"Tsuru"
Original fiction by sarcophagus.
Characters, story, and plot belong to me.
Please ask before posting anywhere else.
Comments welcome.. My apologies.
Notes: I wrote this in July of 2002.
I first posted it as ScarletKozi.

chapter one

Wailing screams broke the quiet of the hospital. Rather than begin softly and rise up, they suddenly exploded, echoing down the hallways from an unknown place, forcing everyone to stop in their tracks and put their hands over their ears with wide, frightened eyes. A doctor who had been turning a corner dropped his clipboard, and it landed with a clatter on the floor, but the sound was drowned out by the screaming.

Chitaka, who had been in the bathroom trying to get his hair out of his face and keep it there, burst out into the hallway again and ran for the source of the sound.

He skidded to a halt just outside the only open doorway in this dark corner of the hall, and since the noise was so overpowering, he couldn't help but wince and duck outside, not sure whether he should enter. One peek in informed him that there were already two doctors and four nurses to the rescue, all crowded around the bed, but it didn't seem to be working, because the screaming went on.

Chitaka took one step inside the room, his hands on his ears. His heart was racing, even though mentally he told himself, 'I'm the one who chose this profession. I shouldn't be afraid.'

He managed to get a glance over the shoulders of the nearest nurse, and saw a pale, skinny figure on the bed. It was a young man with long dark hair, but because he was whipping around so much, it was difficult to make out any more than that. Chitaka could see a thin cast on the left arm, but his attention was mostly riveted to the fact that the waif was shrieking and sobbing. The nurses and doctors were trying to restrain him and calm him down, but they looked panicked by his behavior, unsure of how to stop it, as he struggled against them and clawed at his face with his hands. The bed rattled and shook as he pitched around in it, making the frame bang against the wall and the legs skid on the floor.

Chitaka heard someone approaching behind him and turned, then moved out of the way just in time as another nurse holding a syringe hurried into the room. "I have the tranquilizer!"

Those clustered around the bed moved to give her room, but it was difficult to keep the young man's arm pressed down against the bed long enough for her to give him the tranquilizer. Finally she succeeded in inserting the needle into the skin on the inside of his elbow, but his screams only grew louder and his struggling more violent. One of the doctors stumbled backwards as the patient's foot made sharp contact with his stomach.

But soon enough, after the nurse removed the syringe and stepped back, the tranquilizer seemed to be taking effect. Chitaka watched in uncertainty, with large eyes, as the patient's screams became more halted and broken, slowly quieting down, and as he seemed to become more disoriented. At last he could do nothing more than murmur and thrash about weakly... until he lost consciousness, rolled over on his side, facing the wall opposite Chitaka.

The silence was so heavy that everyone's sighs of relief were clearly audible. Chitaka took a step backwards, towards the doorway again, as one of the doctors cleaned off the site of the injection in the patient's arm, and as they all checked to make sure that he hadn't re-injured himself by such contrary actions, considering the apparent fracture in his arm. Two of the nurses stayed to keep watch and make sure that he remained asleep, but the doctors and the other nurses filed out of the room.

Chitaka watched them go silently for a moment, still stunned, but recovered himself and hurried to one of the doctors' sides, stopping him before he could leave. "Who is that?"

The doctor didn't even have to check the papers he was holding. "His name is Tsuru Hiramaya."

"And what happened? What's wrong with him?"

The doctor just sighed and shook his head. "He was brought in yesterday evening, after an automobile accident."

"An accident?"

"He and a friend-Keisuke Ito, said his ID-were driving on the bridge. The wheels skidded because of the rain, and the guard-rail on the bridge was too fragile-the car broke right through it and went into the water."

Chitaka's eyebrows drew together, picturing such a horrific incident. In his mind, he could even see the curtains of water reaching up towards the sky, as the heavy object, the car, displaced the current in its journey towards the invisible bottom. "And?"

"He made out of the accident pretty well, actually. Only a fracture in his left wrist and some water in his lungs. We had to pump the water out and put a cast on him, but he's been unconscious since we rescued him from the accident. We almost thought he wouldn't wake up." He didn't need to say any more, as he gestured at the now-sleeping patient. "The identification that we found on him says that he's autistic. It would explain behavior like that, but still..."

Unsurely, Chitaka stole a glance over at the patient, who was now laying there motionlessly, only his back visible. "Autistic?"

"Yes." The doctor nodded. "When he woke up, the first thing he asked was where his friend was. Keisuke Ito, the young man in the car with him. We could only tell him the truth-that Keisuke had been dead on arrival, that he'd drowned in the accident. That's when he started screaming.

