[NARRATOR: Hospitals. The great equalizer. Where the rich and poor alike gather to complain about waiting times and overpriced vending machines. Today, Jeremy High Hospital plays host to possibly the strangest gathering of visitors since that time someone brought a llama to the ICU. Don't ask. We still don't talk about the llama incident.]
White Walls And Fluroescent Regrets
Riyura Shiko woke up to the sound of beeping. Incessant, rhythmic beeping that wormed its way into his skull like an extremely annoying alarm clock designed by sadists.
His entire body felt like it had been put through a blender, reassembled incorrectly, and then drop-kicked off a building. Which, technically, was pretty close to what actually happened.
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: Ow. Ow ow ow. Everything hurts. My bones hurt. Bones I didn't know I had hurt. Is this what falling off a building feels like? Because if so, I want a refund on existence.]
He cracked open one eye—his star-shaped yellow pupil adjusting slowly to the harsh fluorescent lighting—and immediately regretted it.
"Oh good, you're awake!" A nurse appeared beside him with the kind of aggressively cheerful energy that only healthcare workers at 6 AM possessed. "You fell off a four-story building! How are you feeling?"
"Like I fell off a four-story building," Riyura croaked, his voice sounding like sandpaper scraped against concrete. "That's normal! Here's some morphine!" She adjusted his IV with disturbing enthusiasm.
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: I love the healthcare system. It's so efficient. So caring. So absolutely terrifying.]
"Your friends are outside," the nurse continued, checking his vitals. "They've been waiting all night. Very loud friends. One of them keeps doing... poses? And screaming about power levels?"
Riyura closed his eyes. "That's Subarashī. He's... like that." "Should I be concerned?" "Only if he starts glowing. Then evacuate the building." The nurse laughed like he was joking.
He was not joking.
The Door Explodes (METAPHORICALLY) (MOSTLY)
The door to Riyura's hospital room didn't so much open as it was conquered by the sheer force of Subarashī's enthusiasm.
"RIYURAAAAAAA!" Subarashī burst through like he was entering a boss battle, his arms spread wide in a dramatic pose that would've made a prideful hero weep with pride. "YOU LIVE! THE PROPHECY HAS BEEN FULFILLED!"
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: There's no prophecy. There has never been a prophecy. Why does he always talk like there's a prophecy?]
"What prophecy?" Riyura asked weakly.
"THE ONE WHERE YOU SURVIVE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS AND LIVE TO ANNOY ME ANOTHER DAY!" Subarashī struck another pose—this time a very obvious imitation of a famous fighting anime character, complete with spiky hair adjustment and intense stare into the middle distance.
"Please stop posing in the hospital room," Riyura said. "You're going to knock over my IV."
"IMPOSSIBLE! MY POSES ARE CALCULATED WITH MILLIMETER PRECISION!" He immediately knocked over the IV stand. A nurse outside sighed loudly.
Behind Subarashī came Miyaka—his sister, who somehow inherited the exact same chaotic energy but channeled it differently. Where Subarashī was all explosive shouting and dramatic gestures, Miyaka was musical chaos incarnate.
"RIYURA!" She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "We prepared something special for your recovery!"
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: Oh no.]
"Oh no," Riyura said aloud.
"Oh YES!" Subarashī and Miyaka said in unison, which was somehow more terrifying than if they'd said it separately.
Subarashī pulled out a portable speaker from literally nowhere. "Behold! The Subarashī Siblings have prepared a RECOVERY ANTHEM! It's short! But also kind of long! But mostly short! But definitely impactful!"
"It's three and a half minutes," Miyaka clarified.
"That's basically an epic!" They pressed play.
What followed was possibly the most aggressively encouraging song Riyura had ever heard—a bizarre mix of J-pop energy, motivational speech cadence, and what sounded suspiciously like kazoo solos.
The Subarashī siblings sang with their whole hearts, dancing around the hospital room like they were performing at a concert instead of visiting their injured friend.
"YOU FELL FROM THE SKY BUT YOU DIDN'T DIE—!"
