20 / 02 / 2019, 11:50 – Wednesday, Osaka Kaisei Prefectural Hospital, Osaka
The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, clean and sterile, but not unpleasant. Sunlight streamed through the half-open window, brushing the floor with a warm glow.
Akane is now lying in the bed, his body fragile yet alive, the steady beep of the monitor marking the rhythm of a life long suspended.
The doctor finished his initial check, scribbling quietly on the clipboard. His brow furrowed, his expression seemed troubled with something, but also nothing.
There was a tension in his, but also a calmness of a professional, as if he carried both the weight of concern and also the experience of the past.
Akane's eyes flickered toward him, sensing the doctor's gaze that moved toward him.
"Is there… anything wrong with me?" he asked quietly, with a slightly hoarse voice.
The doctor hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing acute. Physically, your body is weak, but stable. Neurologically, no abnormal activity for your age."
Then, after a pause, he asked the question that weighed on his mind, his main concern since he woke up: he needed to know the condition of his siblings.
"How long have I… been sleeping?"
A heavy silence descended upon the room, freezing nurses mid-step as they sensed the weight of the moment. Monitors pulsed quietly, their rhythmic beeping underscoring the tension that filled the air.
The doctor looked directly at him, at the boy's eyes.
"Shirakami-kun… seven months," he said slowly.
The words struck Akane like a sudden gust of wind.
Deep within his mind, the very rationality and reason that had confined the malice and despair spilled out briefly.
From the depths of grey eyes, a tinge of red is spilling, crimson as blood.
He closed his eyes, inhaling, exhaling slowly, letting the sensation pass.
"Seven months… and my siblings? Where are they?" His words came carefully, measured, as if each were spoken with a strain.
The doctor observed him closely but saw only the faintest red glint in his eyes, a trick of the light perhaps, or the mind adjusting to shock.
After all, seven months was long enough for anything to happen, yet short enough to leave holes in memory and expectation.
At that moment, a presence approached from the side of the door after observing for a while.
Riscia stepped forward and stopped beside Akane's bed, standing side by side with the Doctor, her hand gently resting on Akane's.
Warmth spread through his fingers, and he opened his eyes, confusion quickly giving way to recognition.
A flicker of red remained in his eyes, blending with grey — a subtle, beautiful contrast of weariness and alertness.
"Riscia-nee-chan!" he exclaimed softly, relief and surprise mingling in his tone. A small, genuine smile since his awakening touched his lips.
If it's her, then everything suddenly makes sense. Akane thought inwardly, relief washes over him.
Riscia smiled back, composed yet tender. "Ayato-kun and Irina-chan are all right, Akane-kun. You needn't worry about them."
The doctor cleared his throat. "Shirakami-kun, your siblings' recovery was faster than yours. They awakened after two weeks, but you… We still don't know why your condition lasted this long, or why you awoke now. Your brain activity was normal, yet your body did not respond."
Akane nodded slowly, absorbing the words. Though distant and detached in posture, he remained polite, responding to questions with measured answers.
After some time, the doctor hesitated, seeming to want to add more, but seeing Akane's fragile state, he refrained and turned to Riscia. "Further tests must be conducted. Continuous monitoring. It's necessary, given your… unique condition."
Akane watched him, a slight hesitation. Then, after a breath, he asked directly:
"Is it not possible for me to be discharged directly, Doctor?"
The doctor froze mid-step, surprised. Who, after seven months of coma, would ask such a thing?
His professional instinct clashed with the logic of the request. "You cannot, Shirakami-kun. Your body is weak. And even if you feel strong… There are numerous medical risks."
Akane stayed silent, considering before speaking again. "Is seven months not enough? Can I not do my rehabilitation at home?"
His gaze flicked to Riscia, who had been silently observing. "Riscia-nee-chan, isn't that right?"
Riscia blinked, caught off guard. But in a heartbeat, she made her choice. She stepped forward with a hint of expectation and insistence.
"It's no problem, right? Just rehabilitation… I will take care of him at home. Even the diagnosis can be done there, correct?"
Her words flowed naturally, resolute, carrying both hope and determination. The doctor's frown deepened, but he quickly countered,
"Even if his external condition seems stable, we cannot risk it. We don't know what is happening internally!"
The room held its breath as argument and persuasion unfolded. Akane watched silently, the nurse beside him also observing quietly. Tension lingered until the doctor's memory sparked recognition.
Dr. Tabata wanted to argue further, but the words caught in his throat as he recalled the night six months ago when this patient was transferred to the hospital.
That day was also when he was assigned to take charge of the patient's care.
Two men and a woman who accompanied the transfer, figures of authority previously involved in Akane's care, had left clear instructions: "Fulfill their requests, if not excessive." One man, dressed simply in black, held responsibility for Akane's safety, representing the police's involvement.
As reminded of this, the doctor shut his mouth, shoulders slumped. Helpless, resigned, he knew they could not intimidate or threaten him. There was no choice but acquiescence.
Finally, he gave in. "Very well. We will allow discharge. But… continue to monitor closely. And any change, any irregularity, you must report immediately."