My Lost Soul

Chapter 47 - Assessing Damages

Enjō slowly opened his crusty eyes as he felt his nerves go down his body like a river. His glossy eyes looked up at the white ceiling.

Good...mornin'. Why does my arm feel so...

He bent his neck to look as he raised his left arm.

That's not...

The knob of his hand was covered in bandage. He felt his fingers curl.

Man, what's this?

He chuckled quietly. Then it returned to silence.

Enjō relaxed his neck and landed on the pillow.

Oh, he thought, as his eyes gazed up aimlessly. The door opened and a man walked to his side.

"Jojo..." His frail hands gripped the rail of his bed.

"H-Hey," Enjō croaked as he turned his head to meet him, "Hey Dad." His smile twisted and his lips shook.

"Hey."

With a sharp inhale, Enjō groaned and sunk his face into the pillow, trying to cover his ear with his nub. Muffled sobs filled Omari's ears. He bent down and wrapped his arms around him, planting a kiss on the back of his head.

"Hey."

———

After a couple of hours, Omari left Enjō in the room. Enjō was sat up now, looking more skinny than usual. He reached for the TV remote with his knob, only tapping it. He stared still.

Pulling back his knob, he reached around with his right hand to turn on the TV. It was a news anchor. Then came a familiar voice.

"We don't have those details." He groaned as he scratched his white hair.

"Who was responsible for the attacks across downtown?!" A news reporter yelled past a crowd of flickering lights.

Machida's face rested on his hand, "The blame doesn't fall to only one individual. We're still working on it—"

"But there's footage! We all saw it! The fighting in the sky!"

"There is more to this than one altercation. Much of the damage and casualties were caused by the citizens—"

"More importantly, where is Steele in all of this?!"

Machida paused and clasped his hands on the stage. His throat seemed to tighten as he tried to open his mouth, and he finally turned away.

"I've answered all the questions I can." Machida walked away and the crowd surged. The screen faded to blue as the anchor switched subjects.

How's he so...together? He knew Uyama longer than any of us, Enjō thought as he slumped down in his bed. A knock came to the door.

"Enjō? It's me," Machida peeked through the door. "I heard the TV." He walked in and sat down next to Enjō.  They looked at each other awkwardly as Enjō fiddled around with his knob.

"I figured you were awake. I'm—I'm sorry about your arm. There was no other way." Machida spoke softly.

Enjō looked down at it and muttered, "Do I gotta live like this now?"

"You can recover. You could go to rehab and get a prosthesis—only if you want. Your dad is fine with it as long as you are."

"It doesn't hurt so bad, though."