while before Masuda answers. "Yamashita-kun is hard working, ne," Masuda says, "And I'm very lucky to have Yamashita-kun as my partner. But working too bad isn't very good either."
Yamapi doesn't know what to say to that, and so again he keeps his silence as he calls up the related data from the computers to run through once more. Masuda is right though, taking a break -- even one as short as the one he had -- does help, because now the corresponding solutions are clear in his mind, right in sight while they were out of reach before.
He thinks of thanking Masuda, but every sentence he thinks of sounds corny and unreal. He settles on something simpler.
"You don't have to be silent while I work, you know," Yamapi says. "It might help if you talk, actually."
"Eh, but I don't know what to say!" Masuda replies.
Yamapi shrugs in return. He just wants Masuda to relax and not feel inclined to keep quiet.
He's measuring the width and length of the bones in the arm, readying data and estimated numbers to feed into the simulator to emulate what would happen, when Masuda speaks up suddenly.
"Hey, did you know where they found the technology for regeneration?"
"Isn't this cloning?" Yamapi replies automatically. But then he thinks it over a little and realize what Masuda was referring to. "Oh, wait, I know what you're talking about. Some animal or something on Earth I think?"
Why is Masuda bringing this up, anyway? No one really talks about where old technologies come from, and regeneration has been around for a while. Few people are interested in Earth animals too, since it's difficult to get even visuals, and there's hardly a point in watching a world you're too far from. Except for voyagers, maybe.
Yamapi chalks it up to another eccentric point of Masuda's personality. The more he knows about the guy, the weirder he's getting. On first view, Masuda's fairly normal, cheerful and full of life like most people their age. But his lab space is the cleanest Yamapi's ever seen, and Masuda volunteers at the Shelter but doesn't like street strays. He wears bright clothes that are politely eye-catching and not-so-politely eye-burning, but claims to pay attention to fashion and comes up with pretty amazing outfits out of nowhere.
It's the small things that make Yamapi notice how odd Masuda is, tiny points that make up Masuda's character.
"Geckos!" Masuda pipes up, unaware of Yamapi's inner monologue. "They're lizards! With four legs. They can climb on walls and regrow their tails."
Masuda launches into a detailed description of what geckos are and how they were like. Yamapi listens while he works, politely nodding along as Masuda goes on about gecko behavior and inhibitats. And it might be because of Masuda's idle chatter, certainly not because of the content, but he manages to stay in a pleasant mood and the weather barely bothers him anymore.
"Hey," Yamapi begins, and Masuda immediately looks at him with full attention. "Sorry for being so irritated today. I'm not normally like this, I swear," and as a playful continuation, he raises his hand for an animated salute.
"Everyone has bad days," Masuda says, "It's alright. I still had fun! Yamashita-kun's lab is amazing."
"You mean messy?" Yamapi laughs. He knows what his lab's like, and there's no point in avoiding it. But the smile fades as he recalls other issues they might encounter. "Just, all this is giving a bad feeling about it. Feels like we're failing before we began, you know?"
Masuda seems unfazed by Yamapi's ominous words. "I don't think so. And even if we fail, we can try again next term."
"We?" Yamapi asks.
"Ah, we probably wouldn't be working together if that happens, right?" Masuda exclaims innocently.
If indeed they do fail this time (which wouldn't happen, not if Yamapi could help it), there's no guarantee that the final project for next term would be group projects once again. And even if the project would be in groups, they would only work together if Masuda wants to work together again. And if Yamapi wants to in reverse, but Yamapi prefers to think that he wouldn't have the chance to reject Masuda.
"Yeah," he says in reply, simple and concise.
. . . . . . . . . .
He hates it when he's right. Especially when it involves something as maddening as his final project.
"What is wrong with this guy? We get him a new arm, and he refuses to use it?" Yamapi spits out, enraged.
Masuda looks like he's about to cry. "I'm sorry, Yamashita-kun, I'd work harder so please, it's all my fault but I-"
'It's not your fault!' Yamapi shouts, shutting Masuda up abruptly. "What kind of-I can't even think of words to describe this, who the hell doesn't appreciate a new arm? No point in using it as long as it's there, the fuck? Ever think about the work we poured into this? Our marks?"
The arm needs to be fully functional for them to receive full marks. Not that all their scores would suffer -- the arm was at least fully attached, and according to Masuda, everything except the joints, including the elbow and fingers, were working fine.
"Yamashita-kun," Masuda says, only this time he's calmer and his voice's steady, "it is my fault, partially anyway, and so I'd work harder to convince Akaki-san to cooperate. I don't know how yet, but please, don't be mad."
Yamapi's anger deflates with that. Who could stay angry when those earnest eyes are looking at you?
Akaki is their patient. Yamapi has seen Masuda work with him, and the man had seemed alright at first, but seemed to lose interest when Masuda went on to help him recover joint capabilities. Then the man kept saying he's busy and he's not in a hurry to have all his arm's functions back, and no amount of convincing that they needed him to get their full marks had worked.
Yamapi tries not to think about how his work could have influenced this. He had accomplished all the processes properly and the arm was nearly identical with the other the patient had. The patient's body wasn't rejecting the arm, either, so he must have done his work accurately. Even if -- he had to admit to himself -- he had been distracted, he had gone through it.
He had to, because if any of it was his fault, then there's no way he could face Masuda straightly, and he should stop thinking about this right now.
"If it's partially your fault, it's mine too." Yamapi says, "So, urgh, do you have any clue how to start convincing the stubborn old man, anyway?"
"Therapy?" Masuda provides, "Or general counselling."
Yamapi chuckles at the thought of sitting the man into a counseling session. They might be on the right track though -- working from a psychological viewpoint might work better than speculating from nowhere.
"I know someone studying psychology. You think we should ask?" Yamapi says.
"Eh? You think we should? Um, do you think we should bother other people with this?"
"Wouldn't hurt," Yamapi shrugs, "And we're friends. Kind of. I know his friend, anyway. It'd be fine."
Masuda's still deciding by muttering to himself when Yamapi pulls out his phone. He grins when Masuda tries to stop to him, waves his hand to sooth the guy, and before Masuda could do anything the call goes through.
"Ah, Koyama? I'd like to speak to Tegoshi-kun."
Koyama's voice sounds frantic when he replies. "Is everything alright? He's not in trouble, is he?"
This makes Yamapi wonder what usually happens with Tegoshi. He hears Tegoshi's voice in the background, complaining to Koyama that he doesn't get in trouble. Often. "No, I just need his help with something." At Koyama's disbelieving shriek, he quickly adds, "He's studying psychology, right? It has to do with that."
"Ah," Koyama exclaims, sounding relieved. "You're lucky you called right now, I just picked up Tegoshi from campus. I'd hand the phone over, then. Tegoshi?"
The voice goes from Koyama's to Tegoshi's higher one, "Hi, Yamashita-kun! You need my help?"
Yamapi negotiates with Tegoshi until the other agrees to help Yamapi and Masuda, with the condition that Yamapi treats him to lunch the following week. Then Tegoshi somehow convinces Koyama to walk along with Tegoshi back to campus to meet Yamapi, and by the way Koyama listens to Tegoshi, Yamapi thinks Tegoshi might be the perfect person for this task. If Yamapi can survive dealing with him first.
After the phone call, Yamapi turns to Masuda, who was listening to a one-sided conversation with enthusiasm.
"They're coming," Yamapi explains.
"Eeeeeh?" Masuda lets out, almost resembling Koyama's shriek. Only less loud and less sharp.
. . . . . . . . . .
When Yamapi entered Masuda's lab, he hadn't expected to see Tegoshi in the room as well, gesturing at something while talking earnestly. Masuda looks comfortable just listening and nodding at intervals.
The talk the other day had gone well. And Yamapi recognizes the look on Masuda's face -- the boy was taken by Tegoshi, no doubt. Yamapi had seen Masuda look at him the same way when they first met.
"What's he doing here?" Yamapi grits out, motioning towards Tegoshi's direction, not bothering to pretend he doesn't find Tegoshi's presence straining.
