Someday Is Everyday (Suzu route Act 2-3)

Someday Is Everyday


By the time I'm finally able to make it back to my room, I've never been more ready for the end of another exhausting day. Stepping through my door, though, I'm greeted by the sight of a meticulously clean floor. Right. There wasn't time to fix things before class today. Even though it's the place I've called home for three years, I feel like I'm walking into a minefield. Suddenly the edges of my bed, the sides of my nightstand, the tiny TV sitting on a pillow, all of these stand out in my slightly blurry vision as threats. It makes me wonder if there are any other students who have to do battle with things like gravity. I'm sure that there are a few who have it worse than me, but I'm far too tired to dredge through the list right now.

Oh well. I let my bag fall to the ground next to the door with a thump. Got to start somewhere, right? Then, moving as quickly as my worn out legs will allow, I go to each of the neatly stacked and organized piles comprised of stuffed animals, small pillows and other like objects, and scatter their contents across the floor. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel a little good, there's a sort of childlike charm in making a mess. But at least I have a good reason for it. It only takes me a few minutes to coat the carpet in the usual arrangement of soft debris, although something tells me that I'll never get the proper sprawl of stuff back that only time and good old negligence can create.

With that out of the way, I'm finally able to start getting ready for bed, feeling like a zombie the whole time. The regular motions of brushing my teeth and changing into shorts and a t-shirt pass in a blur, until, mercifully, the next thing I feel is my head against the pillow.

Ahhh. I rub my face against the soft lump in front of me and spend a few moments worming my way into the most comfortable position. Finally, today is over. Tomorrow is another day but for now, this is the part where I sleep.


...This is the part where I sleep.

This is. The part. Where I sleep.

Someone tell me this is just a bad joke. I toss and turn, flip my pillow around, go from laying on my back to my stomach and vice versa. Nothing helps. I begin to wonder if this is the start of another week long bout of insomnia, something that happens now and then without fail. I really hope not, there's nothing like constantly feeling tired during the day and being totally unable to sleep at night to completely and utterly destroy yours social and school life. No no, this can't happen right now, I can't afford to fall behind in my classes again, and if I turn into a complete zombie I'll be a burden on everyone. I've had enough of that for a while, what with the drama on the stairs. My mind briefly flashes back to the conversation I shared with Hisao, one that we hadn't picked up after class got out.

He'd almost admitted that he'd been in the hospital, and for a long enough time to start hating the food there. Although, I guess anyone could grow to dislike it pretty fast if it was bad to begin with. The fact itself doesn't really surprise me, I'm sure just about everyone here has spent their share of time at hospitals. In fact, when I first came to Yamaku I remember feeling like the school almost resembled one big medical center but with nice brick buildings and fancy gates. But times have changes since then. Things have happened. Yamaku is my home away from home, and at its heart, it's just another school, filled with kids who are just like the ones you'd find anywhere else. I hope Hisao will come to realize that himself, with time.

I open my eyes and peer at the massive fuzzy dinosaur that still stares at me from across the room. In my haste to reclaim territory, I had apparently forgotten to mess up the floor between my bed and the table. My gaze switches back and forth between the huge stuffed animal and the bare carpet, and I wonder. It does look comfy. And it might be easier to sleep with something like that wrapped in my arms...
But it's late, and I'm so tired, and that floor is... instead, I flip on the light, grab a book from my nightstand, and begin halfheartedly grinding through the pages until somewhere along the line I stop existing, and instead dream of skeletons riding dinosaurs, Taro rolling down a staircase while inside a hamster ball, and other things I can't remember or might not want to.


I open my eyes the next morning after only waking up once or twice the night before, and I know that today is going to be a good day. Then I notice the book, still lying next to my head, which might or might not bear evidence of drool. Cautiously and quietly, even though I'm alone, I place it on the sunlight of my windowsill, today is going to be a good day.

This is the second time in two days I've woken up before my alarm has gone off, but miraculously I'm not even tired. It can be... difficult to recharge my batteries with a head like mine, but today seems like my lucky day. I switch my alarm clock off to avoid it ringing when I'm not there, and swing my legs off the bed. I reach down and adjust my knee brace to make sure it's still tight and in the correct position, and as I do, a flash of pain jolts through my kneecap. One sharp intake of breath through grit teeth and it's gone, though. It's definitely taking its time to heal, but I guess I'm lucky that one knee brace and a couple scars are my only reminder of that particular adventure. And what's a few more scars? Nothing at all. The light feeling that sits firmly behind my eyes refuses to go away, I won't let something as stupid as a healing kneecap ruin my morning.

It's so rare to feel alive in the mornings these days.

I gather up my uniform and everything else I'll need to start the day in my arms before heading to the door. Opening it though, I find myself face to face with Miki, good hand raised as if she was about to knock.

