Before I get into this I want to say this is based of Katawa Shoujo, the path is Hanako's. I love the Hanako path because you watch her become more open and learn more about her past. So, I'm taking the original version and replacing it with these Characters.

Hisao Nakai - Ash

Hanako Ikezawa - Serena

Lilly Satou - Dawn

Kenji Setou - Gary

Miki Miura - Iris

Misha Mikado - May

Shizune Hakamichi - Bianca

Yuuko Shirakawa - Nurse Joy

Nurse - Brock

Iwanako - Misty

Akio Mutou - Professor Sycamore

I recommend checking out Katawa Shoujo, you'll love one of the paths, but as I said before, I love Hanako's with a passion.

So let it begin....

A light breeze causes the naked branches overhead to rattle like wood windchimes.

This is a popular retreat for couples in the summer. The deciduous trees provide a beautiful green canopy, far out of sight of teachers and fellow students.

But now, in the later winter, it feels like I'm standing under a pile of kindling.

I breathe into my cupped hands and rub them together furiously to prevent them from numbing in this cold.

"Just how long am I expected to wait out here, anyway? I'm sure the note said 4:00pm."

Ah yes... The note.... Slipped between the pages of my Biology book while I wasn't looking.

As far as cliches go, I'm more a fan of the letter-in-the-locker, but at least this way shows a bit of initiative.

As I ponder the meaning of the note, the snowfall gradually thickens.

The snowflakes silently falling from the white-painted sky are the only sign of time passing in this stagnant world.

Their slow descent upon the frozen forest makes it seem like time has slowed to a crawl.

The rustling of dry snow underfoot startles me, interrupting the quiet mood. Someone is approaching me from behind

"Hi... Ash? You actually came?" I heard a voice from behind.

A hesitating, barely audible question.

However, I recognize the owner of that dainty voice instantly.

I feel my heart skip a beat.

It's a voice I've listened to hundreds of times, but never as more than an eavesdropper to a conversation.

I turn to face the voice, the voice of my dreams, and my heart begins to race...

"Misty? I got a note telling me to wait here, it was yours?" 

Dammit. I spent all afternoon trying to come up with a good line that was the result.

I'm pathetic.

"Ahmm...yes. I asked a friend to give you that note... I'm so glad you got it." The orange haired girl stood there.

A shy, joyous smile that makes me so tense I couldn't move a single muscle even if I tried.

My heart started to hurt a little. 

My heart is pounding now, as if it were trying to burst out from my chest and claim the girl for itself.

"So...ah....here we are. Out in the cold.." I kicked some snow with my foot.

Once again, the wind stirs up the branches. The cacophonous noise is music to my ears.

Misty flinches ever so softly against the gust of wind.

As it passes, she rights herself, as if supported by some new confidence.

Her green eyes lock with mine and she lazily zips her dark blue coat up.

All the while, the anxious beating of my heart grows louder.

My throat is tight; I doubt I could even force a word out if I tried.

"You see..." She played with her thumbs.

Every time she spoke my heart painfully pounded against my chest.

"...I wanted to know...."

I gulped.

"... If you'd go out with me...."

I stand there, motionless, save for my pounding heart.

I want to say something in reply, but my vocal cords feel like they've been stretched beyond the breaking point.

"A-Ash?" Misty looked at me with a worried expression on her face.

I reach up to try to massage my throat, but this only sends a spike of blinding pain along my arms.

"Ash?!" She started to get seriously worried.

My heart felt like it was a punching bag, but with Mike Tyson repeatedly punching it.

My whole body freezes, save for my eyes, which shoot open in terror.

Again, the heart....

"ASH!" Misty screamed.

The beating in my chest suddenly stops, and I go weak at the knees.....

The whole world around me - the canopy of bare branches, the dull winter sky, Misty running towards me - all these fade to black.

The last things I remember before slipping away are the sounds of Misty screaming for held and the incessant clatter of branches above...

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It's been four months since my heart attack.

In that whole time, I can probably count the times I've left this hospital room unsupervised on one hand.