"We're not sure what to do... The only 'guardian' he had was Keisuke Ito. But now that he's dead, we have no one's authority, so we have to just do what we can. Tsuru is officially independent enough to make important decisions about his own health, but personally, especially after this, it seems like someone else should be in charge of that for him." He turned and walked away, as though he couldn't wait to leave the room.

"I... I see," Chitaka murmured, only to himself, as he hesitantly followed.

*

For the next week, Chitaka heard nothing about Tsuru. He still wondered intensely about him, but he knew it would seem unusual or suspicious if he requested information about him without a good reason. After all, the situation of a perfect stranger was none of his business.

Chitaka half-expected to come to work the next day, at the hospital, and to hear those screams again. But there was always silence from the direction of that room. Often Chitaka would find reasons to pass by, although the door would always be shut. He would lean close, trying to hear through the walls, but there was never anything to hear.

On several occasions, Chitaka watched from the opposite end of the hallway, or leaned over the counter to get a better look, as a nurse or doctor would head for Tsuru's room. He would often hope to see inside, but the door would always click shut almost immediately and obstruct his vision.

'Damn.'

At the end of the week, Chitaka had changed out of his hospital uniform and was preparing to go home. He could see through the far windows near the entrance that it was getting dark, and he always reserved an hour after sunset to work on his thesis paper. Balancing both college and a part-time afternoon job at the hospital was not easy, but he was determined not to give up. As he slid his dark gray jacket over his arms and adjusted the collar, about to grab his scarf, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Matsumoto?"

The way that he had been addressed assured him that it wasn't a nurse or a part-time worker like himself. Blinking, he turned around. Morita, an older doctor, was standing behind him, looking at him hesitantly. Chitaka sized him up unsurely and asked politely, "Yes?"

Morita gave him a small smile. "Are you in a rush to get home?"

"Well..."

"This will only take a moment of your time."

"All right, then." Chitaka nodded and stepped closer to him, straightening his back. "What is it?"

Morita paused for a long moment, apparently trying to select his words carefully. "An emergency patient was brought to the hospital last week after being rescued from a car accident. He's doing all right-his only problem is a fractured left wrist. He could have had much worse. But-"

Chitaka's eyes widened. "Tsuru?"

There was another pause, this time of surprise, as Morita blinked down at him. "You know him?"

"Umm... no..."

Morita seemed to decide to keep talking, which he did abruptly. "His records list him as autistic, and he's been proving that at every opportunity. He won't talk, he looks right through us. The only thing he does is eat and go to the bathroom by himself. Otherwise he just sits there saying nothing, all day long. Do you know anything about autism, Matsumoto?"

"I've studied it in medical college, yes." He nodded, hoping that Morita would explain where he was going with this.

"Most people with autism who have not developed out of it, in a sense, need help in their lives. They can't take care of themselves completely. They aren't always in touch with our world-they live in their own." Morita glanced at Chitaka again. "According to his records, which I was looking through earlier, Tsuru has never really had a father, and his mother died last year following a bad struggle with leukemia."

Chitaka attempted not to let it show as a pang of sympathy struck his heart inside. He lowered his eyes to the floor, thinking hard, wondering what kind of suffering a person like Tsuru would endure. Would he grieve harder than any normal person? Or would he stay in his own world and not even notice?

"And...?"

"A week has passed, and he's doing much better. Physically, I mean." Shuffling the papers in his hands, Morita heaved a sigh. "All he has from the accident now are his fractures. But we can't just send him home, to the apartment in which he used to live... because Keisuke Ito was his roommate. His caretaker." Morita seemed to tactfully avoid mentioning the possibility that they had been in a relationship together as well. "And since Tsuru has no real relatives to take care of him, we need to find somewhere for him to go for a little while, as his arm recovers and as he comes to terms with the accident. We need to find someone to take care of him."

Chitaka nodded, agreeing with this. Tsuru did seem to need someone to take care of him. From what he knew of autistic people, it would be very difficult for them to survive caring for themselves.

However, Chitaka's expression slowly froze, as he began to understand what Morita was suggesting. He brought his eyes up again, uncertainly fixing them on Morita's face and furrowing his brows. "Do you mean... me?"

"You live alone, don't you, Matsumoto?"

"Well... yes..."

Morita's expression hardened slightly, as though he expected to be accused of something. "Now remember that I would never come to you first and ask you something like this. I've gone through practically every senior member of the staff, but no one has the room or the energy or the ability to care for someone. And you're young, only twenty-two, so I wouldn't think to choose you. But you cared for your mother when she was still fighting the lung cancer, didn't you?"

