Chapter 81

…A voice. The voice I heard out of nowhere caused the overworked circuits of my brain to freeze in place. Maybe the suddenness of it was too much of a surprise, but the real reason it stopped me so cold was because the owner of the voice was about the one person I’d least expect to be calling on me. Following the voice, a shrill, electronic tone began to beep at regular intervals. It kept echoing a steady beeping rhythm with its cold, machine-generated tone. Something about it…I know this. This was the sound used on TV shows to represent someone’s pulse. Some kind of EKG…? I had heard it who knows how many times before. When my grandfather was admitted to the hospital. When my sister almost drowned in the sea. That, and one other time. Lifting my head back up to attention, I found that a metallic door had appeared before me out of thin air, just a little bit ahead of me. There was no wall framing it—it was just a door, standing there amid nothing. Whether I still had all my marbles deep down or my mind had finally decided to check out on me, I didn’t really know—seeing this sight didn’t generate any kind of shock or surprise. I took a closer look at the door. Did it lead to an operating room, perhaps? There was a red-light panel above the door that reminded me of the ones in hospitals that indicate surgeries in progress. Between this and the voice I had just heard… “…You want me to go in?” …that was the only interpretation I could come to. The voice from before was definitely familiar. There was no way, I thought, it could be anyone besides the guy I was picturing. If that was the case—as ironic as it’d be—this being a hospital OR door would suddenly make a lot of sense. But…was that kind of thing even possible? I mean, if I could see him again, I’d love to. There was a lot we needed to talk about. For the past two years, I’d regretted not being able to listen to what he really had to say, or to tell him what I really wanted. What actually happened on that day two years ago? Why was I the only one left behind? The question ate at me constantly. If this is my big chance to talk to him again… “…Open up.” The moment I whispered the words in front of the door, there was a loud click and the red light panel shut off. At the same time, the metal door opened soundlessly. The first thing I noticed was the smell. That uniquely antiseptic smell that seems to pervade every corner of a hospital blew through the half-open door. The next thing that entered my sight was a vast, almost uncountable number of IV drips, strewn all across the pure white space. The innumerable plastic lines were each linked to a separate bag filled with a colorless liquid, but the thin tubes snaking out from them extended inward toward a single, unseen point. They numbered in the dozens, the hundreds even, making them resemble a sort of haphazard spider’s web. And at the terminus…was something I couldn’t see from the entrance. But judging by the direction that beeping came from, it must’ve been generated by whoever was on the other side. No point moping around at the door. With a deep breath, I stepped through. Grabbing at the IV drips, I waded my way through the maze, taking care not to tip any of them over as I took step after reluctant step. The more I advanced, the more powerful the antiseptic smell became. Attempting to pick my way through this endless, teeming mass of tubes was like attempting to bushwhack through a metallic jungle. Clinking and clanking my way through, the destination at the end of this twisted tangle finally fell into sight. Despite the fact that this was allegedly an operating room, there were no other medical devices visible apart from the IVs. Not a single doctor or nurse presided, either. All I saw was a single bed, wrapped in white sheets that seemed to melt into the equally white backdrop. Unexpectedly meeting the eyes of the patient in that bed, exactly the way I remembered him from before, made me gasp. What are you doing here? What’s happened to you all this time? Where are we, for that matter? Am I here because you called me over? …Despite the torrent of these and other questions that flashed across my mind, the one that reflexively made it to my lips was quite a bit more run-of-the-mill. “How long has it been, Haruka?” “…Um, a pretty long time, I guess, huh?” Haruka Kokonose, a student in the year above me, sat up in bed, his voice just as soft as before. …It should have never happened, but there he was—right there—awake. “Um, I…uhh…” My voice shuddered to a halt. Who could blame me? I didn’t have a single breezy topic I could use for a casual chat with him. Haruka must have noticed because he was the next to speak: “Kind of easy to get nervous after all this time, huh? I mean, I never even dreamed that we’d meet again like this.” “Oh! Y-you too, huh? I’m the same way.” Haruka replied with a quiet “Yeah,” then lowered his eyes, his face betraying a bit of sadness. …The silence came far too quickly. I couldn’t guess how long it had been since I’d last spoken to anyone. My mind seemed to recall that I’d talked to my sister not long ago, but outside that, I didn’t even have the slightest, fragmented memory of speaking to another human being. That’s the kind of guy I was. And it meant there was no way I could keep a conversation going all by myself. “…Um. So! Like, there’s a lot I wanna talk to you about! Like, where we are, and, and s-stuff…!” As I expected, it came out far louder than I intended. At least my voice had the good sense not to bounce off the walls too much. Assuming there were any walls, which—now that I noticed—there weren’t. But Haruka didn’t act surprised at all. Instead he looked down, a tad dejected. “I guess you don’t remember after all, huh? You haven’t forgotten about…you know, everybody, have you?” After all? Everybody? I had no recollection. Which “everybody” did he mean? “Uhmm…I’m sorry, I don’t think I really remember.” “No? Yeah, I bet…Well, where should I start?” Haruka was acting like he knew something. I wanted to extract as much as I could out of him…or that was my intention, at least. But I couldn’t will myself to push him along too much, either. It was always that way. Haruka tended to run on his own pace. I nicknamed it “Haruka Standard Time” in my mind, way back when. It never bothered me much. “…You know, I…I always wanted to ask you about…yourself.” Ugh. I’m worthless. I can barely even string a sentence together. People used to berate me all the time for how mean and off-putting I was to people, and now look at me. It’s like my tongue has atrophied from lack of use. “Well, thanks,” Haruka said apologetically. “There’s actually something I need to come clear about, though. It’s kind of a long story, but…” Then he began to tell a story about the past, one that took more time than I expected to get to its end. His voice was just as clear as it was two years ago—on that summer when he died.