"Don't worry," Tegoshi announces, "I'd be leaving soon, I'm just waiting for Koyama."
Is the guy incapable of walking without Koyama around? And what's with that glint in Tegoshi's eyes? Yamapi knows about Koyama coming to campus to pick up Tegoshi, it started back when Tegoshi just arrived at the city and didn't know the way, but there's no way Tegoshi still doesn't know the directions. It wasn't really like Tegoshi would be stuck anywhere without guidance.
Sure, he'd never been bothered by this before, and he sees Tegoshi fairly often. But it's never directly affected him before, Yamapi argues to himself. And he owes Tegoshi lunch. Does it never stop?
"We've come up with a plan to slowly lure Akaki-san into using his arms," Masuda says, "Tegoshi said it's easier to get them to do what you want without them realizing with people like Akaki-san."
Perhaps sensing Yamapi's cheerless mood, Masuda begins to move towards Yamapi. Instinctly, Yamapi backs away, only to see Masuda drop his arm with a disappointed look on his face.
He thinks of saying something, like he isn't rejecting Masuda (again), or maybe that he doesn't actually mind body contact. With the corner of his eye, Yamapi notices Tegoshi watching with an amused expression, and he thinks of saying something towards that instead, like how Tegoshi should wipe that unfitting smirk off before it gets glued to his face.
As if on cue, a phone ring cuts in. Tegoshi rushes to pick it up, then smiles sweetly into the receiver. "Kei-chan! Yes, everything went perfectly. Yamashita-kun's here, too! I'd be right out. It's fine!"
Once Tegoshi hangs up, he turns around and says in a completely different voice, "You probably heard, but Kei-chan's here, so I'm leaving!"
Yamapi wonders if Tegoshi has had alien implants, because no human should be that chipper all day long. Combined with Masuda's consistent lighthearted smile, Yamapi might just have to start wearing sunglasses in their presence. Or avoid seeing them together, because it's goddamn uncomfortable.
He looks towards Masuda, but couldn't even begin to guess what Masuda's thinking. In most ways, Masuda is a huge mystery Yamapi just can't seem to resolve. Right now, while Masuda seems to be pleasantly bidding Tegoshi farewell, he also seems to be fidgeting from the way he's tugging at his sleeves. Or is he thinking of ways to persuade Tegoshi to stay longer? It wouldn't work, Yamapi wants to say -- Tegoshi has a lot of other friends, Koyama just being one of them. Or were they friends? Sometimes, they look more like master and butler.
"See you then, Massu! Yamashita-kun!" Tegoshi waves energetically as he walks away.
Yamapi freezes, fixated on what Tegoshi called Masuda. They've known each other for two months but Masuda still called him Yamashita-kun, yet Masuda and Tegoshi uses nicknames with each other?
"Massu?" Yamapi questions, somewhat sharper than he intended.
"Oh!" Masuda smiles, "Um, my friends call me that. Tegoshi heard them and decided to call me that, too."
"It's a cute nickname."
"You're welcome to use it if you want," Masuda says good-naturedly. "Only if you want to, though," he adds, suddenly uncertain.
Were they friends? Or is this a step towards friendship? If that was so, he should probably be happy about this, but the word 'friends' leaves a bitter aftertaste Yamapi can't explain away.
"Massu, huh?" Yamapi murmurs to himself.
Masuda appears to not have heard, or has no reply to it, for which Yamapi is grateful. In his whirlpool of confusion, he did not think of returning the favor, though he has been called Yamapi instead of Yamashita for so long that he mostly refers to himself by the nickname.
On his desk, Masuda lays out his schedule, with the highlights Yamapi asked for the other day. Yamapi pulls over a chair from the desk beside him, a habit he'd developed since the day he first came to this lab. Luckily, Masuda's lab partner seems to be rarely around. When Yamapi asked, Masuda explained that his partner prefers working in the library, which suits Yamapi just fine.
To be truthful, Yamapi isn't interested in physical rehab. That's what he told Masuda, but the main reason he's paying attention is because he wanted to make sure the other doesn't slack off. He feels guilty thinking about it now, after realizing that while Masuda may seem easygoing, he's determined where it counts. He couldn't leave though, not with the small lie, and not when Masuda's so happily explaining the work he does.
Yamapi also hadn't thought that the problem would come from their patient -- he doesn't get to work with live subjects often, and Ryo had been more like a friend than an experiment subject.
Out of the blue, Masuda starts, "Hey, did you know," the phrases were familiar by now, "I had a small crush on you when we first met?"
Yamapi's breath hitches. He had known, of course he had known, who could have overlooked what was so blatantly obvious, but he hadn't thought that Masuda would ever confess to it. Unless it meant Masuda was completely over it and never expected Yamapi to reciprocate.
But then, what did he expect? Neither of them ever made a move. Yamapi couldn't say he's attracted to Masuda, though the boy does have a certain charm. A harmless boy-next-door vibe, maybe, with a smile and a scent of cookies.
"Ah," he replies curtly, unsure of what he should say.
There's nothing to say. Perhaps it's because Yamapi's used to people who looks at him and approaches him, only to leave after a while. Though Masuda's saying this now, Yamapi couldn't recall Masuda ever really stuttering after their first three meetings or so. If that was how long Masuda's crush had lasted, Yamapi isn't in the place to say anything. If after talking to Yamapi, Masuda had decided that Yamapi isn't appealing enough, then, well.
Anyway, it isn't like Yamapi wants anything out of this, so honestly, things are better this way.
"This is embarrassing," Masuda pouts, looking at the ceiling.
When they wrap up for the day, Yamapi wonders if he should have mentioned Tegoshi. After all, Masuda was the one who talked about crushes. It wouldn't have made a difference, though. Except maybe bring out a blushing Masuda, which would be amusing until Yamapi remembers that it's about Tegoshi.
"Dinner?" Yamapi asks, partly because he doesn't want to eat dinner alone, and partly because he keeps thinking about things related to Masuda and maybe Masuda's presence would help.
For a while, Masuda appears to be thinking. Then he looks at Yamapi and shakes his head. "Sorry, I have plans tonight."
Plans. The word sounds so general that it was difficult not to think it sounds like an excuse. If it was an excuse, then asking further would only seem pathetic, though Yamapi continues to feel rejected. A feeling he seemed to have given Masuda a lot, Yamapi thinks, so perhaps this is karma catching up on him.
Masuda then says he'd be tidying up his workspace before leaving, and Yamapi says goodbye, noticing his cue to depart.
. . . . . . . . . .
Walking alone on campus, Yamapi wonders if he should just eat in the cafeteria. Eating alone at a restaurant would be embarrassing, and food at the cafeterias cheaper.
While going through the menu and debating on what he should order for dinner, Yamapi doesn't notice the floating vehicle above him giving out. Detachedly, he thinks of going to the pub tonight, getting a few drinks in him before going home, when he hears the deafening screech of a brake being pushed past its limit.
When Yamapi sees the vehicle dropping altitude, he distantly thinks he probably should run, except the car's too close, barely a meter away and if the vehicle's safety system isn't reacting fast enough (it should have, they were designed to stop before anything with a human heat wavelength, so perhaps it's malfunctioning), then human speed wouldn't be either.
Shit, I can't die here, and he thinks he should be seeing images by now if that's what always happens when someone's about to die, but instead only his previous conversation with Masuda comes to mind when he feels the crash, he hears something like bones breaking and, oh god.
The preservation device all Aurora citizens are planted with at birth in his body sets to work. I can't-Yamapi violently yells, but his thought process halts completely as his body shuts down, the device directing all blood and air to the brain as it closes off anything that could cause further damage, including open flesh and his own panicking mind. If Yamapi is still thinking, he would see that the safety nets in the city were also intervening, grabbing onto the berserk vehicle and protecting his body.
But Yamapi could no more think than he could move as the campus around him continues to pulse with the sound of students screaming and the driver in hysterics.
. . . . . . . . . .
