[Un]broken (Emi prologue), Chapter 4: Falling After You

Ryota holds his daughter in his arms, her mind fallen off into the wonderland of sleep after their morning run. As he stares at her sleeping form, he can only smile. She grasps at his shirt, clinging onto the fabric across her stomach. In between sucks of her thumb, he can hear her mumbling. “Daddy...”

/Such a beautiful little girl/, he thinks. /I can't wait to watch her grow up. She'll be an amazing young woman./

It's only been three or four years since she came into his life, but they are already incredibly close. Today he took her on their first morning run, and at her request even. She wasn't able to go very long, but it was enough to physically exhaust her to the point of him carrying her home.

Their car ride is uneventful. He had planned on taking her out for ice cream to celebrate her incredible effort, but given her current state, that doesn't seem possible. After the fifteen minute drive from their usual park to their home, Ryota leans back in his seat and sighs. He's already feeling the signs of age, even with how young he is.

His eyes turn to his daughter, whose neck is craned forward, her body restrained by the seatbelt. It's all that's keeping her from falling over on herself. /So peaceful./ His own seatbelt unclicks, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

He lifts her out of the car seat to carry her inside. She stirs amidst his footsteps from the vehicle to their house. “Dad...?” she whimpers.

He shushes her. “We're almost home. I'll lay you down and you can sleep more.”

Her tiny body is easy to hold with a single arm, making it trivial to open each door. Meiko appears from their bedroom, fresh out of a shower. “How'd she do?”

“Fantastic. Enough to wear herself out.”

“As stubborn as you are, then,” she responds with a smile. He chuckles at her teasing, opening the door to Emi's bedroom. Plastered in various shades of blue, it's as unadorned as any other room for a girl her age. The bed is covered in stuffed animals, including a small bear that was a gift for her third birthday. As he lays her on the sheets and tucks her in, she subconsciously reaches for the toy, pulling it close.

He plants a single kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, angel.”

