deciphered

finding the truth IV

October 2nd — a week after the granted visitation

The drive to the hospital had been engraved into your mind, almost instinctual when you visited Iwaizumi every few days. Driving down to the Kanagawa Ward from your apartment in Shinjuku took almost an hour both ways, making it hard to sit in late afternoon Tokyo traffic—but it was always worth it each time.

Every Saturday, you dedicated your mornings to waking up early in order to make the drive down to the Yokohama Rosai General Hospital, where Iwaizumi had resided for the past six months. He had been in a comatose state for as long as Oikawa had been in prison, making the last half of the year torturous for you. It felt like every day stretched out way too slowly, time eroding in a linear fashion.

You remembered when it was Iwaizumi's birthday, you had brought a small vanilla cake topped with buttercream frosting and strawberries—one of his favorites growing up. He always liked sweets that were plain and simple, nothing too fancy and nothing too complex in flavor. Standing in his room at the ICU, his nurses and doctors all joined in to sing a soft birthday tune to him.

Brainwave activity sparked in his mind when it happened, a small tear streaming down your face knowing at the very least he was conscious. Perhaps Iwaizumi knew what was going on—while in his deep slumber, the doctors always mentioned his hands would twitch after you visited him, almost spot on at the same time each day.

For several hours, you sat by his side talking to him like everything was normal. You told him about your day, what you learned in class that afternoon or about how bad Leia's cravings got for your mom's special inari sushi recipe. You even brought some of it to share to the doctors one time, all of you agreeing how unfortunate it was for Iwaizumi to not have taste.

Leia came along with you to visit a few times and without fail, she tried to scare him into responding, popping up beneath the hospital bed to softly whisper "Boo!" in his ear in order to get a reaction. Nonetheless, Iwaizumi laid on the bed, not a single expression on his face. You thought it was cute, both of you trying to make the best out of the situation.

As the monitors beeped continuously in your head, you sat in the same spot on the opposite side of the room, a cushioned green chair tucked away in the corner. It had become a familiar feeling to your body; the minute you sank down and stared at his body on the bed, your hands always curled around the edge of armrests, a slight underlying feeling of stress looming over you.

On some days, it felt like he would never wake up.

The nurses would come in frequently during your visit to check in on his status, feeding him through a tube that connected straight down from his nose, mouth, and esophagus into his stomach. The process itself looked painful to experience, always wondering to yourself if Iwaizumi could feel anything from it.

There were the rougher days you hadn't seen for yourself, but when the doctors and nurses described the times where they had to assist his bowel movements and bodily secretions with machines and manual hospital equipment, you winced at the thought of it every time. You admired the work of medical professionals and what they had to endure for patient care, knowing that not everyone could handle what they dedicate their lives to.

After you had graduated, you spent more days at the hospital right next to his side. During the long summer months, the nurses and physical therapists would come in to massage his muscles and move his legs so that he wouldn't experience muscle atrophy. They encouraged you to always massage his hands whenever you could, knowing the physical contact between you both would be beneficial.

Iwaizumi's body naturally became weak over time, his figure seeming smaller than what you could remember him to look like. When his caregivers changed patient gowns on him, you noticed the similar dragon tattoo on his arm and chest that the other members of the Seijoh Brawlers had—all resembling the one on Oikawa's body. His tan skin contrasted well with the intricate dark ink, the head of the dragon on his right peck, the tail trailing down all the way to the inside of his wrist.

A large scar scanned through the bottom half of his stomach, remembering how long it took to heal as the skin on his body went through regeneration. His hair grew quite long, but slowly over time—the spiked tuffs on his hair now combed over to his ears, his dark brown locks now similar to how Oikawa's used to be.

A small beard and mustache peeked out through the bottom half of his face, tiny strands of facial hair all around his mouth and chin. If you never knew Iwaizumi before the accident, you would have thought that the man laid out on the hospital bed in front of you was a completely different person. It was astonishing to you how time could quickly change the appearance of a person—Leia, Kuroo, Oikawa, and now Iwaizumi are all examples of that.

You remembered entering through the doors of the hospital, the bitter smell of soap and antiseptics clouding your nose—the air always felt draining, the humidity always running dry. It was the one thing you couldn't get used to every time you visited Iwaizumi. While placing the visitors tag around your neck, you pressed the red button on the ground floor, taking the elevator up to his room.

Today had marked six months since the accident, a heavy-weighted feeling always forming on your chest every time you thought about it. Once you reached the level that contained the ICU, the elevator doors slid open, the sound of the bell softly ringing in your ears. You stepped out into the main lobby of the floor, greeting the woman at the reception desk.

"Visiting Hajime again?" She teased, giving you a smile and a wave.

Throughout the six months, you got to know the staff that cared for Iwaizumi, bonding over the stories of when you and him were younger and what kind of person he was outside of the comatose.

"Always." You smiled back, walking in the direction of his room.

When you stood outside the doorway, the main doctor that had been responsible for Iwaizumi's patient care was already in the room with his assisted nurse. They were talking about the mundane tasks the other nurses should do, planning accordingly for another day. You knocked softly on the door, grabbing their attention.

"Hello Dr. Takeda, Ms. Hitoka." You peeked your head in, smiling at the small figured man with glasses and the short blonde woman. They called out your name, greeting you inside.

"Hello, hello! You're just in time, we were about to perform his daily exercises." Dr. Takeda placed the clipboard underneath his arm, walking towards the bed. A few months ago, he was just an intern. Now after taking his boards certification, he assisted in Iwaizumi's recovery.

"How's he been?" You asked while taking off the bag around your shoulder, dropping it on one of the tables.

"Still the same as the last time. You come here so often that there isn't much change in between." The main nurse taking care of Iwaizumi, Ms. Yachi Hitoka, had responded as she placed gloves around her hands. "You're a really good cousin to him. Not even immediate family members of comatose patients visit this often."

"He's the only one I have here in Japan," you grabbed his right hand, lifting up his arm in the process as Yachi grabbed his leg. "Both of our parents are out of the country at the moment."

"That's unfortunate. Though, I'm glad you both have each other." Dr. Takeda wrote down the stats to his vitals on the clipboard, looking up and down continuously. "Hajime is making exceptional progress, we might expect him to gain full consciousness within the next few weeks or so."

"That's amazing news," you smiled down at Iwaizumi's restful expression, a nasal cannula wrapped around his face to deliver additional oxygen. "I hope he does."

Suddenly, Iwaiazumi's grip on your hand twitched, a few of his fingers trembling against yours. Yachi stopped in place, witnessing the same movements you saw. Turning your head to look at her in shock, his eyes fluttered open beneath you both while the tips of his fingers slightly curled around your index.

"Oh my god, we need a few nurses in here!" Dr. Takeda called outside the room before two nurses came in to assist Yachi. All of you crowded around his body on the hospital bed, waiting for him to start responding on his own.

"Hey, Hajime," you caressed the top of his head as you looked straight into his eyes, noticing his pupils dilated while he stared up into the ceiling. Yachi held his left hand, patting the top of his wrist as he started to slowly regain consciousness.

His eyes slowly shifted to the right as he scanned the room—his mouth hung open, struggling to say anything out through his lips. Though, your heart sank when he whispered the dreadful three words no one would ever want to hear their loved ones in a comatose say.

"Who are you?"