Final: A Remade Salaryman Awakens with his Sunlight

Masaru’s eyes jolt open, but there’s no drowning sensation this time.

The white ceiling and its slow spinning fan meet him with the steady hum of the air conditioning… and outside, the song of the cicadas hold eerily silent.

And… a heartrate monitor?

His head pounding, the device reacts to his excitement as it beeps with a continual, urgent tone.

The handle to his room turns, and a nurse rushes in.

The next fight? Masaru wonders as he forces up from the bed and rips the tape from his arms… but there’s something else, and it stings.

“Sir, please wait!” The nurse exclaims, her black hair bobbing as she rushes to him.

Masaru stops to see the IV needle implanted along his forearm. He almost tore it out from the jerk.

“Wh-what’s going on?!” he shouts.

“Sir, calm down! Please! That’s very unsafe!”

What kind of trick is this? Could it be that The Enemy’s taken on a fully human form to take down his guard.

“Where am I?!” he shouts. “You’re not rea-”

On the table next to his bed, he sees it out of the corner of his eye: flowers.

This, more than the tube in his arm, gives him pause.

“…What?” is all he can cough out as she gently guides him back to the bed.

Her hands are cold, but her breath is warm, and the way her glasses jostle over her nose as she corrects his posture give him a sudden sense of realness.

“What… is this?” Masaru asks.

The nurse gives a hurried smile, the best she can manage. “Onomichi, sir. You’re in the hospital.”

Masaru’s frozen in place as he comes to terms with what’s transpired.

“Please,” he says after the pause, “get this out of me. Let me stand up.”

The nurse flinches, her glasses flicking back up to her eyebrows for just a semi second. “I, uh… are you feeling okay to stand up? This is highly irregular—”

He places a hand on her arm. “Please. I’m… I’m okay,” Masaru ensures.

She blinks at him from behind the broad glasses before coming to a nod.

“Okay, Mister Abe. One moment.”

It takes her just a few seconds and a slight sting before the cathode’s removed from his arm, with a bandage applied over the site of the insertion. She offers her hand, and after a slight dip to the side, he regains his balance and stands up on his feet.

“How…” he clears his throat for a second. “How long… have I been…”

“In a coma, sir.” she interrupts, looking him over for a sign of weakness. “About four days.”

His body is still, but his breathing remains heavy. He looks over to the flowers, several bouquets have been waiting his appreciation.

She notices his interest, and nods her head.

“You had quite a few visitors, actually.” Her smile becomes genuine and slow. “I could only hope to have that many people thinking about me if I went through something so painful.”

He stares at the flowers for a moment more before leaning in to inspect the tags and cards on the bouquets.

The nurse continues. “An older lady, I think your mother. A few gentlemen in suits who said they were your coworkers… and just a few minutes ago, this really pretty girl. I think she was from Europe, by her accent.”

His eyes widen at her words.

His mother actually visited him. His coworkers left flowers, even Miyagi, that dope brought some wildflowers… Yes, and her name is there, right on the bouquet at the back: white roses with a tag.

Masaru takes it up to read:

From Ms. Beaumont:

Thank you

Masaru’s gaze becomes blurry. He can smell her even now on the flowers.

Finally, he turns to the nurse.

“How long ago did she come by?”

The nurse’s eyes flourish with a spark. “She’s actually down at out-processing still… you might be able to catch he- oh!”

“Please excuse me,” he says.

Masaru’s already out the door. He notes that he’s exiting from room 359, and he passes by room 358.

He thinks to look inside, but he sees the label “vacant”.

Masaru takes a single moment to stop, turn to the door, and after a pause, produces a long, full bow—what a salaryman like himself might refer to as an ojigi.

“Old man… Mister Abe. Thank you,” he whispers under his breath before he rushes to the elevator.

The numbers tick down like minutes before an eternal separation.

A doctor waits next to him in the lift, looking over his gown. “Have you been… check out, sir?” the white-haired gentleman asks.

Masaru shakes his head.

“Do you… need anything?”

“I need to live a life that he’ll be proud of,” Masaru responds with the moment they reach the first floor.

“…Is that so?” the doctor asks, but again, Masaru’s out the door.

He sees colored lines, signs leading to different sections, and like the gaze of The Enemy he sees it: Out-processing.

“Excuse me,” is all Masaru responds with as he starts down that way.

There’s a dozen white gowns, nurse’s scrubs, and coats as he powerwalks up to the desk, but he doesn’t make it all the way, because she’s waiting there in the lobby. She had been looking down that way towards the elevator, and she sees him immediately.

Stepping up to her, he clears his throat and pushes with everything he can to create the words. “Miss Bea-“

“Valerie is fine,” she says, her lips parting a little more than she needed to speak.

They pull in without ceremony and feel each other’s warmth for the first time.

A kiss— and it’s real.