The door latches shut.

~~~

Emi jolts awake, springing forward from her pillow. “Dad!” The tears stream down her face. She's back in the hospital. The realization hits her.

He's gone. Long gone. Only close by in her dreams and nightmares.

She buries her face in her hands, letting her eyes continue dripping with depression. A set of three knocks raps through her door. She doesn't respond. /Can't I just be alone right now?/

“Emi?” the familiar voice asks from beyond the door. “You awake?”

“Y-yeah...,” she replies, trying to restrain the cracks in her voice. It doesn't work, but the door is thick enough that Nurse doesn't pick up on it.

“May I come in?” he asks. “We need to get you downstairs for breakfast.”

“Um... s-sure.” She still isn't quite certain of their relationship. He's trying to maintain the professional aura, but she sees past that. The door latch clicks and swings open; Nurse ushers himself in, still wearing that cheeky grin of his. “Good morning, sunshine.”

She stays silent. He takes the hint and puts the professional aura back up. The collapsible wheelchair he delivered yesterday still sits folded at her bedside. He unfolds the chair, bringing it to the mattress, facing inward so she can hop into it. “C'mon,” he says. “I'll wheel you downstairs for some food.”

Hopping into the chair, she turns her head and shoots him an almost evil look. “I can do it myself, thanks.”

/Whatever you do, don't try to baby her./ He steps back, giving her space. Her weak arms struggle to turn the wheels, but she manages to at least back herself up. Turning proves difficult. Her first instict is to try almost hopping, lifting the chair and turning it inch by inch. That doesn't go well.

Nurse clears his throat, grabbing the wheels with his hands. He holds the right wheel still and moves the left wheel forward. Magically, the chair turns. “I coulda figured that out, y'know,” Emi retorts. He doesn't answer. She struggles again with the door, trying to figure out how to open it. Once again, Nurse comes to the rescue, holding it ajar for her. “Hey, mister, I can figure things out. I don't need your help!”

“Alright, alright,” he responds, holding his free hand up in the air. “I won't interfere anymore.” He heads out the door after her, walking ahead. From in front, he shouts back, “Elevator is down the hall and to the left, I'll meet you downstairs!”

She grumbles as the door closes behind her. A faint voice catches her ear. “You're kinda mean, huh?” She cranes her neck to find the source: a short girl, sitting on the floor to her left, back against the wall. THe pale tone of her skin and braided silver ponytail blend perfectly into the wallpaper. Hiding in plain sight.

Or, at least, she would be, if not for the bright pools of crimson in the center of her face.

Emi falls silent. “What'sa matter,” the girl speaks with a slight lisp, “cat got your tongue?” Her giggles are high-pitched and definitively childish. She's younger than Emi, who guesses maybe a two or three year difference. “Don't worry,” she continues, seeing the shame in Emi's eyes. “I get that look a lot~.”

“Uh... I uh...,” Emi mutters, trying to remember what she wanted to say before catching sight of the albino girl. SHe never believed in ghosts until now.

“Helloo~~....” A snap of the girl's fingers draws her attention back to reality.

Emi grits her teeth. “Mean am I?” she bites back.

The girl nods firmly. “Poor Nurse~. You scared him off. He's only tryin' to help, y'know.”

/That's the problem/, she wants to respond. /I don't *need* his help./ “Well, he could be less rude about it.” The girl cocks her head in curiosity. As often as she has been here, she knows the man well enough to actually make a judgment about him.

A short puff of air flies from between her lips. “Nurse~. Rude. You're mean /and/ funny!” THe sing-song way she says his name drips with admiration of the man.

“And just who are you to call me mean?”

The girl laughs. “Just having schome fun. Lighten up a bit. Smell the roses and stuff.”

/As if there were roses to smell./ “Are you blind? I have no legs. How can I 'smell the roses and stuff'?”

“Because there are kids here that'd do anything to be where you are.” She hangs her head, almost dejected. “Like me.”

Confusion pervades Emi's mind. Just what did she mean by that? She wants to ask, but at least realizes that this is a touchy subject for the girl. The girl starts down the hallway. “Hey, wait,” Emi calls out, slowly wheeling up to her. The girl turns around to face her. “Mind if I walk... er, go downstairs with you?” /That'll take some getting used to./

The girl smiles and nods. “C'mon, let's hurry!” She runs off, faster than Emi can wheel.

“Come back here!” she shouts playfully. The girl just giggles, her ponytail flying behind her. Emi rounds the corner and sees her standing in front of a giant metal door, what she presumes is the elevator. She rolls beside the girl and smiles, her mind distracted by the sudden entertainment.

“Oh,” the girl starts. “What's your name?”

“Ibarazaki Emi. Emi works. And what about you?”

“Katayama Rika. Just Rika, please.”

“Nice to meet you, Rika.” She nods her head in response. They board the elevator and make their trip downstairs to the mess hall. On the ride down, Emi decides that she needs to apologize. “Hey, Rika, I'm... I'm sorry about earlier.”

Rika cocks her head. “What for?”

“For being so... selfish, I guess. I should be thankful to still be alive. I've been given a second chance, and I should make the most of it, yeah?”

The elevator bell rings, and the great silver doors open. Rika nods. “Mmhmm. You should.” She starts walking through the doors, Emi close behind. “You're lucky to be here. Alive. No fear of dying anytime soon. Not everyone's that lucky.”

/Wise words from a nine year old./

----------

Today's been... odd, if you can say that. I think that's a good way to describe it. There was Nurse's visit earlier today. Him trying to help me, and me pushing him back. I can do things on my own, I can figure them out for myself. Like... I know he means well, but I want to do this alone.

Although, yesterday, he mentioned new legs. /That/ sounds exciting, even if it'll be months before I get them. Why even bother with the chair, then? I guess laying around for a few months doesn't sound too good. Definitely not as fun as having wheelchair races in the halls with the other kids here.

