Chapter 15

For a long time, Tomo stayed silent. Her story finished, she simply allowed everything to sink in. "I never saw her after that. Never heard her voice, never dreamed about her. Nothing." Tomo fidgeted with the papers still dangling in her hands. "But I searched. I spent years trying to find her. I wanted to understand what happened. And I still wanted her to pay for what she did . . ."

Tomo," Chiyo sounded annoyed. The sternness in her voice startled both Sakaki and Tomo. "I don't think its Osaka's fault."

Tomo looked as though she'd just been slapped in the face. Sakaki expected her to yell at Chiyo for even suggesting such a thing. But somehow, Tomo remained seated, the agitation in her voice, "How can you say that?"

"Because she's visited me more than you," Chiyo explained. Sakaki merely listened as Chiyo briefly described a few of the visits she'd had in college; instances that Sakaki had already read about in Chiyo's journals. This conversation wasn't really meant for Sakaki in the first place. She'd only happened upon the journals. She felt like an intruder, but no one suggested that she leave. And so Sakaki sat quietly as Chiyo detailed the day she found Osaka in the bathtub, the day she forced Osaka to eat, and the day Osaka left her. "Couldn't you see it in her," Chiyo asked, "She doesn't want that curse. She never did. I tried so hard to help her. But I failed."

Confused, Tomo said, "But Chiyo, if she hadn't visited Yomi or Kagura . . ."

"They would've died anyway. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. Osaka wanted to help them." Tomo tried to protest but Chiyo cut her off. "Maybe it was because of the pain she was in, but she . . ." and Chiyo trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Why'd she save you then," Sakaki blurted. She covered her mouth immediately after say the words; wishing she could take them back. She knew the affect they'd have on Tomo.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I," but Sakaki stopped when she caught Chiyo's gaze. It wasn't an angry stare or annoyed. Rather it was a forgiving stare as if Chiyo were telling her, "It's okay."

But saying not a word to Sakaki, Chiyo focused her attention on the expectant Tomo and said, "Not only did she visit me regularly, she also saved my life; a couple times."

Sakaki glanced at Tomo, seeing the look of disbelief on her face. Her mouth hung slightly open as Chiyo explained about the incident with the back road. Tomo just shook her head at the story. And Chiyo briefly touched upon the incident of when she first sat under some faulty wiring and left before it broke through. By this time, Tomo had buried her face in her hands. She took it pretty hard.

Chiyo noticed this quickly. "I'm sorry Tomo. I . . ."

"Why you," Tomo snapped. "If she could save your life, why not Yomi or Kagura? What's so special about you?"

Chiyo eyed the floor. "I don't know. She never talked about Yomi or Kagura with me."

"Was that it?" Chiyo looked up in confusion. Tomo, a little calmer repeated, "Was that it? Did she help you after that?"

"Yes. Once more that I can remember. It was when I worked at the Tokyo District Hospital. They'd placed me in the Mental Ward for the day. I'd never worked in that section before, but I knew there were a few patients that required extra precautions when dealing with . . ."

I'd just finished seeing a little girl with a mild case of strep. I'd written out a prescription for her and sent her and her mom on their way. So finishing up some paperwork, I was about to head down to file it when Sazuhara-sensei walked into the room. He was one of the head doctors and more or less my boss. As nice of a guy as he could be, he was strict. Hospitals needed to be strict, but sometimes Sazuhara-sensei went a little overboard.

He stood in the doorway, his enormous figure looming over me. "Mihama-sensei?"

"Yes?"

"I need you down in the Mental Ward for a few hours. One of the doctors down there fell and we just need someone to fill in until we get a more permanent replacement." Sazuhara-sensei didn't mince words; always straight to the point.

I nodded, unsure of whether or not I really wanted to do this. The occasional tale would sometimes drift from the ward up to the general staff. It was always hard to tell exaggeration from fact. Still, it was my job and so I gathered up my things and walked down to the elevator. A couple basement floors were dedicated to the ward. I'd never been down there before so when the elevator doors opened, I was surprised by what I saw.

