Kohaku
I wonder if I'll become an angel.
The thought is so sudden and absurd that I flinch and slightly knock the front seat with my knee. I still, not daring to breathe, and carefully look around. No one noticed or cared.
I slightly relax and resume looking out the window.
It was strange. Before, I was terrified of the NPASB catching me; now that they did, the terror quietly subdued, firmly compressed by apathy.
"Kohaku-kun?"
I spring into attention and slightly move in the seat to get a better view of Shimura-sama. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.
"I won't call Sango until the operation begins."
The name floods me with so many emotions that I nearly forget where I am. Regret and reluctance collide in a turbulent wave, and, afraid that I'll lose control, I force myself to get distracted... I think about what the Lieutenant General said. He won't call Sango until the operation begins. Then, after the operation, I'll have to face her... The realization is detached, carrying no weight whatsoever. The wave quiets down. and the sensation of surrealism returns once more.
"That means I won't see her anymore."
The reality that I won't see her is so, so far away. Bordering impossible.
"Yes." Shimura-sama is still watching me from the mirror . "Sorry, son, but I don't want any hindrances."
"That's fine with me."
For some reason, I'm completely calm. I guess it's because I don't believe what I'm saying. So... am I lying? I turn in my seat to look at Kikyo-san, but she's staring at the window. Her outline is also vague in the front view mirror.
The car pulls up into the parking lot, and I see the tall buildings of the hospital. I immediately feel uneasy. Hospitals always evoked bad memories in me.
"Asuka, stop next to the entrance." I start in surprise when I hear Shimura-sama's quiet voice. "There's someone waiting for us."
For a moment, the surrealism dissipates as trivial curiosity takes over. I crane my neck to get a better view, but I'm too far away. Asuka-san stops the car, and Kikyo-san steps out of the car. Nevertheless, she left the door open.
From my seat, I watch in interest how someone walks up to the car. I couldn't see their face, but it must've been someone from the hospital: the attire was clearly medical.
"It's Kikyo's sister, Kaede."
I whirl my head in surprise to the Shimura-sama, but he already exited the car. I watch how he walks around and stops next to the two women. They're discussing something, but they're too quiet to hear clearly. Suddenly, the medical attire steps forward, pulls away the door, and looks inside the salon. I involuntarily shrink back in my seat.
The young woman's left eye is matted and clearly blind. I stare at it, before self-consciously reddening and dropping my gaze on the floor.
"Are you Kohaku?"
I snap my head back at her. She is warmly smiling. Feeling even more ashamed of my impolite blunder, I nod in affirmation.
"Yes, ma'am."
Her smile grows wider, and she invitingly gestures with her hand.
"Hop on out, bud. Don't worry, everything will be alright."
She steps aside. I steal a sideways glance at Asuka-san, but she's staring intently on the driving wheel. Biting my lip, I quickly unfasten my seatbelt and clamber outside.
It's cold, and I immediately shiver. My hair annoyingly gets into my face. I push it aside, only for it to slap me back on the forehead. Walking towards the entrance, Kaede-san motions me with her hand.
"Follow me, bud."
I quickly scurry in between Kikyo-san and Shimura-sama after the medic. The doors slide open, and I'm hit by blinding, artificial light and the reflecting whiteness of the interior. Kaede-san is standing next to the receptionist desk and confidently telling something to him. A male nurse is also standing at the reception desk, filling out some forms. I carefully shift closer to Kaede-san.
Kikyo-san and Shimura-sama stop behind me. In some sort of unhealthy anticipation, I listen to Kaede-san asking the Lieutenant General to wait in the hall.
"Kato-kun." She is addressing the male nurse. He looks up from his papers.
"Yes, Nakahara-san?"
"Could you take my sister to room thirty-four?"
I follow her eyes to Kikyo-san. Her face is expressionless. Suddenly, I feel the layer of apathy slowly peeling off. Kikyo-san is leaving?