Groggily, he senses light reaching towards him. He tries raising his hand to grab onto the rays of light, but soon he realizes that he can't feel his own body, and the world plunges into darkness once more.
. . . . . . . . . .
Painfully slowly, Yamapi feels everything stir to life. He struggles to open his eyes, squinting as the mist around him dissolves gradually, settling into an image of a white ceiling. His ears take in noise, footsteps and someone calling his name, Tomohisa, not Yamashita or Yamapi.
He tries to remember what happened. The last thing he remembers was talking to -- wait no, that wasn't what happened, he was walking and there was a crash and, oh, the doctors must be bringing him back.
"Tomohisa!" a female voice cries.
It takes a while for the voice's identity to come to mind. It's a person he hasn't met in a long, long time. Not entirely surprisingly, he croaks, "Mom?"
His mother lives along with his sister on the outskirts of the city. For her to be here...well, of course. They aren't especially close, but she's his mother. It'd be odd if she weren't here.
"Don't-" she hiccups a little, the product of trying to talk and snuffle her tears at the same time, "-worry, you'd be-" another hic, "-perfectly fine. The doctors say, they said," another small pause, and finally she regained herself enough to finish her sentence, "you'd be back to normal completely, exactly like before the accident..."
Hearing this, Yamapi tries to feel his body and assess the damage, but all he feels is the dull ache of being under medical treatment.
The doctor must have realized what he was doing when she says, "Don't you worry, Yamashita-san. We're just bringing you out of preversation mode now. You're heading for a full recovery."
As a medical student himself, the doctor's words were empty, pretty comforting words that tells Yamapi nothing new. When he struggles to sit up, Yamapi's muscles complain loudly, refusing to listen to his command. When that doesn't work, he forces himself to calm down, breathing deeply and rinsing his throat so he could talk.
"What's-" the wheezing voice wasn't what he's used to hearing, but it is his own voice, not burnt or a temporary voice before rebuilding, for which he's grateful for, "-the damage? Just tell me."
"Well, Yamashita-san..." the doctor begins, searching for words.
Yamapi sighs mentally. If this is how all patients feel when their doctors aren't telling them everything in one go, then they should rethink what patients really want. "I'm a medical student with practicing licenses in Nanoscopic Surgery and Technology Embedment. Just tell me."
The doctor looks momentarily surprised before she recomposes herself. "Well..." she starts, obviously still wondering how blunt she should be, "Luckily, your organs are perfectly fine, the product of preservation. And, well...not so luckily, there's a scar on your face, and...um, we had to severe your left leg."
He should probably have something to say. Yamapi thinks there should be thought running through his mind, but his brain's a complete blank as it accepts that he's missing a left leg.
On the other hand, Yamapi's mother cries out yet again. At Yamapi's mother's destraught expression, the doctor quickly adds, "But your mother already paid for all expenses, so we'd be regenerating it as soon as possible!"
"That..." his mother stutters, "...that means you'd have a new leg very soon. They can even fix your face using the same technique -- oh, Tomohisa, you were always such a beautiful kid..."
"Someone own a mirror?" Yamapi asks.
The doctor looks weary as she holds a mirror over Yamapi's face. His mother almost attempted to stop the mirror from coming into Yamapi's view, but she lost her strength in the last moment.
Yamapi looks into the mirror.
After his mother's outburst, he thought it'd be worse. In comparsion to the sunken image of a face in his imagination, the burnt skin stretching from his left ear to the tips of his lips is...acceptable. Although his education is telling him that skin is relatively easy to replace, another part of him is somehow more interested in his change in appearance.
Like his mother said, people has always been saying he's beautiful, pretty, other words that only describe his appearance and not him. What would they say now? The part of him that's marvelling in this turn of events -- the somewhat crazy and unstable part, Yamapi thinks -- wants to ask.
The mirror is taken away. A beep from the machine on Yamapi's side indicates that the initial procedures for a recovery from preservation are done.
"We're giving you full control of your body now, Yamashita-san," the doctor says. "Please don't be surprised and move too suddenly or you could hurt youself."
Yamapi fully understands. He's been taught the same words, his instructors gets them to practice saying it in front of dummies. But when he suddenly feels his body, in a way completely different to the medical haze he was in, his instincts has him moving every muscle in his body at the same time. He senses his legs -- no wait his leg, because the other one isn't there, and his body knows this, is reacting to it in the way it would have if he hadn't been unconscious for the past few days.
The bed he's lying on reacts to his violent movements and clasps him down. His mother makes a grab for his hands, the warmth soothing against the unbalance he's feeling.
"We'd be leaving you alone for now," the doctor says flatly, "You can leave tomorrow, any equipment you might need can be rented on the second floor. We'd contact you when we're ready to replace your skin and leg."
After he calms down, the bed loosens it clutches, allowing him to sit up with the help from his mother. He stares at his missing leg, distantly mourning its loss, more so concerned and confused over the coincidence of this happening now.
When he already dislikes the regeneration process. Now it's happening to him and hell, three months? No way is he taking that long to get up and walk.
"You should contact your friends," his mother says, "They were worried, too. Someone...I couldn't catch most of what he said because there was loud music playing in the background, but I think he wants you to call him. And there was another...ah, I forgot the name, but he has a sweet voice, and he wants to visit after you wake up."
part two here>
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Masuda Takahisa/Yamashita Tomohisa
Summary: A school project leads to things Yamapi never expected to find, and what he finds suddenly becomes more important when an accident occurs.
Prompt: YOU'RE PRETTY LIKE A WOMAN
Warnings: Casual mentions of body parts.
Notes:
Upon deciding on the prompt, I wanted to explore body images. The JE boys -- especially Yamapi -- are known for their looks. What if there are other ways to achieve it? What if they lose it?
OH GOD the first part is like INFORMATION OVERLOAD. And its not even everything. In case it gets confusing: yes, they have Japanese names and speak Japanese, because the planet they're on is colonized by people of Japanese origin. The planet is named Aurora, because I am not naming a planet Tokyo 2.0 or Johnnys or NEWS, and it's not a particularly large planet, so there's only one University, with a capital U. And the education is different from ours, so don't be surprised if you see something weird. To explain better, Yamapi is more like an intern than a student in our education system, but here he's just called a 'student'.
Also, I write a boring Yamapi. This makes me sad, but unfortunately by this point I don't know how to change it at all.
. . . . . . . . . .
Yamapi groans as he reads the details of the final project for the Body Reconstruction program.
He only partook in the program because medical students were required to complete three. His first choices were Nanoscopic Surgery and Technology Embedment, with the first already finished and the second coming to a close. Since graduates only choose one of two directions, Yamapi only took Body Reconstruction because it requires similar skills as Nanoscopic Surgery.
Needless to say, he has never liked the program much. It wasn't as exciting as Nanoscopic Surgery, which focuses on how the human body works in nanoscopic scales. Neither was it as fascinating as Technology Embedment, which features fusing automatons into human bodies.
The process of rebuilding a body is surprisingly boring. After a genetic scan, it mostly consists of measuring and waiting as the replica grows to match the original. When the duplicated body parts come close enough to fit, a surgery is done to implant the missing body part into the person missing it, and then the whole process requires more waiting as the patient relearns the use of the part.
Yamapi supposes it's nice to have the technology to regrow any missing body part missing (with the exception of the brain), especially to those who lost their fingers or limbs by accident, but it just wasn't his kind of work.
He still has to graduate though, which means he has to complete the final project. The project itself is rather straightforward -- the University would collect volunteers who cannot afford to pay for a reconstruction, and the students would pick one they want to work on. The project would have to be completed within six months, and if the subject regains complete use of his or her body, it would mean a passing grade.
That wouldn't be much of a problem. While Yamapi isn't the most diligent student, he does pay attention to his studies, and he understands the process sufficiently.
The problem would be the text underneath the sign up instructions. It explains that in order to let students in the program understand the full course of rehabilitation, each student would have to be partnered with a student in the Physiatry program. It also adds that students have a week to search for partners themselves, and if they fail to do so, partners would be assigned.