Then there was that girl. Rika. She acted like she knew Nurse so well. I wonder why? How long has she been here? She also seemed really... dark, I guess? /You're lucky to be here. Alive. No fear of dying anytime soon. Not everyone's that lucky./ What did she mean by that? Something I'll find out at some point, I hope.

Mom came in around 10am today. We talked for a while, just the two of us. She sounded pretty excited about new legs, too~. There was also a talk about school. For now, she's going to bring me study stuff so I can at least try to take my exams and pass the sixth grade. From the looks of it, I'll be here or in some kinda therapy for a while.

She also tried to get me into using that chair. Just like her to side with the other adults. “I promise, you'll be better before you know it if you just do what they say.”

“But Mom, I don't need their help!”

“Emi, this isn't going to be easy. Like it or not... you /do/ need their help. This is going to be one battle you can't fight alone.”

Hmph. I'll show them. I'll show them all!

Dad always said how proud he was of me. I can't just let him down, can I? What would he say if he saw me just laying here, trying to feel sorry for myself? And Rika tried to encourage me, too. I can't just let them down. I sit up straight, hands on my hips, and puff out my chest. “No daughter of mine will quit trying!” I say in the gruffest voice I can. “Push! Go! Run! Fast!”

Hey, that was pretty good~. I should be a comedian. I could be the funniest thing on no legs! I think there's a comedy station on TV, I should start watching it for tips.

There's a knock on the door. I look up at the clock: 4pm. I've gotten a lot more aware of time since I've been here. It's too early for dinner, and Mom's already been in for the day. The nurse again, maybe? “Who's there?” I squeak.

“Emi?” the voice answers. It sounds familiar, kinda high-pitched but definitely a boy. Might as well let him in.

The door creaks open, and he peeks through the crack. I'd know that face anywhere: messy black hair, green eyes, and a pair of glasses hanging off his nose. “Ryota~...”

My jaw drops a little bit, and my face feels warm. Oh jeez, I hope he can't see my wheelchair... phew, it's folded off to the side. I don't want him to pity me. He shouldn't pity me.

“Ha, you're blushing!” he teases. “A bit excited to see me?”

I giggle. He knows I like him. That secret got out pretty fast. “Maybe~,” I answer in sing-song. I should be sad right now. But I feel like I can't be sad around him, at least for his sake.

“Hey, Emi,” he says with a smile, rubbing the back of his head. “I... I came to visit you.”

“Really now~?” I ask playfully.

He nods. “Oh! By the way....” He shrugs off a backpack and zips it open. “I brought you stuff. From school!” He brings out a get-well card, one of those cheesy ones that all the people sign without thinking about it. I'm guilty of it, too. It never seemed so... unpersonal? Impersonal? Whatever the word is.

Reading over the signatures, I start to realize just how little these people cared about me. Even the ones I thought were my friends. All the messages are short, stuff like 'Get well soon!' and 'Hope you feel better!' They don't get it. I'm never going to get 'get well.' Do they even know what's wrong? I look back at Ryota~. His eyes... they show the same pity. Does he think I'm weak? That I'm some princess who needs to be rescued by a guy on his white charger?

I'm more than that. I can stand up for myself. Surely he sees that.

He reaches back in the bag. “I brought something else for you.” It's a piece of paper from his sketchbook, with a picture of my face on it. “It's a picture of you. You know... so you know how much I've been thinking about you.” He puts his hand over mine. “I've been worried about you, Emi...”

“You shouldn't worry about me, Ryota~... I can take care of myself.”

“You can't keep me from worrying about you.” His arms wrap around me tight. I bet my face is beet red right now. My kingdom for a mirror, or however that saying goes. But even with how embarassed I am, this feels wrong. Like he's doing this to prove a point. His voice is raspy, like a whisper. “I'll keep you safe.”

So he just wants to keep me safe, does he? Well he can't. No one can.

He's getting way too close. What would happen if he were taken away from me, too? I can't let him in. I can't hurt like that again. The walls come up. I start to push him out. “Ryota~... I can't.”

He pulls away. “You can't what?”

“I can't let you get this close. You might replace him. You might hurt me.”

He cocks his head. “Replace who?”

“My...” I stop myself. He can't know. I won't tell him. “He's just gone, okay?”

He wraps me back up in his arms. I don't hug him back this time. “It's okay, Emi,” he says. “I'm here. I'll protect you.” At least he doesn't keep asking.

“You can stop the act,” I say, shoving him away. I've had enough now.

“The act? Emi, I didn't...”

“Didn't what?” My voice starts to rise slightly. “Pity the poor little cripple girl? Well that's what I am, Ryota~. And that's what you did...” Why does this have to hurt so bad? I'm already sobbing. But I have to push him away. Losing him would hurt even worse.

He responds in a mutter. “...cripple girl?” Right... he doesn't know. None of them do. I toss the sheets away from my legs. He stares at the stumps. The look in his eyes says it all. Yeah, he sure doesn't pity me.

I fall back on the bed, bringing my knees to my chest. I roll over and face the wall. I can't look at him. His hand touches my shoulder. “Emi...”

“Just go, Ryota. Please.” I can feel his hand leaving my shoulder.

“But I want to help you...”

“I didn't ask for your help, Ryota. I didn't ask for anyone's help.” My fingers clench into the pillow case. “And I don't need anyone's help.”

There's a short silence, disturbed only by the pitter-patter of his footsteps. The door opens, then closes. I don't bother moving. I'd rather just lay down and sleep for a while. I've crushed a young man's hopes. And to think that I cared about him, and that I cared about him.

...I hope I made the right decision.