Another Step Forward
3: Reality, The Sting of Glass Shards
I don't own Initial D. Or the Eurobeats.
A red, first generation Honda Civic had all the reason in the world to defy the speed limits. No matter freeway or back road, the Civic had decided now was the time to fly down roads like it never had before. The tachometer was balancing at a steady six on the highest gear, no time to slow down, anymore. Perhaps they were all making a big deal out of it, just a normal occurrence, but perhaps the Civic knew better, and knew the future better than some people knew themselves.
Makiko ignored the signs, the speed limit, and the cars beside her, choosing to focus only upon the wheel's spin and car's groans. Her eyes unconsciously narrowed, her brain perhaps preparing for a race Makiko would have never thought of otherwise. She could hear Kanako's harried breaths from the back of the car, various attempts to remain calm and to not bolster the rising tide of panic, but Kanako was slowly losing control as she whimpered, curling into the car seat. But being closer to the city, it would take less time. Cities defined as urban, clusters of people, hospital located on the outskirts of stained cement and smoky air. And in inevitability, a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and hands tightly grasping the other, for a feel of virtual safety in an ever-crumbling world.
And then, a car pulled into a parking lot, screeched to a stop, tires leaving black marks on asphalt. The driver door flew open, shaking the car a bit, and the passenger in the back did as well. The one helped the other out, and a walk, more of shoulder-leaning poise and unbalanced trembling, made it inside to the lobby.
Kanako's mind was not full of worries, even though it was. However, her worries were not voiced in a tumultuous litany of screeching madness, but varying echoes of 'Please,' in her head. Some a keening wail, and some a raspy whisper. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and focused on the rattle of the air conditioning and the pain in her stomach. She noticed that Makiko was nodding blankly as the nurse at the front rattled off a thousand things and clicked about with her pen and moved various papers about the desktop. The nurse, who was similar to the other one Kanako had seen before but wasn't exactly, nodded before taking Kanako by the hand and leading her down a hallway, the waxed tiles too shiny and the walls with a selection of abstract photographs.
Makiko swallowed nervously, throwing a backward glance at the glass doors, which she could see an odd diorama of life outside. In a moment, she shoved her hands to her sides, and quickly followed her sister who was finding a unshaken walk difficult.
There were unspoken questions between the nurse and the expecting mother. Kanako had a firm grasp on the nurse's hand, and Makiko wasn't far behind, lagging back because she honestly didn't know whether to leave or go. A door opened out of the wall, exposing a minute section of the labyrinthine rooms of the hospital, before Kanako was led inside. The nurse waited, staring back at Makiko who stared at the nurse.
"My name's Aika," she said quickly, rubbing her hands on her clothing out of nervousness.
"Well, are you coming?"
Makiko had only slipped in before the door slammed shut.
Aika spun around to look at Makiko for a moment.
"Your sister's pregnant, and we believe she is close,"
Makiko unconsciously nodded, before frowning. This lady had done her peeking-through-the-paperwork, had she?
"Take a seat," she said mildly, the tone of voice disguising a command. Makiko sat. Kanako had relaxed into the bed in the middle of the room, curled on her side and whimpering.
"It's alright...relax," Aika said, before briskly walking out on the search to find a doctor.
Makiko moved, and she stood next to her sister, and grasped her hand.
"It's okay," She said. "Don't worry, Kanako."
However, Makiko had no clue what would or could happen, and she just maintained a sharp optimism, ignoring anything that could go bad. The thoughts still danced, though, and Makiko stole another glance at her sister's face, eyes dilated and staring at the ceiling, hands fisting the thin sheets of the hospital bed in discomfort. Through all this, the sun had set, and they both noticed the hospital take on a different, starker pallor.
The moon rose high in the sky, and stars did indeed glimmer on the satiny blue fabric. Clouds were silvery cirrus tails, the sign of a new weather front moving in. The trees rustled quietly. The hospital, a large almost-brick, was ominous in the night, light falling upon ground through the windows. In each room, you could say a completely different catastrophe was taking place. The rushing wind was trading the leaves with the air currents, the early November night clear and brisk, the lingering heat of the summer now summoning a flash-frozen frost.
In one room, a scream. Faint yellow lamp. Rattling air conditioning.
"Push!"
Someone would yell, and a struggling breath, exhalation of air. Blood. Not too much, not too little, but it's not like anyone could know that. Intravenous. Flashes of white, clenched eyes and dilated pupils. Take no breaths, and take a thousand at the same time. White sheets and gray floor, off-white walls and a water-stained ceiling. A grasp of hands, a loving, white-knuckled embrace. A million thoughts of varied-volume prayers and pleases, and as much of "Don't let go." No words spoken. Scattered and shattered, a heartbeat a hummingbird's lazy flight through the flower fields. No questions, no answers. Voice cracks, breaks off, and all there is now is the simple task of breathing. The silent midnight, cars rushing down freeway and storm raging somewhere.
Waves crash against ocean on an opposite coast. A plane lands, the roiling fog ocean and illuminated sunrise bridge behind it. A delinquent wind traces its way through a rice paddy, shaking blades of grass as it dervishes its way through the low-lying land.
"You're okay. You're okay. You're okay."
And somewhere, another cry broke loose of the restraining silence.