Yamapi groans again. He hates searching for partners, especially for projects as important as this. He always feels insecure when his scores are dependent on the performance of other people, and there's always the risk that your partner gives up halfway through. And he doesn't know anyone in the Physiatry program. No doubt most of them would be kind souls with insane levels of tolerance and patience, but Yamapi generally isn't interested in boring people, and rehabilitation is nothing if not boring.
He sighs. Waiting for partner assignment sounds dangerous, but it seems like he doesn't have a choice. Who knows, it might even be fun, getting to know a new friend -- never say Yamapi isn't optimistic.
. . . . . . . . . .
Yamapi stood under a tree, looking around for a yellow cap. It would belong to a guy named Masuda Takahisa, his partner for the final project. They received each other's contact information when partners were assigned, but today would be the day they first meet and decide on what they'd work on.
Yamapi had sent a picture of himself when they'd come up with a date to meet, so that Masuda wouldn't have to ask around for a Yamashita Tomohisa. Masuda sent one of himself in reply, and added that he would be wearing a yellow cap that should be easy to spot.
From the photos, Masuda seems to be an average guy with a round face and a generous smile. From that smile alone, Yamapi thinks they should get along, as long as Masuda's capable of doing his part of the project.
Just a short distance away, Yamapi spots a yellow cap moving towards him. What he hadn't expected was the orange t-shirt and green pants.
Definitely a cheerful guy, then.
"Masuda-kun?" Yamapi calls out, waving his arm to gain attention.
The guy looks up with a large smile, "Ah, Yamashita-kun, right? Sorry I'm a bit late."
"Not at all," Yamapi says, glad that for once in his life, he wasn't the late one. First meetings are always awkward when you arrive late. "You're, uh," realizing that pointing out the bright colors might sound rude so Yamapi restrains himself from babbling that out, "taller than I thought you'd be. You know, from the photos."
"Oh," Masuda nods, "people tell me that a lot. I'm glad I'm not short! I can't help being kind of fat, though. I love food! And eating. They go together, so it's really only one thing."
"You're not fat," Yamapi says, and it's true. Masuda may be slightly plump (and even that's exaggerating because it's normal to have some fat on you despite what some people think), but Yamapi can see there are muscles under that bright orange shirt. From a physician's point of view, the young man looks fit and healthy.
"Thank you," Masuda smiles at him, and Yamapi has to blink a little because it's the first time he has seen a smile that wide and sincere. "You've nice, I hope we get along! Should we get started?"
Yamapi pulls out his personal computer from his bag -- his beloved foldable thirteen inch touchscreen.
"Here," Yamapi points at the screen, "I downloaded the files already. Do you have any preferences?"
"Ah, asking so suddenly?" Masuda exclaims. "To me, faces are simpler, but I have more experience in legs. I've heard it's the opposite for surgeons, though. What about Yamashita-kun?"
Yamapi shrugs. Attaching a leg or a nose actually takes the same amount of skill and time, so both would look well on his resume. He isn't sure how the professors intend to judge their complete works, but the University professors are known for being fair.
"Having working limbs sound more important than a complete face," Yamapi says. "Why don't we go for the middle and work on fingers or an arm?"
"Eh, so you haven't had a face change?" Masuda asks. He quickly adds, "I mean, I was just curious, because people talk about facial surgery all the time and I thought, since you have the access to all the equipment, just maybe...but it looks natural! Honest!"
Yamapi lets out a smile -- with his natural face, as Masuda puts it. "Huh, so I seem like the type to get face lifts?"
"But..." Masuda seems to ponder something for a while before blurting, "But you're so perfect!"
Yamapi blanks out at Masuda's outburst. It's not that he's unaware of his looks, because not only has he looked at mirrors and photos of himself but he also notices the people he attracts, and yet he's never had anyone told him he's perfect before. No one's perfect. Perfect is not really a definition and at such a time and age when money can buy you almost any face you want, the word perfect is just too strong.
Then he notices the blush on Masuda's cheeks and Yamapi's eyes widen in surprise. Oh. Apparently, his charms extend to Masuda-kun.
"Let's go with arms and start from there, should we?" Yamapi says lightly, attempting to play it cool lest it becomes awkward.
"Ah, um, sure, okay!" Masuda stutters.
Yamapi gestures to the screen, moving it so that Masuda can view it as well. Masuda seems uncertain as he leans over, ducking his head.
Unable to stop himself, Yamapi grins at the sight. They're University students, approaching their final projects and ready for graduation, yet Masuda's actions are so undeniably boyish -- youthful and innocent -- that, Yamapi decides, it's almost cute.
While Masuda scans the list of choices, Yamapi watches as Masuda's yellow cap bobs every time the guy so much as stirs. In a sudden act of playfulness, Yamapi plucks the cap off and twirls it in his hand. When Masuda yelps in protest and reaches to grab it back, Yamapi put the hat on himself, chuckling in amusement at the bewildered look on Masuda's face.
Pleased to meet you, Masuda-kun, Yamapi thinks to himself, all the while dodging Masuda's attempts at his hat (and carefully balancing his touchscreen).
. . . . . . . . . .
"Say, what's it like getting used to a new arm?"
Yamapi plops down to the chair next to Masuda, rousing the guy from his sleep. Startled, Masuda shoots up, frantically looking around until he sees Yamapi.
"Oh, Yamashita-kun? Ah!" Masuda exclaims, "I'm late, aren't I? Oh god, I'm so sorry, why didn't you just call me?"
Masuda has messed up the date in his hazed state. They had planned a lunch meeting, but it was tomorrow, not right now. Yamapi had been bored -- his friends were busy with their own work -- and needing a lunch partner, he thought he might as well use the chance to get to know his new partner. Since they'd shared their lab addresses and Masuda had given him an extended invitation, Yamapi had chosen to come in.
He can't help but find it slightly comical. Masuda seems easily rattled, or maybe Yamapi just naturally confuses the guy, but it is fun and Yamapi sees no reason to point out Masuda's mistake immediately.
"I think you drooled on your arm," Yamapi points out instead.
Masuda glances at his arm, then proceeds to blush (again) and look horrified while clearing his desk to find a tissue. While forcefully rubbing at his arm, Masuda looks up at Yamapi.
"You should have called," he pouts, close to a whine. "I'm not leaving a very good impression, am I?"
Yamapi takes the chance to look around. Masuda's lab is a simple one unlike his own, with dirty petri dishes and unfinished experimental chips laying everywhere, Masuda's lab is clean and orderly, with marked files on the shelves and unfinished ones with proper labels on the desks.
He blames the difference on their majors. Physiatrists work with complete bodies, their experiments are with actual people and their reactions while relearning their bodies. Yamapi has to work with body parts all the time, there should be litter all around his lab.
Yamapi looks back to Masuda, who is biting his lip and looking worried. He decides to come clean, "I haven't seen you work yet so I shouldn't judge," Yamapi says. "And actually, we're meeting tomorrow. I just walked past the building and thought I'd swing by and check out your lab."
"You scared me," Masuda accuses, but he looks more relieved than angry.
Yamapi raises both his hands in apology, "Sorry. It is lunch time, though. Would you like to grab lunch together?"
At the notion of lunch, Masuda flashes a bright smile at Yamapi, radiant as sunshine. It reminds Yamapi of the beach, bright and refreshing, and Yamapi wonders if anything gets the boy down. He doesn't bother to suspect whether the smile is fake, because no artificial smile could be that infectious.
When they bite into lunch, Yamapi relaxes along with the taste of food, just as he always does. Masuda, on the other hand, looks entirely ecstatic as he tears into his lunch.
Yamapi always did like people who properly appreciated their food.
"So, what's it like getting used to a new arm?" he asks again, now that they could have a full conversation.
"Eh, you were seriously asking that?" Masuda says with a mouth full of food, but the words are clear and Yamapi doesn't spot any unwanted food sneaking out.
Now isn't the time to be envious of people who can talk with their mouths full and make it sound as if they aren't. "I'm curious." he explains, "I mean, that's what we're working on, right? And you must have had some experience. All I've done is watch arms grow in tubes."
