Rebirth, part 2

The news hit harder than the truck. According to Wadahara I was walking home from school with a friend and got hit by a speeding truck that came out of nowhere. Because of the shock I could only nod while staring blankly at the equally blank wall in front of me. He said that they would keep me in the hospital for a little while longer and run some tests to make sure I was okay.

During the next week I couldn't do much of anything. I got a cast on my leg because of the fracture I got in the accident, so I had to get crutches, but that wasn’t the only thing I had to get used to. I used to be six foot one, but now I’m five foot six, or hundred and sixty-eight centimeters, because of course they use the metric system here. I can only hope that I haven’t stopped growing yet.

Wadahara turned out to actually be a doctor and helped me every step of the way. He translated what everyone else was saying into english, which made communicating much easier than the game of charades I would have to do whenever he wasn’t around.

He explained to me that there exists an incredibly rare version of amnesia that popped up recently. Besides losing their memory, the victim would not only lose the ability to speak one language, but also gain the ability to speak another. I decided to keep my overseas memories a secret, just in case they might send me to a psychiatric ward if I claimed to be someone else.

I had become Shotaro Tadano.

My parents were apparently working overseas and couldn’t come visit me due to their demanding jobs. When I heard that, I couldn’t help but think of my previous parents, who always cared more about their work than their own sons. I thought it was a cruel twist of fate that my new life mirrored my old one, but then I received a handwritten letter.

It’s a quarter past one and I’m just finishing the soup that was my lunch when the nurse comes in with an envelope. She hands it to me as she takes away the empty bowl and leaves without saying a word. I don’t really expect anyone to write me a letter, but it has my name on it. After some hesitation I clumsily tear it open and take out the two pieces of paper inside.

It was a message from my parents. Never before had I read such heartfelt and sincere words of sympathy and regret as they apologized for not being able to be there by my bedside. I don’t even know who they are, but I don’t have to in order to know that they love me. I can feel the meaning of those words resonate with my very soul. That afternoon, only a week after waking up in this body, I cried for the first time in years.

When my tears run dry, I begin to realize what just happened. I could understand what was written in the letter, even though it wasn’t written in english, but in japanese. When I looked at the letter again I could understand the foreign characters and what they meant. What were previously strange and alien shapes were now legible as hiragana, katakana and kanji.

Doctor Wadahara steps into the room for what has become a routine checkup and he’s clearly surprised when he sees my tear stained face. For the past week I may have been a bit emotionally distant towards everyone, so for me to suddenly burst out in tears must be somewhat alarming.

“Are you alright?” He asks as I wipe my tears away.

In an attempt to save some face I squeeze out a “yeah” in response, but that’s not important right now. After discovering my sudden japanese reading comprehension I want to test out if the same applies to conversation. Trying not to think about it too much might be best, since I couldn’t really understand how I understood the letter.

“I’m okay.” I say with the intent of speaking japanese, but no way of knowing if that would actually happen.

“I see you’re starting to pick up some japanese, that’s good. Maybe you’ll get it back once you get the ball rolling.” he says in a matter of fact manner.

It seems as though it worked, though Wadahara once again leaves a lot to be desired.

“I’m not just okay, I’m feeling good. I got this letter from my mom and dad and it was a bit overwhelming, but I feel better now.“

Wadahara looks up from the chart in his hands and his eyes go wide.

“Wait, you got your memory back!?” He says in what I can tell is japanese this time.

“Well no, but it seems like I can read and speak japanese again.”

“Awww… Ah well, it’s better than nothing!” He says in a surprisingly optimistic and cheery tone, before continuing in a more serious manner. “Was there something that triggered it? If we find out what caused it, we may be able to get your memory back.”

I hesitantly explain what happened and that I don’t know what caused it. The obvious conclusion of my sudden emotional outburst didn’t work because I wouldn’t have been able to read the letter that caused that in the first place. We were completely stumped as to why it happened, but we still celebrated the fact that it did.

