A Thousand Cranes for a Wish (USHIJIMA X OC)

Unfinished Art

After knocking multiple times and getting no response it was safe to assume that Umeko was either asleep or not in the room.

"What are you three boys doing outside of Akiyama's door? I can hear you from down the hallway. Must you insist on being so loud." Hashimoto crossed her arms then narrowed her eyes at Shirabu. "Shouldn't you know better, Time-travel boy? We already discussed this the first day we met."

Shirabu felt his eye twitch at the nickname, it wasn't any surprise that he wasn't fond of it. Somehow a few girls managed to tune into the one and only time he jokingly claimed to be a time traveler. Since then, the rumors spread like wildfire. It only took two days till all the girls knew about him, the time-traveler boy who went into the past to find his true love. Shirabu wanted to gag just from just the thought. "We wanted to visit her since she hasn't been to class or answered her phone." He responded equally hostile and just as calm.

"She isn't here. Akiyama hasn't been in the dorms for three days now." Hashimoto saw the three boys in front of her visibly deflate. She sighed, "She might be back tomorrow, but I don't know exactly when. And don't ask me what happened, I don't know either." Hashimoto immediately turned tail and left without any other word.

---------

Umeko winced and bit back her tears. Post-surgery pain felt awful. She looked at her phone sitting on the bedside table. She had received so many messages and even a few calls but never answered any of them. It had reached a point where she no longer felt like she deserved their concern. She did consider replying but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Umeko didn't want to lie and say everything was fine when it wasn't. Just a few days ago everything was alright, but now look. Umeko furrowed her eyebrows as her memories drifted back to that day. The only thing that was as scary as the accident itself.

~~~

"Miss Akiyama, can you feel this?"

"No. Why can't I feel my hand?"

"Can you open and close your hand into a fist?" The doctor continued.

Umeko did as told. Or at least attempted to. A sudden panic settled into her. She couldn't move her hand. "I-I can't move it...I-I'm trying but it isn't working!"

The doctor pursed his lips at Umeko's distress. He was worried that the injury from the accident would do something like this. While it wasn't the worst possible outcome it was still pretty bad. "From what I can tell, it seems like the laceration on your arm has damaged your tendons."

"You mean to say Umeko... can't use her right hand anymore?"

"Our cuddle-bug... is it just the fingers or the whole hand?"

"My fingers, I can only move my ring finger..." Umeko's voice trembled as she fought to keep herself calm, "T-There's no way, right?"

Mr. Akiyama ran his fingers through his hair. He was at a loss and didn't know what to do. His precious cuddle-bug treasured her hands more than anything because she loved art, but now she couldn't even move all her fingertips. "Doctor, is there a way to fix this? Surely, there is a way, right?"

Mrs. Akiyama nodded in agreement with her husband.

"I recommend surgery. After a few days we can discharge you, so you can continue your studies. I'd say physical therapy would start a little over a week after that."

"How long till it's fully healed...?" Umeko's voice was but a soft murmur that could have been lost in the room.

"Twelve weeks for your hand to return to full strength and six months for you to regain full movement. It could be earlier though depending on your recovery speed. During that time, it'll be crucial for you to continue the therapy even if your hand hurts or feels numb." The Doctor took a deep breath before he continued. "But if I'm being honest. The chances of you being able to use your hand with as much precision as before is slim to none. To be completely upfront with you, looking at your injuries, you will probably never regain feeling in some of your fingers. Your future as an artist... I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault." There was a long heavy silence that covered the room in a dark blanket. The competition would be in nine weeks. Should I just give up?

~~~

Umeko felt like she wanted to cry. She knew that other people had it worse. That little boy definitely was one of them but even still, she felt so pitiful and she hated it. If I didn't save him... No. I can't say that. Umeko fought back her tears and wiped them away frustrated. I don't regret saving him. A life in exchange for an injury, it's an easy choice to make.

- ----ONE DAY LATER-----

Ushijima let out a long sigh as he got out of the shower. His entire morning run was off rhythm, but he still trudged through it to continue his routine. He checked his phone for notifications after he changed and got ready for the day.

Ushijima wasn't counting, but he himself knew that over the past few days he had checked his phone more times than he had in an entire month. He had thought of texting Umeko so many times before, but every time he typed a message, he wasn't able to press send. It was like what he typed wasn't enough to convey what he felt. Ushijima found himself so distracted by her and she wasn't even present.

"What should I do..." he slipped his phone in his pocket. He usually would have played volleyball or finished some schoolwork, but the gym was closed, and it was a beautiful Saturday.

--------

It was the fourth day and Umeko was finally discharged. Her parents -as expected- worried and fussed over her making sure that she would be ok. After a rather tearful goodbye on her parent's part, Umeko walked back into the school and almost ran back to her dorm room.

Thanks to it being early morning on a weekend, most of the students were still asleep which allowed Umeko to stealthily make it back to her dorm room without fuss. She pushed the door open with her left hand and let it close on its own as soon as she entered. Her room was the same as when she left, though it would be unsettling if it did change.

Her eyes drifted over to her desk, and a half finished drawing lay flat on her table as if it were daring her to complete it. Umeko grit her teeth as she felt her heart squeeze, it wasn't fair. Umeko tried to pick up the pencil only to have it fall out of her hands and hit the floor with a clatter. Though the sound was quiet, it seemed to fill the silence of the room that spoke volumes. I can't even hold a pencil. Umeko's eyes watered and she picked up the pencil with her left hand. This time she placed the pencil in her right hands and closed her fingers around it. An electrifying sting buzzed through her body as she urged herself to try and draw.

Umeko dropped the pencil after a few seconds. She repeated the process over and over again hoping for a different result. She continued her futile efforts till the tip of the pencil broke. "W-why..." Angry tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks and landed on her unfinished drawing. Truthfully, she knew the reason why, but she didn't want to accept it. Umeko crumpled the paper up in her left hand and threw it away.

"Your future as an artist... I'm sorry."

Though the Doctor didn't say it in words, his expression and apology were enough for her to understand the implications, there was no future for her. What's the point in having passion if I can't achieve the skill? Those thoughts alone shook Umeko to her core.

--------

Ushijima rubbed his eyes as he finished his last assignment. It was almost lunch time and after finishing all his tasks he felt hungrier than usual. He pulled out his phone once more, "Today, I will text Ume." He mumbled out loud to strengthen his resolve.

Ushijima: Hello

Ushijima : I haven't seen nor heard from you in a while. No one has. I hope you are safe, please let us know if you can. We are all worried for you. It has been a long four days and it seems rather empty not to see you sitting on the bench.

Ushijima: Perhaps we did something to make you feel uncomfortable? If so, tell us and we will rectify our behavior or explain our actions.

Ushijima groaned at his own text that he just sent. Perhaps I was too forward? He fretted over his text now that it had already been sent. He searched for typos of any kind or missing punctuation. In a rash last-minute decision, he sent one more impulsive text.

Ushijima: I miss you.