"It's not really much," Masuda shrugs, "I've only helped before, I've never felt it myself. They say it's odd though, feels different."
That was to be expected. Duplicated limbs are always different from their original, regardless of how well the regrowing process goes. Your limbs grow with you, your muscles adjust to how you use them and your body changes along with everyday decisions you make, what food you eat, what actions you do. No lab could reproduce all that.
"And of course, as expected, a lot of people complain that their fingers don't listen. I wonder if fingers sense how you're going to use them?" Masuda adds offhandedly.
Yamapi doesn't know what to say to that, so he bites into his food instead.
They fall into silence after that, not exactly awkward but not quite comfortable either. Yamapi tries to think of something to say, tempted to break the silence, but Masuda seems content with eating so Yamapi leaves it at that. Fortunately, they finish eating at around the same time.
After they clean up, Yamapi brings out the outlines he wrote the day before, and they start discussing how they should work together. Masuda wants to watch the rebuilding process at least more than once. Yamapi wouldn't mind watching the rehab, though he doesn't find it necessary. Together they come up with a schedule -- two months for Yamapi to rebuild a complete arm, two to three months for their patient to regain its use, and a whole month left for them to put it all on paper.
"Looks about perfect," Yamapi exclaims with a pat on the table, and Masuda nods in agreement.
They're both gathering their things and ready to go when Masuda suddenly says, "I'd be volunteering at the shelter tonight, and they have a few people in reconstruct." With a welcoming smile, Masuda asks, "Would you like to come?"
Yamapi thinks about accepting, because from what he's already seen Masuda's a wholesomely genuine person and he enjoys getting to know him. But he remembers his own plans for the night, a party his friends had invited him to. These things should not be compared, but his own plans seems petty even to him.
"I'm busy tonight," he says vaguely, not giving details.
"Ah, of course," Masuda replies easily, but the disappointment on the guy's face is obvious.
Yamapi wants to explain that he's not rejecting the offer, he just couldn't attend tonight, but he's already said no and he wonders if there's a way to take back a rejection because he can't think of any. Not without saying what he'd be doing at night, and he doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want Masuda to think he's the partying type either (even though he is, not always but still rather often).
"Are we still meeting tomorrow?" Masuda asks, cocking his head to the left.
Yamapi looks at Masuda, trying to read the guy's body language. Masuda looks like he wouldn't object to another lunch together, but it could just be that Masuda doesn't want to appear rude.
He wonders whether it would hurt if he flirts, just a little. Masuda had looked like he wouldn't mind the other day, blushing and commenting on Yamapi's looks. But thoughts of parties and drinks and flirting in the dance pool come up and when Yamapi puts all that against Masuda's smile, he feels as though there's something vile in his throat.
"Only if you want to," he finally says truthfully.
"Should we meet here, then?" Masuda grins, and Yamapi feels the atmosphere lighten up.
They argue on whether Yamapi should pick Masuda up again tomorrow until unthinkingly, they've walked back to where Masuda's lab is. Yamapi jokes that he brought Masuda back to where he found him, and under the bright sunlight, Masuda laughs.
. . . . . . . . . .
Waking up to an intergalactic call was not something Yamapi counted on when he went to sleep. Eyes blurry from tiredness, he forces himself up, wincing to see the words on the monitor indicating that the call was made by Nishikido Ryo from some Gamma galaxy somewhere.
Figures that Ryo wouldn't even bother to check what time sector Yamapi lives on.
It wouldn't do to hang up, either, because when Ryo wants to contact someone, he's the type that keeps calling until he gets through. Yamapi accepts the call with a sigh and lies back into the soft futon mourning his lost sleep.
"It's not working anymore," Ryo's assertive voice comes through.
That wakes Yamapi up instantly. Ryo could only be talking about one thing by that, and Yamapi dreads the full meaning of his words.
Ryo is a voyager. People born on spaceships, people who view their spaceship as home, who are more used to small, confined spaces and the vast darkness of space than to fields of extended space and open sky. Yamapi doesn't claim to understand how voyagers can continue traveling for so long, but he respects the pride they have of their inhabitation, and Ryo accepts him in return.
When Ryo was a child, his parents had thought planting an experimental radiative chip in his brain was a good idea. It was promised that the chip could control electronic devices by thought alone, but while it does work sometimes, it also gives the user a severe migraine. It was also, regrettably, irremovable.
By adjustment, the chips were rendered harmless and useless in most experiment samples. However, most people weren't voyagers and didn't live in huge electronic devices their whole lives. The modification had lowered the amount of pain, but Ryo still felt it from time to time.
As a single case, Ryo was ignored the physicians, and had been resigned to live with the headaches until he came to Aurora. They met by chance, and Ryo's story piqued Yamapi's interest immediately. He had already been studying Technology Embedment, and for his final project, he modified the chip in Ryo's brain to lessen its effects. It also led him to discover how much he enjoyed the subject and subsequently, helped him decide what he wanted to do in the future.
Yamapi had known it wouldn't work forever, though, and had warned Ryo about it. The chip had been with Ryo too long and had worked its way into Ryo's system. Since Ryo's body recognizes it as part of itself, the chip fixes itself -- thus returning to its previous injurious state.
But he didn't think it'd be this soon. It's only been two years since Ryo had left the planet. With Yamapi's calculations, it should have been ten years until Ryo's body caught on the change.
"Where are you?" Yamapi asks nervously, wondering if redoing the modification would work.
Even completing the program, he's still a student, without the proper experience to deal with this.
"Nowhere near Aurora, if that's what you're asking," Ryo replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "I just thought you should know."
Yamapi thinks of his current project, the one with Masuda, and he wonders if he could pull time from that to analyzing on Ryo's chip. Because of the project, he had neglected looking into it, despite telling Ryo that he would spend time researching.
"I've been busy on another project," Yamapi says honestly, full on ready to blame himself for ignoring his friend, "I-I'm sorry, Ryo."
"It's not your responsibility anyway," Ryo says. "Don't concern yourself over this, it's not worth it."
Yamapi recognizes Ryo's subtle ask for help. Ryo hates relying on other people, it comes with being a voyager, and even calling Yamapi must have pained him. Even if Ryo hadn't bothered to check that it was three in the morning for Yamapi.
"How far are you, then? As long as you come by, we can try working on it."
There's a pause until Ryo answers, "Ten months, maybe."
Yamapi takes in a deep breath. The Body Reconstruction project would be finished by then, he should be able to come up with something. And even if he doesn't, the same method might work again.
"Will I see you then?" Yamapi asks.
"Maybe," Ryo says, and Yamapi promptly hears a beep announcing the end of the call.
Yamapi stares at the clock for a while longer before flouncing himself back onto bed. Even after having his perfect night's sleep being disturbed, Yamapi had always been good at falling immediately asleep, and it doesn't take long before he falls into slumber with Ryo's call weighing on his mind.
. . . . . . . . . .
On his third attempt to calculate the exact mixture he would need, Yamapi nearly screams in annoyance. It should have only taken seconds, that was how simple it should be but the numbers were jumbled in Yamapi's brain and what is it with this blazing weather, anyway?
"Are you alright, Yamashita-kun?" Masuda asks beside him, "Am I bothering you?"
Yamapi looks to his right, where Masuda sits watching. As promised, Yamapi invited Masuda to watch him work in the lab. Unfortunately, everything irritates him today -- his work, his projects, the computer in the lab, the unfinished arm in the tube, the weather. The cloned arm should be nearly identical to the one it's based on, but the bones weren't growing to the right length, and what was the point? No one really has symmetrical arms anyway.
"It's fine," Yamapi snaps, then looks up in alert when he notices who he's speaking to. Masuda looks devastated, eyes wide and lips trembling as he shrinks into his chair. Yamapi instantly feels terrible. It just proves how bad a host he was.
"Sorry, I'm just...distracted today," Yamapi apologizes.
Masuda shouldn't have been on the receiving end of his wayward temper, no matter how bad his mood is. When Masuda doesn't reply immediately, Yamapi begins to panic. Everything was already going wrong this day, and he manages to offend his partner on his project as well?
