"There's been a terrible accident..."
Emptiness. That is the singular sensation which pervades the intensely clinical corridor. Even in a place like this, where tranquility was emphasized for the sake of the patients, there should be some kind of feeling. Something to tell the little girl sitting there that this is more than just some twisted vision or waking nightmare. An inkling that she’s still among the living, still capable of feeling. This is a time where she should absolutely be feeling something, yet her body just feels numb and divorced from everything around her.
"She's been severely hurt.."
Her thoughts have already raced through all the possibilities. Everything from ‘it’s all going to be fine’ to ‘this is the end’ has paraded through her mind to the point that it’s all just a dull jumbled mess. The chair in the hall is hard, uncomfortable. The girl’s back aches from sitting here so long. How long has she been here? Her eyes raise slowly until she can glimpse the faded face of the wall clock through a few strands of disheveled hair. 20:34; it’s been four hours since she got here, yet no one’s paid her much attention.
"She might not have much time left.."
People have come and gone from the room near her, room 2-3. Nurses, doctors, other staff, have all made their way past the twelve year old without so much as a second thought. She doesn't think so anyway. No one really stops to ask who she is, how she’s doing. A couple of times someone has slowed down to offer her cups of water or food, but they seem to otherwise ignore her existence. Dare she look at the room again? Her eyes drift from the clock, down the painfully beige wall and then across the hall to the door to 2-3. Just a few meters away and yet it might as well be across an ocean. Were she able to be there, in that room, she knows she’d feel more. And maybe - maybe it’s just her mind shutting out the reality of what’s going on that keeps her so empty. Because what’s happening right now is horrifying. As she starts to think about it, about the woman in there helplessly lying on a bed, tears pool up at the corners of her eyes.
Setsuna: <”Mama…”>
A sudden, unexpected voice rises from nearby. Setsuna bites her lip, summons her courage and looks up as all that emptiness begins to come crashing down. Standing there is a man in a white coat, his weathered face scrunched up from years of stress and hardship. She recognizes him as one of her mother’s doctors, Dr. Sugamo. His hand is extended - her gaze drifts to his hand and she puzzles at the offered item: a pair of onigiri. What is this? She doesn’t feel terribly hungry, not when her mind is now fully racing with all the terrible possibilities.
Dr. Sugamo: <”Take them.”>
Setsuna makes no move and just stares at the proffered snacks.
Dr. Sugamo: <”You are Setsuna-san, yes?”>
She nods reluctantly.
Dr. Sugamo: <”Your mother is resting. We have done everything we can for now. Please take these, one for you, and one for Kojima-san.”>
Her eyes widen at the suggestion. Kojima has been here the whole day, and is the reason why Setsuna has been stuck in the hallway. Every time she’s attempted to do so much as peer through the door, the powerful woman shouts at her with the kind of vitriol usually reserved for her opponents. So every time, Setsuna’s ducked back into the hallway, having yet to even glimpse her mother’s form. All she’s caught glimpses of are the backs of medical staff and even Kojima a couple of times. She has no idea what’s happening with her mother, and her imagination fills in the empty spaces. But if the doctor says she’s just resting, then maybe things have gotten better? Better enough to risk bringing an onigiri to Bison Kojima? If she gets too close, Kojima will almost certainly blow up at her, but there’s no other way to see her mother. Tears beginning to threaten overflowing, Setsuna takes the candy and looks to the door.
Maybe it’s an ocean away, but she’s got to swim that ocean. She slides off the chair, feet hitting the floor with a light clack. Her legs are numb, her thoughts in overdrive and her heart aching. Those small hands clutch the candy bars so tight her knuckles turn white. Terror fills her suddenly, fearing not her mother’s fate but how Kojima will react to her arrival. Will there be shouting? Physical reprimands? Setsuna knows these are possible, and she’s almost frozen as she imagines the furious voice of her mother’s longtime partner. Maybe sitting out here isn’t so bad. Maybe that’s safer. Suddenly her thoughts of doom are sliced clean in two by the memory of her mother’s voice.