“Oh. Mornin', Suzu.” She grunts. She looks like hell, slouching slightly as she stands there, dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey. Is it opposite day?” Usually our mornings are the other way around, but for once, I'm the one feeling chipper while she looks like she didn't sleep a wink. Miki forces a smile.

“Yeah yeah, don't rub it in. I couldn't sleep last night.”

I can't help but let my eyes wander down to the stump that was Miki's left hand. If she was up all night last night, the normal thing to assume is that she was out with some of our friends, or with her buddies from the track club, maybe even a clandestine moonlight encounter, who knows. But secretly, I've always hoped that she has a costume stashed away somewhere in her room, with tight spandex and an assortment of hooks, swords, machine guns and various other things that she attaches to her wrist. And then she goes and spends the entire night fighting crime. Maybe it's all the times that she's kept an eye on me during one of my episodes, but it doesn't seem like too much of a stretch to picture Miki as a superhero.

My thoughts return to the spread of objects haphazardly spilled across my bedroom floor behind me. Just like with my carpet, the tale of the Masked Miki is probably a happier one than the real truth. It makes me a little sad, as if we're both lying to the world and putting on a happy face. But then again, at least in Miki's defense, her secret identity is probably all in my head. What would her vigilante name be? Wait, wait, no contest, Stumpfist. Yes. That's--

“Hello Sergeant Suzu, are you receiving?” Miki's interruption brings me out of my stupor. She looks a little bit annoyed. Shouldn't have called her Stumpfist.

“Sorry, what?” Maybe I'm not as awake as I thought. It can be hard to tell the difference sometimes.

“You haven't been sleepwalking again, have you?” Miki asks, only half joking. When I shake my head, she flashes her trademark grin, but it only makes her look more exhausted.

“Okay, well now that I know you're awake, I'm gonna go not be awake for a while longer. See you in class?”

“Sounds good. See you Stu--Miki.” She eyes me with a look halfway between curiosity and concern for a moment, but then turns and stumbles back towards her room, waving goodbye with her good hand.

I really should be more careful with the things I almost blurt out. Miki has always been self-conscious of her injury, she stubbornly refuses to adapt to having one hand and usually just ignores her useless wrist out of what seems like spite. When I say Stumpfist, I picture a master of one-handed martial arts, a masked hero who brings hope to the downtrodden people of Yamaku City. But if she heard it, she might think I was making fun of her, even though I would never do that. So I have to be careful. I like my friends a lot, I really do. And I need them. So I need them to like me too.

Still standing in my doorway, I feel a sudden pang of fatigue, and I remember that I still have my uniform and all my other morning utilities piled in my arms. Hoping that a quick shower will drive off these feelings, I make my way to the bathroom in my wing of the girl's dormitory.



By the time I'm ready to leave the dorms, the sun's shining still hasn't been able to lift the chill that hangs in the morning air. Dew glistens on the grass as I make my way across the expansive grounds towards the main building. It's still early, I recognize most of the other students I see out and about as being some of the most studious and serious kids around. They stare as if they've never seen me before, but I don't let it bother me. A lot of the time, those who don't know anything about narcolepsy dismiss people who have it as being lazy or slackers. Things are better here at Yamaku, where they usually give you the benefit of the doubt, but people will still be people. If you see someone sleeping in class, you're going to assume. Luckily by now pretty much everyone in my class knows that it's not that simple. I guess. I mean, I don't know if I'd say “luckily”, but it's the way things are.

No, things could always be worse. I stop to take in the scent of freshly mowed grass that drifts by on a cold morning breeze. The wind blows my hair around, but I've never really put too much effort into it anyway.

Making my way inside the main building, I gather my strength and bound up the staircases that stand between me and class 3-3. I have no real reason to be here this early, but I guess I don't really have a reason not to be here, either. And besides, I don't want to risk napping somewhere, I might sleep for too long or worse, this good feeling I have could be gone when I wake up. So instead I embrace this strange new world of a quiet, cold early morning school, and step into my classroom.
It's completely empty. I set my bag on my desk, and then glance around. With just me here, it's like I'm in charge. Huh.

I begin to wonder what I should do with all this power. Rummaging through other people's desks is out of the question, the teacher's desk not quite as much but still not a good idea. I sink into my chair, thinking that maybe this whole thing isn't as exciting as it looked. I contemplate writing something on the blackboard, but can't think of anything funny.

Just as I begin to consider taking a nap after all, the door opens and the teacher shambles in., Mutou looks like death warmed over as he strides to his desk and sets down his briefcase with a long sigh. I blink hard a few times to make sure I'm still awake and my mind isn't playing tricks on me again. It's only then that Mutou looks up and notices me sitting there, his face slowly changing into a mask of surprise.

“Good morning, teacher.” I find myself reflexively cupping my chin in my hand, as if my body is preparing for another long lecture. But Mutou scratches his scraggly cheek, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Good morning, Miss... uh...”