Chitaka said nothing, tensing slightly.

Morita didn't seem to notice his change of emotion, but if he did, he ignored it. "That was a debilitating disease, also. A different form than autism, and with few similarities, but you gained experience through supervising and guiding another human being. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Like I said, I would normally go with someone older, someone with more qualifications-but you have experience. Tsuru's mentality is a fragile thing. It wouldn't do to have someone caring for him who didn't understand anything at all."

"Yes, sir."

"While taking care of Tsuru, you would not be expected to come to work here anymore, because after all, an autistic human being requires full-time care. And if you'll forgive me, I've already called the college which you attend and explained all of this hypothetically to them, in case you were to take Tsuru. After all, I'm friends with most of your professors. They told me it would be quite all right if you were to take several weeks or even a couple of months off, to take care of such an important 'project'. They would send you the most important things through the mail, so that you could keep up at home, but you wouldn't have to attend classes."

Chitaka stared at him. "You already called my college?"

"Just in case you were to accept." Morita paused, then glanced off down the darkened hospital hallway, which looked almost eerie with few people wandering about, and not many lights turned on. His expression was a bit more serious. "I've looked into Tsuru's degree of autism. His records say that his mind is basically like that of a child. He's only nineteen, but still, he seems quite a bit younger. He's very intelligent, of course, but he's quiet and shy-mute right now-and he lives in his own world. There are times when he can't hear us or see us, and things are very different to him than they are to us."

Chitaka couldn't help but become more interested now. Although his expression didn't change, he looked up at Morita's face, biting on his lip. "And you want me to take care of him."

"Only until his body recovers. Then we can find a more suitable place for him, like a facility for people like him. He has no other guardian, after all, and if not for the accident, he could have continued a normal life, because Keisuke Ito was taking care of him."

"I understand." Chitaka nodded. "I... I'll do it."

*

Uncertainly, Chitaka followed Morita down the hallway. "Come and see him for just a minute," the older doctor had said, taking his elbow and pulling him along. "I know you have to go home, and besides, all of these arrangements can be made tomorrow, but you said yourself that you'd never really seen him."

For reasons he couldn't describe, Chitaka felt nervous. He didn't know what to expect. He tried to explain this to Morita, but all he'd gotten was a tap on the shoulder and "Don't worry, he probably won't even notice that you're there."

Not even notice...?

Chitaka felt a bit of pain, remembering the way that his mother had been when she was on her way out of the world. In the last few months, she had grown weaker and weaker, and Chitaka had been the only one to care for her, since his father needed to work most of the time. At last, she had been put in the hospital, and had been half-conscious until her last living moment. But by that time, she had hardly recognized Chitaka at all.

He didn't know if he could deal with anything like that again. He wasn't close to Tsuru, and had no relationship with him, let alone the one that he'd had with his mother. But still, memories would come back. And so would the same feeling of helplessness.

Why had he even agreed to do this? He'd been curious about Tsuru. But he hadn't been expecting to have to live with him.

They approached the room, and Morita stopped Chitaka. "Shhh."

Chitaka only gave a little nod, furrowing his brows. Why be quiet? He assumed that it was only because sudden moves would alarm Tsuru. That is, if Tsuru even realized they were in the room in the first place.

Morita placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted quietly, and then stepped inside, pushing the door open. He motioned for Chitaka to follow, which the younger and more slender man did hesitantly, without lifting his eyes from the floor at first. Chitaka noticed that the room was somewhat dark, with only a light in the corner turned on-and the lampshade on it was heavy, adding to the obscurity that came from having the electric ceiling lights turned off.

Morita's voice caught his attention, as he absorbed the pattern of the floor. "I would introduce the two of you, but there really isn't any point."

Chitaka blinked, and without meaning to, he looked up.

The hospital bed was empty. But the person who had crawled out of it had meticulously arranged the sheets so perfectly that the work of the nurses didn't even seem to compare. There was perfect symmetry to the creases and the way that the oddly-colored hospital blanket lay on top of the thinner layers of fabric beneath.

Chitaka's eyes traveled away from the bed, and to the window, which had thick glass and blinds drawn over the upper half.

On the wide inner windowsill, a figure was sitting. Unmistakably the same figure that Chitaka had seen thrashing and screaming a few days before. Only now he was utterly still, like a statue, which made it easier to absorb his features fully. He was probably of medium height, shorter than Chitaka, but his body, dressed in a white hospital gown that reached to his knees, was even thinner, almost skeletal. His bare feet were dangling an inch or two above the floor, his back leaning against the glass of the window, and his hands were resting in his lap. They were bony also, but beautiful, long-nailed and with prominent knuckles. His left arm from his wrist to his elbow was encased in a white cast.

