[Un]broken (Emi prologue), Chapter 5: From Ashes

It's been two months since the accident. Two months of grieving, of minor celebrations as Emi makes progress in starting her therapy. She's done well so far, better than anyone expected. While she still gripes about the wheelchair, she understands that it is a necessary evil for now.

They have also moved her out of a standard hospital bedroom into a therapy ward room. She's being held as a resident for convenience's sake, and so that they can watch her closesly. As stubborn as she is, they don't want her trying any funny business. She made her displeasure perfectly clear to her mother.

“But I don't /want/ to stay here! I want to be at home with you!”

“I know, sweetie. I'd like nothing more. But it's for your safety. I just want you to get better, as soon as possible.” She didn't like that answer, but accepted it. There was no changing her mother's mind. She also decided it was good for her to be away from school for a while, given how she treated Ryota during his visit.

Her mother didn't expect her to keep up with her studies. It would be too much effort to have work delivered each day, and Emi seemed comfortable with the idea of being held back a year to recover. Nevertheless, she pushed her to at least try. “Just study up and take the exam. If you pass, you pass. If not, well... we'll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

Today is a big day for her, though. Although she can't leave them completely, the doctors have deemed her well enough to fend off any limited exposure infection. As a result, she's heading home, at least for today. She had one request for her mother: “I want to go see him.”

Meiko wasn't surprised. Emi had to miss her father's funeral - much to her dismay - and she wants to pay her proper respects.

But there's another part to today when she returns to the therapy ward. The nurse came into her room early this morning bearing good news.

“Your new legs are in. They came in yesterday's packages.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. She was going to walk again. “We'll try them on when you get back. Something to look forward to.” As always, a smile dominated his face. “For now, enjoy your time at home. I'll see you after dinner.”

He doesn't like getting attached to his patients. This one is a bit different, though. He feels like he connects with her better than his colleagues, like there's something a bit more to their relationship than what's strictly professional. Friendship, maybe?

Emi is sitting in the waiting room in her wheelchair, wearing an old hoodie and a pair of sweatpants tied off where her stumps end. She's dressed warmly for the cool early autumn weather. Her knee jerks back and forth, a habit that she picked up to express anxiety.

A woman in an amber dress enters the waiting room and eyes Emi immediately. They rush toward each other, and Meiko picks up her daughter into a tight hug. “So good to see you again, Emi.”

“It's good to see you, too, Mom.” Though she visits every day, the time Emi spends away from her mother is disheartening, sometimes even lonely.

They proceed with temporary checkout, and then out the door. To her mother's surprise, Emi is able to move herself into the passenger seat. She bares an arm muscle and flexes it. “All that wheelchairing is good exercise. Check out /these/ guns!” They share a laugh, and Meiko folds the wheelchair into the backseat.

The drive to their home is quiet. Emi doesn't talk much, but she looks around, carefully observing her surroundings. She's developed a subconscious fear of another accident, and this is her first time in a car since she's been in the hospital. It's a phobia that will fade with time. Meiko decides that it's best to keep her distance. /If she wants to be independent, to deal with this herself, then she'll get the space she wants./

Emi feels bittersweet about her return home, no matter how short it is. It looks the same as it did when she left it that fateful morning. The vines near the doorway have grown, but clearly stay trimmed. She notices that his vegetable garden is still thriving, and some of the crops have already been harvested. For Meiko, it's a way to cope, a memento to her lost love.

The interior is also well-kept. Each appliance, surface, and furnishment has been scrubbed, waxed, and generally cleaned to prepare for her arrival. Emi sits in front of the TV for most of the morning, a habit she picked up in the hospital. It was something she never did before. She was always so active back when she had legs.

Meiko calls her in for lunch, and she lights up. Food: her second favorite pastime, right after running. The chef cooked far too much food for one meal, but Emi manages to scarf down her fair share and then some. “My, my,” her mother comments. “Hungry, are we?”

“Hospital food isn't nearly as good as homemade.”

Her mother chuckles. “No, I suppose not.” Emi returns to stuffing her face, not stopping to chat. Lunch continues in silence, save for a few belches and corresponding scolds about manners. When she finally gets her fill, Emi pats her stomach in satisfaction. “Delicious as always, Mom!”

“I'm just glad to see you eating well again. Remind me to pack you some to take back.” From her expression, she apparently likes that idea. “Are you ready to head on to see him?”

/Oh, right. That./ She thinks about it, obviously reluctant. But this is the entire reason she came home. It would be silly to turn back now. “Yeah,” she answers. “Let's go.”

In a flash, Meiko fetches her keys and they rush back to the car, beginning the ride to the cemetery. They don't talk on the way there. Emi is too busy thinking about seeing her father's living memorial.

The graveyard picked for her father's burial is situated on a hill, forming a frown on Emi's lips. /Just look at it like one more challenge/, she thinks. /Just one more mountain to climb, just one more hurdle to jump. Eyes in front all the way./

Meiko unfolds the wheelchair in front of the passenger seat, then reaches into the back again to snatch her handbag. When she turns around, Emi's already gone, headed toward the hill and picking up speed to try climbing it herself. She makes it about a quarter of the way before her arms give out. Another attempt leads to only half as far. Then half as far as that. After that third try, she sits in her chair, panting and spent, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Stupid chair...”

