Morning light seeped through the thin curtains, painting the room in a warmth gentler than last night's chill. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness that filled the chamber.
This time, when I tried to sit up, surprise washed over me. My body… no longer as rigid as yesterday. My hands moved more freely, though wires and tubes still clung to my skin. The crushing weight that once pinned me down now seemed to lift, little by little.
A faint sound stirred beside me. Ryunosuke shifted awake in his chair, rubbing his eyes before his lips curved into a relieved smile.
"Bocchan, you're awake. Thank goodness…" His voice was hoarse with sleep, but soft with devotion. Then he added, "Breakfast will be warm porridge today. I'll fetch it from the hospital canteen. After that, the doctor will check on you again… and if your condition holds, we might be able to go home."
I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips without my realizing.
"My body… does feel lighter. Not as heavy as before."
Ryunosuke's eyes glistened. He bowed his head slightly, as if holding back his emotions.
"I will stay by your side always, Bocchan. Whatever you need, I'll do my best to provide."
"…Thank you," I whispered, sincere.
He bowed respectfully before leaving the room with steady steps. Out in the corridor, he drew a deep breath, murmuring to himself,
"Please… let Bocchan heal quickly. And may his memories return."
At the canteen, Ryunosuke bought a bowl of hot porridge, a bottle of water, and a few light snacks. Carrying the tray carefully, he returned to my room.
When the door opened, the gentle aroma of porridge drifted in, soothing the sterile air. He set the bowl down on the bedside table.
"Here's your breakfast, Bocchan. Usually you're the one who cooks for us… but this time, allow me to serve you. Think of it as a small repayment for everything you've given."
I stared at the bowl, then smiled faintly.
"Thank you… Perhaps someday, when I remember, I'll be able to cook for you all again."
Ryunosuke's smile softened into something genuine, touched.
"You're welcome, Bocchan. Now, I'll step out for my own meal… and also inform your father."
I nodded, and he slipped out, closing the door quietly behind him.
I lifted the bowl and spooned the porridge slowly. Warmth spread through me with each bite, breathing life back into my chest. My eyes drifted to the window—snow still fell, but under the morning sun it glittered, no longer as cruelly cold as yesterday.
And yet… beneath that serenity, I felt something waiting. A fragment hidden within winter's shroud, beyond my reach.
Three soft knocks tapped at the door.
"Excuse me," a man's voice announced just before the door opened. Issei entered first, followed by a doctor in a white coat, clipboard in hand.
"Raku… good morning." Issei's smile carried relief. "How are you feeling now?"
"I feel better," I replied. "My body isn't as heavy as yesterday."
The doctor stepped closer, his professional smile calm yet watchful.
"Good morning, Ichijou-kun. I'm Dr. Kameda—I've been overseeing your care since last night. May I examine you briefly?"
He pressed the cold disk of a stethoscope to my chest, counting breaths, checked my pulse, then shone a small light into my eyes. A reflex hammer tapped gently beneath my knee.
"Good… blood pressure stable, body temperature normal, reflexes intact. Any headache?"
"A little… faint."
"That's expected," he said. "Our diagnosis: a mild head injury from slipping on snow, with a brief episode of hypothermia. Now you're experiencing mixed amnesia—gaps in memory both before and after the incident. Last night's CT scan showed no bleeding or fractures. The good news: no structural damage. But the brain needs time to 'reconnect' itself."
Issei exhaled deeply, his shoulders lowering with relief.
Dr. Kameda turned to him. "Medically, he's stable. If his responses remain consistent over the next few hours, he may be discharged today or tomorrow. But at home, rest is essential, along with strict guidelines."
Then the doctor faced me again. "Before discharge, I'll give you a brief orientation, so you don't feel lost. Just the essentials to get started."
"Crash Course" for Raku – Dr. Kameda's Version
1) Where you are
You're in Japan, Tokyo—an urban district's general hospital.
Daily language: Japanese, though you understand and speak other languages well, which is a good sign for recovery.
Currency: Yen (¥).
2) Time & routine
A week has 7 days (Monday–Sunday). Schools and offices run Monday–Friday.
It's currently winter—streets icy, snow falling. That's why you slipped yesterday.
