Chapter 3: I'm okay... maybe not?

...Then I blinked a few times to clear my sight.

Curling my fingers against the damp wood, I pushed myself up. I stared down at the wood for a few seconds in confusion. Looking back and forth, I tried to get an idea where I was again.

Hideki's gang.

I remember now. They were always causing trouble at school.

Why were they important now?

Closing my eyes, I focused on trying to remember, but my thoughts were so very clouded...

And I was in pain.

Each breath I took, it hurt. A stabbing pain in my side, like a terribly deep stitch I would get after training hard at the dojo. What had happened?

Feeling along my side, I felt a dampness that was different from the soaked rain in the wood. Shifting myself to lay on my good side, I stared down at my red palm and began to panic.

Cool it. Calm down and be rational. There was no use freaking out while I was hurt. Use that energy to move on, not thrash about in fright like before.

Before what? I didn't remember being afraid of anything and lashing out at anyone in particular. Hideki, yeah, but that was controlled strategy to wear him down.

That wasn't important. I was wounded and I needed help.

Gradually, bearing with the pain in my side, I sat up. Pulling up my shirt, I saw the line just below my ribs. I had been stabbed. If it had been any higher, a lung or something more vital might have been cut. Slow and steady breaths, for now.

That was odd.

Pulling my hand away from my shirt, I noticed how much slender my fingers were; they had long nails. Have I been neglecting to groom myself? Even if that were the case, these nails never would have survived my training. On top of that, my calloused knuckles were as soft and unblemished as gently curved rose petals.

Shaking my head, I couldn't bother with this oddity right now. For now, I firmly held my hand against the stab wound as I stood up. I had to find someone or get to a payphone. Actually, I had no change on me for a call... "Shit."

Blinking in surprise, I cursed again, "Shit. Fucking shit." Startled, I cleared my throat and tried speaking again. "Meow name is Hitoshi." That did it; something was wrong with my voice.

Why was I surprised? I'd been beaten, stabbed, and worn out from a vicious fight with Hideki. Of course I was going to sound funny.

But it wasn’t just my voice. When someone calls out a name that I should know, there should be a recognized association with it. Like a friend’s name will make me look for that face in the crowd.

I should have felt something when I heard my name. Even thinking it, my name didn’t feel right on me. Like it didn’t fit.

This was something I could put off for later. Time to move. One step at a time to test how badly I'd been hurt.

Each step left an acute sickening sensation running up my spine and somersaulting my stomach. Then the sick feeling transitioned to an aggravated burn or a ferociously alarming scratch in my flesh. I was tempted to feel it, as if the contact would make everything better like a cooling balm over my damage.

Okay, I mentally said in preparation for my next step… or steps: here came the shrine's steps. One at a time until I reached the bottom; then, to be careful, I slowed my pace to not slip on the wet pavement.

Once I got out of the shrine's grounds, I consoled myself that I was sure to find somebody out by the street.

Again, slowly but steadily, I made it across the slick ground and out into the open to be greeted by staring people. I gave them a weak and slightly trembling smile and waved for their attention. "Please help me! I've been stabbed!"

...Then my smile faltered when nobody made a move. And I stumbled to a halt as the cloudiness in my mind became too disorienting for me to take another sure step forward. Soon enough, the pavement was going to reach and face me faster than these pedestrians.

The world was spinning.

At least two businessmen came rushing to my side, or I had double-vision. They immediately came to support me by ushering me down to sit. I caught someone running across the street and entering a building. Likely to call for an ambulance.

Shuddering a single breath out, I relaxed. I was saved again.

Again?

My thoughts were so mixed. Was I suffering from shock? Was this confusion was a symptom?

Leaning back, the businessmen had me lay down on my back while I heard the annoying noise of sirens. That was fast...

A moment later, I heard a whistle being blown. I turned to see a policeman running on foot towards us.

One of the businessmen walked away to speak with the policeman -- that confirmed that my vision wasn’t doubled. The other businessman slipped his hand down to where I was holding my wound.

Internally, I asked: When did I do that? I was confused about when I’d started holding my wound. No… I was lost in a bewildering vortex. None of my thoughts were making sense to me.

"Here, relax and let me." Looking up, I gave him an unsteady nod and exchanged our hands. "What's your name?"

"Fumao. Fumeow Hitoshi." His brow raised and he gave me a perplexed look. I frowned, not sure how to respond with my funny voice making this worse than it already was.

"You a cosplayer?" Now it was my turn to look at him in confusion.

Gently shaking my head, I told him, "No. Student."

...Something was uncomfortable beneath me. I think I’d been laid down on a stick?

Actually... I kind of felt what that stick must be feeling with me lying on it. That was very strange...

Before I could investigate this, the remaining businessman said, "Forgive me; I'm Yotani Taro." He gave me a smile. "You will be okay. The police are here and I can hear the sirens coming closer. Won't be much longer now, Miss Fuma."

“...Huh?” My ears twitched to hear him better… which also felt odd.

“I said, not much longer now,” he partially repeated himself, but not the part I wanted clarified.

Hearing him call me that must have been a mistake. At the moment -- as weirded out as I was -- I didn't want to give him cause to leave my literally bloody side by correcting him.

"Thank you very mew’ch." In a tight lipped frustration, I scrunched up my face in worrisome wonder on how I could speak without screwing up what I wanted to say. I couldn’t even pronounce my name right!

Thankfully, we didn't have to speak anymore to each other because the policeman was now close to the two of us and spoke over a radio. It would have been rude to interrupt the officer -- and just more humiliating for me, sounding funny.

Taro was being bathed in brightly colored flashing lights.

The sirens peaked before being cut off.

Soon, I was surrounded and inspected by paramedics before being transferred over to a firm -- but comfortable -- cushioned board to be lifted up. I felt a hand lift up whatever was below me and drape it over my thighs. The stick-thing was strange because I could have sworn I felt it flipping its end -- like it was flexible enough to be tapping on my leg.

Just to figure out what the Hell was this thing, I tried to touch it. The instant my fingers brushed the fine texture of the “stick,” a paramedic pulled my hand back to secure me before the board I lay on was elevated. I respectfully kept my hands to myself and allowed the professionals to do their job.

The paramedics wheeled me to the ambulance and I saw them jump up into the back. Taro had had to let go of my side awhile ago, as one of the medics exchanged hands with him to inspect me, so I had to lift my head up in order to search for the businessman.

Looking down myself, I realized that my shirt was draped weirdly over me. Like I had on some padding… I’d have time to investigated later. Right now, I only had one last opportunity to exchange a farewell to Taro, and when I spotted him, I gave him a smile and carefully waved as he returned a red-handed wave goodbye.

My smiling face strained a little more into worried territory. Was I bleeding that much?

And on that note: he might want to wash his hands before going into work or there might be serious questions.

One of the medics reached out and closed the doors, one after the other, as he made certain my toesies weren’t getting slammed in the process. Then I tried, to the best of my ability, to enjoy the hospital…