The earliest memory I can clearly recall was when I was seven or so.
Any recollections before that day are more like the tangled after-images that linger after particularly vivid dreams. Vague mixes of the familiar with strange sights, situations and sounds.
Understandably I was pretty disoriented, and those first few days were more than a little dicey since I didn't remember much. But even if my parents had to introduce themselves like we were meeting for the first time they were still incredibly grateful and excited that I had woken up at all.
Maybe I should fill you in on my condition at the time, might help 'set the stage' as the saying goes.
When I woke up, it was from a medically-induced coma. That was pretty standard procedure for brain damage. Mine was to the tune of a senbon penetrating through the ocular wall and into my frontal lobe a couple centimeters.
Hence why no one who knew the story really questioned why I was acting differently after I woke up.
I can't remember the event myself but I was insistent with my nurses and then my family to get information on how I had ended up in the hospital. It seemed important for me to know! And I did not hesitate much to use my injuries as a guilt fulcrum to leverage answers.
What I discovered from the medical staff was the senbon that got overly friendly with my frontal lobe had miraculously only mildly damaged my eye. Like it was a little deflated from fluid-loss by the time I was rushed in but the medics were able to salvage it. Though, I had to get a corrective lense to have acceptable vision in the field.
And while having both my eyeballs still in my head was super awesome, and an impressive lack of brain damage other than some simple amnesia was a best-case-scenario… well neither of those were my worst injuries. That prize goes to the weaponized needles that went through my mouth and down into my throat. Got my tongue and everything.
I'm actually pretty alright with not remembering that part, to be perfectly honest.
There was some cosmetic damage chipping my front teeth, but luckily those were in the process of being naturally replaced anyways so no big loss. Nah, the biggest loss comes from the laceration of my vocal cords. Not even medical ninjutsu could piece them back together, and because the chakra channel that ran through my throat was ruptured the rest of my voice box had to be removed during the ensuing surgery.
So I've been mute since my earliest recollection.
Upside? Never get in trouble for talking back. Downside? Trying to get someone's attention in a crowd. Or singing along at festivals. And- well… other situations too. But we'll come to that in time.
For now I guess I should fill you in on how I became a child-sized pincushion. At the time I certainly wanted to know! At first my efforts of pointing at my bandaged throat and gesturing with my palms up in a 'Well?' motion just made the adults think that I was complaining about the pain.
No, no I don't want more painkillers! Get away from my IV bag, woman!
(Not that I'm trying to say that I wasn't in pain, because hoo-boy did I ration the times I swallowed anything including saliva because my esophagus was plenty mad about prior events!)
I snuck a look at the clipboard with my medical chart on the end of my bed, but that just told me what my injuries were not how I had gotten them. It was then that I discovered that I could remember how to read after a few tries. For some reason I felt like I had to adjust how I was tracing my eyes over the text before the meanings came to me.
Though it was the same when people started talking to me. For the first few hours after I woke up I felt like their words slipped off my brain, but that could have also been the last of the coma medication working its way out of my system. Luckily my incomprehension did not stick around and I was warned to not use my voice to respond to their questions. They were phrased in such a way that I could nod or shake my head, or indicate more nuanced answers with my hands.
Finally after some more wild gesticulations from their young patient, someone got wise and brought me some paper and a pencil. There was a tense minute where I had to affirm the fact that I could also write. It was sloppy and my hand shook a bit but I was able to ask the question which had been burning on my mind.
'What happened to me?'
The pair of nurses who were attending me at the time glanced at each other before the younger of the two shrugged with the mention that my injury wasn't classified so it shouldn't cause problems.
Pardon? Classified? Like a secret?
In the end I got the very cut-down summary. Bad guy was running from the military police and had the inspiration to cause some mayhem then get away in the ensuing chaos. He prepared a bamboo tube filled with sharp objects and an explosive primed to blow, then when passing between buildings dropped it. Apparently the clattering noise caught my attention from where I had been playing and I went to investigate.
Boom. Senbon meet face. Face doesn't like you very much.
Since my story is a mix of bad happenings and silver linings I'm glad to say that I basically took the hit for the son of my Clan's head! Getting hit that close saved me as well because the metal spikes were designed to shatter into much more deadly shrapnel at a certain distance from detonation, and that would do a lot more ripping up of the little kids behind me. Crime scene investigation concluded that a much more grim ending would have resulted if not for my 'heroic sacrifice'. Heh, curiosity kills cats but not me!
We had been playing in a group and some other kids got hit, but nothing worse than a couple stitches at most. I was the one that one of the policemen scooped me up like a drippy broken ragdoll and hightailed it to the village hospital.