3) Family & home
Issei Ichijou is your father. You live with family. Details will come gradually, so as not to overwhelm your memory.
4) Basic technology
Electricity powers lights, heating, household appliances.
Smartphone: a small device for calls, messages, photos, maps, internet. Needs SIM card for mobile data, or Wi-Fi for home/school use.
Computer/laptop: for school tasks, writing, storing photos. Runs on operating systems (Windows/macOS), uses apps (software for specific tasks).
5) The Internet in 5 points
Web: information pages accessed with browsers (Chrome, Safari, Edge). Address called URL.
Search engines: where you "ask" anything (weather, maps, recipes). Type keywords, read results.
Email & messaging: electronic letters and instant chats.
Social media: share photos/text/videos with friends. Enjoyable, but can overwhelm the brain during recovery.
Safety: protect passwords, use two-step verification, beware scams. Never share private info with strangers.
6) Etiquette & daily habits
Greet with a slight bow; use polite suffixes (-san, -kun, -chan).
Remove shoes when entering homes.
In public transport: speak softly, queue neatly.
Dr. Kameda placed a thin folder on the bedside table. "Here's a written guide. Read it in small portions. Don't force your brain to absorb too much at once."
He then turned, addressing Issei with a checklist, his laser pointer tapping gently on the page.
Discharge & Home Care Plan (for Issei and Raku)
Cognitive rest (days 1–3):
Quiet environment, soft lighting, sufficient sleep. Nap if fatigued.
Screens (phone/TV/computer): max 15–20 minutes at a time, then rest for 20 minutes. Stop if dizziness or headache worsens.
Light reading/music allowed. Stop if tired.
Gradual activity:
Light walking indoors. No strenuous exercise, driving, or risky activity for 1–2 weeks or until cleared.
Return to school gradually (half days first), with medical note.
Nutrition & hydration:
Warm meals (soups, porridge), adequate water. Avoid excess caffeine or energy drinks.
If nauseous, eat small portions frequently.
Safe memory triggers:
Scents and flavors may help (broth, warm tea).
Photos can be shown, but sparingly—not an entire album at once.
Daily journal: record 3 things (meal, person met, one liked thing). Supports spaced retrieval memory training.
Medication & common issues:
Use only prescribed pain relievers for mild headaches. Avoid unapproved drugs.
Warm compress for shoulder/neck stiffness.
Warning signs – return to ER if:
Headache worsens, unrelieved by rest/medication.
Repeated vomiting, fainting, seizures, sudden weakness.
Worsening confusion, difficult to wake, drastic behavior changes.
Sudden vision or speech issues.
Follow-up & rehabilitation:
Follow-up in 3–5 days for reevaluation.
Light cognitive tests (recall three words, orientation, attention).
If needed, referral to neuropsychologist/occupational therapist for memory strategies (labeling items, large calendar, visual reminders).
Issei listened intently, nodding occasionally. Then, quietly, he asked, "Doctor… will his memories surely return?"
Dr. Kameda glanced at me before answering. "Every brain is unique. Many recover gradually—weeks, months. What matters is a safe path: rest, gentle but meaningful stimuli, and watch for warning signs. Sometimes memories resurface as fragments—taste, scent, a snippet of voice. We reconnect the fragments, slowly."
He turned back to me, his tone calm and reassuring. "You don't need to force memory. Just be present in small moments—a warm meal, morning light, simple conversations. Your brain will work in the background."
I looked at the empty bowl in my hands, warmth still lingering on my palms.
"Like the soup last night," I murmured without thinking. "It felt… as if I'd known it before."
Issei's smile this time carried hope. "That's a good beginning, Raku."
Dr. Kameda closed his clipboard. "Very well. Plan is this: one more short physical check after breakfast, then I'll prepare discharge papers. Ryunosuke will handle the paperwork. Before leaving, a nurse will remove your IV, change dressings if necessary, and provide written guidelines we've discussed."
He stood, bowing politely. "Call us if anything troubles you. See you later, Ichijou-kun."
The door shut softly behind them. Silence remained—not the biting cold of before, but a space warm enough to breathe. Outside, sunlight glimmered across the falling snow, pure and white—like a blank page waiting to be written on.
I exhaled slowly.
"All right… let's begin with the little things."