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Kenji - Sight Club

Oct 19th, 2012
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  1. (I don't know, man. It's been a long week. Spoilers if you haven't seen Fight Club, I guess. KSFFWriter@gmail.com)
  2.  
  3. I slam my door hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I set the multitude of locks automatically. Turn, turn, slide, turn, key, slide, turn. Each clack of steel into steel helps calm my nerves, but only just enough to get by. I scan the room, my limited sight leaving everything blurry and indistinct. I can see well enough that no one is here.
  4.  
  5. I take a deep breath, and I walk over to the bed, unwinding my scarf as I go. It's great protection against garrote wire, but it's hot and irritating in the relative safety of my room.
  6.  
  7. "You talked about me."
  8.  
  9. The voice makes me jump, and I turn in a panic. Hisao is sitting on the chair next to the bed, glaring at me. At least, I think he's glaring. He wasn't in here a second ago. His voice is low, angry, and suspicious. "I've been infiltrating their ranks for months. I asked you for one thing, one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that."
  10.  
  11. He's just sitting there, relaxed as can be, with his rumpled, disheveled uniform. His tie is crooked and loose like always, no belt around his waist, and he's got that damn sweatervest on again. Hisao's hair is still messy, with that one strand that always seems to stand up.
  12.  
  13. Normally I'd try to redirect the conversation, to ask how he got in or what he's been doing with that girl he's always with. But there are more pressing problems. That girl at the cafeteria... "Why do people think I'm you?"
  14.  
  15. Hisao leans back in the chair slightly, with a frown. I adjust my glasses, my eyes hurt. He swipes a stick of pocky from one of my boxes, and fits it between his teeth like a cigarette. "I think you know."
  16.  
  17. "No, dude, I don't."
  18.  
  19. He leans forward a little, staring at my eyes. "Yes you do, Kenji. Why would anyone possibly confuse you for me?"
  20.  
  21. A strange sinking feeling settles in my gut. Different from the normal too-much-junkfood one. Something itches in the back of my mind, and I close my eyes against the pain the glasses causes them. For a moment I see Lilly Satou's face and her look of confusion when she mistook me for Hisao. My forced laugh to dispel her confusion only added to it, that laugh sounding strange even to me.
  22.  
  23. I open my eyes, and I see a knowing look in Hisao's. He smiles, that smile that always wins over all the girls. "You got it."
  24.  
  25. A flash of Mutou's suspicious glance when I told him my name. That strange familiar feeling when I introduced myself to the class.
  26.  
  27. I narrow my eyes, even though this only adds to the pain from my glasses. My head hurts. "No..."
  28.  
  29. Hisao's voice gains a slight edge. He's getting testy, like he does whenever I complain about the conspiracies rallied against us. "Say it."
  30.  
  31. A flash of memory assaults me, I see myself pouring sugar and salt into tiny caplets. I see myself forming flour paste into tiny pills, and filling the bottles that still remain in the room across the hall. I see myself making that heart surgery more real, adding that dark line of flesh on my chest in the empty showers of this hall.
  32.  
  33. I try not to let the realization set in, even as I voice the possibility. The impossibility. "Because... we're the same person."
  34.  
  35. That smile spreads on his lips. "That's right."
  36.  
  37. No, no that's not right. He continues anyway. "You wanted to fix your life. People here do it every day. They stand there and pretend that their disability doesn't exist. They pretend that they're just normal people, people who can leave their rooms and do whatever they like."
  38.  
  39. Hisao keeps talking, despite the pounding headache building in my mind. "Not everyone has something they can get corrected, but you just ran with it. I look like you want to look, I talk like you want to talk, I am smart, sociable, and most importantly I'm free to talk to women in all the ways that you are not."
  40.  
  41. No, no it doesn't even make sense, after all "You've got a dorm room!"
  42.  
  43. "You picked the lock months ago."
  44.  
  45. "You've got friends! You've got your own class!"
  46.  
  47. "You've got friends because you skip your class and go to 3-3. Or you stay home, and make pills."
  48.  
  49. My voice lowers. The sound of the revelations crashing through my mind fading with it. This can't be real. "Miki... Hisao, you're sleeping with Miki."
  50.  
  51. Hisao shakes his head once, and I feel his heart thump in his chest despite being three feet away from him. "Ah, technically, *you're* sleeping with Miki. But it's all the same to her."
  52.  
  53. I can't help recalling her face when I turned her away at my dorm room door. That confusion and anger when I stressed that I didn't know her and I didn't know where Hisao had gone. Her peering at me closely, trying to see through my thick glasses and around my scarf bunched up around my face.
  54.  
  55. I'd thought she was going to hurt me. Maybe I was hurting her.
  56.  
  57. I adjust my glasses, but my hand slips and they fall to the carpet. I wince and force myself to look around, why is everything suddenly so clear?
  58.  
  59. "Now you see the problem. She's too close. We need to figure out how to get rid of this feminist that has compromised our movement."
  60.  
  61. The laser surgery, months ago. On my eyes. It was... just a month before exams. I only came back just before Hisao first showed up.
  62.  
  63. Was I sleeping? Had I slept? Had I been locking myself in my room earlier after classes? Had I been staying in here later every day? "No, dude, this is crazy. The feminists-"
  64.  
  65. "No, *you're* crazy. I've got a date tonight, and there is simply no time for your conspiracy theorist CRAP."
  66.  
  67. It's just like with Clark Kent and Superman. The glasses come off, most of the hair gets combed back, the uniform is put on, and no one in Metropolis has any idea.
  68.  
  69. I know nothing else, until I wake up in bed again, but in that nearly empty room across the hall. It's nobody's room, no decoration or personality at all. There's an arm draped across my chest, belonging to that tanned girl from 3-3. She's got bandages on her wrist, but that's all she's wearing. I feel tired, drained despite only just having woken. That soreness and emptiness below my waist reminds me of the first time I'd discovered how women drain the life from men. This is only going to get worse, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
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