Pirates Reprise (Emi)

Pirates Reprise


As fascinating as the lecture on the different wavelengths of light is--and it actually is kind of cool--the entire class is relieved when the sound of knocking interrupts their teacher in mid sentence. The door to the classroom opens. Another member of the staff is standing there, his expression serious. He beckons the teacher over, and they exchange a few hushed words before both looking back at the class.

“There's been an emergency, and I need to leave you in Mr. Sawada's capable hands for the reminder of the period.” The teacher says, giving them a reassuring smile even though his eyes tell a different story. “Can I trust you all to behave?”

“Yes, Mr. Nakai.” The class replies. Normally this would be a chance to goof off to the best of their ability, but their science teacher is one of the most well-liked adults at the school. A couple of the girls even say things like how they hope everything is okay, or they wish him luck. Mr. Nakai just smiles again and gives a gentle nod, before turning and quickly striding out of sight.



The door to the breakroom flies open and a face pokes in, already wearing a surgical mask and hairnet.

“Hey.” The man calls. “We need you to suit up, room 35 is about to go into labor.”

As riveting as the daytime drama on the television happens to be, his shiftmate feels his heart begin to sink. “That tiny thing?” He asks, standing up.

“Yeah. The doctor says it's going to be a rough one, come on.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming.”

God, another difficult delivery. That's the third time this month, and he's pretty sure the doctors already went over how dangerous this case could be.

He gathers his things and washes his hands before heading towards the door, taking one last glance at the television. Even if he did care about the program though, it wouldn't matter. TV will always be there tomorrow.



Back and forth, up and down, left, right. Left, right. By now the movements are as natural to him as walking, as breathing, and he hasn't even broken a sweat. The hospital isn't that far from the school and there's too much traffic this time of day anyway, it would easier and faster to get there on foot. And faster is all that he cares about, right now.

Hisao Nakai flies down the sidewalk, his toned and trained legs pumping below him, propelling him forward. He takes steady, regular breaths, the heart that once cast him in an sterile, four-walled cage is now a finely tuned machine. Blood rushes steadily and surely, electrical impulses conduct as they should but he doesn't care, that doesn't matter right now.

Don't be afraid. The thought keeps repeating, over and over, in his mind. We knew this was might happen. We knew there might be complications, we planned for this, we went over it, again and again.

Emi.

Don't be afraid.



“I brought the crash cart.”

“Good work.” The doctor replies, even though he hopes it will go unneeded. He turns to the woman lying in the bed. The machines are beeping loudly, irregularly, anyone could tell that something's wrong. But he pulls down his surgical mask with one hand, he looks her right in the eyes. Her heart is pounding in her chest and the pain medication is beginning to wear off, but she stares back at him, she takes deep breaths, just like the nurses said.

“My team is the best in the prefecture, Mrs. Nakai. I promise you that you're in good hands.” The doctor's voice is calm, reassuring, but the rest of the staff's conduct undermines his comforting tone. They move quickly, frantically, their eyes are all that she can make out now, they're darting back and forth but--

No. Steeling her courage, why would she give up? How could she give up? Emi looks back to the doctor, she narrows her eyes in concentration before the urge to wince in pain overpowers her.

“My husband,” she asks, “has he--”

“He's been informed.” The man replies, but he returns his mask to his face. The lights in the room are so bright now, she can't see his eyes.

“Apparently he's on his way, but it's some distance and with traffic--”

“He'll be here.” Emi nods, to the doctor, to herself. The machines are suddenly so loud, the lights above sting, her body was trembling and cold before but now the pain is all there is. He'll be here soon, though. She knows it, she knows it.

He's the fastest thing on two legs. He's the second fastest thing there is.



There. The hospital, at the end of the street. He sucks in a ragged breath, these clothes weren't designed for running. His jacket and tie are already several blocks behind him but he couldn't care less. His veins are filled with ice, his throat is scratchy, it's raw, but as he continues to run, he almost has to stifle a laugh. After this, after this Emi will have to help him pick up some new work clothes. Ones that can double as running attire, ones that won't chafe or get too hot.

He clenches his eyes shut for a moment, but doesn't stop moving. Yeah, that will be nice. After this, they'll have to go shopping. They can pick out some new clothes for him, and for... for the baby too.