Also that bad guy? He got caught before he could drop another homebrew nailbomb. Turns out he chose a bad first drop location because we had some highly-capable babysitters that were quick to respond.
I never got to learn where the bad guy was from or what he had come to accomplish. That's where the 'classified' designation came in. But what I had been able to learn satisfied me and I let the nurses get back to my physical therapy.
Two months in a medical coma does not play well with one's muscles, no sir. I had a lot of ground to cover as it seems I lost a significant amount of weight.
That was one of the first things I heard from the woman that turned out to be my mother. How thin I was. She swept into the room and immediately I was enveloped in warmth and deep concern for my well-being. The tubes and wires upon my person limited how much I could be moved but she found a way to sit on the squeaky hospital bed and hold me in her lap. Then she proceeded to stroke my hair and cuddle me, murmuring reassurances all the while.
Tension I had not even realized I had been holding onto started to drain out of my shoulders, my jaw unclenched and my breathing eased up. Relaxing into her embrace I lifted my head to look up at her beaming face, lovely full cheeks and stunning amber eyes that already glistened with unshed tears. Seeing her trying to hold back is what tipped me over the edge.
It was hitting me all at once. I had almost died. If the bad guy had used kunai instead of senbon, there would have been much worse damage done. If one of the policemen hadn't opted to drop out of the chase to pick me up and rush me to the hospital with superhuman speed I would have bled out regardless. If I didn't go investigate the noise, me and a handful of other kids would have gotten shredded. So much could have gone so much worse.
But it hadn't. End result was a battered but alive girl too curious for her own good.
My mother held me close and spoke softly as I fought to cry silently. I was not ashamed of my tears, but I had a hard enough time breathing with the respirator mask over my mouth and nose as it was. Tears meant snot, which meant a mess all over my mask and each time I swallowed felt like pieces of shattered porcelain were embedded in my throat.
When I started coughing hard enough to wrack my small frame my mother helped unstrap the mask from my face so my she could begin cleaning up my nose and cheeks with a soft handkerchief. We both blubbered and she was taking care of my face first. I had some of my short hair stuck to my temples and neck from perspiration and tears but I thought that my mom was the prettiest lady I'd ever seen as she continued to reassure and hold me.
(Just ignore the part where I could only remember the handful of people I'd witnessed that day only since waking up for comparison. I still stand by my initial observation!)
My skin was a little darker than hers but not by much. My mother was a collection of healthy curves and a robust figure. She was definitely more comfortable than my bed and after I got calmed down and she started singing a song I almost could remember, I was losing my ability to stay conscious pretty quickly. Waking up and crying had both been exhausting, which is pretty pathetic I admit. But feeling warm, safe and cared for in her embrace I lifted a hand to hold a strand of her unruly strawberry blond hair that fell over her shoulder.
Surrounded by her scent with my mask off, there was no resistance as sleep rose to reclaim me.
I think I got another hour of sleep or so before I started choking. On what I wasn't sure, only that my diaphragm was heaving and my chest felt heavy like someone was sitting on it.
The machines I was still wired to beeped warning along with my mother's panicked call as she alternated rubbing and thumping my back with her firm hand. A nurse arrived swiftly and deftly slipped the mask back over my nose and mouth with one hand while the other clicked up several notches on the device the accordion hose attached to. There was a hum and I felt a rhythm start inside the confines of the respirator - first increased pressure that prompted an inhale followed by a strong suction that drained my laboring lungs of all air.
I just about panicked all over again as I felt all breath leave me. But the nurse had one hand wrapped around the back of my neck and still held the mask, pressing it firmly so that the seal was not broken around the edge. My terror was short-lived as I was provided another full measure of air, followed by another depletion.
Getting the idea that I was not going to be suffocated, I nodded to the nurse a little sheepish and held the mask in place with my own hands. Her grin was not unkind but I still blushed. Really, panicking and not trusting a medical professional? That had been my least bright since the one that put me in here….
Anyways, beyond my embarrassment was the discussion above my head concerning why I had started choking and how the breathy device was meant to stop it from happening. Actually leaving the mask off before was probably a pretty dumb idea in the first place. Oops.
From what I could gather through the conversation above my head, the wound in my throat had done a doozy on the chakra channel that runs from my chest to my head to fuel everything up there. Even with surgery the way it healed was less than optimal. It was kind of a little inside-out? The vessels around the coils that moved raw life force were delicate and there was a high probability that trying another surgery would do more harm than good so I would need to learn to live with the side effects.
Which, it turned out, involved possibly drowning in my own chakra.
What the mask was doing right now was pulling out the hemorrhaged chakra from my throat with each exhale and it would be fed back into my system through what I had been assuming was just a second IV tube. Upon further squinting I was able to make out the small seals along its length to keep chakra flowing and uncontaminated while it was taking a trip outside my body.
