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Waiting to be Free

Benjiro is the new guy in town. He came from a life that he barely survived and wants nothing more than to live quietly. Soon, he will meet four different, seemingly perfect girls. But behind these masks of perfection, is pain. One is afraid of getting hurt. One is afraid of being left alone or invisible One is afraid of being seen as weak. One feels like a life is on her shoulders. And he will be forced find a way to help each of them overcome their own trauma, to help him process his own. Will helping them with their problems, make Benjiro stronger or will the weight of the past finally become too much?

Eugene_OMalley · Urban
Not enough ratings
92 Chs

Paper and memory

Benjiro made his way downtown, satchel in hand, towards the town library with a dual sense of anticipation and dread. He knew that there was nothing especially wrong with what he was doing, but he wasn't excited about the prospect of working over the weekend. Diligent was a word he would describe himself as, but workaholic certainly wasn't. If he had nothing to do, he'd probably go a little stir crazy, but he never went down the hard path if he could help it. Which begged the question that he had the answer to, but still didn't fully understand: Why was he doing this at all?

His Dad had helped point out that Haruoka struggled with schoolwork in a very similar manner that he used to and to an extent, still did. He had said he hated seeing people be denied something they wanted, although truth be told, there was a part of him that would probably enjoy the sight of the hyperviolent soccer player being denied the chance to play for a little longer. It was probably the pushover side of him that just wanted to do his job. But another part of him knew that it was something much more deeply ingrained than simply feeling benevolent or charitable.

Arriving at the large two story white stone building, Benjiro was impressed. He didn't come to this side of town often and while the houses, buildings and shops didn't make you wince when you looked at them, the library was an impressive sight. Through the glass doors lay what looked like a million worlds all encased in a rainforest's worth of paper and oceans' worth of ink. The library at the school was good for what it was, but in comparison, the town library was like a small mansion. At the front desk, typing behind a computer was an older bespectacled man. Between the glasses, the cardigan and the grey hair, it would've surprised Benjiro if he claimed to be anything more than a librarian.

When the librarian noticed him, he greeted and asked what he was visiting for.

"I'm l-looking for someth-thing like an Eng-glish dictionar-ry and m-maybe a book about t-teaching?" Benjiro asked.

The librarian typed his criteria into the computer and after getting what he wanted, scribbled down a list of letter and number codes onto a sticky note. He pointed towards the second floor and said, "The nonfiction section is upstairs. The codes are all in alphabetical order, but if you're still having trouble, just ask another librarian and they can give you a hand."

Benjiro nodded his thanks and traveled up the narrow, spiral staircase to the second floor. He wasn't sure why, but moving up that tall spiral amused him. It kind of made him feel like he was walking up a strand of DNA, which he knew nobody would understand if he said that out loud, but it made him laugh nonetheless. Since this was his first trip to the library since arriving in the town, he wasn't all that familiar with the terrain, but his dislike of asking for help, the feeling that the workers probably had better things to do and his overall social awkwardness, Benjiro decided it was probably for the best that he should just wander through the bookshelves until he found what he needed.

True to the older librarians' word though, the shelves and subject matter were separated by a certain number and letter codes. This at least made finding the right section easy, but the specific book was a little more difficult. Luckily there actually was a book on "Teaching for Dummies" which, he wasn't sure about what the author was trying to say about his readers, or what Benjiro was admitting about himself. But he was about to take on a deadly task and knew that you needed to crawl before you could walk.

After he had acquired a small pile of everything he thought he'd need, Benjiro's eye was caught by something on the floor below. He walked to the edge of the balcony which made that familiar sensation of vertigo shoot through his feet. Looking down, he recognized the back of a certain person's head. It was Yamanaka, and for once she wasn't talking loudly or throwing out terrible jokes and puns. Instead she was perfectly silent, serious and concentrated with her own pair of headphones plugged into her ears. Spread out in front of her was a small mountain of textbooks , an arsenal of pencils, pens, erasers and highlighters and more notebooks and papers than he had seen anyone who wasn't an honor student carry. 'Seeing such serious studying from a supposed stupidhead is stunning', he thought, 'Although thinking back she was never exactly stupid, just a little goofy.'