Movies always depicted these kinds of sections as smelly, disgusting places to work. And being in the basement, I guess I expected a damper atmosphere. But I was wrong. It looked like any other floor in the hospital. Sparkling floors, the occasional nurse moving equipment from one room to the next. As I walked through the hallway, I noticed that the only immediate difference was that the patients' rooms had security locks on them. They couldn't just get up and leave.

Eventually locating the main desk, I approached the secretary there and explained myself. "Don't worry Mihama-sensei. This place isn't nearly as scary as some make it sound."

I chuckled in relief. The secretary probably thought I'd gone crazy, but just hearing those words from her eased my anxiety about this temporary assignment. "So where do you want me?"

"Well, I think they'll want you down in the service hall. You'll really just be helping the doctors administer medication to the patients. Believe me, it's nothing to write home about." The nurse smiled and pointed me in the right direction. After thanking her, I walked down the hallway towards my assignment.

Grabbing peaks down the different hallways that I passed, I found many rooms to be just like the ones up above. Rooms for check-ups, surgeries, and even recovery rooms; I'd also ran into a few visitors along the way. Unfortunately some were lost and I could only give them the general direction of the main desk. But I eventually located the service hall and found a rather skinny doctor sporting thick bifocals inspecting a clipboard. When I approached him, he didn't look at me in acknowledgment but he said, "You must be the replacement. I was hoping they'd get me one of the doctors but I guess you'll have to do for now."

"So, what do want me to do?" I couldn't really think of anything else to say? How do you respond to something like that?"

"Well," the doctor said, finally sizing me up, "I'm gonna have you pass out medication to some of the patents that I care for. A simple job really, but let me explain."

The explanation was quite simple. I'd get a key which actually unlocked most of the patient's cells, but wasn't allowed to use it unless there was a medical emergency. Each cell had a tray which could slide in and out of the door. I'd place the medication in the tray, slide it in, and knock on the door. Easy enough. The doctor showed me two lists, arranged by sections; in case I wanted to pick a side. I'd also use it to help determine who gets what. At first, it made no difference to me, but then on one list I found the name, Kasuga, and immediately asked for that section.

"Alright, just take your time and just make note of any strange or suspicious behavior that you might notice."

Define strange behavior. I thought to myself. The doctor never bothered telling me the conditions of the patients I was about to walk among. But it must not have been important because after that, he disappeared through a door and I had to take another. I glanced down the hallway I now stood in, doors on both sides. I pocketed the key and checked the chart again. My eyes instantly found the name, Kasuga. Could it be?

Counting out the first assortment of pills, I checked my chart and stopped at the first door. The man inside only paced back and forth as if he were lost. Depositing the medication in the tray, I slid it in and knocked on the door. He didn't respond. He only continued to pace. I guess he'll take it when he's ready. Moving to the next cell, I did the same. And as I moved from cell to cell, most patients seemed fairly content with where they were. Some slept as I knocked on the door and only raised a hand in recognition. Others appeared quite interested in the "new girl." Each door meant one step closer to the Kasuga, whoever it was.

When I'd finally reached the cell, I checked the chart and discovered she didn't receive any medication at all. Peering through window, I saw her. Sitting on the bed, she stared off into space. Hesitating, I knocked on the door, wondering if she'd acknowledge me. But nothing. "Osaka," I said, wondering how well she could hear me. "It's me, Chiyo." Nothing. What's happened to her?

My mind blanked as I watched her. She hadn't grown an inch in years. She still looked the same as the last time I'd seen her, exactly how I'd first seen her. Fumbling the key out of my pocket, I debated on whether or not I should unlock the door. Just like before, Osaka looked to be so fragile; like porcelain. I could say she had blacked out. The idea of her attacking me never crossed my mind as I unlocked the door and entered. Osaka ignored me. Slowly I approached her, stunned with awe. Taking a seat next to her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and said, "Osaka, are you okay?"

