Glass Coffin (an Inazuma Eleven f.f.)

Tiny Hands, Bloody Hands

My eyelids felt heavy. I tried to open them, but surprisingly, they didn't budge. It was as if I was lying in a coffin of lead.

I furrowed my bows and strained my muscles, then finally managed to open then only to be greeted with foreign, sterile white walls. Soft sunlight and a gentle gust of wind drifted into the squarish room from the open window, giving the place a happy, peaceful atmosphere. Tilting my head to the side, I realized that I was lying on an unfamiliar cot, and judging from the wires that connected my body to the lightly humming machine next to the bed, I was probably in a hospital.

I sat up, but somehow the action felt different than how I climb out of bed every morning in a strenuous, awkward way, similar to how it took me more concentration to open my eyes. In other words, very off. Only now did it strike me odd that my first glimpse had been crystal clear rather than sleepily blurred, and that I, an unfortunate victim of myopia due to excessive reading under the covers in my kiddie days, could see so perfectly without glasses.

The light intro melody of "For My Blackbird" snaked into my room from the open window, and then I finally remembered.

Wait...the car crash...

It all started coming back to me. The lights reflecting off our windshield, the roar of honking and tires screeching in discordance with violin strings, then finally, black.

Instinctive panic shot through my veins. Where are my parents?

At this thought I threw off the bedsheet, prepared to run out of the room, only to see in horror that the wires were actually plugged into me. Even more shocking was the fact that pieces of my arms had been flipped open like secret sockets, with actual metal rimmed holes for the wires connecting me to the happily humming machine next to me.

I couldn't help it. I screamed.

Only a few seconds later, footsteps could be heard running towards my room, then the door was flung open by a stern looking man and two nurses. "She lived!" one of them gasped and collapsed to the ground, covering her mouth with her hands. Tears started oozing out of her eyes, that was, frankly, a melodramatic reaction in my opinion. In contrast, the man remained completely calm and extended a hand out, as if expecting me to shake it, "Gouenji Katsuya, your operator."

I ignored his gesture, and eventually he retreated his outstretched arm, looking slightly flustered and disgruntled. "What's going on?" I asked instead, unsure of why the nurses looked so shocked. Judging by what that lady had said, did she mean they thought I was going to... No, I'm not going to even think that word. It didn't happen, so it couldn't be true.

The three didn't answer. They exchanged glances, and finally the surgeon turned to me and said those blood chilling words that would be imprinted in my memory forever.

"You were supposed to die. No, you did die. These nurses here saw you take your last breath, saw your last heartbeat, saw you cough feebly and struggle to stay alive. Then your body just gave out, and your brain stopped."

It was as if I was the conductor of an orchestra, and I had just pulled the gesture for dramatic silence. The only sounds that could be heard were birds chirping merrily outside in their own little bubble, and that accursed violin, still tauntingly cheerful.

"So...I died?" All I could do was ask that statement dumbly, even when Gouenji Katsuya had just explicitly stated seconds ago, even going as far as describing my last moments, and I quote, No, you did die. The three adults nodded gravely, as if they thought that doing so would make the fact easier to sink in. "We thought the operation had been too late when your brain ceased shortly afterward, but then Hiraga-san here," Gouenji Katsuya gestured to the nurse that had collapsed to the floor, "Swore she saw your heart beat on the monitor, so we agreed to let you stay for twelve hours. Everyone had expected it to be just an accidental reading, but, well, here you are."