"Yes, Nakahara-san."
"Thank you."
Unexpected fear clenches my knees, and I feel a slow tremor. Frantic, I squeeze my fists together, trying to control myself. I couldn't let anyone notice. I couldn't...
Her face appears in front of mine, and her warm hand touches my shoulder.
"I'll be back as soon as I'm free." She is smiling, very tenderly. I grit my teeth, holding back the unexpected tickling in my nose and pricking in my eyes. "I promise I won't be long."
I nod and, just for that moment, feel like I've met her again for the first time. I can even feel the shyness in my smile, just as awkward as three days ago. She gives my shoulder a last squeeze and stands up. I silently watch her disappear into the hallway, sensing how the folds on my jacket gradually unfold from the nonexistent grasp.
"Kohaku."
Kaede-san gestures with her hand. "Let's go. We'll get you ready."
We went in the opposite direction than Kikyo-san and the nurse. Kaede-san walks briskly, and all that's left for me is to hurry after her. Doors, nurses, people in suits pass me, and I feel that I'm standing out like a jagged, bloated puzzle piece that's stiffly moving in place. I feel a thousand eyes on me, lifting their eyebrows at my clumsiness, and the trembling inside my chest becomes rougher.
Kaede-san abruptly turns and opens a door in front of me.
"Right inside," she amiably says. I rush inside, hearing my heart drumming in my ears. Another nurse is already in the room.
"Kohaku, this is Masaki." The nurse turns around and gives me a friendly smile. I nervously smile back. "She'll take all your measurements."
"Go ahead and take a seat," Masaki easily tells me.
In a daze, I walk over to the examination table. I ignore the small step-stool and lift myself up. The paper painfully crinkles when I awkwardly scoot on the table. For some reason, I am not calming down. It is hot around my neck, especially where the hair touches the skin, and my throat is dry. Masaki's cheerful conversation is unnerving. Smiling and nodding out of place, I do what she says: tightly hold the freezing thermometer underneath my armpit, feeling how it coats in sweat, hold out my arm for the look pressure and heart, my stomach treacherously squeezing, and answer questions.
"Did you take any medications recently?"
"No." I answer before I think, and my mind feverishly races to check the validity of my words. Did I?...
"Do you have any allergies?"
"No." I flex the muscles in my arm, holding back my terror.
"What is your surgical history?"
"I never had any surgeries... I mean this one will be my first one..."
"Does anyone in your family have a history of any diseases or conditions?"
A black void stares back at me. I hastily swallow the lump of saliva in my mouth, and it cumbersomely goes down my throat.
"I-I don't think so."
Masaki flips the page down and places the writing board on the counter.
"That'll be all. We'll now proceed to the radiology room to take a shot of the mark Nakahara-san will be operating..." She checks her notes. "... the neck."
"Alright."
On unmoving legs, I follow her back into the hallway. One more time, a current, the feeling of swimming against it, labels, people, equipment. We enter a small room, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest when Masaki glances at me over her shoulder.
"Kohaku-kun, we're lucky! No one's here before us."
I give a barely noticeable nod.
Masaki walks over to the small receptionist desk and lightly knocks on the window. The receptionist glances upwards. The light blinks on her glasses, hiding her eyes and leaving two white flares. I awkwardly stop a good distance behind Masaki, numbly cracking my fingers and switching between crossing my arms on my chest or folding them behind me.
Masaki turns around.
"Kohaku, come over! You have to fill out a couple of things."
I try not to show the panic on my face and nearly run to the receptionist desk.
"Yes?" My voice comes out louder and higher than I expected. I break out in sweat, but the receptionist doesn't even look at me.
"This form, please. The pen's over here."
"Thank you very much." I take the pen, and it slips out of my fingers. Gripping it almost at the tip, I lean towards the paper and shakily make out my name. Isobe Kohaku.
Masaki is patiently waiting next to me, and my hand trembles. My eyes frantically run over the confusing conditions and boxes, uncertain which to check. In the end, I place down my signature and slide the form over to the receptionist.