No response.

"You know who I am don't you?"

Osaka said nothing, but pulled something out of her pocket; a piece of folded paper. It was a picture of all of us. It took me a moment to remember where she'd got it from. "So you do remember," was all I could say.

"Chiyo," her voice came out as a whimper, "I'm sorry."

"For what," I asked. And then the door closed. The bang was so sudden it caused me to jump and I hurried over, but there was no keyhole on this side. There wasn't even a doorknob or anything. I glanced out the small window and only saw someone running down the hall.

For a moment, I panicked. Did someone get out? But how? And what about me? How would I get out? I turned back to Osaka, who didn't even attempt to look at me. I wondered if she'd had anything to do with this. I remembered well what had all happened in college. The journals I kept, I must've reread them at least a hundred times. There was something abnormal about Osaka. Not something that medical science could comprehend, but something. "Osaka," I said, and waited for her to look at me. "Are you doing this?" She nodded. "Why?"

She hesitated. "I don't want you getting hurt."

I towered over her. Technically speaking, she's supposed to be four years older than me. But anyone who'd have heard that notion probably would've locked me away as well. And though I'd read dozens of books since college to figure out what might be plaguing Osaka, I've never found anything to even acknowledge whatever it is that she has. "Osaka," I finally said, as I took my seat next to her, "we're at a hospital. It's okay."

She leaned in to me, and for a moment, I thought she might fall asleep. Osaka still looked tired, as if she hadn't slept in years. Then, she said almost begging, "Please don't leave me."

And the door burst open, yet it did not scare me. I didn't bother checking Osaka. I knew she was gone. I only listened with half interest as the doctor rushed me with questions about if I was alright, and if "he" hurt me. Apparently someone had escaped and attacked someone. I couldn't even say what their condition was. But eventually I looked down at my chart, and found the room that had previously been labeled "Kasuga" to now be empty. No lines or Xs, just blank. And somehow it didn't surprise me. There never was a Kasuga here.

". . . I later found out that a doctor had been placed in critical condition. He survived. But things could've been a lot worse." Chiyo explained.

"So Osaka tricked you into an empty room to keep you from getting attacked?" Tomo asked, baffled. Chiyo nodded. Getting up in frustration, Tomo began pacing back and forth. "She said she didn't want you to get hurt," though Tomo was clearly upset, her voice remained calm. "Did she ever tell you why? I mean, if she could keep you from getting hurt, why not Yomi or Kagura? Or what about her own parents?"

"I don't know," Chiyo resigned, "Osaka would appear to me at random like that. After college, she'd never appear for very long. But always in the same way."

"In what way," Sakaki asked.

"Always pale, always sad; like she couldn't take it any longer."

"You said she spoke to you," Tomo said, stopping, "like she spoke to the others. If Osaka didn't want you to get hurt, why would she talk to you like that?"

Chiyo was silent for a long time. She appeared to be choosing her words very carefully. Then, finally she said, "Because even when she spoke to me, it was different from the others." Chiyo glanced at Sakaki, almost pitying her. "I'm sorry Sakaki. I know you've been worried about me." Chiyo released a small, sarcastic chuckle. "I haven't been a very good friend have I?"

"No, that's not true," Sakaki interjected, though softly.

"I know you've been wondering what happened eight years ago, when I was in America. Well, there's not much to say, but you can probably guess who it involves. I was visiting Kristina. I hadn't seen her in years." Then remembering Tomo, Chiyo added, "Kristina and I went to college together." Tomo simply nodded. "Anyways, we'd just got done with some shopping and Kristina had pulled into a gas station . . ."

It felt great hanging out with Kristina again. As old as she was, she hardly showed her age. Anyone who didn't know her would've sworn her to be under fifty. What with the way her hair sparkled under the roof of the gas station. "So how long have you been married to Dean?"

"Almost thirty years," Kristina said, matter-of-factly.

