In Any Storm

Izumi was tired of her world crumbling around her.

How long had it been since she last felt happy in her life?

Years ago, she had been a bubbly girl without a care in the world. But what started as strange pains in her back suddenly became her being unable to move her legs to get herself out of bed one morning. Crying loudly with the biggest tears she ever had before, she called out for her daddy to rescue her.

Her mom and dad had held her tightly through the entire time she was tested and prodded by the doctors. Until they gave the news of her condition, her parents had kept smiling and telling her everything was OK. But behind a closed door, she could hear her mother weeping uncontrollably while her father tried his best to comfort her.

And so began her long life in the hospital. As her condition was very volatile and dangerous to her condition, she remained close to the doctors at all times and stayed in her bed like she was told. Luckily, some kids also staying in the hospital would come and visit her, playing and reading books together. They all loved the fantasy stories of knights and princesses the most when they shared story time together. Perhaps that’s where that seed was planted?

But as years passed and her condition never improved, the children grew out of their needs to stay at the hospital. Most of them at least, the others that didn’t, she refused to talk about further. But after many years, she found herself alone in the hospital, with almost no one to play with or talk to. Her family would take turns visiting her and staying the night, but there was only so much she could talk about with her parents or her younger sister.

Luckily, her condition finally stabilized enough for the doctors to feel comfortable enough for her to be allowed to use a wheelchair to explore more of the hospital besides her room of the last several years. It didn’t take long for her to find the building’s library, and her days were saved. She spent as much time as possible diving into the myriad of worlds the authors had crafted with their words. Desperately, she wanted to go on the same adventures as the heroes of these tales.

But she knew that was never to be. She was to remain her until she was actually better. So she would sit quietly in her room and read while the rain slowly ticked away on the widow in her room, too far away for her to get a good view out of ever.

And luckily it finally came. A drug that would allow her to live a more normal life. It wasn’t a miracle elixir that would completely reverse her condition, but she would soon be free to see the world far outside her tiny room for so long.

Early in the testing stage to see how her body would react to it, she found herself outside watching the rain fall as she had once again read all the books in the library. It was a magically calming feeling to her, the sight, the chill, the smell of the falling rain mixing with the dry earth outside. She could find at least some solace in this.

But that moment was broken by a pitiful sigh rising beside her. Turning to look she saw a boy about her age, dressed in a ball uniform, clutching his elbow with a defeated look in his eyes.

Normally someone who had such a simple problem feeling so worthless irked her relentlessly, but something was different. She couldn’t place it, but something bubbled up in her chest and she couldn’t resist talking to him.

“I know right?”

The rest was practically history, as each day brought her some strange excitement with the odd boy, who she finally learned the name of. He was such a weirdo, so concerned with things that didn’t matter and determined to get his way, no matter how annoying he was about it. But for some reason, she couldn’t deny her desire to be with him and see how his face would contort and shirk away whenever she prodded his nerves. It filled her days with a new joy she had never felt before.

She found it impossible to deny him, no matter how much he pissed her off with his constant desires to do things for her, she was more than capable of doing on her own now. As time passed, she wondered what would cause him to be such a way, and a bitter thought was the only thing that would remain when she shifted through the possibilities.

He pities me, she told herself, it’s the only reason he deals with me.

The mere thought of being looked down on like this nearly drove her to tears as her feelings tangled and knotted up in her chest. She didn’t want him to be near her, and yet she couldn’t stand being apart from him. It tore her up inside.

And the other girls at the school let her know, in no uncertain terms, that maybe that was the best way to do things. To stay away from him, it would be better for her that way, right? And if nothing else, he already had a happy life to live. He was already spoken for, so no matter what her heart said, she should just let him go.

But no matter what, she couldn’t stop answering his text messages, even if it took her hours to work up the nerves to even get her fingers to move, they would eventually do so on their own. But she had to be smart about it. No matter what he wanted, she had to keep him away from her.

The only reason then she would continue to go on adventures with him was a selfish desire to fulfill her own dreams. That’s exactly what she repeatedly told herself as she laughed wildly with him late at night in a back alley restaurant. She just couldn’t stop herself.

