Chapter V

✧Freedom?✧

Saturday, April 6th 2019 appr. 1130 pm JST, Tokyo, Japan

Tick tock, I continually watch and listen to the clock ticking on the wall. Tick tock, it goes as the nurse comes in to bathe me, feed me, take care of my various other needs, and move me around to prevent bed sores. Tick tock, as the doctor enters on his daily routine to monitor my brain activity and the pressure gauge in my head. Tick tock, as they attempt various things to bring me back to consciousness.

Tick tock, the clock on the wall eternally continues, minute after minute, hour after hour, as hospital staff do this and that, a constant reminder of what my life has become. As annoying as that clock is, it is at least something to keep me grounded, a constant to keep me from falling into a deep sorrow or madness. But if I never heard it again, it would be too soon.

As I am watching over my comatose body, unable to feel any of the care the staff does in this dreadful hospital I am confined in, a sudden and overwhelming feeling of exhaustion starts sweeping over me, a sensation I have not felt in eight long years.

At first, it is scary, yet strangely exhilarating, to be able to feel anything, anything at all. Surprising as it is, it could be that I am finally waking up. Right? If this is the case, then it is something I can celebrate. However, it is a peculiar feeling, as I have never thought it possible to feel tired while already in this suspended state of sleep. But now, as the sleepiness washes over me, I cannot help but surrender to its embrace, hoping the next thing I see is me waking up in this hospital, looking forward to the fact that soon enough, I will be able to reconnect with my loved ones.

When I fully succumb to the feeling, I smile and close my eyes; it is nice to be in this dark void, anywhere other than that hospital room. However, something begins to feel different and peculiar here. My eyes snap open immediately as I find myself descending into a pitch-black emptiness. Panic grips my spine, but only momentarily, as a sentiment of uncertainty about what awaits me in this unfamiliar place sinks in.

I look around and can barely make out six other people surrounding me in the darkness. I strain my eyes, trying to discern their distant forms; they remain shrouded in an impenetrable haze, too far away for me to make out any details. Before I can dwell on my frustrations, a radiant brilliance pierces the darkness around me, captivating my attention. Lights begin blooming and dancing around me, illuminating the abyss with their ethereal glow.

The lights flicker into vivid memories from my past, fragments of the life I lived long ago. I see myself with my friends, laughing and singing karaoke after school, the taste of takoyaki and okonomiyaki on my lips, and moments of pure joy and happiness. If I could cry, I would, but my body is unable to… What is this? I think as the feeling of tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping into the nothingness overtakes my thoughts. Odd. I have not cried in so long. 

Amidst the memories, a particular scene emerges, distinct and poignant. It is a memory that is not my own, yet still familiar. There lies a baby in a crib, crying out for comfort. And beside them, observing the child, stands a pale woman draped in tattered rags. As I stare at her, the oddest sense of familiarity grips me, a recognition stirring down to my very soul.

Compelled by an inexplicable connection, I reach out toward the memory, desperate to understand its significance. But as I do, the lights and memories around me fade, slipping away like sand through my fingers. The images dissolve into the darkness once again, leaving me with a mix of curiosity and longing. A feeling I am not too familiar with personally.

For what? What was I longing for? I keep thinking as I continue to descend. I again notice the six others descending alongside me. They are closer than they were before the lights. Who are they? What is their role in this enigmatic journey? Questions swirl in my mind, urging me to seek out the answers, to unravel mysteries I did not even know existed.

I continue to feel like I am falling until I feel my back land on a soft surface. My eyes open as I awaken; the world surrounding me is alien and unfamiliar. What sets my heart aflutter is the ability to smell and feel, something I have been denied for so long during the duration of my coma. It is as if I am reacquainting myself with existence, one step at a time.

Tears continue to dampen my cheeks as I realize I am able to breathe and feel my heart beating within my chest. It all sinks in. I am finally awake. Hugging myself, I am filled with emotion, forgetting to take in my surroundings and realize I am no longer in that sterile hospital room.

As I attempt to take in the new environment, I become distracted by looking at my body and noticing how visibly older I have gotten. The last time I saw myself, I was wearing a frumpy, unflattering hospital gown. As I look down, I note I am wearing strange and new attire. I am draped in a flowing white robe that envelops me; its wide sleeves feel open, and it lets my arms breathe. The robe is pristine, its color reminding me of Mt. Zaō after a fresh snowfall; it feels smooth against my skin and does not feel too hot. A silken sash laxly rests on my waist, securing the robe in place while allowing ventilation to flow easily through.

Dark, wide-legged trousers accompany the robe, contrasting the purity of the white with their rich, enigmatic shade. They are secured at the waist, underneath, with an elegant yet primitive drawstring, a practical yet graceful fusion. Upon my feet, I find a pair of comfortable, thinly-soled slippers. Like the night sky, they are a deep shade of blue, with delicate silver embroidery lining their edges.