Benjiro let out a low whistle in amazement at the dedication Yamanaka was showing. To what end he couldn't even begin to hazard a guess. Realizing he probably shouldn't be whistling in any form in the library, he clamped a hand over his mouth, but by the looks of it nobody noticed or at the very least cared, which was fine by him. Looking at the covers of the books, he realized they were the same books Yamanaka made him swear not to tell anyone about, all those weeks ago. After checking his pile and making sure he had everything he thought he'd need, Benjiro's curiosity got the better of him.

He wasn't exactly sure why he felt the need to go and talk to the girl, but there was just something. It was as if there was a small voice, urging him to go forward and ask about what she was doing. Benjiro hesitated before he actually approached. 'What am I even supposed to say in this situation? "Hey there, Yamanaka! Do you mind if I sit down and ask you about something that's evidently so important and secretive that you swore me to silence?" No, that would just make me look like a jackass.'

While he awkwardly stood off to the side, trying to think of something to see, Yamanaka stretched out and saw him behind her. A look of surprise, fear and what looked like shame, passed across her face. Whipping her head back around, she looked like she wanted to just gather up her things and pretend nothing was happening, but there were too many supplies and they were too spread out to just shut them up. Yamanaka looked at Benjiro with a look of almost desperation. He walked forward slowly and awkwardly raised a hand, "H-Hey, Yaman-naka. How's it g-going?"

Quickly turning around again, she shut her notebooks and whipped around again, "I'm fine", she said in a strained voice, "What about you? Wh-What are you in the library for."

Benjiro wasn't great at picking up subtext, but even he realized that she was essentially asking, 'Why did you have to be right here, right now, while I'm here?'

"I'm p-picking up s-some material-ls for t-teaching Haruok-ka", he said in a fake calm voice.

"What are you trying to do", Yamanaka quickly responded, reverting to her teasing voice, "I thought Haruoka didn't like guys. What's going on in that crazy little cranium of yours? Are you going to kidnap her and tape her eyes open in front of a PowerPoint?"

Benjiro let out a snort at her bad joke, "No, I'm j-just trying to f-find a way that sh-she'll respond to. Someth-thing a little less abs-stract."

"Abstract? What does modern art have to do with this?"

Benjiro raised an annoyed eyebrow, "Th-that's not the k-kind of abstract I m-mean and you kn-know it. I m-mean something easi-ier to memorize and unders-stand than just a vocab sh-sheet."

Yamanaka looked as though she wasn't sure to be impressed or weirded out. Assuming she even cared enough to form an opinion.

"Well, I hope it works out alright in the end." Yamanaka said, looking desperate to end the conversation.

Benjiro wrung his hands as he already regretted the words leaving his mouth, "H-Hey, Yamanaka. If y-you don't m-mind me asking wh-what are you working on?"

Her strained smile tightened into something disturbing, "I thought I told you to never mention that."

Benjiro swallowed hard looking at the wolf-like smile, "Y-You just asked m-me to keep it a s-secret. Y-You n-never told m-me to n-not mention it."

Yamanaka stared at the ground for a moment, her smile completely drained. Instead it was replaced by a look of exhaustion. Her lips trembled as she looked like she was wrestling with the decision to speak. A heavy sigh exited her lips as she turned back around to the table and pulled out the chair next to her. Silently accepting her decision, Benjiro hesitantly sat down. He still wasn't sure why he asked, or why he didn't just drop it when he had the chance, but something else was telling him to stay.

Yamanaka reopened some of her notebooks and textbooks and waved her hand, "Take a look."

Benjiro scanned his eyes across the notebooks. The pages were absolutely jampacked with information from top to bottom. Despite the sheer amount of ink and graphite, there seemed to be a something resembling a method, primarily through color coding. The main subject of interest was the human brain, 'Ok, she's interested in the brain, but we already knew that. What else do we have?'

The farther in he went, he found there wasn't much about anatomy. Instead there were several notes about diseases, primarily focusing on memory loss. Causes, time frames, meds, treatments. There were five whole pages devoted to possible cures and some of the most advanced hospitals around the world. The pieces were starting to come together and Benjiro didn't like the picture they were forming. Clearing his throat, "Y-Yamanaka, is s-someone you l-love... in troubl-le?"

Yamanaka nodded and blinked like crazy to keep her eyes from watering.

"A g-grandparent?"

She shook her head. For a second, the silence between them was screaming louder than a jet engine, as those four words were spoken.

"No... it's my Dad."