Heavy Blood

3. Izuna

Every time I was there, I was reminded it wasn't half as bad as I expected it to be, seeing him. But after each time, I seemed to forget, and I fretted next time again.

I sat down on his bed, holding his hand, and we talked, in a slow pace but we talked nonetheless, and I was once more reminded that no matter how sick he was, he was still my big brother, and the conversation was just as fluent and easy as it had always been between us. I enjoyed our two hours together, even. I think that before I came to the ward, I was so scared and worried because I didn't know what state he would be in. Some days, he would be sleeping, unable to communicate because he was so exhausted due to all the morphine they gave him against the pain. Some days, he was sitting up, eyes sparkling mischievously, almost as if he would get better. But each time, I found I had been worried for nothing, because I still enjoyed being with him. Still, the uncertainty made me dread my visits. It didn't make sense.

"Wanna play chess?" he asked.

"I always whoop your ass", I said.

"Oh, come on! I want to try if the morphine makes me a better chess player!"

It didn't. It was an ongoing joke between us, how bad he was at it. Madara was whippet smart, whereas I was hard-working; Madara hadn't needed to lift a finger for his good grades. Several times in university, where he studied mathematical engineering, he'd forgotten he had an exam until he arrived on the day, but always scored close to 100%. His teachers said they'd seen no-one like him, and he was halfway through his PhD when he got sick. But despite his skills, he was absolutely terrible at chess. He made simple mistakes, and played the same way over and over, even repeating the same mistakes during the same round. And it was not only because he was ill; we'd played since we were teens. When he was younger, it had irritated him, and he had demanded to play over and over and over, trying to win over me which he, of course, never did. But as he grew up, he lost his competitive instinct and now, at thirty, he seemed to calmly enjoy each game, despite losing early on.

I brought the chess board he'd borrowed from the ward and set it up for us on a small table between us, and let Madara be white, as I'd been white last time. We started playing while conversing.

"How was the week?" I asked.

Madara looked down. "Terrible. Had to put me to sleep to intubate me once because I couldn't breathe." I flinched. "I've been very good with the respiratory physiotherapy. It helped in the beginning. Not anymore though. Breathing hurts, Izuna." He looked up at me. "Thank God for my insurance. The cost of this would've been astronomical. I hadn't been able to make it."

I looked down. What Madara didn't know was that his insurance didn't cover much of the costs; it was all paid by me. I had had to beg all the staff to let him believe it was his insurance company who stood for it all because I knew he wouldn't let me pay. Our parents died in a car accident three years ago leaving no money, and we didn't have any other family or friends to help us out. I didn't feel any remorse directed at Madara for being the source of my poverty, but the poverty did affect me. But not paying wasn't an option; I wanted my big brother to get the best treatment he could, and he was. We were both enormously pleased with everything.

"Izuna, I know I'm ill but..." He took my hand over the chess board. "I'm here for you, too, you know. I have cancer, but I'm not depressed. I still have the mental headspace if you ever want or need to talk. Okay?"

I smiled at him. Over and over he reminded me why he was the best brother in the world. "Okay."

On its way back to his side of the chess board, Madara's hand accidentally on purpose pushed my king so it fell flat. "Oops", he said and smirked. 

I put my key in my locker, sighing before I walked in. I always dreaded coming in as I knew there was a great chance there would be envelopes on the floor; bills demanding to be paid. Lo and behold, there were three. One was my phone bill, the other from the hospital, and the third... Oh, shit. I tore it open and felt my heart clench.

Dear Mr Uchiha,

This is your second demand to pay last month's rent. If you are unable to provide it until 23rd of October, you will be evicted.

Kind regards,

Kenneth McIvory, your landlord

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the door. Shit, I wouldn't make it. Shit, shit, shit, I wouldn't make it. I slid down so I sat down and opened the letter from the hospital. It was the bill for last month. Fuck. A lot had happened... Four rounds of chemo, three rounds of radiotherapy, the two intubations when Madara had been put under general anaesthetics... The cost was...

I put my face in my hands and cried. 

"Sir?" I looked up from my desk. The class was looking at me expectantly. "You were telling us..."

"Oh, sorry. I must have zoomed out." Thinking about the hospital bill... "So. I was telling you about Elizabeth the first and how her being the queen affected the religion of England. She got many offers to marry, but she declined them all, so she never had a husband, or any children. Any ideas as though why that might be?" Lisa's hand shot up. "Lisa, please."

"She might have been gay, like my dad's sister. She has a wife."

I was taken aback. "Oh, wow, very good. Yes, that's very true."

"How can two girls marry?" a boy called Bob asked.

"It's simple," I said. "They fall in love and they marry."

"Will you ever marry?" Lisa asked me, looking at me with huge eyes. "I mean, you are very handsome. Will you ever get a husband?"

I almost choked on my homosexuality. How did she know? "Ehhhhh..."

"Or a wife!" said Aiden. "Don't be so prejudiced!" Oh my God, I loved children.

"OR A NON-BINARY PERSON!" a girl named Angelica screamed.

At that moment, the principal, a stern grey woman with a shirt and a suit and a pencil skirt, decided to come in. Nothing scared me as much as cis-women in suits.

"Mr Uchiha!" she said.

"Principal Smith! IZUNA IS GOING TO MARRY A HUSBAND!" Angelica screamed.

"Oh my God", I said, hiding my face in my hands.

"You can marry my dad!" a boy named Christian said. "He divorced my mum last year so he's very lonely and he can't cook. You can come live with us and cook dinner for me!"

"Oh, that's... Umm, that's lovely", the principal said. "I will come back another time."

"I like spaghetti, just so you know", Christian continued. The principal closed the door behind her and left. I exhaled in relief.

"Can I be your best man?" Lisa asked. "If you're marrying a man, your best man needs to be a girl, right?"

"Lisa, that's a wonderful idea. Of course you'll be my best man. Now, we're done so off you go. Remember, field trip tomorrow! We're visiting the Catholic Church. I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?"