"YOUR BONES MAY BE BROKEN BUT YOUR SPIRIT'S STILL AWAKE—!"
"HOSPITAL BILLS ARE TEMPORARY BUT FRIENDSHIP IS FOREVER—!"
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: I'm in pain. Physical pain from my injuries. And now emotional pain from this song. Is this what purgatory feels like?]
Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the sheer absurdity—Riyura found himself laughing at random crap. Because this was his life and that's Riyura for ya. These were his friends. And he wouldn't trade them for anything.
Even if they were absolutely, certifiably insane.
The Council President Has Entered The Chat
The song ended with a dramatic flourish—Subarashī and Miyaka striking synchronized poses while the final kazoo note echoed through the room. Silence. Then, from the doorway: "Your spinal alignment during that performance was forty-seven degrees off regulation standard."
Everyone turned.
Cartoon Headayami stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand, expression as blank as a factory-reset computer. His eyes swept across the room with the intensity of a health inspector finding violations. "Headayami!" Riyura said, genuinely surprised. "You came?"
"Of course I came. You're a fellow student. It's my duty as student council president to ensure proper visitation protocols are followed." He walked into the room, his footsteps precise and measured. "Also, several hospital staff members are sitting incorrectly. I've filed fourteen complaints in the last twenty minutes."
[NARRATOR: Cartoon Headayami was deeply, passionately obsessed with rules. Not important rules. Not laws that mattered. No—he cared about the angle at which people ate, the exact spacing between pencils on a desk, the proper method for folding napkins. He was, in essence, the most annoying person alive. And somehow, everyone loved him for it.]
"You filed complaints?" the nurse from earlier poked her head in, looking exhausted. "About posture?" "Improper posture leads to spinal degradation, which leads to decreased work efficiency, which leads to societal collapse," Headayami said with complete seriousness. "I'm preventing the apocalypse."
"By yelling at nurses?" "Yes." The nurse left, muttering something about early retirement. Headayami turned to Riyura, his expression softening by approximately 0.02%—which, for him, was basically a tearful embrace. "I'm glad you're alive, Riyura. Even though you broke seventeen safety regulations by going to that rooftop."
"Thanks, Headayami. That means a lot." "You're welcome. Your bow tie is crooked." "It's always crooked." "I know. It causes me deep psychological distress."
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: I love this weirdo.]
The Principle And The Coffee Of Doom
A knock at the door—polite, measured, exactly three taps.
Everyone turned.
Principal Jeremy Poleheadedsandwich entered with the grace of a professional butler, his movements smooth and practiced. He wore an immaculate suit, his expression calm and professional.
"Good afternoon, students," he said, his voice soft and refined. "I came to check on our injured pupil and to discuss the rather unusual incident that occurred on school property."
[NARRATOR: Principal Jeremy Poleheadedsandwich was a being of two modes. Mode One: Calm, professional, basically a butler who somehow ended up running a school. Mode Two: What you're about to witness.]
"Thank you for coming, Principal," Riyura said, attempting to sit up straighter and immediately regretting it as his ribs screamed in protest. "Please, remain comfortable. I simply wished to ensure—" Principal Jeremy paused. Reached into his jacket pocket. Pulled out a thermos. "—that everything was being handled appropriately. If you'll excuse me for one moment."
He unscrewed the thermos. Raised it to his lips. Took a single sip of coffee.
[EVERYONE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: Oh no.]
The transformation was immediate.
Principal Jeremy's calm, collected demeanor shattered like glass. His eyes went wide—comically, impossibly wide—and his entire body seemed to vibrate at a frequency visible to the naked eye.
Then he shrunk. Not actually—it was just a visual effect, a chibi-fication that happened whenever the caffeine hit his system—and he began screaming.
"WWWWEEEEEEEEEEEE-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He ran in circles around the hospital room, moving so fast he left afterimages. "COFFEEEEEEE! TASTES! LIKE! DRUUUUUUUUUUUUGSSSSSSS!"
He bounced off the walls. Literally. Like a pinball. Doctors screamed outside.