Chitaka stared at his face. It was a heart-shaped face, slightly long, but his eyes were huge. Impossibly huge, staring slightly over to his right, at the wall. Or at absolutely nothing. They didn't blink once. Their dark brown hue, which would seem warm on any other person, seemed cold, but not lifeless-deep and impossible to fathom. His thin, dark eyebrows weren't too bold, and therefore it made his eyes look even larger. His nose was delicate, and his pale lips were motionless. His hair was thick and voluminous, a dark rich brown color, trailing to long below his shoulders with several shorter pieces hanging around his face.

Chitaka could hardly tell he was breathing. He was so motionless that one could have mistaken him for a piece of furniture.

Chitaka moistened his lips with his tongue, without looking away from Tsuru. "Should..." he began to say, but fell silent immediately, for some reason afraid that he was speaking too loudly and disturbing Tsuru. But the patient said nothing and didn't move at all, not even seeming to hear his voice. Feeling unnerved by this, Chitaka swallowed and began again, barely over a whisper, "What should I do?"

Morita didn't seem to have his same hesitations and worries, and just shrugged, flipping through the papers posted over the hospital bed. "It doesn't matter right now. He's not paying attention."

"What are those?" Chitaka asked distractedly, referring to the papers.

"Oh, just his records."

Chitaka nodded.

For some reason, he was struck with a bizarre, stomach-turning feeling, as he looked at Tsuru. He couldn't identify it as positive or negative, and it wasn't exactly uncomfortable so much as unfamiliar. And it had nothing to do with his mother. That was a comfort. This feeling was alien and unexplored, and it only intensified when he tried to stare, from a distance, into those unfocused eyes.

Morita's voice distracted him again. "I'll be right back. Aiko is leaving for home too, and she has to update me on the diabetic patient in the other wing before she goes."

Chitaka barely remembered to nod. "All right."

He heard footsteps, and then the quiet creak of the door opening again. More footsteps, and it closed. Hesitantly, taking a step backwards, Chitaka managed to rip his eyes away from the unmoving Tsuru and ascertain that the older doctor was gone. He was. But for some reason, Chitaka felt as though he was trapped in a room with a ghost. At first he was almost afraid, but soon enough he realized that nothing would happen. Tsuru didn't even notice him.

Chitaka's eyes moved from the closed door over to the papers in the folder over the bed, which Morita had re-deposited there before leaving. He couldn't help but feel curious, and edged closer. But he glanced over at Tsuru again.

'Oh, it doesn't matter. He won't care if I look at his records.'

Chitaka paused by the bed and reached over it, pulling a handful of papers out of the file. Some of them seemed unimportant, so he flipped through them. One was a medical chart, another a list of statistics including Tsuru's blood type and other such information. Finally Chitaka came to something that didn't look like any of the other papers-a letter, apparently, typed with an old typewriter or something along those lines, with a few ink smudges. The signature at the bottom looked slightly scrawled, as though the writer had experienced trouble while trying to sign his or her name.

Tomiko Hiramaya, was the name signed.

'Hiramaya?' Chitaka thought to himself for a moment, then his eyes widened in realization, and he glanced over at Tsuru. 'This is a letter from his mother to the hospital. And the date is... last year. Didn't they say that Tsuru's mother died last year?'

Chitaka scanned the letter over with his eyes briefly, and slowly it began to sink in. It seemed to be a letter of finalities, of tying up loose ends. In the page of paragraphs, Tsuru's mother had attempted to summarize his condition and history with autism, knowing that she was going to die soon, and wanting to make sure that the hospital understood. It seemed like a decent thing to do. Chitaka had to wonder why the letter was in with the official records, but then, it was a primary resource, and probably all that the hospital had received to go by, after Tomiko Hiramaya had died.

Chitaka skipped the opening parts and looked at where Tsuru's mother began explaining his autism. He didn't want to read the more personal parts relating to the woman's own illness.

I noticed when Tsuru was an infant that something was wrong with him. He would stare through me sometimes, and even if I clapped my hands in front of his face, he wouldn't even blink. When he played on the floor, he would be absorbed in his own toys, his own world, and if I dropped a dish and it broke in the kitchen, he wouldn't even look up.

