A pressure that started stably. A dull aching feeling, which was easily dismissed as indigestion after eating the spicy noodles Nao had for lunch. But after hours later. It was something clamping around his chest, each squeezing a silent scream trapped inside.
Nao gasped, holding the fabric of his T-shirt tight. Staggering he made his way to the window, the afternoon sun doing little to penetrate the knowing dread that coiled tighter with each passing moment. He knew exactly what this was, Yong even told him what this could be... but this. Nao could only describe this as a disease that felt like a slow, agonizing suffocation from the inside out.
For once Nao was glad that he was alone in his house, this way the oblivious to the silent battle raging inside of him was hidden. He thought for a second to reach out to Yong, maybe he could help him. He knew about this... But the thought froze in his throat, he couldn't... He couldn't burden Yong much further with this. He promised Yong things, so that meant he had to be strong.
After finally managing to close the blinds, he stumbled back to the couch. Collapsing onto its familiar surroundings. The pressure intensified, a relentless, throbbing pain that radiated to his neck and lower back. He thought about calling the Byoin, but the thought of the sheer amount of medical shinobi. maybe Shun or Tsuki learn about this, those little panicked faces... He couldn't. He would bear this, just like he had been bearing the creeping anxiety, the sleepless nights, and the constant fear of these moments.
These moments only started to become worse and were always randomly timed. He tried to go back to his own medical time, what could he do? Breathing... He started to focus on his breathing, trying to mimic the slow, measured inhales and exhales he had learned. But the air felt thin, like trying to suck it through a straw. His vision blurred and the many familiar shapes started to twist around. "remember... Not a spring..."
With some difficulty he managed to flick the radio on that was on the side. Some mindless sitcom... Well anything was good enough to drown out the pounding in his ears, the ragged gasps for air. Nao closed his eyes as he focussed on the tinny sounds of the radio. Trying to picture what they were talking about. He repeated many images, over and over, like trying a mantra. For him, it felt like minutes were whole hours and the hours were like an eternity. The pain remained.. A contestant throbbing presence. But slowly he felt distracted. As if he were observing it from afar, rather than experiencing it directly. It was maybe half an hour passing... But the pressure began to ease. It started to lose its grip, his breathing became less ragged. More controlled. The blurred edges of his vision sharpened... Bringing the familiar comfort of his living room back into focus.
He lay there, drenched in sweat, weak and trembling... Listening to the dying embers of the sitcom laughter. He knew he wasn't out of the woods, not by a long shot... But he had weather this storm. Alone. The worst was... the fear that this wouldn't be the last time either. Yong had already entered somewhere at the end of this attack that had happened, without much knowledge. Nao just tried to shrug it off once he finally caught wind of him. "Just... some training. I did some training..." he waved it off, not to worry his friend. He wasn't going to burden many more with this than it already was.
[Prologue]
[Yong, you are free to post if you wish, ain't a must.]
Nao gasped, holding the fabric of his T-shirt tight. Staggering he made his way to the window, the afternoon sun doing little to penetrate the knowing dread that coiled tighter with each passing moment. He knew exactly what this was, Yong even told him what this could be... but this. Nao could only describe this as a disease that felt like a slow, agonizing suffocation from the inside out.
For once Nao was glad that he was alone in his house, this way the oblivious to the silent battle raging inside of him was hidden. He thought for a second to reach out to Yong, maybe he could help him. He knew about this... But the thought froze in his throat, he couldn't... He couldn't burden Yong much further with this. He promised Yong things, so that meant he had to be strong.
After finally managing to close the blinds, he stumbled back to the couch. Collapsing onto its familiar surroundings. The pressure intensified, a relentless, throbbing pain that radiated to his neck and lower back. He thought about calling the Byoin, but the thought of the sheer amount of medical shinobi. maybe Shun or Tsuki learn about this, those little panicked faces... He couldn't. He would bear this, just like he had been bearing the creeping anxiety, the sleepless nights, and the constant fear of these moments.
These moments only started to become worse and were always randomly timed. He tried to go back to his own medical time, what could he do? Breathing... He started to focus on his breathing, trying to mimic the slow, measured inhales and exhales he had learned. But the air felt thin, like trying to suck it through a straw. His vision blurred and the many familiar shapes started to twist around. "remember... Not a spring..."
With some difficulty he managed to flick the radio on that was on the side. Some mindless sitcom... Well anything was good enough to drown out the pounding in his ears, the ragged gasps for air. Nao closed his eyes as he focussed on the tinny sounds of the radio. Trying to picture what they were talking about. He repeated many images, over and over, like trying a mantra. For him, it felt like minutes were whole hours and the hours were like an eternity. The pain remained.. A contestant throbbing presence. But slowly he felt distracted. As if he were observing it from afar, rather than experiencing it directly. It was maybe half an hour passing... But the pressure began to ease. It started to lose its grip, his breathing became less ragged. More controlled. The blurred edges of his vision sharpened... Bringing the familiar comfort of his living room back into focus.
He lay there, drenched in sweat, weak and trembling... Listening to the dying embers of the sitcom laughter. He knew he wasn't out of the woods, not by a long shot... But he had weather this storm. Alone. The worst was... the fear that this wouldn't be the last time either. Yong had already entered somewhere at the end of this attack that had happened, without much knowledge. Nao just tried to shrug it off once he finally caught wind of him. "Just... some training. I did some training..." he waved it off, not to worry his friend. He wasn't going to burden many more with this than it already was.
[Prologue]
[Yong, you are free to post if you wish, ain't a must.]