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Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-
Keiji couldn’t help the anxious drumming of his fingers against his knee. He’d always hated hospitals. Too clean, too much, too- The more he dwelled on that the worst his nerves got. He was supposed to be calm, composed, and not the anxious wreck he currently was. However, all things considered, he was allowed a little weakness. He’d been kidnapped a few hours ago and had watched a series of horrors in that time. Now, he was simply waiting. Logic said that he should just go home, but after what he'd just seen he couldn't just leave and act like nothing had ever happened, which was why he found himself in the hospital waiting room, his nerves cranked up to the max.
He could still smell the flesh burning as the collar had heated up. Thank god it wasn’t his, but maybe that would’ve been better? Instead of watching a new, innocent acquaintance suffer, would it’ve been better for Keiji himself to have been voted out. By some weird stroke of luck, they’d somehow gotten the victim to a hospital before… before… No, he wasn’t going to think about it now. He could barely remember the exact events in detail. All he knew was one moment the teacher was dying, the next they were all screaming and running, and finally they’d all winded up at a hospital. Mishima hadn’t been the only injured one. Someone else, a high school boy by the name of Joe and a homemaker by the name of Kai were also… Keiji didn’t want to say it, even in his own thoughts. All he could do now was pray that they’d all survive.
All he could do was pray.
How many months had it been since the ‘Death Game’? How many sleepless nights had Keiji spent drinking himself to death since he’d witnessed three near death encounters. Sure, in his line of work, death wasn’t a stranger. That didn’t mean he was okay with it. But! If he thought about that anymore, he would cry! He took another swig of his drink, if only to calm his thoughts for five minutes. Sure, no one had died! Well, apart from Keiji’s will to live. He hadn’t remained in contact with anyone from the game; he couldn’t bear to. He didn’t want any reminders of what he’d seen all those weeks ago. If one round of trauma wasn’t enough, now he had a second one! Fanfuckingtastic.
There was a hand on his shoulder, followed by a gentle voice. “Keiji Shinogi, correct?” It was a little raspy, but there was a soft, warm...comforting tone to it. A familiar one, too.
The policeman turned around to be faced with someone he’d hoped to never see again, but in a weird way, he was relieved to see Mishima again. “...Yeah. That’s me. It’s been a while, hmm?”
“Indeed it has. How have you been?”
“Juuuuuust fine.” The policeman chuckled, shaking his head. “What about yourself? Glad to see you’re not dead.” He wasn’t himself, and he knew that. It was probably just the alcohol talking, but he didn’t care. He was too out of it to care. He probably wouldn’t even remember this by morning.
“Thank you for your concern. I have been quite well.”
“Really?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I haven’t been ‘quite well’, and I was only a witness to it. Logic says, you’re either lying to me, yourself or both.”
The teacher laughed sweetly at that, shaking his head, before ordering himself something to drink.
“You find something funny?” He smirked weakly as he spoke, his finger tracing the rim of his glass.
“Simply that you admit to your own poor mental state, but yet are concerned with mine. I think that is endearing.”
“Well, thank you kindly.”
“It is no problem.”
Despite his initial wishes to never speak to any of the fellow participants again, Keiji found himself quite enjoying the other man’s company. Out of all his sleepless nights in the bar, this one had been his personal favourite.
Spending the evening with Mishima had just become a habit. It turned out that the teacher had kept in touch with almost all of the other victims, which was nice. Keiji had dared show his face to some of them again once or twice, but he was still working out his feelings concerning the matter. For the most part, the only time Keiji ever dared think about the Game was those nights spent with Mishima. Over time, they’d become much less ‘drinking to death’ and more, ‘drinking as an excuse to see him again’. They never organised meetups, didn’t even have a way to contact each other outside of the bar. It was just that any time Keiji was there in that state, the kind face of the teacher would appear behind him, and comfort him until it was time for them to say farewell for the night.
It wasn’t every night. Keiji’s liver wouldn’t be able to handle it every night. He’d been drinking less and less as the weeks went by. The only requirement for Mishima to show up was that Keiji had to be there, and at least a little tipsy. Just enough to worry the teacher into coming over. It was weird, Keiji never saw him at the bar when he walked in, but then, he’d appear. It was sweet. It was nice. It was the reason he still bothered coming here. Even though he wasn’t 100% better, he didn’t feel the need to lock himself out from his own feelings anymore. He was getting there, ever so slowly, piece by piece. He’d been encouraged to give therapy a go, and that was helpful, if a little rocky and awkward at the start. That’d been Mishima’s idea. Hmm, that man was really helping out a whole lot after all.
Keiji found himself waiting there for what felt like an eternity. It’d never taken Mishima this long to show up before. What if he’d gotten bored with him? That was a possibility he really didn’t want to think about but couldn’t help but dwell on-
“If you’re waiting for that friend of yours, he told me to tell you he was busy tonight.” The bartender spoke in a nonchalant voice, with eyes that bore into Keiji’s soul.
“What?”
“He came in a few hours ago to tell me to tell ‘Mr Friendly Policeman’ that he couldn’t be here tonight. And for me to give you this.” A thin strip of paper was slid across the counter between the two of them, resting beside Keiji’s glass.
A string of numbers was written on it that Keiji recognised as a phone number. It was signed, with a short message beside it.
“I do not wish for you to be alone on a vulnerable night such as this, despite my inability to be there in person. I also believe that we should hold these meetings in less… damaging places for your physical and mental wellbeing. If you agree, simply send a message to the number below. Miss Nao has instructed me that I should have given it to you by now.
-Kazumi Mishima.”
Keiji couldn’t help his slight smirk as he read it. Perhaps remaining in contact with another participant wouldn’t be so dreadful after all.