Some things she never said and, if she was upset or weak, she wouldn't share it unless she felt need be. In which case, she never told me, so I never really knew there was anything wrong with her. I would find out and she would tell me then, leaving me to wonder as to why she hadn't told me before. Of course, the internal question would have answered itself. She was funny like that, then again, she had forced herself to solve her own problems, much like I had. Sadly, I wished she wouldn't try to solve problems she couldn't solve herself.

Having been nomadic, she never had difficulty navigating herself around but, however, recently, I would start to find her stranded somewhere, typically a train station or a bus stop, her eyes squinted or closed. At first, while odd, I didn't think it to be anything major, just that the sun or glares hurt her eyes. However, when I would bring her back to my home, she would be feel around, leaving me to wonder what was the matter.

I would ask her but she would say nothing was wrong and that her eyes were tired. I would take her word but things had become rather egregious as she had somehow mistaken a wall for a doorway, running into it. That wasn't the only incident like that, actually, she couldn't seem to recognize too much of her own reflection and looked to me to tell her what she was wearing. I was confused and noticed how she was looking straight at me. Usually, she'd try to avoid my gaze but, this time, she didn't, instead, I had caught the glimpse of how foggy her eyes looked.

I found myself alarmed but I didn't express it, nevertheless asking, "Have you even gone to an eye doctor?" She responded that she hadn't because she didn't need to, citing that I had needed to wear glasses and, just because I needed to wear them, that didn't mean she had to go an eye doctor. I found her logic there to have been nonsense, as, clearly, optical problems can affect anyone, in which case they were affecting her. Either way, I mentioned something about her eyes being cloudy, saying, "Hmm, interesting, your eyes are cloudy."

"No, they ain't. My eyes are fine, Sats."

"Yes, Imouto, they are cloudy and you can't tell because you cannot see them, in which case, you wouldn't have noticed."

"I'm pretty sure they are fine, Sats."

"If you insist."

I left her alone to her own devices and decided to pursue the matter at a later time. By that point, she didn't return to the Mankanshoku home, instead, she would spend a long time stranded at the top the of the stairs or, if she was anywhere else, she would feel around, before inquiring if I had moved anything. This had gone on for a little while before I had sat her down, insistent on talking to her about her eyes. "Ryuuko," I said, "we must talk about your eyes."

"What about 'em?"

"Plenty about them, Ryuuko. Just listen."

"Okay, shoot."

"You and I know you haven't been to an eye doctor and, clearly, you cannot see very well or, rather, it seems, you can't see at all. Honestly, I would like to take you to an eye doctor so your eyes can be checked and that, whatever issues you have, we can have a name and, possibly, a cure or some kind of treatment."

It took a bit of kicking and screaming just to get her into the car but I managed to get her there. We were in the doctor's office for roughly an hour. After a thorough examination, the doctor had given a rather grim verdict, stating, "It seems her vision had actually been deteriorated for some time."

"Yes, of course, how long?"

"Hard to determine but I'd have to estimate at about six months, probably more."

"Any cause?"

"Unfortunately, that's just as hard to sort out, especially from basic examination alone. She might require further testing to find anything abnormal."

"Anything we can do?"

"Well, one could start by making accommodations. She'll need things to stay constant and a cane in which to navigate herself better."

In a "just in case" circumstance, he then sent us to the lab for blood-work and then to radiology for an x-ray and MRI of her head and brain. She was dizzy coming out of the MRI but we made it home alright. She was quiet for a while when had returned, spending her time in room. She stayed upstairs for a long time before, while using her cane, she came downstairs for dinner. This change was sudden for her and, from a few clues here and there, it seems she had been in denial that something was wrong, the trip the eye doctor shattering it.

Her silence seemed to speak whatever she had felt. She would be biting it back, forcing it to the deepest depths within, but it was obvious that she wanted to cry. Nevertheless, regardless if she wanted it or if she even asked, I got up from where I was and sat next to her, wrapping my arm around her, pulling her close. I said nothing because I didn't need to, she just felt it.

It took a bit of silent coaxing before she shook and started to cry. She cried for long after our dinner had gone cold but before she turned to me and asked, "I'm not getting better, am I?" I wasn't really sure as to what to say and, in all fairness, I couldn't determine if that were the case or not. She had a chance I would suppose, however, she also had a chance of losing her vision permanently. I answered honestly, saying I didn't know and neither did the doctor. She clung to me, crying harder.

