The Accompanist

Chapter 35: Hide and Seek

Sayaka didn't remember much after Boutarou left her. Pain coursed through her chest as his lips brushed the back of her hand. She struggled to breathe. Warm tears flowed down her otherwise cold face, part of the plastic mask digging into her nose. 

Muffled gunshots, a brief whiff of his scent... Loud sirens, people yelling, bright lights and surgical masks.

Darkness.

When she regained consciousness, low voices whispered. Her vision was too blurry to see anything but white shapes, so she closed her eyes. Concentrated on the voices in the room. But none of them were his.

"Miss Umari... Miss Umari?"

The nurse shook her shoulder, but she didn't respond. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to move.

She just wanted him.

"Her vitals show signs of consciousness..."

One eyelid was lifted up, a bright light shined inside. But she didn't flinch.

"I'm going to hook you up to an IV. You'll be here for exactly one week so we can monitor your recovery. Until then, please do your best to move as little as possible. There is a sharp piece of your rib that could tear a hole in your lung and cause it to collapse again."

There was a prick in the crease of her elbow joint. A cold sensation spread up her arm.

"Mrs. Umari will be here shortly to visit you, but she can't stay long... If you need anything, press the call button on the side of your bed... And if you'd like," she added more quietly, "you can tell you story to the police when you're discharged."

Her shoes shuffled against the tile floor. The sliding door rolled open and shut. And with that, Sayaka was alone.

She tried to lift a finger. It felt heavier than lead. She tried to open her eyes. They only stayed open for a fraction of a second. It was as if some unforeseen force was pushing on her eyelids with their fingertips.

Back when her father died, the same thing happened shortly following the funeral service. Her mother chalked it up to sleeping and left her alone. But she remembered the pain and suffering of her body not listening to the signals she sent.

At that time, despite having to use the bathroom, she couldn't get up. Despite her limbs being in an uncomfortable position, her body felt like an impossibly heavy weight. And now, it was the same.

Boutarou had been the one to come into her room and lay next to her, just staring at her as she 'slept.' He asked if she was ok. And for the first time, he gently held her hand. It felt warm and comforting, and before she knew it, the led feeling dissipated into the shared space between them.

She pretended to sleep after that. And her patience paid off. He bent over and touched his lips to her forehead, then dashed out of the room. Rather brave for an eight year old. But it was one of the many reasons why she loved him, and felt as though someone like her didn't deserve him.

But now, her will to live was dwindling on the news of whether or not he was ok.

The door opened again, and this time, her mother rushed in. "You have a pneumothorax?? How on earth did that happen?"

She must have noticed her 'sleeping' because her footsteps went from rushed and panicked to a gentle tapping. "Boutarou mentioned something about protecting you... But I didn't think you had any outstanding health problems."

Her mother's hand caressed the side of her face. "Why didn't you call me and tell me something was happening? I would have treated you before your lung collapsed..."