I shook my head. I couldn't believe it. While we waited for the gas tank to fill, we watched the stars and I asked her all about her married life, her two kids, and her job. She asked me about much of the same; though I had no married life to speak of. I glanced around the scenery that the gas station provided. "It sure is something, isn't it?"

Kristina looked over to me in mild confusion. "What is?"

"I don't know. Everything I guess. I haven't been to America in years." Kristina chuckled at that. Maybe I just felt nostalgic. But standing outside in the night sky with her; I missed these times more than I realized.

"Say Chiyo," Kristina asked, "Did you ever get a hold of your friends?"

Sadly, I shook my head. "No, I never did. But I have stayed in touch with Sakaki."

Kristina looked ready to argue, but she held it in. Some things never change I guess. "It happens," she said, disappointed, "No one's around you forever. But at least you have Sakaki."

I nodded and turned to Kristina to add to that, but a loud "click" stifled my response as Kristina walked over to see her car had finished filling. She walked towards the gas station itself and asked, "Wanna come in?"

"No," I answered, "After spending all day in and out of stores, it's kind of nice to just relax." Kristina only nodded at that and walked off into the gas station.

After she disappeared, I thought about what she'd said. "No one's around you forever," I repeated. At work, I only ever hung around those that needed treatment; and that was brief. Not to mention, the doctors I worked with varied on a day by day basis. But that was work. And with my friends, I never really tried to contact them. I kind of left it up to Sakaki, but she couldn't because of her responsibilities. "Any action is better than no action." My father's words circled my head. That phrase defined his business. It's what drove him. Whether big or small, he was always the one to take action. And somewhere along the way, I stopped taking action.

I watched the moon for a few minutes, noticing Kristina stuck in line. But when I turned my head back to the sky, the moon had vanished. Covered in a layer of fog which I hadn't seen before, the moon had retreated into the white blanket. The fog moved quickly, though no wind pushed it. In a matter of seconds, I'd lost sight of the station and held onto the car so I wouldn't get lost. "What's going on? Can fog move in like this?"

Stepping away from the car, I walked towards the gas station; wondering just how far I'd have to go before I could see Kristina. Several paces later, the fog began to disperse. As fast as it had snuck up, it now pulled away. Except, the fog had pulled the gas station with it. I stood in an open field; no car, no gas pumps, no Kristina. Taking a few cautious steps, I banged my foot against something hard, like rock. Kneeling down, my mouth dropped as I stared into the face of a gravestone. Some name I didn't recognize, the words "Rest In Peace," and dates jumbled across the front. And with a second glance, I discovered this open field littered with gravestones. As far as the eye could see, hundreds of graves were planted everywhere in the field. Different sizes, different shapes, and even different colors. Some bore names, others only years, and still others were blank. But the years on the graves were all over the place. One I found with the years marked "1905 – 1937" while the one next to it said "1672 – 1708." There were English letters, Japanese kanji, Korean, Roman, Egyptian, Greek, Hebrew, and a host of others I did not recognize. "Where am I?"

"It's a graveyard," said a voice from behind.

I turned. "Osaka, what are . . ."

"Really it's the graveyard. Everyone who was ever alive is buried here. Come and see." I watched her walk up to me, her eighteen year old figure drifting past the stone monuments; her uniform swaying with each step. She grabbed my hand with a soft firmness and pulled me deeper into the graveyard. "Look," she pointed, "that's where Nichiren is buried. And over there is Toshiro Mifune." I saw each grave she pointed out, her finger never stopping. "And that one is Walter Camp's. John Wilkes Booth, Ho Chi Minh, and Maria Edgeworth."

The list went on and on. American presidents, Japanese prime ministers, athletes, actors, authors, you name it and she pointed at one. I felt lost, not only in the obvious sense but also with Osaka. She's never acted like this before. I haven't seen her this . . . wound up? . . . since high school. I suddenly felt uncomfortable. This was a place that I should not be seeing. I tugged my hand away from Osaka and she stopped. She didn't turn back to me, she just stopped. "Why are you doing this," I asked, "This isn't the Osaka I know."

