Chapter 3: Situation

The traffic outside seems too quiet after her father leaves. The watery light from the overcast sky ghosts over the corners of the room, the extent of the world that she knows. Miku sits stiffly hunched over, her shoulders sore and slouched, fingers limp against the coverlet. A glance out the glass next to her gives a moment's interest as she takes in the sleepy neighborhood street, the high townhouses and narrow sidewalks. It seems to be a nice area, with benches and clean alleyways and a few gardens here and there. She watches a few cars drive past before turning her gaze back to the shadowed room, cautiously letting her thoughts wander.

Instead of the overwhelming fear and paralysis that had gripped her before Miku only feels a still calm. Everything seems rather stiff and she debates whether or not she should get up and walk around, stretch out the muscles which seem to have gone numb from lack of use. Feeling strangely detached she swings her legs over to the side and pushes herself up, only to shudder and shake, the wood floor seeming like ice to her bare feet, and fall backwards, her legs giving out in just a few moments.

She frowns down at the appendages, wiggling her toes experimentally. They respond easily enough though the joints crack. Rubbing her arms she cautiously places the feet back on the ground, giving them a test before rising slowly. One hand on the headboard she straightens up, pausing for a moment to let the dizziness of draining blood dissipate. Her sight comes back into focus and she gingerly pads towards the center of the room, a hand reaching up to graze the gently sloping ceiling as she works her way to the corner.

Amid a few boxes covered with cryptic labels a small mirror leans against the wall. Its silvery surface is tarnished, a muted rainbow splotch running across one corner. About the size of a notebook, it lies on its side, reflecting the dark floor and the pale feet standing before it. Taking her time, Miku leans over and grips it around its gold frame, holding it for a moment before bringing it to her face and staring.

If not for the bruise-like circles under her eyes and the sickly pallor of her skin Miku supposes she would look rather pretty. Her hair is smooth and long, its blue-green tresses falling around a small heart shaped face. Her lips are small but soft-looking, her eyebrows pale and high, set like bluish clouds above round aqua eyes.

She raises a finger to prod her cheek and watches as the reflection does the same. With a soft shuddering voice she recites her name, "Miku," and tries to match it to that face; her face. It doesn't help. She feels as if she is meeting a stranger.

Frowning, the face looking back at her frowns too, and she once again examines the shabby state she must be in. Although still pleasing, her hair is roughly tousled and overgrown and her lips are chapped as if nothing had touched them for weeks. With a slight shock she realizes that it is probably true.

How long had she been like this?

Her unfamiliar reflection becomes too much to bear and she sets it down, swallowing the unease building in the back of her throat. She can't put a word to the thing she feels as her mother gently opens the door and glides into the room, a tray of food grasped between her hands. There is no word for the buzzing emptiness in her head, the idea that just outside the door the woman had entered from is a house completely unknown to her although she had likely lived here for her entire life.

Miku's mother smiles curiously at her, standing alone in a corner in nothing but ratty pajamas. She tries to return the gesture, feeling the tired muscles of her face stretch in a way that seems unusual. The older woman beckons her over with a hand and seats her back on the bed, placing the tray in her lap. The steam from the soup tickles Miku's cold nose and she breathes in, the mist traveling soothingly through her nostrils and igniting a deep growling hunger that she hadn't noticed before.

"We've called the hospital and told them you woke up," Miku's mother states, her words lifting up at the end with a strange sort of energy. Miku takes a sip of her warm liquid as she nods in response, eyebrows furrowing as she focuses on the flavor. "They've sent out a doctor to check up on you. After all, you were only allowed home because your condition was stable and you know, I'm a school nurse and all, but they want to make sure nothing's happened. They'll be here real quick." The words all spill out in a continuous stream, as if the silent chill of the attic room scares the poor woman.

Miku nods once more, not finding the energy or willpower to respond otherwise. She watches in silence as her mother's hands fidget in front of her, her long fingers tightening around each other before reaching forward to tap Miku on her own hand. Miku glances up into nervously smiling eyes. "Don't eat too fast. You might get sick." An inspection of her bowl reveals that she had indeed devoured half the soup already. Taking smaller mouthfuls of liquid, Miku's eyes flicker up hesitantly as the door opens a second time, once again unveiling a small section of a hallway before closing and leaving two more human beings in the room.

Her father eyes the lady with him tensely, as if expecting her to suddenly explode into anger and/or flames. The woman for the most part seems to pay him no mind, quickly stepping across the wood floor to halt in front of Miku. Her mother hastily takes the tray out of Miku's lap and sets it on the bedside table. Miku instantly misses its warmth.

"Miss Hatsune," the woman's tone is clipped and monotone. "I'm Doctor Kasane. How are you feeling?"

Miku blinks a couple times at the young looking redhead in front of her before lowering her eyes to the ground. "Weak. Stiff." The doctor nods briefly at her words before setting a bag on the blanket next to Miku and shuffling through it.