I could finally converse with the nurse that had been in charge of me for the past week and thanked her for taking care of me despite my odd behaviour. She was a bit taken aback when this boy that had only been speaking a foreign language for the past seven days suddenly went back to speaking his native tongue. I imagine she thought it was all just a weird prank I pulled on her, but she looked relieved as well.

Wadahara told me that they would only keep me here until tomorrow to run some tests to see if they could discover anything that might be related to the sudden change in my condition. Because it might be related to my mental state, he said he doesn’t expect to find anything, but checking to make sure is his job. Physically I’m doing fine, so there’s no real reason for me to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary.

The next day that prediction came true. He came into my room with a smile on his face and told me they couldn’t find anything and that I was free to go home. The only issue with that is that I don’t know where that is.

To my surprise, Wadahara had taken this into consideration and told me that my older sister was coming to pick me up. I was surprised to find out I even have a sister. When I asked what her name was, he slowly put one hand to his face and the other on my shoulder, apologizing for forgetting what it was.

After he shamefully walked out of the room, I sat down in the chair next to the bed. Since then I haven’t been able to get my mind off of the fact that I’m waiting for a sibling whose face I don’t know to return to a home I’ve never seen. Watching the second hand on the clock turn is making my head spin even more.

Just when I start to feel dizzy, I hear the door to the room open and when I look I see a nurse showing a young woman into the room. She has shoulder length matte black hair, same as mine, though that might not be a good indicator in this region of the world. When I stand up I notice she’s a bit taller than me, which gives me hope for my own future. Her glasses have a wine red rim frame and make the rest of her plain outfit look a little more refined.

“Hey, Shotaro,” she addresses me with a slightly concerned tone in her voice, “are you okay? The doctor said you have amnesia and that you’ve forgotten who I am, is that true?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Can you tell me your name?”

“It’s Tadano.”

“...Yes, I know that one… I meant your first name”

“Ah yeah, of course you meant that. My name is Satsuki and I’m your older sister. I saw you when you were still unconscious after the accident, but after that they didn’t let me see you. I’ll make it up to you by making sure that leg doesn’t get in the way too much, alright?”

That was how I met my big sister. The first impression wasn’t great, but I’ll have to rely on her as long as my leg hasn't healed yet. During that time I’ll try to get to know more about her and be a good little brother, since I know from experience that those can be a pain in the ass at times.

We had some trouble on the way home. Not only were my crutches a hassle to move around with, I was constantly distracted by everything around me, since this was my first time in Tokyo. Just taking the subway felt new and exciting to me because it was somewhere I’d never been before. It probably took us twice as long to get there than it should have, but eventually we made it home in one piece.

The two of us live together in an apartment in a surprisingly big building. I’m glad there’s a working elevator, because I would not have survived climbing seven sets of stairs with crutches. When I walked through the door I did feel a wave of nostalgia come over me, but sadly I didn’t remember anything. After we sat down in the living room, Satsuki and I talked about how weird it was that I completely lost all my memories and she told me more about herself. Apparently she was studying in university to be a lawyer and she just barely passed the last few tests. The school had given her a week off to deal with the family trouble, also known as me.

Satsuki made curry for dinner and it was surprisingly delicious. After that she showed me to my room and told me to make myself at home, because that’s what it is. She keeps me on my toes, subverting my expectations whenever I start to have any.

It’s a cramped room, but not only because it’s small. A closet right next to the door means you have to take an additional step to feel like you’ve actually stepped into the room. On the opposite side is a window with a bed underneath it. On the left is a desk for what looks like a gaming computer, sadly only with a single monitor and a cheap looking chair. Last but not least, the right wall is hidden behind multiple bookcases. The shelves are filled with various titles, such as ‘Knife Technique Connected’, ‘Fwd:None’ and ‘Emperor’. There’s also a few translations of western titles by authors like Stephanie Queen and John R.R. Mason. I don’t know if it’s because I woke up as him that he has the same hobbies I do, or it’s because he has the same hobbies I do that I woke up as him.

Out of all this, something catches my eye on the desk. A magazine with a big and bold headline on the cover: “Writing contest! Will you become the next big sensation?”