Nifty. I wondered if I could reroute my chakra to do something else, or store it like people did with blood donations.
My attention returned to the conversation that had continued despite my distraction. The topic had turned to my tongue, which of course caused me to roll the muscle in question. Ah right, poor thing had been punished by senbon too. Now that I was paying attention I could feel the tightness of scar tissue when I curled my tongue. Other than having impressive scars that had healed funny with the ones inside my throat there were no issues expected.
The nurse had turned down the breathing device back to its lowest setting now that my lungs were clear and figured that early was as good a time as any to give me my first physical examination since waking.
A small flashlight was used to check my eyes and their reactions to stimuli (agh spots!) and I was asked to track a pen moving back and forth. Still sitting on my mother's lap, but facing forward instead of sidesaddle, the nurse inspected my bandages and tested reflexes.
To check inside my mouth the mask had to come off but I was directed to hold my breath and do as much respiration through my nose as possible. I guess my nasal cavities did an okay job at absorbing some of my chakra back into my system but not enough to negate the need for the respirator. Boo.
Some of my bandages needed changing and they were all pretty simple, just a few punctures from other senbon. The exception of course being the wad wrapped around my neck. For this mother had to relinquish me so that I could be laid out on the bed again.
I didn't need the heart monitor to know that I was getting nervous. Not as bad as when I was choking but I still felt apprehension curling up my spine as the nurse gathered several items on a tray then stepped back over to begin with taking a small set of specialized scissors. They felt cold against my skin when slipped under to begin snipping from nearly my collarbone to the line of my jaw.
That was a lot of bandages.
Concentrating on keeping my breathing even and deep helped calm my nerves as deft hands cut on the other side as well. Then the main mass of medical gauze was lifted, or rather peeled, from the front of my throat. Bleh, I am not a fan of the way cloth sticks to a healing wound, the muffled hiss between my teeth was further evidence of the fact.
I had closed my eyes to brace for it, but briefly opened my good one to catch a peek of the removed section. To my relief there was very little scarlet to be seen, if anything it looked more soggy with discharge common for healing flesh wounds. Still, ew. That stuff had come from me.
One part of my mind wished I had a hand mirror so I could watch in morbid fascination, the larger portion however only needed to see the expression on my mother's face to be content with blissful ignorance for the moment. I could see that she had paled a shade or two and was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, amber eyes fixed on my biggest injury.
My hand unclenched from the bedsheet to pat my mother's fingers, when her attention shifted up to my face I gave the best smile I could given my position. I guess it reached my eyes because she gave an amused huff and turned her hand over to cradle my fingers in return. I didn't want her to be sad, her face was meant for smiles and laughter.
Feeling the cold sting of disinfectant application made me close my eyes and scrunch my face up to bear it. Apparently I was healing to the nurse's satisfaction, luck was with me that the sutures had already been removed prior to my waking. I am SO not sorry I missed out on that experience. Nope.
By the end of the examination I had a new less-bulky adhesive bandage stuck to my throat to cover the mess and was sitting up again, this time beside my mother. More notes were taken down on a medical clipboard and I watched my feet as they kicked with my legs off the edge of the bed.
"Well, Yanagi-chan." It took a moment but I glanced up and realized both adults in the room were looking at me. Oh, neat. That's my name! The nurse continued despite my lack of immediate response.
"It appears like you've healed up enough that we can begin the process of your discharge from the hospital. Most likely by tomorrow afternoon." I perked up and my mother hopped to her feet with an agility that I would not expect for a lady of her figure.
"This is wonderful!" I was enveloped in an enthusiastic hug that I would have no hope of freeing myself from, but at the same time didn't squeeze the life out of me so I just hugged my mother back. It felt nice. I think that if the nurse hadn't moved herself out of arm's reach it could have easily turned into a group hug.
"I'll tell your father and the clan! We'll have a feast prepared!" She sniffled, emotional once again but this time for a better reason. And I was in full support of the feast idea! The very idea of food had my abdomen twisting around itself. I probably hadn't eaten a bite of anything since being put under!
A light polite cough came from the doorway, the source being a doctor who had a bemused but not unkind smile. "Pardon the interruption…" He had come to give the scheduled examination that had been completed early, so gears were switched and instead he left the room with my mother to explain some things about my home care during the rest of my recovery.
Meanwhile the nurse helped me get back into position with my bed and raised the back so I could sit up and still be resting. After blankets were over my legs again I was feeling drowsy. And hungry, incredibly hungry.
Sleep won out. As I drifted off I couldn't help but wonder what my father was going to be like when I got to meet him.