"That's to be expected. You were in an immobile condition for a few weeks now." Miku's stomach gives a strange jerk at the simple way she says the words, as if they were discussing the weather instead of the strange blackout she had just gone through. Beyond her, her parents share a glance as Kasane pulls out a blood pressure meter and secures it around Miku's arm, pumping the sleeve full until her fingers lose feeling. Eyeing the gauge, she takes it off and replaces it with a stethoscope on Miku's chest and back, ordering her to take deep breathes as she listens. Finally she pulls back and looks Miku in the eyes, her magenta orbs seeming to burn into Miku's brain.

"What is twenty times six?"

Miku blinks. "One hundred and twenty."

"How many months in a year?"

"Twelve," Miku retorts, becoming bewildered by the doctor's intense stare.

"The average lifespan of an African rainbow toad?"

Miku frowns, her fingers clenching against the sheets. "There's no way that exsists."

Kasane nods slowly, writing something down on a sheet of paper and straightening up. "There doesn't seem to be any basic factual loss. She should be able to function properly day to day." Her parents nod carefully while Miku bites her tongue, careful not to let out the whirlwind of uncertainty that the statement caused. What exactly does she mean by 'function'?

The medic sets a small package down on the table, battling for space with the tray on the small surface. "We'll need a blood and urine sample." She gestures to the package and turns glances at the adults. "I'll leave you to do that yourself." With a flick of her pen she quickly jots something down on a corner of the paper and hands it to Miku's father. His eyes scan it expectantly.

"That's the contact info for a few well-known psychotherapists. If signs of post-traumatic stress disorder or anything unusual with her thoughts show up give them a call. Heck, call them even if they don't." Kasane doesn't seem to notice how Miku becomes very stiff at the mention of the mental illness, her mind instantly whirling even faster about what could've happened to make her liable for such a thing. Her mom had said they weren't allowed to tell her yet, but perhaps she can ask the specialist? Her gaze flickers to Doctor Kasane, sifting through her bag for another tool.

Before she has time to put words together the woman's hand is on her face, holding it still. "I'm checking your optical reaction," she reasons and switches on a small light in the other hand. "Just look straight at it and don't blink." Miku complies, staring into the light as it moves back and forth, back and forth. It's almost hypnotizing the way it moves around her sight, leaving trails of blurriness in its wake. It goes past her multiple times, just to her right in a sudo-rhythmic pattern until it breaks from its path and speeds forward towards her. Forward, so fast forward with its equally bright partner right next to it until they're so close she can feel the heat of them on her skin. But something hits her before she's burned and then she's falling, the wind whistling past her ears and its cold. So cold and she can't move, the light growing farther away every second, the sounds muffled and fading away into icy silence…

A gasp of breath forces its way into her lungs and she lurches forward, nearly hitting the lamp out of the doctor's hands. Her mother gives a cry and lunges forward, cradling her daughters head in her hands. Miku breathes in deeply, trying to calm her eccentrically palpitating heart and wiping the sudden sweat from her brow. In the background people are talking, Miku barely picking up the words "trauma", "accident", and "flashback", along with the order to keep her in bed for a while. Someone exits but she can't tell who; the world is too quiet right now, the floor boards spinning even as she looks at them.

"Miku?" Her mother's voice is frantic. "Miku are you alright, honey?" She tries to answer but her voice breaks on the first syllable, the interior of her throat feeling like dry ice. The sound of rushing air still echoes in her ears, the aftershock of the light still dancing in her vision. Another hand touches her shoulder – Dad – but she doesn't respond to her mother's anxious questions and father's gentle prodding until the sound of a knob turning sounds again and she shuts her eyes, the soft grinding hurting her ears.

"Ring?" This voice is lower than the others, male, a soft calm sound like water over stones. "Lui?" he questions again and she feels her parent's heads turn, her own gaze reopening and following theirs and assuring her theory about the newcomer. It is the young man she had woken up to, the one who ran off downstairs after she began to speak. He stands in the doorway uncertainly, a hand gripping the frame for support. His face is carefully controlled though she can see his neck is tense, his jaw tight. His concentrated look is felt every time it focuses on her, like a spotlight, trying to act as if it isn't by flickering back and forth between the adults and she swallows, straightening up and looking him in the eye.

He stiffens almost unperceivably in response but takes a step in, his hand falling from the door and a small smile edging onto the corners of his lips. Her parents – Ring and Lui he called them – rise from beside her, giving him a look before nodding and escaping out the door with the promise of muffins in thirty minutes. They leave the door open, the sounds of their actions wafting upstairs, but except for the echoes of pots banging and cars driving by Miku is left alone with the nameless man.

A/N: I can't believe I'm only on chapter three -_- Well, this isn't going to be that long of a story anyway so...

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