Oh right. I'd forgotten how bad he is with names. But, uh, I've been in his class all year.

I stare back at him, not sure if the polite thing to do is let him try to remember who I am on his own or speak up and correct him.

“Um... Miss...”

Does he really not remember my name? I wonder, If I dyed my hair pink and practiced a distinctive, booming laugh, would he remember me then? Even the thought of trying to imitate my classmate's “wahaha” forces me to yawn, and Mutou latches onto the conversation cue like a lifebuoy.

“What brings you to class so early this morning?” He asks.

“I don't know, I just woke up and it was a nice day outside so I figured I'd get a jump start.” I turn my head to look outside the window at the blue sky beyond.

I'm about to ask him the same question, but I don't get the chance. I blink and the classroom is gone, along with Mutou, the sunlight, and my desk. In its place is the all too familiar wooden table in front of me, with the sickeningly familiar plastic board game set out on top of it.



I was only half right about Mutou leaving, it seems. Seated across from me is a skeleton clad in my teacher's familiar brown coat and black shirt, complete with matching tie. Even the unkempt black hair is still there, contrasting weirdly with a bleached white scalp of bone.

The creature in front of me gives a friendly wave, which does very little to dissuade the cold feeling sinking into my gut.

“What brings you to class so early this morning?” He echoes my teacher in word alone, the actual sound is hard to describe, somewhere between pouring gravel and wind hissing through a tunnel.

I only manage a sigh in response, and slowly glance around at the same familiar blackness that surrounds me on all sides. The table, the game, everything except the company is all the same.

“You look disappointed, Suki.” I look up into those dark sockets that stare straight back at me.

“At least I remembered your name.” He chortles.

“That's not my name.”

Death spreads his bony hands in a half shrugging motion.

“Semantics. Why are you so antsy? It seems like it's been forever since we enjoyed a nice little game.”

That's because last time you were almost choking me, I want to say. But I almost don't dare to even think it, that alone might be enough to set him off again. So instead, I'm left with no choice but to study the board in front of me. The pieces are laid out in a scattered formation and mostly undamaged, either it's early in the game or I'm winning, and I somehow doubt that last one.

“You seem a little down, Suki. Were you expecting someone else? Maybe you wanted to be off in dreamland with Mister Nakai?” His tone grates, but right now I'm just glad that it lacks any real malice.

“I don't want to be anywhere but in class. D3.”

“Miss. But still, you can't really complain, now can you?”

I look up from the game, trying to fight off a yawn. I'm yawning in my own dream? Damn it.

“It's your turn.” I say.

“Oh, is it? B8.” Death scratches at his chin just like Mutou had minutes... was it minutes earlier? It could be seconds. It could be hours. I could have gotten to class early and slept through the whole thing. That would be my luck. But no, someone would wake me up, they wouldn't let that happen.

“Suzu.” Death's tone is threatening, and I realize I had been getting distracted. Anything was a welcome distraction from this, but after last time...

“B8 is a miss. A3?”

“Hit.” then “I'm letting you win, you know.”

I glance up at the figure across the table from me in surprise, who stares back, the perpetual grin on his face revealing nothing.

“You're what?”

Death slowly holds a finger up to his white lips, or lack thereof.

“Suzuki? It's time to wake up. C'mon, now.”

I hear the soft roar of the voices in the classroom before I feel the gentle prodding of my arm. I open my eyes to see Mutou, complete with skin and all, giving me a rare smile. Next to him is Hisao, who mirrors the teacher's expression.

“You cheated.” I mumble as I sit up and stretch my arms and shoulders.

“I didn't know we were playing a game.” Hisao replies, and Mutou leaves to begin sorting through stacks of papers on his desk. It appears that class will be beginning soon.

“You told him my name, didn't you?” I blink away sleep.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Hisao feigns ignorance. “But I'm impressed that you made it up the stairs all by yourself.”

“It will take more than stairs to stop me." I'm mumbling again, but I feel my strength begin to return. I glance over to my right where Miki sits behind her desk, looking carefree as ever. She seems to be fully awake by now, and gives me an encouraging wink before returning to a conversation with a couple other students.

I turn back to Hisao, who opens his mouth to speak, but the bell chimes before he can say anything.

“Sit down please, Nakai.” Mutou calls. Hisao looks at the teacher for a moment, and then back to me.

“I knew it. He remembers your name but not mine.” I pretend to glare at the boy in front of me, but I don't mean it. Hisao lets out an embarrassed laugh.

“There's something I need to ask you during lunch break, if that's okay.”

I can't help but perk up a little.

“Sure, I'm not going anywhere.” I hope.

Hisao nods and then takes his seat in the row behind me, and I'm left swimming in thoughts of mysterious questions and rigged games, as Mutou launches into today's lesson.