After a nerve-wrecking wait, Masuda finally says, "How about taking a break?"
Yamapi eyes the half-grown arm in the tube, waiting for the right nutrients to prompt its growth. Not only do the procedures need to be done on schedule, but Masuda is here today only because he wants to understand how it works. He takes a quick glance at the stack of research papers he collected for Ryo's case, begging for attention.
"Can't," Yamapi says with a sigh, "this needs to be done today. And you're here to watch me work, not loiter around."
"If you say so," Masuda looks up at him, and Yamapi lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he sees Masuda's trademark smile. "I don't really mind. How about I go get us something, then? Food? Drinks?"
Yamapi wonders if Masuda is looking for an excuse to leave for a while, but decides that its not worth pondering over. At any rate, refreshments would be a nice diversion to this mucky day.
"There's a vending machine down the hall on the right."
Masuda bounces up straight away, hair flouncing. Yamapi isn't sure why he's suddenly noticing this, but Masuda's hair looks really soft, like it hasn't been exposed to excessive chemical solutions. Fluffy and silky and light even under the artificial lighting, Yamapi thinks with a hysteric chortle.
"What would you like?" Masuda asks.
"Anything not caffeinated," Yamapi replies. Caffeine would only make him more twitchy, and he doesn't want to get any more wounded up than he already is.
"Coming right up!" Masuda pipes, sounding like he'd recovered completely from being affected by Yamapi's sour mood. Not that he expects to drag Masuda down, but any normal person would have been at least displeased.
The door closes with a click. Yamapi finds himself looking at the closed door, cleanly white compared to the rest of the room.
Distracted was the right word. Or more like preoccupied. Yamapi could barely concentrate, and he feels terrible already but the more he thinks about it the more irritated he gets until he's sweating with restlessness. Yamapi hates feeling less than adept, it feels like he's failing himself somehow, especially when he knows he's capable of doing a decent job.
In the midst of musing, he fails to notice that Masuda's back until something cold is pressed against his palm, earning an undignified yelp from him.
"Oops, I didn't mean to scare you," Masuda says, "But you looked so serious and I didn't know what to say!"
Yamapi takes hold of the bottle, not bothering to retort that saying anything would have made more sense than just pressing the drink into his hands.
He twists the bottle open, noting that Masuda got him some kind of juice or something that was equally as healthy. The guy probably chose it to play safe, since some people don't drink sofa and others dislike the bitter taste of tea, but he sees the same bottle in Masuda's grip. Maybe he was thinking too much and the guy simply likes this type of drinks.
They drink in silence, Yamapi gulping it down and Masuda quietly sipping. Yamapi gladly notes that this time, the silence is comfortable instead of stressing.
"I should get back to work, huh," Yamapi says after a while, genuinely regretting that he has to leave this comfort.
It takes a while before Masuda answers. "Yamashita-kun is hard working, ne," Masuda says, "And I'm very lucky to have Yamashita-kun as my partner. But working too bad isn't very good either."
Yamapi doesn't know what to say to that, and so again he keeps his silence as he calls up the related data from the computers to run through once more. Masuda is right though, taking a break -- even one as short as the one he had -- does help, because now the corresponding solutions are clear in his mind, right in sight while they were out of reach before.
He thinks of thanking Masuda, but every sentence he thinks of sounds corny and unreal. He settles on something simpler.
"You don't have to be silent while I work, you know," Yamapi says. "It might help if you talk, actually."
"Eh, but I don't know what to say!" Masuda replies.
Yamapi shrugs in return. He just wants Masuda to relax and not feel inclined to keep quiet.
He's measuring the width and length of the bones in the arm, readying data and estimated numbers to feed into the simulator to emulate what would happen, when Masuda speaks up suddenly.
"Hey, did you know where they found the technology for regeneration?"
"Isn't this cloning?" Yamapi replies automatically. But then he thinks it over a little and realize what Masuda was referring to. "Oh, wait, I know what you're talking about. Some animal or something on Earth I think?"
Why is Masuda bringing this up, anyway? No one really talks about where old technologies come from, and regeneration has been around for a while. Few people are interested in Earth animals too, since it's difficult to get even visuals, and there's hardly a point in watching a world you're too far from. Except for voyagers, maybe.
Yamapi chalks it up to another eccentric point of Masuda's personality. The more he knows about the guy, the weirder he's getting. On first view, Masuda's fairly normal, cheerful and full of life like most people their age. But his lab space is the cleanest Yamapi's ever seen, and Masuda volunteers at the Shelter but doesn't like street strays. He wears bright clothes that are politely eye-catching and not-so-politely eye-burning, but claims to pay attention to fashion and comes up with pretty amazing outfits out of nowhere.
It's the small things that make Yamapi notice how odd Masuda is, tiny points that make up Masuda's character.
"Geckos!" Masuda pipes up, unaware of Yamapi's inner monologue. "They're lizards! With four legs. They can climb on walls and regrow their tails."
Masuda launches into a detailed description of what geckos are and how they were like. Yamapi listens while he works, politely nodding along as Masuda goes on about gecko behavior and inhibitats. And it might be because of Masuda's idle chatter, certainly not because of the content, but he manages to stay in a pleasant mood and the weather barely bothers him anymore.
"Hey," Yamapi begins, and Masuda immediately looks at him with full attention. "Sorry for being so irritated today. I'm not normally like this, I swear," and as a playful continuation, he raises his hand for an animated salute.
"Everyone has bad days," Masuda says, "It's alright. I still had fun! Yamashita-kun's lab is amazing."
"You mean messy?" Yamapi laughs. He knows what his lab's like, and there's no point in avoiding it. But the smile fades as he recalls other issues they might encounter. "Just, all this is giving a bad feeling about it. Feels like we're failing before we began, you know?"
Masuda seems unfazed by Yamapi's ominous words. "I don't think so. And even if we fail, we can try again next term."
"We?" Yamapi asks.
"Ah, we probably wouldn't be working together if that happens, right?" Masuda exclaims innocently.
If indeed they do fail this time (which wouldn't happen, not if Yamapi could help it), there's no guarantee that the final project for next term would be group projects once again. And even if the project would be in groups, they would only work together if Masuda wants to work together again. And if Yamapi wants to in reverse, but Yamapi prefers to think that he wouldn't have the chance to reject Masuda.
"Yeah," he says in reply, simple and concise.
. . . . . . . . . .
He hates it when he's right. Especially when it involves something as maddening as his final project.
"What is wrong with this guy? We get him a new arm, and he refuses to use it?" Yamapi spits out, enraged.
Masuda looks like he's about to cry. "I'm sorry, Yamashita-kun, I'd work harder so please, it's all my fault but I-"
'It's not your fault!' Yamapi shouts, shutting Masuda up abruptly. "What kind of-I can't even think of words to describe this, who the hell doesn't appreciate a new arm? No point in using it as long as it's there, the fuck? Ever think about the work we poured into this? Our marks?"
The arm needs to be fully functional for them to receive full marks. Not that all their scores would suffer -- the arm was at least fully attached, and according to Masuda, everything except the joints, including the elbow and fingers, were working fine.
"Yamashita-kun," Masuda says, only this time he's calmer and his voice's steady, "it is my fault, partially anyway, and so I'd work harder to convince Akaki-san to cooperate. I don't know how yet, but please, don't be mad."
Yamapi's anger deflates with that. Who could stay angry when those earnest eyes are looking at you?
Akaki is their patient. Yamapi has seen Masuda work with him, and the man had seemed alright at first, but seemed to lose interest when Masuda went on to help him recover joint capabilities. Then the man kept saying he's busy and he's not in a hurry to have all his arm's functions back, and no amount of convincing that they needed him to get their full marks had worked.
Yamapi tries not to think about how his work could have influenced this. He had accomplished all the processes properly and the arm was nearly identical with the other the patient had. The patient's body wasn't rejecting the arm, either, so he must have done his work accurately. Even if -- he had to admit to himself -- he had been distracted, he had gone through it.