A nudge hits her from behind, and her mother starts pushing her up the hill. She turns back and sees Meiko's smiling face beaming back at her. She doesn't want to accept help so readily, but sees no other choice for now.

The incline is steep and littered with a few gravestones. At its summit, it flattens into a plateau, where most of the burial sites sit. Some of the markers are extravagant, belonging to the obviously wealthy. Others are simpler, and its one of these that catches her eye, because it bears her name.

Meiko brings them both to a stop. Emi stares at the stone, trying to absorb every detail. A few flowers surround the edges, and the patch of grass in front of it blends in perfectly with its surroundings. This is where her father was laid to rest, his final home.

Eyes fixated on the stone, her mother's voice is but a whisper in the back of her mind. “Emi?” She tilts her head back, to give her some semblance of attention. “Would you like some time alone with him?” She doesn't speak. There are no words for what she feels right now. She only nods.

Meiko's footsteps quietly crunch along the crisp autumn grass, and she comes to rest just down the hill, out of Emi's line of sight. In the meantime, Emi has her moment. She reads the name again and again, just as confirmation. “Ibarazaki Ryota...” Tears begin forming in her eyes, clawing their way into the open air. “You're... you're really gone, aren't you?”

“Why did you go? Why did you have to leave me and Mom behind? Why couldn't they save you... It's not fair!” The wetness on her cheeks drips from her jawline and onto her shorts. She clenches the fabric in her fist, taking out her frustration on the threads of cotton. “It's not fair... It's not....”

Scenes from their life together flash in front of her. The first time he took her running in the morning, she could barely make it a single block before tiring out. That was almost seven years ago. There was a lot of room for improvement, and he kept her going. /You can always try harder/, she remembers him saying. They were his last words.

Even the bad memories make her smile: being reprimanded into cleaning her room, told to eat her vegetables, turning away potential pets and toys. As she thinks about all of these, she realizes that she feels empty. He played such a big part in her life, and now he's gone, leaving a hole in her heart. She wants nothing more than to walk again, to have a chance at running, so that she always has a way to remember him. She needs... something. Anything to fill the void, to make her feel whole again.

She remembers what awaits her at the hospital on her return. A chance to make something of herself. Today is her chance at rebirth.

She can't bear to be near the marker any longer, and she rolls away from the stone, toward the downward slope. Her mother is perched on the trail, awaiting her return. “C'mon, Mom,” she croaks. Meiko takes note of her and ensures that she can make it down safely on her own. “Let's go back,” Emi continues. “Too many memories.”

Meiko doesn't follow immediately. She pulls a small bouquet of three de-thorned roses out of her bag, one for each member of their family. “Ryota...,” she whispers, placing the flowers at the base of the headstone. “You will always be missed.”

A tear drops from her chin as she rises. “Please, give her strength.”

----------

True to his word, Nurse is waiting for them in the main entrance when they arrive. “Ah, just in time,” he greets them. Emi's depression evaporates when she sees him, turning quickly into anticipation. She shoots him a fierce grin. “Yes, Emi,” he says, holding up a small bag. “I have them right here.”

“Yes yes yes!” she exclaims, thrusting her arms into the air.

Just to tease her, they wheel back to her room. He catches her eyeing the bag a few times, even reaching for it once or twice. Each attempt is answered with a smack on the wrist. “Tsk tsk. Impatient, are we?”

“Hey, I've been in this damned chair for two months!”

Her mother snaps at the profanity. “Emi, language!”

“What~? The kids says /way/ worse at school!”

“That doesn't excuse you. Now watch your mouth, little lady.” She slumps in her seat, crossing her arms and grumbling. Meiko swears an insult is hidden in there somewhere. “What was that?”

“N-nothing, it was nothing!” her daughter frets. Nurse only laughs at their exchange.

Once they arrive in her room, Emi zips over to her bed and leaps onto it. Excited is an understatement. The room is much cozier than her old hospital bed, with walls painted a cool sepia, a small dresser for storing clothes, and actual cloth sheets on the mattress instead of paper. The floor is still made of tile, for easy cleaning.

Nurse sets the bag on the floor, the clinks and clanks of metal and plastic muffled by its material. He unzips the cover and pulls out its contents: a short pair of prosthetic legs, about 38cm in length, terminating in a metal ankle and a rounded block resembling a foot. The fake skin is colored to Emi's exact tone.

Emi's eyes glimmer with wonder as she stares at them, wiggling her thighs back and forth almost like a pair of tails. He brings the prosthetics over. “Scoot a bit closer to the edge, if you don't mind.”

Her mother sits right beside her, hand on her shoulder for reassurance. Despite all the energy exuberated from this little girl, she is still nervous on the inside. Nurse attaches a prosthetic to one of her stumps. The weight is foreign; it's definitely lighter than her old legs, but heavier than what she's lived with for the past two months. She bends what remains of her knee, and the new calf responds accordingly.

