All My Loving_Yaoi Novel Page 3

  “No.” Kento maintained his bravado and pulled the covers over his head. In the dark, he gritted his teeth against the pain and clenched a fistful of his sheets.

  Mom.

  He called the name of the person he wanted most by his side. He felt a stinging at the back of his nose. He rubbed his nose against his pillow to distract himself from the pain. He could not let the tears spill. Not at any cost, even if no one was looking.

  I’m not a kid anymore.

  That was what he had said to his worried mother when he had decided to live in the dormitory alone. I’m not a kid anymore, he had reassured her.

  He didn’t want to worry his mother in London, nor his father in New York. Both of them were chasing their dreams; that was why he had convinced them that he wanted to chase his dreams too, since he wasn’t a child anymore.

  But… what if there’s a disease in my right leg?

  Both of his legs throbbed painfully, along with the beating of his heart. When he realized it, he was groaning in pain.

  “Kento! Kento, your leg hurts, doesn’t it?” He lifted his covers to see Tomoya peering at him with concern.

  “I’m fine… go back to sleep.” With that, Kento rolled over. Suddenly, a fierce pain shot through his legs, and a groan escaped through his gritted teeth. He managed to swallow it before he turned to the wall. He pulled the covers over his head again.

  The pain grew worse, and tears pried his eyelids apart. Kento bit his lip.

  Damnit, I will not cry.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had endured the pain like that.

  “Are you alright?” he heard a low voice suddenly whisper at his ear. “Look this way, Kento.”

  As he lethargically opened his eyes and twisted his neck, he saw Orihara looking down at him.

  “…It’s you.”

  “I’m sorry. If the pain was that bad, I should have prescribed you painkillers.”

  Orihara was wearing a collared shirt and pants instead of his lab coat. A large black bag was sitting at his feet. Orihara opened the bag and took out a medicine pouch.

  “Are you up for taking some medication?” He looked around. “I’ll go get some juice for you,” and left the room. After some moments, he returned, out of breath and a can of orange juice in hand.

  “Ah, that was a long way to the vending machine,” he laughed as he pulled the tab and handed the can to Kento.

  “Can you get up?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kento managed to prop half of his body up. He took the medicine capsule from Orihara and washed it down with orange juice.

  While he was busy with that, Orihara examined both of Kento’s legs and changed his poultice.

  The cool compress made the pain fade away, and Kento’s head finally cleared enough for him to think. He was still a little dazed, but he managed to thank Orihara.

  “How did you know?” he then asked.

  Orihara smiled gently. “Tomoya contacted Mrs. Fujimoto to tell her you were in pain. Mrs. Fujimoto asked me to make a house call here.”

  Fujimoto, the school nurse, lived in this dorm. Tomoya had probably gone running to her room.

  “Where’s Tomoya?”

  “He said he would stay over at Mrs. Fujimoto’s room tonight.”

  Kento looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was two in the morning. He whipped back to look at Orihara in surprise.

  “You came all the way here at this hour?”

  Orihara shook his head as if to say it was of no consequence.

  “Just to let you know, Mrs. Fujimoto used to work as a nurse long time ago at my uncle’s clinic. That’s why she often asks me to make house calls, and I usually can’t say no. Besides, after I heard you were in pain, there was no way I could leave you like that.”

  Orihara suddenly lowered his head with an apologetic look on his face.

  “I’m sorry. I should have prescribed you pain medication. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize…”

  Kento crawled under the covers again and looked steadily at Orihara. For a fleeting moment, he remembered how the man had been panting after hurrying to get him juice. The weight lifted from his heart, which had been heavy with anxiety. He felt a warm glow.

  “Hey…” he mustered the courage to say what came next. “Can you stay with me a little longer?”

  Orihara smiled and nodded. He took a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped Kento’s sweaty forehead.

  “Um...” Kento mustered the courage to open his mouth again. “Would I have to amputate my right leg?”