I reassured her that, if there was anything we could do then we could do it but, until then, we had to make the best of what was there. I then went onto tell her how strong she was, as not many would have the resolve to live with something so life-changing. I reminded her of how strong her resolve was by telling her of how she tried to just live with the condition as opposed to complaining, even trying to hide it for so long and act as if little has changed. She cries because living sightless wasn't something she's wanted, however, while she mourned, she wasn't resorting to suicide. Life fibers be damned, she was still human and responded in much a way anyone else would.

I suppose her losing her sight brought us closer, as we were practically joined like Siamese twins, inseparable. Almost everywhere I would go, she wouldn't be far behind, however, again, her blindness was a sudden change, so, to be expected, she wanted to feel secure in a shattered reality. I would tolerate this, after all, we were very much getting to know each other after being separated from and unaware of each other for over thirteen years. It was hard to explain this, as most have assumed that she was being clingy or that she was helpless.

I explained that she wasn't helpless, however, as she could manage herself, it was just that she was adjusting to her newfound impairment and, for convenience, she was near me, should something occur. I would come to find out that she was right for wanting to be near me, as something would come to happen. I wasn't expecting this, certainly, and neither was she, nevertheless we were horrified by it.

We were strolling about university grounds when her steps started to falter. I thought little of it, until she didn't respond when I called her name. I turned around to find her but, instead, found myself running to her and a small pack gathered around her. She was on her back, frothing, shaking, jerking, and having a fit, as though there was surge of electricity going through her. As I held her twitching hand, she was at this for about ten minutes before she was rushed to an emergency room.

They had run a battery of tests on her before coming up with something wrong but couldn't yet be identified, not at that time. However, they did tell me what happened to her and it was that she had a grand mal seizure and asked if she had a history of epilepsy, to which I responded, "No, not that I know of." I then went on to say that the seizure and her blindness were sudden and that, prior, she wasn't experiencing either or anything similar. The doctors looked at each other confusedly before their expressions turned to worry. They then said they wanted to keep her in for observation.

When she awoke, she asked, "It's true, isn't it, I'm not getting better, am I?" I couldn't ascertain that for her but I did tell her that, since the doctors want to keep her, we could find out what was the cause of the seizure and her blindness. She asked for how long and stated that she'd like to go home, to which I responded, "I don't know, Imouto, but, if it's to find out anything wrong with you, then you may be here for some time."

Days came and went, while doctors searched for answers, hoping that it won't be too late. As they searched, she gained a new symptom in quick succession to the first one. One week after she had come in, she had tremors and, within the couple weeks that followed, she walked strangely, along with the fact that she dragged one leg. She'd spend most of her time bedridden and wrapped in blankets, staring out of the window. When I visited, she would smile and ask how I was doing, to which I would reassure her.

However, during one such visit, before I could answer her as to about my well-being, she said, suddenly, "Sats, you need to go outside and play." It was bizarre, obviously, and I initially thought it was another symptom cropping up, however, said notion would be disproven, when I noticed that it sounded coded, which it was. She was telling me something that was subtle but wasn't hard to catch onto. She was instructing me to search for answers as to the cause of her illness and point the doctors who were so desperate to help her in the correct direction.

After clutching her hand, I would oblige her. I would try my damnedest to research and I would spend some time at this before coming up short, until Houka and Uzu came to visit. I struck up a conversation with them, listening to Houka's theory of her symptoms caused retroactively by brain damage, while Uzu suggested a brain tumor. I was caught off-guard by the latter's explanation and I asked him to elaborate to which he responded, "Well, brain tumors grow and fuck shit up as they grow, along with that they can be hard to track."

"How hard?"

"Really hard, it can take up to few x-rays or whatever to find out someone has one and then she might have to go in for a surgery."

"What kind of surgery?"

"Biopsy."

It seemed that something had heard whatever prayers I might have left unsaid, as, not too long after our conversation. I got a call to come in immediately. It was late at night, a week later, and I was asked to come in first thing in the next morning. It had something to do with my sister, certainly, and her illness. She was in a wheelchair and in tears, shaking as she cried. We would be talking for most of the morning.

He told us that, usually, they would perform a biopsy but, because of its size and her symptoms, they thought they'd just operate on her to remove it before the symptoms get worse. He explained that he couldn't guarantee any damage could be repaired or will heal afterwards but he did reassure me that she had a chance of surviving. I asked him for the date and time of her surgery, to which he said a few days from then.

I never left her side and, as they put her under, I held her hand, reassuring her the best I could, making sure she knew that I loved her. She was in surgery for about six hours, before her blood was drawn, x-rayed, and had an MRI performed. They told me I could bring her to recover at home, after a couple of days, along with telling me that her hair where the craniotomy incision was would grow back, eventually. They said the results would come back soon and that they'll determine if she needed further treatment in regards to the tumor and or the potential diagnosis.

