16 / 26 : A WINDOW THROUGH TIME

(I) Prelude

     Miyazaki Minato sat on the cold metal seats of the Yokohama Chuo Hospital. He held his breath while slouching forwards, resting his elbows on his thighs while holding his necklace tightly in his clenched fists. He prayed dearly for something good to come. He prayed dearly for his parents.
     The sun shined bright rays through the glass pane, giving the dark halls a reassuring look. The hospital was rather old, the hallways seemed depressing and dark due to the lack of light released from the ceiling lamps. The sunlight was brighter than most of the lights. Even then, the brighter blue sky showed hope.
     With a deep breath, he sat up, leaning his back against the cold walls. Behind the walls was an emergency room. Not an ordinary one. Minato's parents were being operated on. It was life or death for them, and their lives were on the hands of the surgeons trying to keep them alive. Minato hoped that whatever happened a positive outcome would arrive.
     Beside the boy sat an older looking woman. Minato's grandmother, Miyazaki Mizuki, sat with her back straight despite having spinal aches from previous complications, her arm outstretched in Minato's direction. Her hand rested gently on Minato's far shoulder as her arm wrapped behind his neck in a reassuring gesture. Aside from the smile that she was giving to Minato as they locked gazes, her heart pained with worry, filling up to the brim like a water balloon about to burst. The same could describe her eyes, as they were glossy and looked like they would pour Niagara.
     Minato had neither one brother nor sister afterwards. His parents were his only trusted guardians. He couldn't let them go, no matter what. As the fear gnawed deeper into his heart, he couldn't bear holding in the imagination of what life would be like without the guidance of an elder. Though, he had one more, right in front of his eyes: Mizuki.
     Minato signed deeply, his gaze dropping to Mizuki's still-smooth hands resting on her lap. Then, his head turned back to the yellowish-white walls of the hospital halls. He leaned his body back against the metal seat before closing his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as the sound of the machinery hummed through the narrow hallways of Yokohama Chuo General Hospital.
     Trying to get his thoughts straight, he reminisces about his past and his future. School was starting soon. It was the twenty-sixth of March anyways. Days flew by, causing his memories to blur like a foggy lens of a camera. Additionally, he needed to get accustomed to Yokohama. He spent most of his time in Aomori City, somewhere north of Japan, but not enough to reach Hokkaido. All the memories of him stressing about school and classes soon returned to his heart and mind. But he had other things to worry about. Many, in reality.
     College was in two years — or more. He was sixteen already. He couldn't believe it, not when his twelfth birthday felt like the day before. He had left junior high a year ago, but he felt like he was still there with all of his friends. He needed to worry about which universities were good, great, and neither. Afraid was putting it lightly, what he felt was more than fear, more than worry. For the future, near or far.
     "Are you alright?" asked Minato's elder.
     "I'm fine," he responded while looking quite the opposite.
     Mizuki didn't ask any additional questions. She only nodded slowly while swallowing a wad of saliva, releasing a rather loud gulp sound. She turned her head forward, staring at the white walls. Bright yet dark, it was an eye sore. She needed some comfort. She hated seeing the hospital wallpapers.
     An hour passed, an hour full of worry and nervousness. The fear set in, a second layer to their worry. Minato's legs bounced up and down continuously as he bit his bottom lip. His body slouched down as his hand rested on his face, his elbow resting back down to his knees. The silent humming of hospital machinery only emphasized the situation they were in. The silence was loud, ringing in their ear.
      That was when he heard it, from behind the door. Flat line. All of the pressure against his back felt like it snapped him in half. The sound was faint, but he could tell it was from inside the emergency room behind him. The pants and deep breaths of the doctors that operated on Minato's parents escaped through the gaps of the door. All of that made him even more overwhelmed.
     Mizuki didn't hear it — her hearing had weakened slightly from age. But seeing Minato's fear and overwhelmed stature, she knew something was wrong. Sitting up and looking around, she sighed and leaned her back against the wall. She knew what was happening even without any proof for herself. From his behaviour alone, she knew that the worst had come.
     A minute passed. Two minutes. Three minutes. Five minutes.. No sign of any expression of relief from the medical professionals. Time went by slowly and painfully. The clock ticked ever louder as time felt like it was a valuable asset. It was, but with every second wasted up, it seemed as if nothing good was happening.
     The door opened as a doctor slowly walked out. Mizuki stood up in reaction to the door opening, clutching her purse tightly. Minato followed suit, standing in front of his grandmother facing the doctor. The doctor had no other way of phrasing it.
     "I'm sorry. We tried our best. We really did."
     Minato's tears finally fell, streaming down his face like a river. Mizuki cried too, silently. The old woman held her grandson tightly while her emotions splayed upon the hospital halls. The doctor bowed out of sorriness. The doctor could feel their pain too.
     Inside the emergency room, the remaining doctors and nurses pulled a white tarp over Mister and Misses Miyazaki's body. The room was dark while machines continued to hum. That was before the nurses turned off the machinery that kept the two of them alive beforehand.
     "They tried.." Mizuki whispered into Minato's ears to reassure him.
     "Time of death?" Minato asked while wiping away his tears.

     "Four-twenty-six PM."