"Here."
The receptionist emotionlessly takes the form and stands up. "Let's go."
"I'll be waiting for you outside." Masaki pats me encouragingly on the shoulder. I nod, eyes wide open. The receptionist appears from the other room and holds out the door for me.
"Please proceed."
I quickly walk inside. The door closes, and I'm surrounded by neon darkness and heavy equipment. The receptionist moves behind me, and I dodge to the side. She doesn't react, taking out a gown from the cabinet and placing it on the counter.
"Everything off except your underwear."
"Alright!" But she's already gone. Not wanting to make her wait, I hastily tug off my jacket and T-shirt, messily fold my jeans on the counter and pull on the gown over my head. The knot in the strings is too loose, and I scratch at it with my nails, trying to undo it. The material stubbornly holds tight, refusing to budge, and I, too nervous and agitated to care whether or not the gown is falling off my shoulders, step towards the other room.
"I'm ready!"
The receptionist silently reappears and stops next to a machine.
"Face to the black board."
I obediently walk over and step towards the black board. It slightly shakes when the gown ruffles against it.
"Alright..." I hear behind my back. "Don't breathe."
I hold in my breath, and my chest bursts in pain.
"Good job. You can breathe now." I breathe out, but have to take a breath almost immediately after. Slowly, I walk away from the black board, feeling a little light-headed. For some reason, I had to take another short and rapid inhale. The receptionist fumbles behind me, checking the photos on the monitor.
"We can turn on the lights now," she off-handedly notices and for a moment steps out of the room. I don't answer, absently tugging the shirt by the corner of the shoulders. It slips out of my fingers and drops on the floor. Deeply breathing, I slowly kneel down to pick it up. The light flashes on, disorienting me, and I have to lower on my knees to overcome the weakness. My breathing becomes even quicker, and I stare at the moving floor. My hand glides across until it hits the cotton fabric, and the fingers instinctively grasp in... I refocus and see that my fingers are lying limply on the shirt. The pain in my chest becomes sharper, and I try to open my mouth to say something, but the rapid inhale cuts it off.
"Kohaku?"
I try to shake my head, but the movement stabs through my lungs. My elbows break, and my forehead lightly hits the floor. The plastic smell of the floor hits into my nose and open mouth, and I can't stop breathing. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I mentally order myself to stop, but my body's uncontrollably shaking.
"Kohaku!"
Someone's arms jerk me to my back. I hear the flinging of open doors and hurrying footsteps, but I can't focus my vision to tell what's going on.
Something sharp scratches my cheeks and covers my mouth. I continue rapidly breathing, tears blurring my sight.
Slowly, my chest calms down, and I can take a full inhale. Someone removes the paper bag from my mouth, and I look at the myriad of faces blinking in front of me.
"What-what happened..." I whisper. Tears continue rolling, and suddenly, I'm even more scared. My breathing becomes deeper. "What-what happen—"
One of the people leans over, lifts me up by the shoulders, and hugs me close.
"It's all over." She softly shushes, rocking me in her arms. "It's all over, Kohaku."
I recognize the voice. I cannot hold it any longer.
Breaking into a hysterical, ugly cry, I bury my face into Kikyo-san's shirt. My fingers painfully dig into her back.
"I..." The tears fall into my mouth, the salt burning on my tongue. "I don't want to..."
I feel her embrace tighten.
"It's all over, little one. It's alright."
Over her shoulder, I see the Shimura, Kaede, and the nurses. They were all silent. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling hot and weak. Kikyo-san doesn't say anything, only gently sways me.
"I'll go get the water," someone says in a hushed tone, and the door loudly flaps. I slightly open my eyes, sensing how my eyelashes clump together, and raise my gaze.