He had to, because if any of it was his fault, then there's no way he could face Masuda straightly, and he should stop thinking about this right now.
"If it's partially your fault, it's mine too." Yamapi says, "So, urgh, do you have any clue how to start convincing the stubborn old man, anyway?"
"Therapy?" Masuda provides, "Or general counselling."
Yamapi chuckles at the thought of sitting the man into a counseling session. They might be on the right track though -- working from a psychological viewpoint might work better than speculating from nowhere.
"I know someone studying psychology. You think we should ask?" Yamapi says.
"Eh? You think we should? Um, do you think we should bother other people with this?"
"Wouldn't hurt," Yamapi shrugs, "And we're friends. Kind of. I know his friend, anyway. It'd be fine."
Masuda's still deciding by muttering to himself when Yamapi pulls out his phone. He grins when Masuda tries to stop to him, waves his hand to sooth the guy, and before Masuda could do anything the call goes through.
"Ah, Koyama? I'd like to speak to Tegoshi-kun."
Koyama's voice sounds frantic when he replies. "Is everything alright? He's not in trouble, is he?"
This makes Yamapi wonder what usually happens with Tegoshi. He hears Tegoshi's voice in the background, complaining to Koyama that he doesn't get in trouble. Often. "No, I just need his help with something." At Koyama's disbelieving shriek, he quickly adds, "He's studying psychology, right? It has to do with that."
"Ah," Koyama exclaims, sounding relieved. "You're lucky you called right now, I just picked up Tegoshi from campus. I'd hand the phone over, then. Tegoshi?"
The voice goes from Koyama's to Tegoshi's higher one, "Hi, Yamashita-kun! You need my help?"
Yamapi negotiates with Tegoshi until the other agrees to help Yamapi and Masuda, with the condition that Yamapi treats him to lunch the following week. Then Tegoshi somehow convinces Koyama to walk along with Tegoshi back to campus to meet Yamapi, and by the way Koyama listens to Tegoshi, Yamapi thinks Tegoshi might be the perfect person for this task. If Yamapi can survive dealing with him first.
After the phone call, Yamapi turns to Masuda, who was listening to a one-sided conversation with enthusiasm.
"They're coming," Yamapi explains.
"Eeeeeh?" Masuda lets out, almost resembling Koyama's shriek. Only less loud and less sharp.
. . . . . . . . . .
When Yamapi entered Masuda's lab, he hadn't expected to see Tegoshi in the room as well, gesturing at something while talking earnestly. Masuda looks comfortable just listening and nodding at intervals.
The talk the other day had gone well. And Yamapi recognizes the look on Masuda's face -- the boy was taken by Tegoshi, no doubt. Yamapi had seen Masuda look at him the same way when they first met.
"What's he doing here?" Yamapi grits out, motioning towards Tegoshi's direction, not bothering to pretend he doesn't find Tegoshi's presence straining.
"Don't worry," Tegoshi announces, "I'd be leaving soon, I'm just waiting for Koyama."
Is the guy incapable of walking without Koyama around? And what's with that glint in Tegoshi's eyes? Yamapi knows about Koyama coming to campus to pick up Tegoshi, it started back when Tegoshi just arrived at the city and didn't know the way, but there's no way Tegoshi still doesn't know the directions. It wasn't really like Tegoshi would be stuck anywhere without guidance.
Sure, he'd never been bothered by this before, and he sees Tegoshi fairly often. But it's never directly affected him before, Yamapi argues to himself. And he owes Tegoshi lunch. Does it never stop?
"We've come up with a plan to slowly lure Akaki-san into using his arms," Masuda says, "Tegoshi said it's easier to get them to do what you want without them realizing with people like Akaki-san."
Perhaps sensing Yamapi's cheerless mood, Masuda begins to move towards Yamapi. Instinctly, Yamapi backs away, only to see Masuda drop his arm with a disappointed look on his face.
He thinks of saying something, like he isn't rejecting Masuda (again), or maybe that he doesn't actually mind body contact. With the corner of his eye, Yamapi notices Tegoshi watching with an amused expression, and he thinks of saying something towards that instead, like how Tegoshi should wipe that unfitting smirk off before it gets glued to his face.
As if on cue, a phone ring cuts in. Tegoshi rushes to pick it up, then smiles sweetly into the receiver. "Kei-chan! Yes, everything went perfectly. Yamashita-kun's here, too! I'd be right out. It's fine!"
Once Tegoshi hangs up, he turns around and says in a completely different voice, "You probably heard, but Kei-chan's here, so I'm leaving!"
Yamapi wonders if Tegoshi has had alien implants, because no human should be that chipper all day long. Combined with Masuda's consistent lighthearted smile, Yamapi might just have to start wearing sunglasses in their presence. Or avoid seeing them together, because it's goddamn uncomfortable.
He looks towards Masuda, but couldn't even begin to guess what Masuda's thinking. In most ways, Masuda is a huge mystery Yamapi just can't seem to resolve. Right now, while Masuda seems to be pleasantly bidding Tegoshi farewell, he also seems to be fidgeting from the way he's tugging at his sleeves. Or is he thinking of ways to persuade Tegoshi to stay longer? It wouldn't work, Yamapi wants to say -- Tegoshi has a lot of other friends, Koyama just being one of them. Or were they friends? Sometimes, they look more like master and butler.
"See you then, Massu! Yamashita-kun!" Tegoshi waves energetically as he walks away.
Yamapi freezes, fixated on what Tegoshi called Masuda. They've known each other for two months but Masuda still called him Yamashita-kun, yet Masuda and Tegoshi uses nicknames with each other?
"Massu?" Yamapi questions, somewhat sharper than he intended.
"Oh!" Masuda smiles, "Um, my friends call me that. Tegoshi heard them and decided to call me that, too."
"It's a cute nickname."
"You're welcome to use it if you want," Masuda says good-naturedly. "Only if you want to, though," he adds, suddenly uncertain.
Were they friends? Or is this a step towards friendship? If that was so, he should probably be happy about this, but the word 'friends' leaves a bitter aftertaste Yamapi can't explain away.
"Massu, huh?" Yamapi murmurs to himself.
Masuda appears to not have heard, or has no reply to it, for which Yamapi is grateful. In his whirlpool of confusion, he did not think of returning the favor, though he has been called Yamapi instead of Yamashita for so long that he mostly refers to himself by the nickname.
On his desk, Masuda lays out his schedule, with the highlights Yamapi asked for the other day. Yamapi pulls over a chair from the desk beside him, a habit he'd developed since the day he first came to this lab. Luckily, Masuda's lab partner seems to be rarely around. When Yamapi asked, Masuda explained that his partner prefers working in the library, which suits Yamapi just fine.
To be truthful, Yamapi isn't interested in physical rehab. That's what he told Masuda, but the main reason he's paying attention is because he wanted to make sure the other doesn't slack off. He feels guilty thinking about it now, after realizing that while Masuda may seem easygoing, he's determined where it counts. He couldn't leave though, not with the small lie, and not when Masuda's so happily explaining the work he does.
Yamapi also hadn't thought that the problem would come from their patient -- he doesn't get to work with live subjects often, and Ryo had been more like a friend than an experiment subject.
Out of the blue, Masuda starts, "Hey, did you know," the phrases were familiar by now, "I had a small crush on you when we first met?"
Yamapi's breath hitches. He had known, of course he had known, who could have overlooked what was so blatantly obvious, but he hadn't thought that Masuda would ever confess to it. Unless it meant Masuda was completely over it and never expected Yamapi to reciprocate.
But then, what did he expect? Neither of them ever made a move. Yamapi couldn't say he's attracted to Masuda, though the boy does have a certain charm. A harmless boy-next-door vibe, maybe, with a smile and a scent of cookies.
"Ah," he replies curtly, unsure of what he should say.