He needs to cross the street now, but he doesn't look for a crosswalk, he doesn't wait for a light. Cars are honking, the sunlight is pouring down and now he can feel it in his chest, but the twinge of that old fear is nothing, it's nothing compared to this new one.



“Vitals dropping!”

“Damn it, we're not losing her!”

“Blood pressure's too low, increase the dosage. Now.”

She almost can't hear them through the sound of her heart thumping, her own breathing fills her ears. Her vision is hazy, consisting only of the light glaring down from above and the occasional head that comes into view.

“Hisao?”

Another head. Not him. A nurse.

“Hold on, Mrs. Nakai.”

“This isn't working, we need to do this immediately or she won't last.” A different voice calls.

It's cold. It's cold here, in this room.

“Hisao?” Her voice trembles.

“Mrs. Nakai, I'm going to elevate the bed now. We need you to sit up, can you do that?”



Through the door. He blows past the front desk, he already knows where the maternity ward is, they've been here before. To help prepare, they had just been so prepared.

He doesn't want to talk to the receptionist anyway. He doesn't want to hear anything. Down the halls, past people being pushed in wheelchairs, old men walking with IV stands, happy couples with--

--with tiny children.

He arrives, reaches for the door but it's locked. He spits curses in some display of primal instinct. A glance back at the desk for the maternity ward reveals it to be unoccupied, the next sound is his fist slamming against the door. When he pulls his hand back, it's shaking. He's shaking.

“Open!”

Slam.

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

There's a thin window at about eye level, just as he decides to smash it and reach for the other side of the handle he sees a nurse rushing to let him in.

He gets the room number but stays for nothing else, he's running again. Down this hall. Past more rooms. Some of them have rows and rows of newborn babies, he's sure they're wonderful and their parents' lives are filled with joy, but all he cares about is--

One more door.

One more room.

This one is silent, the figure in the bed, unmoving. His hands are balled into fists, trembling at his sides. His stomach is a solid mass of stone. But then he hears it. The single, steady tone of the heartbeat monitor.

He almost collapses right then and there, from relief and from exhaustion mixed. But he comes closer. What was blocks and miles is just steps now. One turns into two, into three, he's there. He's here.

“Emi.” He whispers. He looks down at her, smiling with trembling lips. “Emi. Hey, wake up.”

Another nurse enters the room, carrying what just might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's actually not sure. Maybe some people experience a moment of clarity at times like this, maybe they can be absolutely certain about things right now, but he's can't.

If it's not the most beautiful thing in the world, though, it's up there.

It's one of two.

Slowly, doing everything to steady his shaking hands, he accepts the tiny gift, still wet, made of soft, red flesh, made of him and her. He cradles the sleeping child for a few long moments, staring down at it with wonder, staring at it in awe. But then he looks back to the woman lying in the bed, her chest just barely rising up and down.

“Emi.” He says again, shifting to hold the baby with one hand only after he actually does have a moment of clarity, after he knows for absolute certain that he could never drop it. With his free hand he reaches to touch her head.

Her eyes open slowly, those bright, brilliant green eyes. She stares at him for a moment.

“I knew you'd make it.” She says, a thin, exhausted smile crossing her face. His eyes are watering now, his lips are trembling again as he smiles back.

“Of course I did.” He replies, returning both hands to the task of safeguarding the new life in his arms. “I learned from the best.”

He sits at the edge of the bed, watching his wife's eyes go wide as she takes in the sight before her. Now, she cries. Not before, never once before, because she knew. She knew, and she was right.

“It's a girl.” He almost whispers. In his heart he swears to himself, to his father, and to his father's father that she'll always be right. She'll always be able to count on him, and he'll always be there for her.

There for the two of them.

“Hello.” Emi says softly, reaching forward to stroke the sleeping child's face as tears spill down her own. “Hello, hello.”

“Welcome.” She clenches her eyes shut, her voice is shaking. “You don't know it yet, but you're very lucky.”

“Y-you see, you see that's because...” She opens her eyes again, glancing up at him. Now he's crying too.

“You have the best father in the world.”









“Pirates Reprise” is a song by Chris Garneau.