"Ki-kikyo... san..." I whisper, looking at the serious and thin features. The anxiety inside my chest is slowly receding with the lulling motion of her arms. The corners of her lips lift into a slight, comforting smile. The door fling open again, and from what I could see, it's Masaki. She is holding a transparent, plastic cup of water in one hand and rolling a wheelchair with the other.
"C'mon, let's get you into the wheelchair," Shimura-sama very softly speaks up and, quickly taking a step forward, crouches down near Kikyo-san. Kikyo-san silently allows him to take me, and he helps me slowly stand up. My legs are weak, and I almost instantly collapse into the wheelchair.
"Here," Masaki gently offers me the plastic cup, and I take it with both hands. I gulp too much, and the water painfully drags down my throat. I sharply exhale, catching my breath.
"I'll take you to your room, alright?" Masaki takes the wheelchair's handles. I wordlessly nod, taking another sip. My eyes inadvertently jump at Kikyo-san. She notices and lightly bows her head. Feeling slightly encouraged, I turn fully in the wheelchair, trying to relax in it.
Masaki swiftly rolls me out of the room. Avoiding everyone's gaze, I stare at my lap and press my lips to the edge of the cup. It's uncomfortable to drink while moving.
We stop next to a room, and Masaki lets go of the wheelchair to open and hinge the door.
"There we go," she announces in an artificially enthusiastic voice as she rolls me into the room. "You've got no neighbors, too."
She pauses next to the bed. I lean over and place the cup on the night table and, after a brief moment of hesitation, start to stand up. Masaki hastily grabs me by the shoulders, helping me balance, and doesn't let go until I'm safely on the bed. I feel like a burden.
"Comfortable?"
The edge of the pillow unpleasantly crumples under my back. I smile widely.
"Yes, ma'am."
She smiles back, although uncertainly.
"Wonderful. Get some rest."
I try to look as bright and optimistic as possible. Masaki smiles again and walks out of the room, quietly closing the door after her.
I take out the pillow from the covers and, pushing back the blanket, lie down. The room is dark, with cabinet contours faintly outlining in the background. The black screen of the computer dully reflects in the darkness.
A closed window. A closed door. The air shallowly leaving my nostrils.
Treacherous fear slowly creeps from the pits of my stomach upwards. Don't think about it, I rapidly instruct myself, forcing myself to take a deeper breath. I want to open my mouth, but I seal it shut, afraid to spur the reaction. It becomes harder to breathe, making me feel slightly suffocated, but I stubbornly ignore it, staring at the ceiling and mentally counting.
The door creaks open. Startled, I open my mouth and release whatever air I was holding.
"Kohaku?" The voice is quiet and concerned. I immediately lift up on my elbows, trying to tell apart the face in the darkness.
"I'm here, Kikyo-san."
I think she's relieved. Kikyo-san closes the door and walks up to the bed. On her way, she pulls over the round stool next to the computer and sits down beside me.
All this time, I'm following her with my eyes, afraid that she'll disappear.
"How are you?" Kikyo-san quietly asks. I can't tell the emotions on her face, and I hear how strained her voice is, but her presence still radiates of the unchanging warmth and stability. In the back of my head, I feel the budding fear slowly crumbling.
"Better. I'm so sorry that I worried you so much."
"Kohaku, it's not your fault," she gently reminds me. I turn and stare at the wall. I want to believe her.
For a while, it's silent. The hospital lives and rumbles behind the door. After a few minutes, Kikyo-san stands up and raises the window frame. The fresh air bursts into the room, along with the screeching sounds of cars and the usual beeping of traffic.
"Shimura-san is calling your sister right now."
I falter, and my fingers grasp into the blanket's rim.
"When... when is the operation?" I evenly ask, careful not to make my voice tremble.
"It was postponed by half an hour." Kikyo-san turns away from the window and walk back up. This time, she sits on the bed. The mattress delicately lowers down under her weight.
"However, she won't make it in time. I'm sorry."
It feels lighter in my chest, and I resent myself for this. Two large droplets of sweat belatedly streak down the underside of my right arm.