She tried to not show the rest of the world how she truly felt. Every day, she would throw on a bubbly smile and push herself into the classroom. And everyday it would slowly deteriorate as everyone quietly shunned her by exclusion. They would talk around her as if she wasn’t even there.

Their conversations would often start with commonplace topics, typical of any student's discussions. These ranged from class performance and grades to recent trends in pop culture—essentially everyday subjects. Yet, like clockwork, they would gradually transition to gossip.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that.”

“I know right? It's so gross, isn’t it?”

“Well, at least her legs have some use.”

Their deplorable jokes would be met with bursts of laughter. Although they never explicitly named the target of their ridicule, everyone in the classroom could easily discern who was at the receiving end of these comments.

The best Izumi could do was ignore them and pretend like it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t a perfect answer, but it wasn’t like anyone was coming to her rescue either. Not that she wanted to be saved, but she did wish it wasn’t happening in the first place. This was not how her dream high school life was supposed to go.

Repeatedly, she would arrive to find crude drawings defacing her desk, accompanied by even nastier messages. The nicest creation she saw was a doodle of a fly-infested pile of excrement. However, this mild sketch was the least of the transgressions on her desk.

Instead of erasing them, she would merely lift her head and cast a gaze across the classroom, her inky eyes scanning. Despite the class's chuckles resonating around her, she would nonchalantly shrug and settle into her seat, her gaze still fixated on the window, fully disengaged from the classroom's activities.

While she ignored the doodles on her desk, these were only the beginning of her problems. Over the following weeks, her belongings, including bags and books, would mysteriously vanish. During class, Mr. Sato would request that she share with a neighbor, yet none would oblige. Mr. Sato seemed to remain oblivious to the blatant shunning, proceeding as though nothing were awry. Fortunately, her books would frequently resurface, albeit in various trash bins throughout the school.

Even her gym attire, mandatory even if she was relegated to the sidelines, would periodically disappear, only to reappear at the conclusion of class, oddly laid out in front of the classroom taped to the chalkboard. She couldn't grasp the intent behind this act, and at this she didn’t care to understand. She would simply retrieve her clothing and stow it away in her bag.

But as time went on and the warm spring air gave way to a cold winter, her complex thoughts kept dragging her deeper into despair. And the medicine she was given was not helping. It made her sick to her stomach and racked her body with severe pains that affected her everyday life. But she refused to let it be seen by Ichiro for even a second. The last thing she wanted was for him to have another reason to pity her more.

Finally, on the eve of winter break, her class shoes went missing from her locker. She entered the classroom wearing her loafers, a practical choice since she wouldn't be traversing the school in them. This deviation didn't draw any comments, though whispers and laughter accompanied gestures behind her back as she reached her doodle-covered desk.

It took time, but eventually, her missing shoes were discovered wedged into the girls' toilet, hidden in the farthest stall on the top floor of the building. Given that the school lacked an elevator, there was no feasible way for her to have placed them there. Nevertheless, when the alerted teachers learned of the shoes' location, they reprimanded her for allowing such an incident to occur.

In a subdued and wordless manner, she retreated back to her desk, her gaze fixated on the outside world. Later that day, once the classroom emptied, leaving only the two of them behind, Ichiro approached her.

“Are you OK?” he inquired, his nerves evident as he rubbed the back of his head.

Her response was complete silence, her attention steadfastly directed towards the clouds outside.

“If you need anything, you know you can tell me, right?” he continued, his intentions clearly genuine.

Several seconds passed in pure silence. Izumi clutched her chest and held her breath, patiently waiting for this moment to pass. Her chest hurt too much to allow her to speak without crying, and she refused to let him see her tears. Eventually, after what could have been years, she heard him kick a chair over in frustration before slamming the sliding door shut. She wanted to vomit right there and then.

As time went on, and she still never adjusted well to the medicine no matter how the doctors changed her regiment, she grew to resent taking her medicine. Clutching the orange bottle tightly in her hand, she threw it away and never turned back. She never told her family about it, but she refused to take it anymore, even if it would make matters worse for her. She refused. She was going to make decisions for herself.

No one was going to tell her what to do with her life anymore. If she wanted to do something, she would not be stopped. She opened her Lime and began typing a text message.

“There is something I want.”