A/N: I figured some backstory on Kaz might be of order. Also, I'll have a tiny place for definitions at the bottom.
I gazed at my tiny son, who lay inside his incubator, covered in wires and needles for drawing blood and monitoring his vitals. Exhaustion poured into my body as I came over to him; I haven't been this drained since Leiko was born. His eyes, still fused shut, weren't moving as he slept. All he ever really did was sleep, breathing from a ventilator that temporarily took over the job his underdeveloped lungs weren't capable of doing on their own yet.
The neonatologist that looked over Kazuki had spoken to me earlier. She had said that my son had only a two percent chance of living; since he had been born just shy of twenty-one weeks, he was severely underdeveloped, barely weighing anything and being small enough to curl into the palm of my hand. She had also said that his road to being at least relatively healthy would be a long and bumpy one, and he would most likely develop severe mental and developmental issues.
I hadn't lost hope, however, that my son would live. He was a Tenjo; and we Tenjos don't go down without a fight. But he was so tiny, so delicate that I was afraid to even touch him. The nurses around the NICU usually supervised my time with him, since his condition could worsen at any moment, but that didn't matter. As long as he survived, I would be alright.
I stood beside his incubator, gazing into the box and frowning. The ventilator was forcing his lungs to absorb oxygen, his tiny chest rising and falling with the machine. His heart rate was fast, and mentally I thanked whoever produced the heart monitor had decided to make it silent (unless, of course, his heart began to undergo problems). An intravenous line was attached to a needle in his left arm, giving him the nutrients he needed while his digestive system matured. Doctors worried over his chance of having necrotizing enterocolitis, since his intestines were showing signs of infection. They had said that if he did have such a disease, he would die, even if they treated it promptly.
"Please, Kaz, hang in there," I murmured, leaning over the bin and placing my hand over the top, right above his face. He didn't react to my voice, but I knew he had heard me. I just knew.
I thought about his mother. Droite was in the ICU right now, recovering from a ruptured berry aneurysm. She was in a coma, and as far as I knew, nobody was allowed to see her sans the medical staff that attended to her every need. I had gone to her room once, looking in through the glass, and I saw the respirator she was on, along with the cap that covered her now bald head. Her hair had all been shaved off in order to operate on the aneurysm, but it didn't matter. I was just glad she was alive.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Droite had taken me with her to one of her prenatal appointments, and we had been talking to Tomo, who was Droite's friend and obstetrician, when Droite suddenly collapsed and went into a seizure. I knew she had been having problems with preeclampsia, but it had somehow escalated to full on eclampsia and the doctors within the hospital did an emergency cesarean section to ensure Kazuki's condition. Droite then went into cardiac arrest due to the aneurysm, and the neurosurgeons did what they could to repair the damaged blood vessel after restarting her heart. Since then, Kazuki's been struggling with respiratory distress syndrome and the possibility of necrotizing enterocolitis, while Droite had been in a few more surgeries to correct any problems with the rest of her body. Both had been unresponsive to any of my attempts to speak to them.
There was a knocking on the door, and I hurriedly wiped my eyes before turning to gaze at who was entering. My younger brother, Haruto, was holding Leiko in his arms. My daughter was gazing at me in concern, her big blue/grey eyes filled with tears.
"Papa, why haven't you come home?" she asked quietly as Haruto shut the door behind himself. He was almost sixteen now, but he was still very much a kid in stature.
"Yeah, nii-san," my little brother stated, lowering Leiko to the floor before straightening and crossing his arms. "Why haven't you taken care of your daughter as of late?"
"I've been dealing with Kazuki, Haruto," I replied as Leiko crashed into me, sobbing into my waist. I placed my hands on the top of her head and massaged her scalp with my fingers.
"That's no excuse to leave Leiko alone," the boy stated, frowning deeper. "Her mom's in a coma, her younger brother is on the edge of death every day, and her pathetic father can't care enough to see his own daughter once in a while!"
Irritated, he shook his head and left the room. I watched as he angrily shut the door to Kazuki's room, scaring Leiko but not bothering my son in the least. My little girl cried harder, and I took her into my arms, holding her in a tight grip as she sobbed. She was so lonely and missed her parents to the point where I could sense that she thought we hated her, that we cared about Kazuki more than we did her.
"Leiko, it's alright, my baby girl," I whispered into her ear. She sniffled, hiding her face in the folds of my jacket.
"Where's mama, papa?" she questioned, shaking. "I want to see mama."
I winced, almost choking on my breath as I heard her say that. "Baby, your mama isn't feeling well, so she's resting in one of the special rooms for sick people," I explained to her, hoping that she would understand. At five years old, I wasn't entirely sure she would get the concept of hospitals and what they did for people.