"Was she mad?" I keep my gaze on the computer. I don't want Kikyo-san to see the relief on my face.
"She was worried."
It immediately feels bitter in my mouth. Not saying anything, I reach over and grab the plastic cup from the night table. The water has already warmed.
"It's okay."
Kikyo-san unnoticeably wavers.
"I'm sorry."
Looking into the cup, I absently observe how the beige colors of my palm smear across the plastic sides.
"I'm... I'm not scared anymore." My chest smoothly rises and falls. I don't dare look at Kikyo-san.
The woman is quiet for a moment, then extends her arm. I quickly place the cup back on the table and eagerly recline into her embrace. She hugs me close, arm firmly, but tenderly wrapping around my side. I close my eyes, listening to her breathing, so soothing and peaceful.
"Kohaku, you won't die," I hear over my ear. I snuggle closer to her, tucking my legs underneath myself. "I promise, you won't die. Think of it as a regular surgery, nothing more."
"Will you be with me?" I whisper, not opening my eyes.
"Yes."
I clumsily bring my arms around her waist and, for the first time, hug her back. The fear is completely gone.
We stay like that for a couple of minutes. My arms are steadily beginning to prick from the effort, but I don't want to let her go. Her embrace remains steady and gentle, never changing.
Someone carefully knocks on the door. I feel Kikyo-san looking up and hug her tighter. The door opens, and I sense a streak of light falling into the room.
"Nakahara-san?"
"Yes?"
"We need to prepare Isobe-kun for the surgery."
"Of course."
I let go of Kikyo-san and look over my shoulder. Masaki is standing with a new gown in her hands. Two male nurses and a stretcher are peeking behind her. I obediently get up and walk up to her. All the time while I switch gowns and am lifted into the stretcher, Kikyo-san is motionlessly standing nearby and silently watching everything. Her face is tense.
The lamps elongate into strips as they roll me across the hallway. The clanking of the wheels resonates in my head, pushing all other noises into a muffled hum. The white coats wrinkle and move in front of me, blocking everything else from the view.
The red label EMERGENCY ROOM flies across my vision, almost simultaneously with the two metal doors. My heart begins to loudly pound in my chest.
I feel that I'm being wheeled around, into a more horizontal position, before several hands taking me and sturdily lowering on a hard table. The stretcher loudly rattles, the doors hit the wall. Suddenly, it's very quiet.
"Kohaku." I slant my eyes. The surgeon's face is covered, but I immediately recognize the pair of eyes, one piercing, one matted.
"Lie on your stomach and lower your face into the mask."
I slant my eyes the other way. Kikyo-san is standing next to the wall. Her eyes drill into mine. I wordlessly turn on my stomach and, lowering my gaze, find that mask Kaede-san was referring to. I lie down, and the plastic mask tightly fits around my cheeks, nose, and mouth.
"The others from the team will come in just a moment," I hear Kaede speaking. "The operation will last approximately three hours. Besides me, you'll also have Sawai-sensei..."
The air tastes strange inside the mask. I want to look at Kikyo, but my gaze is fixed on the floor peeking through the slots in the table. Think of it as a regular surgery. My mind is blank right now. I don't even feel like anything, as if all the fear and anticipation have burnt out to nothing... inhaling in the anesthetics, I don't notice when the world goes black.
A/N: This is the second to last chapter, and personally, the one I think is best-written (not to say that the last chapter is terrible, it just has a different vibe). Ngl, this is like the emotional climax of the story and, even though I didn't plan it, the fact that it occurred with Kohaku is kind of neat. However, maybe I like this chap so much because I haven't written angsty stuff in awhile and... if this chap isn't angsty/dramatic, then I don't know what is XD
Okay, now that I've gotten everything out of the way, I want to thank everyone once more who is reading this story! We're almost there, folks, and I really appreciate you all sticking with me. Next update is the last one! Can you believe it?!