  Orihara widened his eyes and hastily removed his glasses.

  “Not at all! Don’t tell me that’s what you were worried about?”

  Kento began to think his concerns were immature, and blushed from the embarrassment.

  “No, I just thought I’d ask,” he mumbled brusquely.

  The apologetic look crossed Orihara’s face again, and he bobbed his head down in apology.

  “I’m sorry. I should have filled you in properly. Instead I made you worry about needless things.”

  Kento realized he was the one causing Orihara trouble.

  “Don’t apologize,” he raised his voice in a hurried tone. “My imagination was just getting carried away.”

  Orihara shook his head silently. Suddenly, he lifted his face and looked somewhere far away.

  “You’re right. If you thought you were going to have to amputate your leg, you’d be surprised… and probably devastated.”

  He reached out to take Kento’s hand.

  “That won’t happen to you. I promise. You can rest easy. I’ll make you better.”

  “Okay.”

  Orihara’s hand was surprisingly smaller than Kento’s, but it was soft, and he could almost feel the man’s body heat flowing into him.

  The painkiller seemed to have worked, for the throbbing in his leg gradually ebbed away. At last, Kento closed his eyes in peace.

  When he opened his eyes next, the dazzling sunlight was streaming in through the window.

  His leg still ached occasionally, but it wasn’t unbearable.

  “Was that a dream?”

  He saw the can of orange juice and the medicine pouch on his bedside table.

  “It wasn’t. He really did come for me.”

  Chapter 4

  Managing Director Mori was the one who arrived the next day to accompany Kento to his appointment. Mori raked a hand through his wavy hair and looked worriedly at Kento.

  “I’m responsible for what happens to you,” he said as he and Kento walked to Miyashita Clinic, located in front of the back gates of the school. “I promised your mother I would take good care of you.”

  Kento stuck his lip out, feeling again like he was being treated like a child.

  “I can take my health insurance card and go by myself.” He hadn’t told anyone about crying last night. “I’m fine on my own,” he announced confidently.

  “You might be, but I still want to hear about it from the doctor. It’s my job to keep an eye on you since you’re a part of our agency, Kento.”

  Kento was disappointed. He had actually planned not to say anything at all to the agency if he was told there was nothing wrong. He was starting to become worried that it would affect his audition prospects.

  “Anyway, I’m fine,” he reassured Mori, although he didn’t have much of a basis to say so.

  Miyashita Clinic was an old one-storey Japanese house surrounded by a fence of dark wooden slats. The fence ended in magnificent wooden gates, which were topped with a roof. On the gate pillar hung a sign that said “Miyashita Clinic” in brush writing.

  A white signboard was propped up in front of the gates indicating the hours of operation. The entrance appeared to be through the smaller door beside the gates.

  “You don’t see these kinds of clinics nowadays,” Mori commented. It was a short walk from the door to the entrance into the house, and the area around the pathway was lined with black
pebbles.

  They opened the glass-panelled sliding door and were met with a spacious area for taking off the shoes. A wooden shoe shelf, like the ones found at school, was placed against the wall. The blue linoleum floor was polished to a sheen.

  A nurse with a ponytail who looked about thirty was sitting at the reception desk.

  “This must be your first visit,” she said, her fox-like eyes smiling. “The doctor is seeing someone else at the moment. Could you wait for a little while?”

  Eventually, an older man with a burgeoning girth emerged from the consultation room.

  “Oh, Mr. Kawano, for your next appointment, could you take a sample of your urine first thing in the morning and bring it with you?” Orihara’s voice called after him. “Mrs. Nakagawa, could you give him a urine container?”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Nakagawa chirped energetically. She went to the cabinet and took out a small test-tube-like container. Kawano widened his eyes and adjusted his spectacles.

  “Why, you can’t expect me to aim into that tiny thing!”

  “Oh, Mr. Kawano, please,” Nurse Nakagawa burst out laughing. “You just need to put it into a paper cup or something first, and then put it in here.”