It seemed that the surgery had done its job or so I'd assume, as her tremors had calmed before stopping about four days' post-surgery. Other symptoms that had arose would take a longer time to disappear, if they were going to disappear at all, however. Life seemed to return to some normalcy, except she was quiet, communicating silently. Eventually, she started to speak, at one time asking me I'd take her to the beach.

For the first time, in a long time, she seemed happy, darting at the waves that washed on the sand, letting the water wash over her toes, and feeling her way around the beach. She would be looking for something interesting to take home, blindness and impaired mobility be damned. I found myself sharing her bliss, watching her play. Her illness had robbed her of so much, yet, there she was, playing on the beach, like she used to do. She would play until the sun was starting to set, in which case, she took her seat near me and we stayed there until the stars were twinkling.

A few days after, I found her agitated. At first, I thought her to be half-asleep or experiencing a night terror but, no, she seemed to be coherent. When she heard my voice, she threw her arms around me and clung to me endlessly. I asked her what was the matter to which she told me of a nightmare in which she earlier and, in said nightmare, her tumor had come back, her symptoms worsened, and that she had passed away, however, what really left a mark was that, in said nightmare, as she passed, she was alone, crying out. The image was a vivid one and, certainly, heartbreaking.

"I don't want it to come back, Sats! I don't want to be alone!" she screamed, sobbing at that point. I did only as I could and reassured her, saying, "If I am to be powerless as illness takes you away, then, well, I would most certainly stay with you until the very end." She calmed down and started to wipe her tears from her cloudy eyes, to which I asked her if she wanted to go out some place.

We took a lengthy stroll through park, talking about many things and her illness, wondering of the chances of it coming back. When we came home, she made note of the fact that mailbox had mail in it. She didn't have to see that to know but the fact that she had deduced that there was mail in it without going near it left to me to wonder if it was instinctive. I retrieved the mail, put on my glasses, and started to read.

It was mostly bills and flimflam and I would probe through them, until I came across a large envelope from the Tokyo Bay hospital. I recalled, retroactively, that I asked for the doctors to mail their findings, as I might be busy enough to miss a phone call. I opened them and would find myself astonished, enough so that I had to read them about five times to make sure I hadn't missed anything or misread.

Despite our initial assumption, the tumor that had ravaged her brain was benign and they found no traces of a cancer or other illness, however, they did put a name to exactly what the name of her tumor was. It was something called a "meningioma", a tumor affecting the outer parts of the brain, a tumor of the meninges. A note went on to mention the doctors' understandable confusion but their understanding towards why it had taken so long to diagnose. Apparently, meningiomas are rare in someone under 55, as most patients afflicted are usually 60-70-years old, so it took a while to reach that conclusion, as well as the fact that it was hard at first to see on x-rays or MRIs, along with the fact that nothing cancerous or unusual came up in her blood tests. They also mentioned it was fortunate that they had forgone the biopsy and went straight to removal, as said tumor was about the size of her fist and would have caused much more damage before said brain damage led to her death. While I never really knew, I was pleased with the good news

I would share this with her and find her expressing her relief and happiness. Afterwards, her seizures lessened and she regained some of her mobility lost to abnormal gait and paralysis. Her sight returned some but, otherwise, she remained blind. She grew used limitations, eventually learning to work around them. She fully became herself again, complete with her brand of mischief.

In all conscience, I wonder where she's hidden my shoes. She knows where they are, yet, she hasn't told me.

Notes:

Hiya there,

Not real sure where the idea came from but, as the tags will tell you, I've been watching medical shows again. Anywho, I've never quite seen something like this in them (there are tumors but, usually, in the shows, Mystery Diagnosis, Diagnose Me, or Mystery ER, they are cancerous) so I felt prompted to write how such a scenario would go. At first, it was gonna be Sats but, then again, Ryuuko is more stubborn, so it made sense, as Sats would reach a conclusion of something wrong after some time and go to confirm it, while Ryuu had to be forced to acknowledge it.

Life-fiber hybrid or otherwise, Ryuu is still human and, while she may act as tough as steel and is even more stubborn than a mule, she's still human, so to be confronted with not knowing if she'll get better would be heartbreaking for her. Likewise, her not wanting to think something is wrong with her eyes is characteristic of her stubbornness but, at the same time, she just wanted to think her blindness would go away and things'll be fine.

Yes, meningiomas are real tumors that grow on the outer layers of the brain (the meninges) but they are usually benign (meaning they just grow and cause harm by growing) and, yes, they are more common in elderly women. Do they have symptoms like Ryuu's? Depends on their size and where they are located but, when I searched the symptoms, they came up with that.

—Amoridere