Leiko pulled back and looked at me, frowning. I grabbed a tissue from a nearby table and gave it to her. She blew her nose, then discarded the used tissue, tossing it into the trash bin beside the door (Good aim, I thought dimly).
"Alright, papa, I trust you," she said in a hushed voice. "But can we still see mama? Even if we can't go into the special room?"
"Maybe, my baby," I replied. Still holding her, I turned towards Kazuki's incubator, letting my daughter get a look at her baby brother for the first time.
"Papa, that's baby brother, isn't it?" she questioned, tilting her head at seeing all the wires and tubes attached to him.
"Yes, that's him." Smiling, I gently brushed one of her bangs out of her face. "His name is Kazuki. Do you like it?"
"I love it!" she squeaked, hugging my neck (after all, she was still little, too). "He's so cute. But why's that stuff all over him, papa?"
"He's very sick, like your mama." Gesturing to the heart monitor on the wall, and the stand beside his incubator holding the IV fluid, I explained further. "He needs this stuff to make sure he gets better."
"He looks like a robot." Leiko turned to look at me. "Can we please see mama now?"
I sighed, patting her head. "Yeah, baby, I guess we can." When she cheered quietly, I laughed, seeing her mood lift. But I didn't know how long that would last, because if she saw her mother in such a bad condition, I wasn't sure she would handle it well.
Before I could get to the door, however, a nurse I knew as Mayu from my days here at the hospital came into the room. She had a rather optimistic expression, so I guess something good had just happened.
"Sir, your wife has just woken up from her coma," Mayu said. My eyes widened, while Leiko gazed at us both in confusion. "Would you like to see her?"
"Yes, please," I said, following her after saying to Kaz that I'd be back after I saw his mother. It took a while before we ended up in the ICU, since the NICU was quite large to compensate for Heartland's large population. As we entered the main ICU (there were eight in total in the hospital), I could feel Leiko become tense, watching as nurses and doctors sped around the halls, checking patients and attending to ones who were in critical emergencies. I knew I couldn't shield her from seeing these things in a hospital, so I just let her observe. Amazingly, she wasn't crying; that's my tough girl.
Mayu directed us to a large room, which housed one patient, and that was my wife and my children's mother. She was laying in her bed, eyes open halfway as she spoke to a doctor. The old doc, who I knew as Ritsuki, was typing what my wife said into a digital clipboard.
Droite looked better without a tube shoved down her throat to help her breathe.
"Droite?" I questioned upon entering the room. She turned her head slowly to look at me, smiling.
"Hey, Kaito," she spoke, her voice hoarse. "Leiko."
"Mama!" the girl cried, and, upon letting her down, she ran from me and onto the bed. She immediately buried herself in her mother's arms, crying again, only this time harder. I let my tears go, too; I thought I had lost the woman I had fallen in love with over eleven years ago.
"Leiko, be careful," Ritsuki murmured. I could tell he was irritated, but after I sent him a cold glare, her let his eyes fall to the floor and quietly excused himself from the room.
Droite awkwardly hugged Leiko with her left arm, gazing at her daughter with hazy eyes. "My little girl… I'm so glad to see you again."
"Mama, I missed you," Leiko stated through her sobs. "I missed you so much. And little brother is pretty, mama. Did you see him, mama?"
"I haven't," the woman admitted sadly. I frowned deeply at that, taking a seat on the bed next to my wife. I gripped her right hand, but she gazed at me with a sad look.
"I can't feel the right side of my body," she said, causing alarm to flit through me. "The doctors say it may be temporary or permanent; they need to observe me more before they can make a decision."
"I'm just glad you're alive." Leaning down, I kissed her deeply, missing the feeling of her lips against mine. I heard Leiko squeal as she watched us.
As I pulled away, Droite was blushing, using her left hand to cover her face. I laughed, and Leiko joined in, kneeling beside her mother's ribcage, clapping her hands.
"Mama and papa are cute!" she cried, smiling. Droite giggled too, then started coughing. I quickly calmed her, because I didn't want Droite accidently tearing that artery back open.
After a few moments, we went silent. I suddenly realized that our little family had grown just a little larger, and that the four member of our little group wasn't with us. He was going to make it, though; he was a Tenjo, after all.
…
…
Ten Years Later…
Kazuki leaned forward on the table, frowning. "Papa, you sure that I was that tiny?"
I gazed at my son, tapping my fingers on the scrapbook that I held. Kaz pointed at the picture of him after three months in NICU, still small yet able to breathe on his own. I noticed that his nasal cannula, attached to a tube that led to his portable oxygen tank, was in need of new tape to hold it in place.