Most small children begin speaking before they're two years old, but Tsuru didn't speak. He would only cry, or shriek, or make other such noises at times, when he wasn't being silent. His doctor had already diagnosed him with autism, and told me that he might never speak. But Tsuru said his first word when he was eight years old. Soon enough he learned to speak as a normal child his age, although much less frequently, and about much different things, if he chose to speak at all. In the beginning, all he would do was repeat anything that was said to him, over and over, changing the inflection of how the words were said. Now, he speaks very well, when he does. Sometimes he replies sounding confused, or distant, as though he sees an entirely different world around him, and only responds to voices that he is hearing-lost and cut off. Only when he is greatly distressed will he succumb to what I've been told is a typical autistic episode, with shrieking and crying and shaking. At that point, it's very hard to calm him down.

He was a late developer, though, and didn't walk until he was six. Up until that time, he would only crawl, or shift along on the floor like a cat. I had to help him practice every day before he could finally walk normally.

As he grew older, he had a lot of difficulty learning in his classes. When he was still in primary school, his teacher told me that he should be going to a special class, or be schooled at home. So I took him out of school and tried to teach him some things myself. It was hard, because even I wouldn't always be able to keep his attention, and he wasn't good at many subjects. He was good at math, though, and when he was a teenager he did very well with geometry. Once he told me that he felt as though he lived in a universe of planes and lines and laterals, where he was trapped and couldn't escape. It made me cry, but I didn't know how to help him. He would fill papers upon papers with equations and formulas and perfect diagrams, beyond even my limited knowledge of math.

He wasn't good at being with people, or other children. He could only deal with one person at a time, or else he would close himself off and say nothing. One of his favorite hobbies was taking a glass jar outside and filling it with pebbles, all different sizes and shapes, none of them alike. He could sit for hours touching them and their textures, or letting them fall through his fingers, or staring at them.

Now that he is eighteen, he's much improved from childhood, but of course he isn't fully recovered. His doctors have told me that he will never be a completely normal person. He has an easier time these days speaking and responding to outside stimuli, and can seem almost like any other boy his age-only more quiet and shy, and very deep in thought most of the time.

At the moment he is preparing to move in with Keisuke Ito, a young man who was in one of my classes. I used to teach English at a college before my health began to disintegrate, and Keisuke was a student of mine. He is twenty-two and a very good student, as well as a good person. One day I brought Tsuru to class with me, because I was going to leave early and take him directly to a doctor's appointment-Keisuke took notice of Tsuru and I saw that he was watching him all class. Afterwards, he spoke to me and asked me about Tsuru. He didn't seem dissuaded by Tsuru's autism, but was rather fascinated by him. Keisuke began to help me with chores and side classwork, and he and Tsuru became friends. Please do not divulge this information, but Tsuru has confided to me that he and Keisuke are in love. I will admit that normally I would not approve of such a relationship, if Tsuru was like any other boy, but because of his autism I already expected a far different life for him than usual. I don't mind Keisuke's attachment to him, or his attachment to Keisuke, and when I confessed to Keisuke that I was dying of cancer, he was very concerned. I asked him to allow Tsuru to live with him, and he of course had no problem with that. Tsuru is preparing to move within the week.

I would want Tsuru to stay with me, but he shouldn't be with me when I die. I know that he wouldn't adapt well to that, and I wish for him to be happy. I've already given this hospital Keisuke Ito's address, for further reference. Please do all that you can to promote Tsuru's health in my absence. I want only the best for him.

Chitaka slowly moved his eyes away from the paper and looked over at Tsuru again. The patient continued gazing expressionlessly in the other direction. Chitaka's heart gave a little tremor, and his fingers tightened, crinkling the paper. Hurriedly, before he accidentally ripped it, he put it back into its proper place in the pile and then returned the papers to their folder above the bed.

For some reason, his hands were trembling slightly, and a lump was forming in his throat. He could tell that tears were coming, and he dryly thought to himself that he wasn't as strong as he'd thought he was.

But it didn't really matter; Tsuru wasn't even looking at him.

The tears were probably from the sympathy and mutual pain he was feeling. He knew what Tsuru had gone through... if, of course, Tsuru had gone through anything at all, losing his mother. It had been painful enough for Chitaka. Again he had to wonder, would grief like that be intensified, or maybe not even there, for someone like Tsuru? Although he knew some things about autism, he could never try to place himself in the mind of an autistic person-and for some reason, his mind told him that it would be more painful for Tsuru, somehow. Like a child, he probably hadn't understood anything when people had told him that his mother was gone.

Chitaka's vision was swimming as he looked over at Tsuru again. He continued to stand there for a minute, but his legs tensed, wanting him to move. Finally he succumbed and walked over to Tsuru haltingly, roughly wiping his eyes.

He reached out and took hold of Tsuru's right hand, his uninjured hand, and squeezed it, clutching it within his.

Tsuru didn't move.

end, chapter one.