There's nothing to say. Perhaps it's because Yamapi's used to people who looks at him and approaches him, only to leave after a while. Though Masuda's saying this now, Yamapi couldn't recall Masuda ever really stuttering after their first three meetings or so. If that was how long Masuda's crush had lasted, Yamapi isn't in the place to say anything. If after talking to Yamapi, Masuda had decided that Yamapi isn't appealing enough, then, well.
Anyway, it isn't like Yamapi wants anything out of this, so honestly, things are better this way.
"This is embarrassing," Masuda pouts, looking at the ceiling.
When they wrap up for the day, Yamapi wonders if he should have mentioned Tegoshi. After all, Masuda was the one who talked about crushes. It wouldn't have made a difference, though. Except maybe bring out a blushing Masuda, which would be amusing until Yamapi remembers that it's about Tegoshi.
"Dinner?" Yamapi asks, partly because he doesn't want to eat dinner alone, and partly because he keeps thinking about things related to Masuda and maybe Masuda's presence would help.
For a while, Masuda appears to be thinking. Then he looks at Yamapi and shakes his head. "Sorry, I have plans tonight."
Plans. The word sounds so general that it was difficult not to think it sounds like an excuse. If it was an excuse, then asking further would only seem pathetic, though Yamapi continues to feel rejected. A feeling he seemed to have given Masuda a lot, Yamapi thinks, so perhaps this is karma catching up on him.
Masuda then says he'd be tidying up his workspace before leaving, and Yamapi says goodbye, noticing his cue to depart.
. . . . . . . . . .
Walking alone on campus, Yamapi wonders if he should just eat in the cafeteria. Eating alone at a restaurant would be embarrassing, and food at the cafeterias cheaper.
While going through the menu and debating on what he should order for dinner, Yamapi doesn't notice the floating vehicle above him giving out. Detachedly, he thinks of going to the pub tonight, getting a few drinks in him before going home, when he hears the deafening screech of a brake being pushed past its limit.
When Yamapi sees the vehicle dropping altitude, he distantly thinks he probably should run, except the car's too close, barely a meter away and if the vehicle's safety system isn't reacting fast enough (it should have, they were designed to stop before anything with a human heat wavelength, so perhaps it's malfunctioning), then human speed wouldn't be either.
Shit, I can't die here, and he thinks he should be seeing images by now if that's what always happens when someone's about to die, but instead only his previous conversation with Masuda comes to mind when he feels the crash, he hears something like bones breaking and, oh god.
The preservation device all Aurora citizens are planted with at birth in his body sets to work. I can't-Yamapi violently yells, but his thought process halts completely as his body shuts down, the device directing all blood and air to the brain as it closes off anything that could cause further damage, including open flesh and his own panicking mind. If Yamapi is still thinking, he would see that the safety nets in the city were also intervening, grabbing onto the berserk vehicle and protecting his body.
But Yamapi could no more think than he could move as the campus around him continues to pulse with the sound of students screaming and the driver in hysterics.
. . . . . . . . . .
Groggily, he senses light reaching towards him. He tries raising his hand to grab onto the rays of light, but soon he realizes that he can't feel his own body, and the world plunges into darkness once more.
. . . . . . . . . .
Painfully slowly, Yamapi feels everything stir to life. He struggles to open his eyes, squinting as the mist around him dissolves gradually, settling into an image of a white ceiling. His ears take in noise, footsteps and someone calling his name, Tomohisa, not Yamashita or Yamapi.
He tries to remember what happened. The last thing he remembers was talking to -- wait no, that wasn't what happened, he was walking and there was a crash and, oh, the doctors must be bringing him back.
"Tomohisa!" a female voice cries.
It takes a while for the voice's identity to come to mind. It's a person he hasn't met in a long, long time. Not entirely surprisingly, he croaks, "Mom?"
His mother lives along with his sister on the outskirts of the city. For her to be here...well, of course. They aren't especially close, but she's his mother. It'd be odd if she weren't here.
"Don't-" she hiccups a little, the product of trying to talk and snuffle her tears at the same time, "-worry, you'd be-" another hic, "-perfectly fine. The doctors say, they said," another small pause, and finally she regained herself enough to finish her sentence, "you'd be back to normal completely, exactly like before the accident..."
Hearing this, Yamapi tries to feel his body and assess the damage, but all he feels is the dull ache of being under medical treatment.
The doctor must have realized what he was doing when she says, "Don't you worry, Yamashita-san. We're just bringing you out of preversation mode now. You're heading for a full recovery."
As a medical student himself, the doctor's words were empty, pretty comforting words that tells Yamapi nothing new. When he struggles to sit up, Yamapi's muscles complain loudly, refusing to listen to his command. When that doesn't work, he forces himself to calm down, breathing deeply and rinsing his throat so he could talk.
"What's-" the wheezing voice wasn't what he's used to hearing, but it is his own voice, not burnt or a temporary voice before rebuilding, for which he's grateful for, "-the damage? Just tell me."
"Well, Yamashita-san..." the doctor begins, searching for words.
Yamapi sighs mentally. If this is how all patients feel when their doctors aren't telling them everything in one go, then they should rethink what patients really want. "I'm a medical student with practicing licenses in Nanoscopic Surgery and Technology Embedment. Just tell me."
The doctor looks momentarily surprised before she recomposes herself. "Well..." she starts, obviously still wondering how blunt she should be, "Luckily, your organs are perfectly fine, the product of preservation. And, well...not so luckily, there's a scar on your face, and...um, we had to severe your left leg."
He should probably have something to say. Yamapi thinks there should be thought running through his mind, but his brain's a complete blank as it accepts that he's missing a left leg.
On the other hand, Yamapi's mother cries out yet again. At Yamapi's mother's destraught expression, the doctor quickly adds, "But your mother already paid for all expenses, so we'd be regenerating it as soon as possible!"
"That..." his mother stutters, "...that means you'd have a new leg very soon. They can even fix your face using the same technique -- oh, Tomohisa, you were always such a beautiful kid..."
"Someone own a mirror?" Yamapi asks.
The doctor looks weary as she holds a mirror over Yamapi's face. His mother almost attempted to stop the mirror from coming into Yamapi's view, but she lost her strength in the last moment.
Yamapi looks into the mirror.
After his mother's outburst, he thought it'd be worse. In comparsion to the sunken image of a face in his imagination, the burnt skin stretching from his left ear to the tips of his lips is...acceptable. Although his education is telling him that skin is relatively easy to replace, another part of him is somehow more interested in his change in appearance.
Like his mother said, people has always been saying he's beautiful, pretty, other words that only describe his appearance and not him. What would they say now? The part of him that's marvelling in this turn of events -- the somewhat crazy and unstable part, Yamapi thinks -- wants to ask.
The mirror is taken away. A beep from the machine on Yamapi's side indicates that the initial procedures for a recovery from preservation are done.
"We're giving you full control of your body now, Yamashita-san," the doctor says. "Please don't be surprised and move too suddenly or you could hurt youself."
Yamapi fully understands. He's been taught the same words, his instructors gets them to practice saying it in front of dummies. But when he suddenly feels his body, in a way completely different to the medical haze he was in, his instincts has him moving every muscle in his body at the same time. He senses his legs -- no wait his leg, because the other one isn't there, and his body knows this, is reacting to it in the way it would have if he hadn't been unconscious for the past few days.
The bed he's lying on reacts to his violent movements and clasps him down. His mother makes a grab for his hands, the warmth soothing against the unbalance he's feeling.
"We'd be leaving you alone for now," the doctor says flatly, "You can leave tomorrow, any equipment you might need can be rented on the second floor. We'd contact you when we're ready to replace your skin and leg."
After he calms down, the bed loosens it clutches, allowing him to sit up with the help from his mother. He stares at his missing leg, distantly mourning its loss, more so concerned and confused over the coincidence of this happening now.
When he already dislikes the regeneration process. Now it's happening to him and hell, three months? No way is he taking that long to get up and walk.
"You should contact your friends," his mother says, "They were worried, too. Someone...I couldn't catch most of what he said because there was loud music playing in the background, but I think he wants you to call him. And there was another...ah, I forgot the name, but he has a sweet voice, and he wants to visit after you wake up."
part two here>