Kokomi hadn't been feeling well.
Sick days were used as she lay in bed, drifting between being conscious and not like the waves. Bubbles of foamy bile force her awake minutes apart, but she is barely present for them. Like someone watching their own body through foggy glass.
Her boss is getting worried, she says through the phone, it's not like Kokomi to get this ill - but there is nothing she can do to fix it. Antibiotics and Ibuprofen bottles lay strung across her floor, pills spilling out into the carpet.
This beast of illness is nothing she can outwit nor defeat. She hates feeling this useless - her friends are worried, Gorou visits almost everyday. Kokomi can see the concern and fear behind his smile, behind his eyes.
Her feet drag her to the kitchen, hunger her only driving motive. Looking around she finds nothing seems appealing, but she'll puke it up soon anyway. Gorou made soup, but she doesn't have the heart to tell him it's far too salty to eat.
Her bowls are polished and clean, no thanks to her, so she eats Captain Crunch in the same night gown she's worn for a week. She can already feel it bubbling in her stomach, like a cat waiting to pounce and force back up anything in her gut.
Oh god. She can feel it launch to her throat. Quickly abandoning the kitchen table - she can hear her bowl fall and clatter on the hardwood floor. It must wake her general. By the time she's leaning over the toilet, he's right behind her, holding her hair.
It feels like dying, over and over again, as she heaves everything back up. Tears prick in the corner of her eyes as this dreaded sickness buries its heel in her throat. She feels choked. Oh my god she's going to die its in her lungs this is it she's going to die her
And then it stops. Scarlet red is left on her lips, Gorou's saying something but she can't hear over the violent ringing in her ears. Unfocused eyes finally grasp a color, red. Red, red, red. Clearer and clearer her view becomes, she can feel herself shaking, tears slip from her eyes and down her sunken cheeks.
Her mind is foggy, Gorou left at some point and returned with his phone, but she couldn't tell you when. She could barely feel like she's here at all. Take a deep breath, she can hear someone say, you're alright. Their voice is shaking, they don't sound confident, but she can feel her heart slow a little.
The fog dissipates, she can see and hear and think. She wished she couldn't.
Kokomi had vomited up blood.
The priestess struggles to stand, having to be supported by her general. He's still on the phone and she can register a siren coming closer, red shimmers of light pass through the blinds. He tells her they're gonna go for a ride. Kokomi, shaking, follows - leaning on him.
You're deteriorating quickly, the doctor says. She can see spots of her own puked blood on his jacket, it makes her feel terrible. We can't tell what's wrong, he continues. His monotone voice and expression tells her how he's gone through this before.
Kokomi wishes she could make herself cry, scream, shout, say something! Anything. But she can't muster tears, or even a whisper. This can't be true, she decides, this is a dream. She'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be fine. Fine, fine, fine.
She can see Gorou shake beside her, hand in hand. She's confused on why he's upset; why he's crying. She'll wake up tomorrow just fine. There's no reason to cry, she'll wake up tomorrow and go home. Her gloved hands wipe away his tears, the ceiling lights violently glare off everything, leaving the metal of her bed shining. Almost too bright.
She'll wake up tomorrow and be fine.
You should rest, the doctor says, she can barely see the blood stains on his coat. You'll feel better tomorrow. Kokomi couldn't quite hear the last bit, the loud beep of her heart monitor drowning out his voice.
She'll rest a while. She'll be fine tomorrow.