"Yes, Kaz," I replied after analyzing his breathing equipment. "You were pretty small; after all, you were born extremely early. The nurses called you a micro preemie, because you were so tiny."
Droite, who came in using her cane (the damage of having Kaz wasn't as bad as once thought, but her right leg was still suffering from the effects), went over to Kaz and pecked him on the head. He huffed, frowning, but I knew he enjoyed his mom's attention. "You were so little, Kazuki," she said, propping her body against the counter as she reached up into the cupboard. At forty-one, she was still beautiful, but she was still reeling from the effects of her last pregnancy. I helped her sometimes whenever she was too exhausted to get up and do things.
"You fit into the palm of my hand," I continued for her, observing her closely as she managed to drag a glass bowl out from the cabinet. I stretched out my hand for effect, making Kazuki widen his eyes.
"I was tiny!" he cried, placing his hands over his mouth. His blind eye twitched to the side as he looked at me. "How'd you do that, papa? I'm surprised you didn't accidently break me in half!"
"Eh, you were very delicate, but we managed." Tilting my head, I turned the page, showing a nine-month-old Kazuki in the arms of a six-year-old Leiko. "Your sister was even more cautious with you than your mother was; she still is, for that matter."
"Somebody speak of me?" the girl aforementioned said almost immediately, popping her head into the kitchen. "Papa, are you showing Kaz the book again?"
"Of course," I replied. "He loves the story."
Leiko strode into the kitchen, kissing her mother's cheek before coming over to the table and plopping down beside her brother. "But papa, you make me sound creepy in the story."
"It's true, papa," Kaz said, looking at me with a goofy expression.
I huffed. "So? Leiko, you care for your brother very much. You'll even go to extreme lengths to make sure he was protected."
The teen girl crossed her arms after hearing that, knowing that I was reference to the fight she had gotten in to when she learned that some of the kids at her school were making fun of her family because her brother was 'crippled'. I laughed, reaching over and patting her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, Leiko." Sighing, I shut the book and pushed it away, reminding myself to put it away later (perhaps my forty year old brain would remember…). Leiko dropped her gaze to the table, swallowing hard.
"Papa, mama, Kaz," she said, getting our attention, "I have to tell you guys something. So please, sit down at the table."
Once everyone was seated (I helped Droite down into a seat, since she said her leg wasn't wanting to bend), I gazed seriously at my daughter, while Kaz held his sister's hands in his.
"Leiko, what do you have to tell us?" I questioned. I saw tears on the edge of her lashes, as if she were ashamed to tell us.
Then she said the one thing that I had never expected to happen, at all.
A/N: This little cliffhanger was intentional! So, go ahead and contemplate, since this is a one-shot. I'm not revealing the secret till Blast from the Past comes out. Review!
(Let me know if you have further questions concerning these terms!)
Definitions
Incubator: A special box meant to keep a baby from catching infections and to keep them warm.
Ventilator/Respirator: A machine that forces oxygen into the lungs through a tube. Sometimes can help a baby breathe or can take over the job completely.
Neonatologist: A pediatrician trained to deal with newborn babies, premature babies mainly.
Intravenous Line/IV: A tube connected to a needle which goes into the skin to provide medication and/or nutrients to the body.
NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit): This is where infants (preemies in general) go to get treatment and checked over. This particular one was a Level 3 NICU, which has more equipment to take care of a sickly baby such as Kazuki.
ICU (Intensive Care Unit): When a person is in a severe condition, this is where they go to be monitored closely.
Necrotizing Enterocolitis: A condition that babies (mostly) can develop after birth. This disease happens when bacteria in the intestines attack the intestines and they weaken. In serious cases, the wall of the intestine can develop a hole and let bowel (poop) into the body cavity. This condition has a high mortality rate (which means that a lot of babies die from it).
Preeclampsia/Eclampsia: A condition which pregnant women only get. It's extremely dangerous and can kill a mother and her baby if not treated. The blood pressure of the mother gets extremely high and her body holds on to water. If left untreated, Preeclampsia can develop into eclampsia, which will result in seizures and death if not treated.
Aneurysm: A "bubble" in the wall of a blood vessel. A berry aneurysm, which Droite had here, is usually congenital and isn't usually discovered until it bursts. It's located mostly in the brain.
Nasal Cannula: A small plastic tube which goes into the nose and provides oxygen. Kazuki uses a futuristic version, which helps support his failing lungs
Micro Preemie: A termed used to describe babies born 21-26 weeks of pregnancy. These babies have many problems since they are born so early.