Chapter Text
Dedicated to my brother, Tyler
Special thanks to you, whom without I could not have made this incredible story come to life and see its completion. I hope this story continues to bring you comfort and even a small bit of happiness, as it has for me. Thank you.
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It was the calm before the storm. Tooru collected his focus, looked past the net. Single out the target, focus. A deep breath, focus. Muscles tense, focus. There's the lunge. Strike the ball. Watch its path. Then-
Pain. The court rushed up to meet him suddenly, sound reared up in his ears and became deafening, and his own scream was lost in it. There were faces all around him. There were words, not heard. Hands pulling at his body, not felt. A name called out, unanswered. Everything was falling to pieces before Tooru even realized what had happened.
Bright lights made streaming imprints across his swimming vision. The inside of an ambulance felt cramped. Tooru's body was numb, but his mind was worse. There he saw a court, all the players in place, the net white and tall, but it was growing further and further away, until he could no longer distinguish its features. No more squeaking sneakers, no more echoing as a spike hits the floor, no teammates calling words of encouragement, no team cheers from the stands, and no blood rushing through his ears as he soared skyward, prepared to set the game into motion.
Cripple. Tooru lay in the hospital bed awaiting the surgery that would do nothing to save his future from crumbling into oblivion. A name, finally answered, stood beside him. Hands clasped tightly, he spoke words that Tooru could hear but found he could not understand. What was being said? He didn't know. All he could hear was a single word, echoing endlessly in his head.
Now it was summer, and the sun poured in through his bedroom window like it had done so many times throughout his childhood. Tooru wanted to close the blinds. But he couldn't. He wanted to call for company. But he couldn't. He wanted to play volleyball, but he never would, never again. He stared at the crutches leaned up against the bed, and for the hundredth time that day, tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his face without a sound.
Days passed, weeks even, but Tooru could not keep track no matter how hard he tried. He rarely left bed, unless he absolutely had to. He didn't remember the last time he'd bathed, brushed his teeth, or combed his hair. His back was full of bedsores. The tears kept coming. The pain never left. And always, he thought of the dream that would never be a reality. Days passed. Weeks passed. Tooru simply lay in bed, and tried not to think about it.
As summer began to fade out, Tooru thought to leave home for the first time in over a month. It was a sudden thought, striking fiercely and without warning. He struggled through the motions of self-care. First it was making it to the bathroom. Then it was undressing. And so on from there. It took him nearly three hours, but at last, he was clean and ready to leave the house.
The world was not as he remembered it. Every motion was a trial. Every movement was a test. The ache in his body was nothing compared to that of his heart. It was a beautiful day. Tooru found he could not enjoy it. Exhausted and frustrated, he lay down on a bench and did not move. The sky changed above him. The sun became low in the sky. Tooru watched the stars emerge, one by one. Street lights turned on. His phone rang and rang in his pocket. Mother is worried, he thought idly. It meant nothing to him. It doesn't matter.
He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but at some point he started dreaming. It was not a pleasant dream. He awoke, early before the sun had risen, and lay there bathed in cold sweat. This is all too much. I can't keep this up. This isn't living. He rose weakly, stiff and painful, and his head spun from dehydration and hunger. Unsteadily, he groped for his crutches. Deep breaths, focus. Lunge forward, focus. Find balance, focus. He began to hobble into the early morning. He had only one thing on his mind. Stop the pain. Stop the suffering. No more. No more. No more. All the while, he was certain, it doesn't matter.
His mother's home loomed before him. Its nostalgia no longer held relevance to him. Times long past. It doesn't matter. He clumsily made it through the door, ignoring the pain that plagued his entire body. The house was dark and quiet, but Tooru had no trouble finding the medicine cabinet. Faces surfaced across his memory. Names echoed in his head. Tooru uncapped bottles at random. They will understand. He gently closed the door so as not to wake his mother. He looked back through the darkness to where he could just barely see her door handle. Then he turned away. It doesn't matter.
He took the train out to the countryside. The region boasted beautiful forests for hiking in. Locals and tourists came there all the time. But the sun was only just rising, and Tooru saw no one as he limped his way down the trail head. He felt numb. He was numb. Pills jostled in his pocket. Crutches creaked. Head hollow. He no longer had the energy to even think, it doesn't matter.
It would have been wrong to say that he got lost. He'd been lost from the start. But the trail disappeared from under foot, and the woods became thicker, and while the sun was climbing higher, the canopy above made the mottled shadows more confusing than the darkness from before. At last he couldn't take it. He threw down the crutches, took three steps, and fell against a log. His fingers brushed something cold and rectangular. He looked up.
There sat a camera. Not a disposable Kodak camera. A professional, film camera, complete with a neck strap and a large case resting just a few inches to the left of it. Tooru's mind swam with confusion. Am I hallucinating? He pulled himself into a sitting position behind the log and picked up the camera. All around him, birds were beginning to sing. The trees swayed in the breeze. Insects scuttled under leaves. And here, in the middle of it all, sat a man-made object, as though it had parachuted in gently from the sky.
Tooru turned it over and over in his hands. His mind filled with questions. How had it gotten here? Who owned it? How do I turn it on? He was at first hesitant to push the buttons or adjust the instrument in any way, but a number of factors washed his inhibitions away, and he found himself prodding and fiddling with the thing, completely absorbed in the mystery. He forgot the pain. He forgot the plan. He forgot everything. There was only this camera in the middle of the forest, and him by the log, mystified.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. Alarmed by the sound, his fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the camera, but he managed to clutch it to his chest just as a figure came into view on the other side of the log. It was a man, who looked to be middle-aged or older. He smiled when Tooru turned to face him. Tooru followed him with his eyes as the man took a seat on the log, puffing out a labored breath, and for a moment, nothing was said.
At last, the man began to speak. "You don't look so good, son." He picked up the case, peered inside, then looked back to Tooru. "You seen my camera anywhere?"
Sheepishly, Tooru uncurled his fingers from the thing and brought it away from his chest. He moved to hand it back, but the man shook his head. Tooru tried again, but the other insisted.
"It looks to me like maybe you need it more than I do. Is that true?" He folded his hands in his lap, and gave him an encouraging look. He had a kind face, Tooru thought. He shifted his grip on the camera uneasily, trying to form words.
When he spoke, it was a hoarse whisper. "I... thought I didn't want to live anymore." He rolled his head, trying to stay awake. "I got hurt. I don't know what to do with my life anymore." Upon saying this, he started to feel the pain in his body once more, and his face screwed up. He let his hands - and the camera - fall to his lap. Tilting his head back, the pale blue sky above looked beautiful crisscrossed by branches and leaves.
The stranger regarded him, then looked up as well. "See something you like?" He inquired casually. Tooru gave him one slow blink.
"I was kind of thinking it'd be nice to frame that," he pointed a swaying finger upward. "But it's just a moment, I guess. It doesn't matter." It doesn't matter. Why should it?
He felt the log shift, and the man was crouching beside him now, picking the camera up carefully and placing it back into Tooru's hands. "You know, son, no one but you will ever see this moment, as it is, right now. And that's pretty special. But there is a very simple way to share it with the world. And that's pretty special, too."
Tooru let his eyes drift back down to the camera, almost uncomprehendingly. But even with the fog in his mind, he was starting to get the idea. Pictures. Hadn't he seen a million pictures in his lifetime? And taken a thousand himself? Pictures of friends, pictures of his nephew, of sunsets and beautiful moments too good to let pass. Unsteadily, he brought the camera up to his face, and squinted down the sight. His hands were shaking. But it didn't matter. This was a moment in his life, and he was going to capture it.
Click!