Mother: <”Be brave, Secchan.”>
Brave. She has to be brave. One foot steps forward, then the other follows suit. Step by step, meter by meter, she voyages across that ocean of distance and arrives at the door. Her senses heighten as she stops at the door and she listens for hints of what’s happening within. No shuffling of footsteps, no gruff mumbling, just an odd stillness punctuated by a regular beep-beep-beep. Be brave, she reminds herself. Setsuna steps into the doorway, fully expecting to create receive an angry outburst from Kojima. But there’s nothing. Just the beeping. Another step, then another, and Setsuna is inside the room which has been an impossible goal the whole day.
First she notices Bison Kojima, the powerful wrestler who’s thwarted her every attempt to visit. There’s something oddly peaceful about the woman as she sits in a chair near the foot of the hospital bed. Her eyes are closed, her head sagging down as her chest slowly rises and falls. Asleep! The mighty Kojima has finally given in to exhaustion and is sleeping. For as gruff as the woman’s been today, Setsuna’s glad she’s here with her mother. Setsuna admires Kojima’s strength and confidence, and she knows that her mother adores Bison. Much as she’s tried to get to know the woman more, Kojima is always like this with her. Now that she’s asleep, though, it’s no time to linger on those thoughts. Instead her eyes drift to the right, to the bed - her mother.
An indomitable woman who never backs down from any challenge, not even that of raising a daughter by herself. It hasn’t been perfect, but her mom tries so hard to do things right. She’s seen her mom get pushed down by things that other women might not recover from; her mom always rallies to fight back and make things better. Maybe she just needs some encouragement. Setsuna reaches her hand out, takes her mom’s hand and watches earnestly.
Setsuna: <”Mama, I’m here.”>
Her mom’s hand is lukewarm to the touch. Why isn’t it warm like it always is? She squeezes the hand, willing it to get warmer. Beep. Beep. No movement. As Setsuna squeezes the hand tighter she remembers a talk the two of them once had.
Mother: <”It’s scary, isn’t it Secchan?”>
Setsuna: <”Uh-huh.”>
Beep. Beep. Setsuna puts her hand on her mom’s shoulder.
Mother: <”It’s going to be that way sometimes. And sometimes it’s even going to hurt.”>
Beep. Beep. She shakes the shoulder - no response.
Mother: <”But even when you’re scared and it hurts, there’s always tomorrow.”>
Beep. Tears roll down her cheeks as she watches the shallow rise and fall of her mother’s chest.
Setsuna: <”But it’s too scary.”>
Mother: <”Secchan, nothing’s too scary. What do we do when things are scary?”>
Setsuna: <”Remember we’re brave?”>
Beep.
Mother: <”That’s right! And no one’s braver than my little ace!”>
Beep. In the cold, still present Setsuna shakes her mom again, desperate to awaken her. Even her young mind can understand that the woman who’s raised her is weak, very weak. So she pleads with her.
Setsuna: <”Mama, please.. Come back. I promise, one day I’m gonna be an Ace. I’m gonna be brave, and strong, and I’m gonna be an Ace. Please wait for me. I want you to see who I become.”>
Beeeeeeeeeeeeep. Promises hold no power here. All is still. Why isn’t her mom’s chest moving? What’s going on? A nurse rushes into the room at the sound, face pale as a ghost. She shouts for the doctor, who comes careening in as well. Their arrival pushes Setsuna away from her mom. Just as another nurse storms in and takes her by the hand, Setsuna sees Bison Kojima’s eyes shoot open. For a moment they meet each other’s eyes, and Setsuna begins to bawl. It takes all of the poor nurse’s strength to drag Setsuna out of the room, away from her motionless mom.
“Even when it hurts, there’s always tomorrow.”
“Some day, I’m gonna be an Ace. I promise.”