Without turning she said flatly, "You've had it pretty good as a doctor. Fixing up scrapes and bruises," her voice quivered as she continued, "a few dozen broken bones, and hundreds of stitches. But . . ." she trailed off.

I didn't know how to respond. Was she angry at me? Why was she showing me this? How was she showing me? Biting my lip, I asked, "What's wrong Osaka?"

Osaka turned on me. Her face grimaced with anger, yet she could've cried. She stared me down for a number of seconds before the trembling disappeared and she took on the blank, despairing stare that I'd sadly grown so accustomed to. "Because," her voice faint, "I want to help you."

My legs shook, and I had to force them to walk up to Osaka. I placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and realized I couldn't think of anything to say to her. I stood dumbfounded, but she ignored me and scanned the graves. Grabbing my hand, she jerked me over to a nearby grave. Osaka said nothing, but merely pointed at it. I knelt down and read it, covering my mouth in shock. "Yazumura Miyaki," I whispered. I ran my fingers over the dates, September 23, 2012 to April 9, 2033. "I don't believe it," I said into my fist. "O-Osaka, how did you . . ."

"What," she said as if she didn't know.

That night suddenly clear in head, I rambled on, "I was the only nurse on call that night. They wheeled her into the emergency room. Multiple stab wounds, she was in bad shape. And it was out my field. I hadn't studied to be a surgeon. But she required immediate surgery." Osaka watched my rant. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, as usual. "I did what I could. But . . . she was too . . . it was too late. There was nothing I could do." I finished, staring longingly at the grave.

I felt Osaka's hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at her. "It's not too late to save her."

I was about to ask what she meant when the ground shifted under my feet. I jumped back as a grotesque hand popped up through the dirt. Barely recognizable, Miyaki climbed out of her grave. Dirt clung to her knotty hair while bugs crawled in and out of her. Torn shambles of clothes and skin flaking off, she saw nothing with her one remaining eye as she stumbled about. The smell was awful. I felt horrified, and sick. My stomach turned over and over, bringing me close to throwing up. Somehow, I managed to say, "Osaka?"

But Osaka didn't respond. She stepped away from me and towards the creature that used to be a girl. Osaka walked right next to the thing and placed a hand on its face. Upon her touch the skin grew back along with the clothes. The thing's hair filled out and color returned to its face. The missing eyeball popped back into place and the bugs dropped off, dead. The chest grew out and the legs grew with muscle. When Osaka finally let go, I stared into the eyes of Miyaki. She looked normal, human, she looked alive. "Just like new," Osaka said.

"How did you . . ." I began, but then the ground moved again. Not next to me or across from me, but everywhere. I looked around as those things started climbing out of graves from all over. I felt as though I were in some kind of zombie movie.

Osaka's voice rang through my ears as I couldn't remove my eyes from the horrid sight. "You became a nurse to help people. To save lives. Now look at all the people who couldn't be saved. Cancer, heart disease, diabetes, and thousands more." Osaka's arm suddenly stuck out, pointing at one of the "zombies" who had a big chunk of his skull missing. "But that one, died because the doctor operated on the wrong side of his brain." Her finger flung over to the remains of an older woman. "And as for her, a misdiagnosis allowed the cancer in her body to spread." I wanted her to stop, but I couldn't find the voice to do so. Tears welled up as I listened to Osaka continue, finally pointing to a young boy. ". . . And he survived a car accident. But because of minimal brain activity, doctors declared him dead . . . and harvested his organs for donation." I shuddered when I felt her lips touch my ear. "He felt everything."