A phantom pain shoots through her thigh, reminding her that this is not a real limb. But, to her, it might as well be real. It's a second chance, a road to another life. One that she hopes will take her far. She does her best to ignore the pain for now, though a few unnoticed winces surface for but a moment.

The room fills with her giggling, and Nurse attaches the other leg. He steps back a bit to give her some room, extending his hand. “C'mon,” he says. “Try them out.”

She instinctively hops forward... and instantly collapses when she hits the floor. “Ow, jeez!” she yells when her tailbone smacks the tile. He grips her hand and lifts her off the ground, keeping her steady while she stands. “Whoa, there, not so fast,” he starts. “You need some time to get used to them before you can walk all on your own again.”

“But I want to walk /now/!” She rips her hand from his grasp and falls again, only to be brought back up to her feet once more. A timid laugh weasels through her lips as he almost scowls at her. “I've been bedridden for two months, can you really blame me?”

He chuckles and gives her a playful wink. “I suppose not.” His eyes turn to Meiko. “Would you like to give it a shot?”

“Um... s-sure.” She taught the girl to walk once; she never thought she would be put in that situation again. Her hand quivers as she takes possession of her daughter. Her other hand rests on her bent knees, bringing her to eye level. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.”

She struggles to pick up a metal foot, only managing to hold it midair for a short time. Walking was so natural before that she has actually forgotten how it worked. The muscles in her thighs have also deteroriated from disuse, making it difficult to lift even what amounts to a long stick of aluminum. “I... I can't,” she whispers, on the verge of sobbing.

“Yes, you can, Emi.” Her mother strokes her cheek, their eyes meeting. Emi stares into the deep brown, trying to read the swirl of emotions: compassion, encouragement, and - most of all - love. “Be strong. Just like your father taught you.”

Just thinking about her father should make her sad. But, right now, with an opportunity to show her strength, it only inspires her. /'You should never give up, Emi.'/

His words firm in her head, she shifts a food forward, similar to a shuffle. Then another. And another. Nurse watches with pride at this Cinderella story on legs. “Incredible...,” he mutters. Here was a girl that they assumed would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Now, given the chance, she has proven all their assumptions wrong.

“Excellent work, Emi,” he says, audibly this time. He reaches to take her back, but she glares at him. She focuses all of her energy into her thighs, digging as deep as she can. “I'm not done yet,” she explains.

After only a few shuffles, she manages to pick up one of her feet and lets it drop on the ground in a step. Her mother's eyes light up with happiness as she relives all the memories. Every detail is vivid, almost as if it were happening right in front of her for the first time. Ten years later after teaching her baby girl how to walk, she gets to re-experience that sense of wonder.

/If only Ryota could see her now.../, she thinks. /He would be so proud. This is his work. He taught her this determination./

But it's not all determination. A tinge of fear, of uncertainty lingers in Emi's eyes. Even with this display of inner strength, she is not sure. She is giving it her all, just to prove her point: that she has the power, that she can go the distance.

/Eyes in front all the way/, she keeps telling herself. /Just one more mountain to climb... Just one more hurdle to jump./

With a second step, her knees buckle and she falls on all fours. The nurse offers her a helping hand, but she refuses it.

“I'm *not* broken,” she says, almost biting with arrogance. “I can stand up for myself.” Though she shoves it away, he keeps the hand extended, should she wish to take it. She tries to bring herself to her feet, but to no avail. Countless attempts, each a failure. Finally, reluctantly, she accepts his offer.

/It's a start/, he says in his head. /But she still has a long way to go./

----------

“You're sure, are you?” the voice utters from across his desk. The owner is a heavy-set man, dressed in a very expensive suit, an ironic cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“I am, sir,” Nurse responds. “After today, I wouldn't want to work with anyone else. I'm requesting a transfer to watch over her physical therapy.”

“And what makes you think that this is a good idea? We have trained professionals that do this day in and day out. You're saying you can do it better?”

“She's already shown the strength. With absolutely flying colors. But there's more to it than that.” He pauses, going over his words carefully. They must be precise. “She's afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of failure. Of taking help when she needs it most.” His superior leans forward, hands resting on his chin, brow furrowed and eyes boring into Nurse's skull. But Nurse doesn't flinch. He must be unyielding if he is to convince this man. “Sir, if you want this girl to succeed, then she needs someone she trusts to be there with her. I'm the closest thing you have. I've been with her since day one, trying to help her come to terms with this. Let me keep trying.”

“We have counselors for that, you know.”

“Yes, and they have all this theory-hullabaloo knowledge. That doesn't compare to practice.” His response merits a raised eyebrow, more from its tone than content. “Sir... I feel like I can connect with this girl. I think I can be the light that she needs in this darkness. She needs... a friend.”

His superior leans back in his chair, pondering the options. He doesn't see a way to stifle such determination. Finally, he sighs. “Very well, Toriyama. I'll put in the paperwork.”

Nurse gives him a wide smile. “I won't let you down, sir.”