Someone called security. "THIS IS THE BEST DAAAAAAAAY!" Principal Jeremy shouted, doing backflips in the hallway. "I CAN TASTE COLORS! I CAN HEAR SHAPES! I HAVE BECOME CAFFEINE, DESTROYER OF PRODUCTIVITY!"
Subarashī watched with admiration. "He's mastered the forbidden techniques." "That's not a technique, that's a caffeine addiction," Miyaka said. "Same thing."
After exactly four minutes and thirty-seven seconds of pure chaos, Principal Jeremy collapsed on the floor in the middle of the room, face-down, completely unconscious.
"He'll wake up in twenty minutes," Headayami said, checking his watch. "It's always twenty minutes." "Should we... move him?" Riyura asked. "No. This is his natural state. Disturbing him would be cruel."
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: My school is run by this person. We're all going to die.]
The Kid In The Other Bed
The room had two beds.
Riyura occupied one—surrounded by his chaotic friends, his body wrapped in bandages, his spirit somehow still intact despite everything.
The other bed had been hidden behind a curtain.
Until now. "Um," came a quiet voice from behind the curtain. "Is it safe to come out? Or is the coffee principal still doing backflips?" Everyone froze. Riyura's heart stopped.
That voice. He knew that voice. The curtain pulled back, and there—sitting up in bed, looking tired but very much alive—was Shoehead Gloveohiko. Holding a sneaker.
Eating it. Just casually biting into the sole of a shoe like it was an apple.
[NARRATOR: And just like that, the memories came flooding back even though they were already back but for this emotional moment. For everyone. All at once. Like a dam breaking inside their skulls for chaotic moods...]
"SHOEHEAD!" Subarashī screamed, pointing dramatically. "THE FRIEND WE FORGOT! HE RETURNS!" Miyaka's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. We forgot you. We actually forgot—how did we—"
"Memory manipulation device," Shoehead said calmly, taking another bite of his sneaker. "Letace Brain erased me from everyone's minds. Except hers. And Riyura's, kind of. Long story. This shoe tastes like regret, by the way. And rubber. Mostly rubber."
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: He's back. He's actually back. And he's still eating shoes. Some things never change.]
"Why are you eating a shoe?" Headayami asked, his expression somehow conveying deep concern despite remaining completely blank.
"Hospital food is terrible," Shoehead replied matter-of-factly. "The shoes have more nutritional value. Also, I need the emotional comfort of familiar textures."
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Miyaka whispered. "Thank you."
Riyura felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Not sad tears. Not exactly. More like... relief. Like finding something precious you thought was lost forever. "I'm sorry," Riyura said quietly. "I'm sorry we forgot you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect—"
"Stop." Shoehead held up his hand. His expression softened—something rare, something precious. "You jumped off a building for me. While not remembering who I was. That's possibly the dumbest, bravest thing anyone's ever done."
"It was pretty stupid," Riyura admitted. "Extremely stupid." "Legendarily stupid," Subarashī added helpfully. "Thanks, guys."
Shoehead set down his sneaker (partially eaten, looking sad) and looked at Riyura properly. "You saved me. Even when your memories were erased. Even when you had no reason to. You saved me because that's who you are."
[RIYURA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: Don't cry. Don't cry. You're wearing a yellow star hairclip and a red bow tie. You have a reputation as the crazy host guy. Crying would ruin the brand.]
He cried anyway. So did everyone else.
Even Headayami's eyes looked slightly more moist than usual (which was basically him sobbing).
"Group hug!" Miyaka announced, and suddenly everyone was piling onto Riyura's hospital bed—carefully, mindful of his injuries, but with all the warmth and chaotic love that defined Jeremy High.
Principal Jeremy woke up at that exact moment, saw the group hug, smiled peacefully, and went back to sleep.
The Hard Quistions
After the tears dried and the emotional moment passed, Subarashī finally asked the question everyone was thinking: "So, uh. What actually happened? Because I remember you being at school, and then you weren't, and now you are again, and there was apparently a rooftop murder attempt? Which is insane. Even for us."