Four months is a pretty long time when you're left along with your thoughts. So, I've had plenty of time to come to terms with my situation.

Arrhythmia.

A strange word. A foreign, alien one. One that you don't want to be in the same room with.

A rare condition. It causes the hearty to act erratically and occasionally beat way too fast. It can be fatal.

Apparently, I've had it for a long time. They said it was a miracle that I was able to go on so long without anything happening.

Is that really a miracle? I guess it was supposed to make me feel better, more appreciative of my life.

It really didn't do anything to cheer me up.

My parent, I think, were hit harder by the news than I was. They practically had two hemorrhages apiece.

I had already had a full day by then to digest everything. To them, it was all fresh. They were even willing to sell our house in order to pay for a cure.

Of course there isn't a cure.

Because of the late discovery of this... Condition, I've had to stay at the hospital, to recuperate from the treatments.

When I was first admitted, it felt as if I was missed...

For about a week, my room in the ward was full of flowers, balloons and cards.

But, the visitors soon dwindled and all the get-well gifts began trickling down to nothing shortly after.

I realized that the only reason I had gotten so many cards and flowers was because sending me their sympathy had been turned into a class project.

Maybe some people were genuinely concerned, but I doubt it. Even in the beginning, I barely had visitors. By the end of the first month, only my parents came by on a regular basis.

Misty was the last to stop visiting....

After six weeks, I never saw her again. We never had that much to talk about when she visited, anyway.

We didn't touch the subject that was between us on the snowy day ever again.

The hospital?

It's not really a place I'd like to live in.

The doctors and nurses feel so impersonal and faceless.

I guess it's because they're in a hurry and they have a million other patients waiting for them, but it makes me feel uncomfortable.

For the first month or so, I asked the head cardiologist every time I saw him for a rough estimate of when I'd be able to leave.

He never answered anything in a straightforward way, but told me to wait and see if the treatment and surgeries worked.

So, I idly observed the scar that those surgeries had left on my chest slowly change its appearance over time, thinking of it as some kind of an omen.

I still ask the head cardiologist about leaving, but my expectations are low enough now that I'm not disappointed anymore when I don't get a reply. The way he shuffles around the answer shows that there is at least some hope.

At some point I stopped watching TV. I don't know why, I just did.

Maybe it was the wrong kind of escapism for my situation.

I started reading instead. There was a small 'Library' at the hospital, although it was more like a storeroom for books. I began working my way through it, one small stack at a time. After consuming them, I would go back for more.

I found that I liked reading and I think I even became a bit addicted. I started feeling naked without a book in my hands.

But I loved the stories.

That was what my life was like.

The days became increasingly harder to distinguish from each other, deferring only by the book I was reading and the weather outside. It felt like time blurred into some kind of gooey mass I was trapped inside, instead of moving within.

A week could go by without me really noticing it.

Sometimes, I'd pause in realization that I didn't know what day of the week it was.

But other times, all the things that surrounded me would painfully crash into my consciousness, through the barrier of nonchalance I had to set up for myself.

The pages of my book would start to feel sharp and burning hot and the heaviness in my chest would become so hard to bear that I had to put the book aside and just lay down for a while, looking at the ceiling as if I was going to cry.

But that happened only rarely.

And I couldn't even cry.....

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Today, the doctor comes in and gives me a smile. He seems excited, but no very. It's like he is trying to make an effort to be happy on my behalf.

My parents are here. It's been a few days since I've last seen them. Both of them are even sort of dressed up. Is this supposed to be some kind of special occasion? It's certainly not a party, well I hope not.

There is this ritual the head cardiologist had. He takes his time, sorting his papers, then setting them aside as if to make a point of the pointlessness of what he just did.

The he casually sits down on the edge of the bed next to mine. He looks me in the eyes for a moment.

"Hello, Ash. How are you today?" He asked nicely.

I don't answer him but I smile a little, back at him.

"I believe that you can go home; your heart is stronger now, and with some precautions, you should be fine. We have all your medication sorted out. I'll give Gio-your father the prescription." He smiled.

The doctor hands a sheet of paper to my dad, whose expression turns wooden as he reads it quickly.