Never in my life have I ever seen such nice clothing, let alone worn any. As I take in my refined and sophisticated attire, I feel the warmth inside me, a calm peace encompassing my heart. I am relieved to finally have woken up from my seemingly endless slumber. 

It is so nice to be awake again, but as my mind begins to wander, I realize I have no idea where I am.

I begin thinking, Where am I? What is this strange place? As these questions prod my thoughts, I listen to the sounds around me and realize I am not alone in this unknown place. I guess the other six people I saw in that void must be in this place alongside me because somewhere in here, I can hear a younger boy beginning to cry, drawing my attention and pulling me from the euphoria of these once-forgotten sensations.

Before I can speak up, a man’s voice pierces the quietness somewhere from my left. It sounds as though he is calling out in a familiar, yet still somewhat foreign, language. It is most likely English because I can recognize a few of the words he is saying. Although I cannot fully comprehend what he is attempting to say, his voice resonates within me in an unfamiliar manner. All I can think of is, Why do I find American accents sexy?

To my immediate left, another man’s voice emanates into the quiet air. Unlike the first man who began shouting, I am able to completely understand him, “Hello, is there anyone over there?” He asks, with a stern and calm voice. What? I find his voice attractive as well? What’s going on? Am I just attracted to any guy now that I am out of my coma? That has to be it. Right? I think I miss the attention, is all.

I open my mouth, hoping he will be able to hear me through the walls. “There is,” I say quietly, still afraid to use a voice I have not used in years.

In excitement, he replies, “Oh, wonderful. I am guessing you are Japanese as well, then?”

Still speaking quietly but growing more confident with each word, I respond, “I am.” This is the first time I have spoken to anyone in years, and to have them being able to hear my words, let alone respond to them, is exhilarating.

He continues, “Good to meet you.” His tone becoming more confident, like my own. “I am Itō Akito, I study law as a student at Tokyo University. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

Smiling, I pick up the pace with my words and respond with a voice as confident as his, “I am Sakurai Maho, and before I fell into a coma, I was a first-year high school student at Tokai in Yamagata.”

I lean comfortably against the wall in the compartment, allowing the soft glow of the lone lamp to bathe on my skin. My eyes look around my small, strangely shaped compartment as I await a response.

“Tokai in Yamagata, huh?” He finally responds, “That is quite a ways from Tokyo. Must have been an interesting change of scenery for you.”

I adjust my position on the bed in my compartment, responding with a confused tone. “Tokyo?” I sit there and wonder as I question him, “Why do you think we are in Tokyo?”

Chuckling a little before responding, he says, “Where else would we be? The last place I remember being is in my apartment on campus.”

“That may be, but I remember being in my hospital bed in Yamagata.” Trying to piece it together, I remark, “Besides, anywhere would be a change of scenery from being in a coma.”

I can tell I may have made things a little awkward, that is, until he responds, “In a coma, huh? That is some heavy stuff. But it seems now we are both caught up in something more bizarre, like out of a cartoon. Perhaps a shared dream, or maybe we are on some reality-defying journey.”

“What makes you say that?” I inquire, wondering what was so bizarre about this place beyond it just being a room.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he says, taking a breath as he continues, “I have just woken up in a bed that is not my own and into a place that defies the laws of physics, to top it off. So I am not ruling anything out just yet.” He finishes, his words becoming more confusing.

“What about this place defies physics?” I inquire as I notice what he must have observed in his compartment. Staring at the lone light source in my compartment, I realize there is definitely something off about it. Leering at the intricately designed metal cage containing the flame, I watch as it dances within. Its vibrant hues flickering and pulsating like a living entity. The cage itself, seeming without purpose or function beyond cradling the flame, floats in mid-air, defying gravity. There are no chains holding it up or any visible fuel to sustain the flames, and no smoke tarnishes the air. Its soft glow leaves an otherworldly imprint in the space I am in.

“Well, the floating magic lantern kind of tipped me off.” He chuckles as he responds. He most likely noticed it the moment he awakened. Still stunned by the existence of something so magical, I can barely make out any words before my thoughts are abruptly interrupted by someone howling in pain, followed by a loud noise that sounds like something heavy hit something hard, accompanied by the sound of bending metal.

I can feel my eyes widen as the sound penetrates every corner. I quietly ask Itō-san what the noise was. At first, he remains silent before quietly replying, “The guy in the next chamber over, American, I think, just hit the wall between him and me.” He briefly pauses as he processes it himself, “And bent the metal.”

His explanation hangs in the air, leaving me with a mixture of concern and confusion. Did he bend the metal walls? The abrupt and violent act from the neighboring compartment sends shivers down my spine, disrupting the relatively calm I had been feeling since awakening. Typical, violence. What else could I expect from an American?

Trying to comprehend the implications of a man displaying such raw strength, I glance around my enclosure. Questions continue to swirl in my head. What is this place?