Kasumi slowly opened her eyes, her head still ringing violently.
Even with her vision blurry, she could tell she wasn't in the dojo.
Everything was white, and the air felt sterile all around
her.
“Where...?” Kasumi whispered to herself,
squinting as the mere sound of her voice sending her head into
uncontrollable throbs.
“K-kasumi,” Ranma breathed, her voice unusually subdued as her vague figure came into her view.
“R-ranma...?” Kasumi reached up to touch Ranma's face, but her hand wouldn't move as she willed it to, moving to the left though she wanted it to go upward, her arm dangling limply from the bed she lay in.
Instead, Ranma put Kasumi's trembling hand in both her own, holding it tightly as she sobbed, her voice cracking as she tried to speak. “Why did you do that, Kasumi? Everyone's beside themselves with worry because of that stunt...”
“I'm sorry,” Kasumi managed through clenched teeth, trying to shrug off the agony as her head struggled to jump out of her skull. “But you were so hurt already... I couldn't stand to see you hurt any more...”
“Kasumi...”
Kasumi couldn't help but wonder if this was just a dream, brought on by whatever medications they had used to keep the pain from overwhelming her. It felt so real, however, when Ranma leaned down and planted a kiss upon her lips and whispered softly.
“I love you, Kasumi...”
---
“She's suffered one of the worst concussions I've seen in my life,” the old doctor said as he presented an x-ray photograph of Kasumi's head to her father, a Mr. Soun Tendo. “You can see the swelling at various points. Thankfully, there seems to be no permanent cranial damage. She'll probably get migraines if exposed to loud noise, but that'll be the worst of her cranial injury. However...”
“However...?” Mr. Tendo asked. The man looked haggard and tired, his cheeks and beard stained with hours worth of tears, the stress and grief clearly visible in his eyes. He was clearly frustrated at his inability to help his daughter, the helplessness weighing on him the way it did to all the fathers the doctor had seen in his time.
“However,” he continued, trying to sound as calm and neutral as possible. “Her head was jarred rather violently from the impact as well, leading to damage to her cerebellum, seen here.” The doctor pointed to the cerebellum in the photo. “This will severely affect her motor capabilities, confining her to a wheelchair for...” The doctor sighed as he saw Mr. Tendo's face sink, but continued anyway. “She will be confined to a wheelchair for a long while, perhaps permanently, and will always have trouble using her arms. She will need to be tended to for the rest of her life, Mr. Tendo. I hope you are ready for that.”
“Yes,” Mr. Tendo sighed helplessly. The doctor could see the self-loathing in his eyes. It was natural, of course. Parents, especially fathers, fancy themselves as being able to shield their children from any harm. That he couldn't do anything for his daughter now was clearly weighing on him.
The bald old man next to Mr. Tendo, a Mr. Genma Saotome, looked at the father, trying to put on a show of strength for his suffering friend. “It's okay, Tendo,” Gemna assured him, though his voice was tense and heavy with sorrow as well.
“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Tendo asked his friend, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “She held us all together, Saotome. How could we hope to even keep ourselves afloat, let alone her? And what will happen to her when I die? I don't know if Nabiki can handle that responsibility, and I'm afraid to leave her with Akane...”
“Don't worry, Tendo,” Genma insisted, clasping the father's shoulder in his hand. “She'll be in good hands. My boy will take care of your daughter. I know it.”
That gave Mr. Tendo a smile. Having seen the boy sitting vigilant in front of Ms. Tendo's room for the past week, the thought of her being taken care of by such a dedicated sort brought a smile to the doctor's lips as well.
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(Posted Mon, 28 Nov 2005 04:51)
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