  “Ah, that’s what you meant,” Kawano roared in laughter along with her, then fished some change out of his pocket and put it into the small round saucer at the reception desk.

  “Well, see you, then.” With that, he left the clinic. Mori watched him leave, looking bewildered by the relaxed atmosphere.

  “Next person, please,” came Orihara’s voice, and Mori and Kento entered the consultation room.

  The room was about thirty square metres in area, with a desk and round stool in the centre and an examination table against the wall. The built-in shelf near the window contained test tubes, microscopes, and various medicine bottles.

  Orihara was at the desk in a lab coat, filling in the patient record. When he noticed the two come in, he looked up and said, “Ah.” Mori politely inclined his head.

  “We’re not related by blood, but I’ve come in place of Kento’s parents since they’re overseas.”

  “Let’s take an X-ray first,” said Orihara, and went into the room behind him.

  They heard some shuffling inside before Orihara popped his head out from behind the heavy-looking lead door.

  “If you could come in. Just Kento, please.”

  Kento went inside. It was a small room with no windows, and most of it was occupied by a strange-looking machine. An arm that looked like a power shovel extended from it, and there was a bed large enough for a person to lie down on.

  “Can you lie down here?”

  “Is this what an X-ray is?” Kento looked curiously around him.

  “Yes. Don’t move. I’m going to take two pictures.”

  Orihara laid Kento down on the bed, and placed a metal board under his feet.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” Orihara laughed as he explained. “The X-ray film is inside this flat metal box. Now, keep still.”

  Orihara moved the mechanical arm over Kento’s right foot. After the X-rays were taken, Orihara took the metallic board and went into another room.

  Mori and Kento were left behind in the consulting room. About fifteen minutes later, Orihara finally returned. The sleeves of his lab coat were rolled up, and he was holding a damp photograph.

  “It’s developed.”

  “Doctor, you developed that yourself?” Mori exclaimed in surprise.

  “Yes. At the university hospitals, we have radiologists and other staff to do everything for us, but here, I do everything myself. Like examining blood under a microscope, and all that. I do learn a lot from it,” Orihara said, laughing as he hung the damp film against a light box.

  “Of course, having an automatic developing machine makes things very easy.”

  In the photo, against a black background, was what looked like a white leg bone.

  Orihara scrutinized the photo carefully. He let out a short breath, then he pulled out a flat, square box from under his desk and extracted a similar-looking X-ray film. He hung it next to Kento’s X-ray.

  “This is called the tibia, the bone of your shin. This here is the patella, or your kneecap.”

  Orihara pointed at the film as he spoke.

  “The ligament that supports the kneecap is attached to this, the tibial tuberosity. Look: can you see the difference between Kento’s film and this one?”

  Mori compared the two images.

  “This part on Kento’s knee looks bumpier than the other one.”

  Orihara nudged his glasses up and nodded.

  “You’re right. I had suspicions when I examined Kento’s leg yesterday, but now from the photo we know for sure.”

  Kento shivered as he sat perched on the stool, his fists clenched in his lap.

  “What am I sick with?” he asked Orihara, who had his back turned to him. Orihara turned his body around to face Kento.

  “It’s called Osgood-Schlatter disease, a disease of your bone. It’s nothing bad. It’s seen often in growing adolescents.”

  Both Mori and Kento swallowed nervously, waiting for Orihara’s next words on the disease they had never even heard of. Orihara went on to explain briskly.

  “If too much stress is put on the bone during a growth spurt, from too much exercise, for example, this causes an abnormality in the tibial tuberosity. This causes severe pain in the knee during exercise.”

  Kento’s anxiety was somewhat lessened from Orihara’s reassurance that it wasn’t anything bad. Nevertheless, he stared at Orihara intently and asked, “How will it get better?”

  “As I said earlier, excessive exercise is one of the causes, so you’ll have to avoid exercise and stay rested for a while.”