Shoehead and Riyura exchanged glances. "It's complicated," Riyura started.
"Letace Brain was obsessed with Riyura," Shoehead said bluntly. "Thought they were siblings. Wasn't happy that I existed and was causing Riyura pain with my whole 'killed my mother' trauma—"
"YOU WHAT?" everyone shouted simultaneously.
"—which turned out to be a painful memory that came back to me, we're still working that out—and she decided the solution was to erase me from existence using a memory manipulation device she apparently invented."
"That's horrifying," Miyaka said. "Yeah." "Also kind of impressive from a technological standpoint," Headayami added.
"Not the point, Headayami." "Fair."
Riyura continued, his voice quiet. "She gave Shoehead a choice. Erase himself completely, or she'd kill him in front of me. When he refused—when I refused—she tried to burn him alive on the school rooftop."
The room went very, very quiet.
"And then she threw both of us off the building when she realized I'd called the police," Riyura finished. Silence. More silence. Then Subarashī, very quietly: "I'm going to learn forbidden techniques specifically to punch her into the sun."
"She's in police custody," Headayami said. "Which is the appropriate response to attempted murder." "Fine. I'll punch the sun anyway. For practice." "That's not how astronomy works."
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT."
Despite everything—the horror, the pain, the trauma—everyone laughed. Because that was what they did. They laughed. They found light in darkness. They held each other up when the world tried to tear them down.
The Weight Of Moving Foward
As visiting hours drew to a close and the sun began setting outside the hospital window, Riyura's friends prepared to leave. "We'll come back tomorrow," Miyaka promised. "With less singing. Probably." "Please bring more singing," Riyura said. "It's the only thing keeping me sane."
"You're already insane," Shoehead pointed out. "Then it's keeping me functionally insane." Subarashī gave one final pose—a thumbs up combined with what appeared to be a karate stance—and shouted: "HEAL WELL, MY FRIEND! LET YOUR BONES REGENERATE WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP!"
"That's not how healing works!" Headayami called out.
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT EITHER!"
Principal Jeremy woke up, stood with perfect posture, adjusted his suit, and said with complete butler-like professionalism: "I will be covering all medical expenses. It's the least I can do after one of my students attempted murder on school property. Please recover well. Now if you'll excuse me—" He pulled out his thermos. "—I have a meeting to attend."
"NO—!" everyone shouted, but it was too late. He took a sip. The transformation happened instantly. "WWWEEEEEEEEEEE—!" His voice faded down the hallway as he ran at superhuman speeds toward the exit.
"He's going to get banned from the hospital," Headayami said. "He already is," a nurse called from outside. "This is the third time this week!"
One by one, they left. With promises to return. With laughter and warmth and the unspoken understanding that they'd all survived something terrible together.
Finally, only Shoehead and Riyura remained. "Hey," Shoehead said quietly. "Thank you. For not giving up on me. Even when you didn't remember." Riyura adjusted his crooked red bow tie (it would never be straight, and that was okay). His yellow star hairclip caught the fading sunlight. His star-shaped pupils—yellow like tiny suns—reflected something soft and determined.
"That's what friends do," he said simply. "We don't give up. Even when it's hard. Even when it hurts. Even when the world tries to erase us—we hold on."
Shoehead picked up his half-eaten sneaker. Took another bite. Smiled—small and genuine. "This tastes terrible." "Then why do you keep eating it?" "Because some things are worth suffering for."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun set through the hospital window, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple and gold.
Two teenagers who survived the impossible.
Two friends who refused to be erased.
[NARRATOR: And so ends another chapter in the chaotic, heartbreaking, beautiful disaster that is Jeremy High. Riyura and Shoehead would recover. Letace Brain would face justice. And life would continue—messy and complicated and absolutely worth living. But that's a story for another day. For now, let them rest. They've earned it.]
TO BE CONTINUED...
[NARRATOR: P.S. — The hospital bills were later revealed to be absolutely astronomical. Principal Jeremy's coffee budget took a significant hit. He survived. Barely. The coffee did not.]