"So many...." He sighed.

I take it from his hand and take a look myself, feeling numb. How am I supposed to react to this?

The absurdly long list of medications stating back at me from the paper seems insurmountable. They all blend together in a sea of letters.

This is insane....

I looked at the description of the medicines.

Side effects, adverse effects, contraindication and dosages are listed line after line with cold precision.

I try to read them, but it's so futile.

I can't understand any of it. Attempting to only makes me feel sicker.

All this...for the rest of my life, every day?

"I'm afraid that is the best we can do at this point." The doctor gulped.

"However, new medications are always being developed, so I wouldn't be surprised to see that list fade over the years." His tone slightly brightened up.

Years.... What kind of confidence booster is that? I'd have felt better if he hadn't said anything at all...

"Also, I've spoke with your parents and we believe that it would be best if you don't return to your old school." He added on.

I mentally screamed, WHAT!?

My father noticed my anger.

"Please, calm down, Ash. Listen to what the doctor has to say." My father put his hand on my shoulder.

"Calm down? The way he says it tells me he knew full well that I wouldn't like it. Am I going to be homeschooled?" I snapped.

Whatever of my concern shows, it's ignored.

"We all understand that your education is paramount; however, I don't think that it's wise for you to be without supervision. At least not until we're sure that your medication is suitable...So, I've spoke to your parents about a transfer. It's a school called Vaniville Academy, it's located in Kalos. It's a school that specializes in dealing with disabled students" The doctor said.

Disabled? What? Am I....

"It has a 24-hour nursing staff and it's only a few minutes from a highly regarded general hospital. The majority of students live on the campus." I wanted the doctor to shut the fuck up already.

"Think of it as a boarding school of sorts. It's designed to give students a degree of independence, while keeping help nearby." He added on again.

Independence? It's a school for fucking retards, Don't try to disguise the fact.

And if it was really that "free," there wouldn't be a 24-hour nursing staff, and you wouldn't make a hospital being nearby a selling point.

"Of course, that's only if you want to go. But...your mother and I aren't really able to home school you. We went out to Kalos a couple of weeks back; I think you'd like it." My father said in a calm tone.

It looks like I really don't have a choice.

A moment of silence surrounded.

"Compared to other heart problems, people with your condition usually ten to live long lives. You'll need a job one day and this is a good opportunity to continue your education." The doctor pointed out, at least I don't have to worry about dropping dead in a few hours.

This isn't an opportunity, don't call it an opportunity. Don't call it a goddamned opportunity.

"Well, you should be excited at the chance to go back to school, I remember you wanted to return to school, and while it's not the same one..." The doctor says.

A 'special school'. That's and insult. That is what I want to say. It's a step down.

"It's not what you think. All of the students there are pretty...... active, in their.......owns sort of way." My father lost track of words half way through his sentence.

"It's a geared towards students that can still get around and learn, but just need help...in one way or another." My father added on before the doctor spoke.

"Your father's right. And many of the graduates of the school have gone on to do amazing things. A person doesn't have to be held back by their disability. One of my colleagues in another hospital is a graduate." 

I honestly don't care. A person doesn't have to be held back by their disability? That's what a disability is. I really hate that something so important was decided for me. But what can I do about it? A 'normal' life is out of the question now.

It's funny, I had always thought my life was actually kind of boring, but now I miss it.

I want to protest. I want to blame this lack of reaction on shock, or fatigue. I could easily yell out something now - something about how I can go back to school anyway. But, no.

I don't say anything. The fact is that I know it's futile.

I looked around the room, feeling very tired of all this. The hospital, doctors, my condition, everything. I don't see anything that would make me feel any different.

It's very difficult to put a positive spin on this.

But let me try.

A clean slate isn't a bad thing.

That is all I can think of to get me through this. At least I still have something; even if it's a "special school,: It's something. It's a fresh start, and my life isn't over. It would be a mistake to just resign myself to thinking that.

At the very least, I'll try to see what my new life will look like....

Thanks for reading! I'll be updating again soon :) I can't wait to continue writing this! See you all next chapter!