120. Montage

Nightmares made his night alone colder than they could've been.

Jolting awake, the heart machine migraine-inducing, his breath-- such a precious, odd occurrence now-- racing and taking in air desperately, desperately-- so, so desperately as if he feared the moment he could not take another.

He thought he had long gotten over his own death. But no-- the thought of his limbs shattering into bits, the water entering his lungs, burning like acid and corroding his insides like they were poison-- Rei found himself waking up with a scream near his senses.

Clutching Sui-- the one, teary-eyed child who wouldn't leave his side since he woke up-- she cuddled closer than ever, unable to express herself anyway else. She needed the comfort-- the comfort of something, someone-- and Rei knew he needed it too.

Three days ago, he had woken up. He took a slow, miraculous breath through new lungs-- everyone was so, so glad and happy. The mood was celebratory, joyousness, a frolic jubilee.

Then, two days ago, Kunomasu braced him for grim news-- the identity of his donor.

Rei couldn't even compose a proper reaction in him. 

Fury, furor was definitely boiling in him. Anger, hatred, frustration, guilt-- all muddled up like a sick pool of bile he wanted to throw up. But no-- anyone could have the sense to understand that Kunomasu did it without a choice. It was one life saved or two lives left to rot on their own. the choice was obvious, evident, and choosing otherwise would have been absurd.

And for Rei, who he himself has wished dearly, declared loudly and vividly his will to live-- saying now that he should have died instead-- that would be childish, unfair, hypocritical-- and just plain delirious.

Sanity and conformity was one thing he didn't want to lose with his physical deterioration. The transplant had been a success even through the most of miracles. People would say tha tto him now and then-- but Rei did not feel much better.

Where was this anger going to go? Where would it be directed? Why should it be held down?

It felt-- strange-- maybe it was just his mental consciousness, his disturbed, over-feeling awareness that was rejecting the foreign object he knew was in him. He wasn't feeling it physically, though-- the alien material welded to his skin felt now like it was a part of him. It was strange, but it did not feel strange.  

Perhaps it was how little he felt the change that made it all the more awful to him. It was unnerving, but his body did not protest to the difference-- to Amano's relief, tissue rejection showed no signs of occurring anytime soon-- so Rei's mind was just forced to adapt; to live with it, until he pretended to be fine with it.

It wasn't too hard.

-

Sui was always with Rei. Amano protested at first to her stay in the medical ward-- after all, Rei was extra fragile at the moment-- but Amano allowed it after much debating.

Sui would crawl into Rei's bed often, as if she was still the child she had long grown out of, seeking and craving for the warmth of the father she'd lost before her eyes. 

Rei would find it in him to soothe her from the nightmares that plagued her during the nights. Sui too, would cling to her brother just a little harder each time he shivered and sobbed in his sleep.

Neither of them coped very well with the death of their father. 

They mourned-- cried-- grieved-- lamented so, so much-- it was nearly two weeks later before they'd begun to show recovery from it. Perhaps they were forgetting it now... growing numb from all the exhaustion of crying, thinking, despairing-- now, they were simply too tired to continue their melancholic farce.

They had simply come to a neutrality with it and failed to keep finding more reasons for the tears they felt obligated to shed.

-

Sae, however, insisted on heading home each day. She took care of the house that had gone cold, keeping it alight during dark nights but keeping it dim in the day. 

Rei did not know how Sae coped with the death-- nor did he know what Sae did in that one week he spent wallowing in his misery. Sae seemed happy and cheerful, though-- each time she came with gifts, creating conversations that lasted one-sided yet she was unaffected.

But if Rei noticed anything, she got one scratch more each time he saw her.

When Rei began to speak to Kuma, Kuma actually got on his knees and cried. Amano, spotting that, came in and joined. They apologized-- insistently and profusely, sternly-- 

Rei couldn't have the heart to bear his anger on them any longer. 

Rei's throat healed well, and he began to chat casually with others. His visitors were the usual-- Tsuna-- with the occasionally Ryohei and Kyoko, a mix of Maman and the kids, or even a Dino. 

Gokudera and Yamamoto were recuperating in the Hospital as well, healing up nice and slow.

-

"We're... really sorry we couldn't make it for your father," Tsuna had swallowed his words. His fists were clenched and his gaze was down; his lips pressed in a thin line and his features were nervous, awkward-- and bracing for hurt.

"I don't think... anyone could've prevented it," Rei's answer was strongly thought out. His tone was dim, his emotion was stoical-- he was no longer feeling the pain of losing a loved one. "If my father couldn't see it coming, no one would have."

"Even so," Tsuna's answer was strong and immediate, "I wish someone, I would've been just a little nearer. Your sisters wouldn't have-"

"Tsuna," Rei interrupted Tsuna with a little raised tone-- "It's alright, really."

Tsuna did not think Rei was alright.

But he didn't think anything he said would change that fact, either.

-

Rei drags himself across the parallel bars. Hands gripping-- even squeezing his fingers were painful to begin with, but he bore with it-- his arms weak, but trying-- his feet trembling, shivering, shaking like a baby deer-- but he was just determined to take one- more- step--

He made it to the end with a desperate grunt, his foot giving way as he cringed one last time at the absolute agony burning in his tendons, toppling to the ground breathing heavily.

"Made it!" he was so glad.

Sui and Nurse Fujimiya clapped in awe, "you did awesome, Rei-kun!" she complimented, "you're getting there really fast now."

Sui helped Rei crawl back up to the wheelchair, handing him a glass of water and a towel.

"And you made it without help anymore," Sui beamed, "That's awesome, Rei-chan!"

Rei sighed, gratefully accepting the refreshment, "it's not like I'm disabled," he chuckled, "my muscles just need to wake up, Sui. I'll be back to normal in no time," he lied reassuringly.

"You'll heal, alright, but getting back to normal's gotta be trained all over again," Nurse Fujimiya cut in, Her hands reaching to the back of Rei's wheelchair and beginning to wheel him out of the physical rehabilitation room.

Rei chuckled dryly, "Not looking forward to that part."

They made it to the lift in no time, heading up a mundane route five floors up and toward his hospital room where he would proceed to take a bath, change, and be settled back on his bed.

"You could actually take more time, you know," Nurse Fujimiya spoke up while Rei shifted himself to a chair, "you don't need to rush it all. Take your time and let yourself cope."

A dull expression flashed across his face-- but Rei broke back into a smile. "I'll be alright," he promised, "I took a week to mourn and that's enough."

"Still," the nurse spoke with a hurt in her tone, "you don't need to force yourself... it's alright to take longer, Rei."

"I'm fine," Rei said once again. "Dad's gone, but he was mostly not around anyways," he grinned, "and hey, I finally get to run about like a madman again, I'm super excited!"

Was this a coping mechanism? Nurse Fujimiya felt hurt just seeing it through. That this child would insist he was fine; find an excuse that would make this situation acceptable-- 

She found herself sighing.

But if this is what makes them happy as they are... Nurse Fujimiya would prefer it. That one week of grief was hard for the whole hospital and much more for the two. Now, these two were feigning joy to escape from that gloom. 

Maybe it was better to just leave it this way.