  “Does that mean…” Kento widened his eyes and turned to Mori. Mori voiced his question.

  “Kento is doing dance right now. Are you saying he would have to take some time off?”

  Orihara looked back at the images.

  “In mild cases, reducing exercises is often enough. But in Kento’s case, the bone looks to be in quite bad condition. Dancing is very intense exercise and is particularly stressful on the knees. I’m sorry, but he will have to stop.”

  “No way!” Kento found himself yelling. “I can’t just quit dancing!”

  Orihara calmly looked at Kento. “Kento, it doesn’t mean you’re never going to dance again. You’re only taking a short break. Think about it carefully. You’re mature enough to understand. You’re not a child anymore, are you?”

  The word “child” was enough to make him shut up. He swallowed his complaints.

  He’s right. If I put up a fuss now…

  Mori might lose faith in Kento completely, and tell his mother that he didn’t think he could handle taking care of Kento after all. Kento had just told her not to worry because he wasn’t a child anymore. Now was the time to prove that he was mature.

  Kento set his face while he cast his thoughts frantically about. He nodded meekly, then flashed a smile at Mori.

  “The doctor’s absolutely right. I’ll follow his advice and focus on getting my leg better first. Could you hold off on firing me until then?”

  A look of relief crossed Mori’s face.

  “You’re taking it like a man, Kento. I’m impressed. Of course I won’t fire you. Even if you can’t dance, you can use the time for vocal training.”

  Despite that, Mori’s eyes were coloured with disappointment, and Kento knew that the road to debuting with the new group had been closed off to him.

  “For how long am I not allowed to exercise?” he murmured to Orihara.

  “At least six months. One year, if it looks bad. We’ll take an X-ray every month to see how you’re progressing and decide from there. You’re only banned from hard exercise. Otherwise, you can live your life as you normally would.”

  Mori parted with Kento at the dorm entrance.

/>   “I’ll e-mail your mother about this, but I want you to give her a call and tell her about it, too. Understand?” He clapped Kento on the shoulder. “I have high expectations for you. This injury doesn’t change that. Your chance will come, so be patient and work hard.”

  Although Mori’s tone was gentle, Kento could tell that this was his final notice. His debut was not going to happen.

  Tomoya was at his desk when Kento got back to his room. The boy turned around with a concerned look.

  “How was it, Kento?”

  Kento took off his jumper and sat down on the bed. “They said it’s no big deal,” he said, making sure his voice was bright.

  “That’s good!” Tomoya said happily.

  “But I won’t be allowed to dance for a while.”

  “What? Really?” Tomoya nearly kicked his chair over as he approached the bed. “Why not?”

  “I can’t put too much strain on my leg. The doctor said I have to stop dancing for at least six months,” he said bitterly, then glared at Tomoya. “Aren’t you glad to have one less person to compete against?”

  “What… that’s not how I feel at all.” Tomoya chewed his lip. “I’m really worried about you, you know. Why would I ever be happy that you’re injured?”

  Tomoya’s voice was strained and he sounded like he was about to cry. Kento loathed himself. Tomoya had looked out for him when he first transferred to this school. He knew well enough that Tomoya was a cheerful, honest boy who wasn’t two-faced.

  Nevertheless, he was unable to apologize. Kento sat at his desk without saying any more.

  It’s all his fault.

  An image of Orihara in his lab coat rose in his mind.

  It’s all because he said I had the knee condition.

  He knew he was just looking for someone to blame, but in this state, he could not cope without finding someone to make into the bad guy. Yet again made aware of his own childishness, Kento spiralled once more into self-loathing.

  Kento saw Orihara again two days later, after school. Kento was not involved in any after-school clubs since he already belonged to an entertainment agency.

  But now that he had no dance lessons to go to, Kento found himself with too much time to spare after classes. Tomoya had once invited him to come to the studio, anyway.