I dropped to ground, gagging. My stomach couldn't take it. And through the tears, I painfully hurled out my lunch. I couldn't keep myself together and began crying. I cried for everyone Osaka had pointed out, for Miyaki. But most of all, I cried out of fear. What did she bring me here for? I couldn't understand what had come over Osaka. But as I hugged myself, I felt her penetrating gaze. Eventually, I regained control but was still unable to fully stand. So staying on my knees, I asked, "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you can stop this. You can cure every person that rolls into your hospital. No mistakes, no misdiagnosis, nothing will stand in your way. And I can help you do it."

"But . . . this is too much. How can you do something like this?"

"Because, I want to help you."

"But Osaka," I said, shaking my head. "This isn't right. It's too much power. Where did you get it?" As crazy as everything sounded, I believed that Osaka could give this to me. And it was perfect. Imagining any doctor with the ability to cure a patient no matter what the illness, made me envious. How could I refuse?

Osaka only said, "Please Chiyo, let me help you." I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say. In fact, I couldn't give any kind of answer. I couldn't do anything. When Osaka got no response from me, I felt her kneel down next to me and she gently rubbed my head. Her fingers were as cold as they always were. I looked into her desperate eyes and she pleaded, "Please Chiyo, I don't want you to die."

My senses froze at the words. Osaka was directing my attention to the tombstone I'd been next to. I didn't want to look, yet my curious eyes followed Osaka's direction and next to me in cold stone letters was the name, Mihama Chiyo. No dates, no epitaphs, just my name. I backed away instinctively. The dirt shifted and I moved to get away. A hand shot up out of the ground and grabbed my leg. Too terrified to look away, I watched a familiar face crawl out of the ground. She was missing skin, missing hair. One of her nostrils had been eaten away, now holding a small family of beetles. She approached me with fluid running down her left leg. And with spidery white hair, she was me.

My legs buckled and I couldn't stand. I felt the thing climbing on top of me. A deep bubbly utterance flowed up through the remains of her throat and she managed, "Help me." I don't know if I cracked my head on a gravestone or what, but my vision blurred. I got real dizzy and blacked out.

I awoke to the sound of my name. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by people. I recognized Kristina, but the rest were strangers. I was on the cement, next to her car. Kristina just kept crying out, "Chiyo, are you okay? What happened? We called an ambulance." I blacked out again.

". . . After that, I never saw her again. When she first visited me in college, I knew something was wrong with her. I just wish I knew how to help her." Then glancing at Tomo, Chiyo said, "With what you said Tomo, I can understand her a little more. But why Osaka accepted such a curse, I wish I knew."

"But she shouldn't have asked any of us," Tomo whispered, "She was our friend."

"I don't know Tomo," Chiyo said, "I just don't know."

Tomo sat in silence for a while, thinking about everything that had transpired. No one could break the silence. Sakaki had nothing to say as she felt like an outsider on all of this. And there was nothing Chiyo could say that would comfort her. Eventually, Tomo stood up and said, "Thank you Chiyo. For sharing what you did. I-I have to go."

"Wait," Sakaki called out. She didn't know if Tomo would stop or not. But when Tomo did, Sakaki said, "If you'd like, I could take you to Chiyo's mansion, show you some of her things from college; if you wanted to know more." Then realizing what she just said, Sakaki glanced back at Chiyo who nodded her permission. ". . . Maybe it'd help you understand her more."

"I'd like that." Was all Tomo said.

Then getting up, Sakaki walked over to Tomo's side and said to Chiyo, "Is it all right if we leave now? Do you need anything?"

Chiyo shook her head, "No. I'll be fine. If I need something, I'll call the nurse."

Sakaki nodded and led Tomo out, stumbling over her leg. It still bothered her after the surgery. Before they left, Tomo turned to Chiyo and said, "Don't be walking round too much," and she forced an apologetic smile.

Chiyo nodded and then Sakaki and Tomo were gone. Laying back in bed, Chiyo thought about everything she'd heard. It'd been eight years since she last saw Osaka. I just hope it's not too late. Rolling over, Chiyo closed her eyes, deciding she'd get some sleep. But when sleep wouldn't come, she shifted in the bed to watch TV. And there was Osaka, standing right next to her.