The Happiest of Man

Chapter 9

Rehabilitation should have been easy. Actually, it would be more simple if he were to view these exercises through another set of eyes, in another person’s body – preferably a healthy one. But, he was here, on his hands and knees, struggling to keep himself balanced whenever he had to lift up an arm and the alternating leg. He lost count to how many times he nearly fell over and the times when he had to walk back and forth in the room just to prove that he still had it in him made him even more frustrated than before. Izaya was observant – one of the most observant people you’ll ever know – so he immediately took notice that his hand followed the movements of his leg. Instead of going forward when his leg went backward, his arm seemed to follow and he knew that wasn’t right. He gritted his teeth and tried not to view things through a pessimistic point of view. Pessimism won’t get him anywhere.

There was a point where he had to get an electromyogram and although he wouldn’t say so, it was a little painful, especially since the needle had to pierce through skin. It was moved around to various parts of his body that he began to wonder whether they were doing this to him because he was Izaya Orihara or they actually knew what they were doing. The nurses and the doctors, he duly noted, were not smiling or laughing, though. The relieved part of him was glad that it was the latter rather than the former.

The curfew was actually ridiculous. Izaya was a free man who slept whenever he wanted, however he always managed to get at least seven hours of sleep in. So, when he found out that dinner was at four and lights out was at nine, he couldn’t help but to feel highly amused. He began to wonder what will happen if he decided to sneak out of his room. Will he get “punished” because he didn’t follow the schedule accordingly? He didn’t like following the rules, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to be careless with his actions. In the back of his mind, he was aware that he was too tired to fool around anyway. Those exercises and constant tests drained him mentally and physically.

One day, he went up to the roof of the hospital where other patients seemed to be found. They were getting fresh air, he would assume, just like him. Hospitals rooms were dull – no color was found upon the walls; they resembled the numerous blank pages of an unused journal. As he walked down the hallways, his people-watching hobby was put into use as he watched everyone who past him by. That was when he spotted someone within a room – bedridden and unable to speak, to walk, to even eat. A line of worry crossed his eyes as he watched the patient pointing with his constantly shaking hand to the written kanji upon a large piece of paper. Izaya hurriedly left before his thoughts screamed that he was going to become that way in the future.

Leaning towards the edge, his arms settled comfortably upon the cold surface, he looked down at the city below and listened to the surrounding noise that his ears could pick up. He wanted to be one of those people; perfectly healthy, head filled with trivial matters. Instead of being in a hospital room, he wanted to people-watch in parks, through the window of his home, even in cafes where he would get his warm cup of tea. Rather than being incapable of controlling his body properly, he wanted to run around, laugh and smile; he wanted to do so much with his time, with his life. 

He felt anger consume him as he clenched his fists.

—Why couldn’t it be somebody else?