Lord-Campione
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Chapter no.3: Fractured Identify
🕑 Added 2024-08-14 02:29:33 +0000 UTCI awoke with the sterile scent of hospital disinfectant invading my senses, my vision slowly adjusting to the bleached white surroundings. My gaze drifted across the room, taking in the clinical details: a heart monitor beeping rhythmically to my right, its green lines jumping with each heartbeat, and an IV drip hooked into my arm, feeding fluids into my bloodstream.
Beside the bed, a black-haired man sat on a chair, his presence unexpected.
Looks like someone saved me from those three godforsaken assholes, I thought, feeling a vague sense of gratitude mingled with confusion.
Suddenly, a pressing discomfort made itself known—I needed to pee, urgently.
“Ah!”
I grunted, attempting to rise from the bed. The action sent a sharp reminder of my physical state, and my muscles protested weakly against the movement.
The man beside me spoke something in Japanese, the words floating over my head, incomprehensible.
My throat felt dry, and when I replied, “English,” my voice came out hoarse, sounding strange and childlike to my own ears.
“What do you want?” the man tried, his attempt at English broken but understandable. His effort brought a reluctant smile to my face despite the circumstances.
Seeing my intent to get up, he quickly stood and maneuvered the IV stand with careful hands, supporting me as I shuffled toward the bathroom. The man’s grip was firm yet gentle, guiding me without making me feel helpless.
The relief when I finally managed to pee was immense, washing away some of the grogginess and discomfort.
As I shuffled over to the sink to wash my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror. What I saw made me gasp—a young African-Japanese child, around ten years old, stared back at me with wide eyes. “Ah!” The voice that escaped was high-pitched and childlike.
“What’s wrong?” The older man, Tajima, asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
His question only heightened the surreal feeling swirling inside me. Why was I looking at a child in the mirror? Why did I sound like one? Panic fluttered in my chest as I struggled to piece things together.
“W-Who are you?” I managed to stammer out.
“I am your father’s colleague, Tajima,” he replied, his tone calm but his eyes betraying a flicker of concern.
That didn’t make any sense.
Okay, this is wrong. My father died when I was born, leaving every burden to my poor mother…
The guilt of how I had given up, even with my mother’s sacrifices, weighed heavily on me.
I truly was the worst.
Pushing those tormenting thoughts aside, I focused on the immediate mystery. “Who am I?”
Tajima’s face tensed as he tried to mask his worry and fear. “Your name is Kozen Nakayama.”
Not my name, I thought but said nothing.
A plan began to form—pretend to suffer from amnesia.
It might give me time to figure things out. “Whose that?” I asked, my voice quivering, tapping into the acting skills I had honed by lying to my mom over the years.
A twinge of disgust at being proud of that ability crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside.
Tajima hesitated, his eyes scanning my face for recognition that wasn’t there. “You… you don’t remember?” he asked, his voice laced with a controlled panic.
I shook my head, pretending to be scared, clutching at the fabricated innocence of a child caught in a confusing situation.
The door swung open abruptly, and a woman with striking purple hair and ebony skin stepped into the room. Her beauty was almost intimidating, accentuated by a leather jacket and a white undershirt that highlighted her impressive figure.
“Tajima, I brought you…”
She paused, eyes widening slightly as she took in the scene, then finished lamely, “A sandwich.”
“Rika, get the doctor.”
“What’s happened?” Rika’s voice was thick with worry, her eyes scanning me as if searching for visible injuries.
“I think Kozen has amnesia.”
As Rika hurried out of the room, a rush of anxiety swelled within me. I struggled to maintain a semblance of calm, my hands gripping the IV stand’s body. Tajima placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, son, you’ll be okay.”
I gulped, the weight of my confusion and fear making it hard to speak.
“Who was that woman?”
“Oh, that’s Rika, she was your father’s colleague and apprentice.”
“Where is my father?” The question came out more abruptly than I intended.
Tajima’s face hardened slightly, a shadow passing over his features.
“Everything is going to be revealed in due time,” he said as Tajima didn’t want to burden the boy further with news of his parent’s death.
The following hours blurred into a series of tests and questions as doctors swarmed around me.
First came the cognitive tests.
A doctor with kind eyes and a steady voice asked me to remember and repeat a list of words: apple, table, penny, dog, honesty. Minutes later, she asked for the words again, and I could only recall ‘apple’ and ‘dog’. A sinking feeling washed over me as I saw the scribbles she made on her clipboard—notes on my failure.
Then there was the imaging test.
They wheeled me into a room dominated by a massive MRI machine. It hummed ominously as I lay down, the narrow tube enclosing me like a high-tech coffin. The clanking and buzzing sounds it made while scanning my brain were unnervingly loud, despite the earplugs they gave me.
A neuropsychological evaluation followed. Different shapes and puzzles were laid out before me, and I was asked to solve them. My hands trembled slightly as I tried to fit pieces into places where they didn’t belong.
Tajima and Rika sat stiffly in the sterile, softly lit office of a neurologist.
The doctor, a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, sifted through the papers on his desk before looking up.
“Well, I have both good news and bad news,” he began, his voice steady.
“Bad news first.”
The room seemed to draw in a collective breath.
“The boy does indeed suffer from amnesia, and he has sustained some nerve damage. This will necessitate physical therapy to aid his recovery and improve motor functions that were impaired.”
Rika exhaled deeply, her expression strained as she tried to focus on any silver lining. “At least the boy didn’t have to live with the trauma of watching his parents die in an explosion,” she murmured, more to herself than the others.
“What caused it?” Tajima asked.
“The brain is a complex structure. In this case, the nerves began to break down due to lack of oxygen and significant head trauma,” the doctor explained, gesturing for them to come closer to the monitor displaying the brain scan images. “Considering the boy was in an explosion, as you mentioned, and in a state akin to clinical death, we have concluded that the direct impact and the oxygen deprivation led to what we see here.”
He pointed to areas on the brain scan. “This is a magnetic resonance imaging scan, or MRI. You can see here,” he indicated areas where the brain tissue appeared different, “and here are signs of axonal shearing—a type of nerve damage where nerve fibers are torn. This is why he has dissociative amnesia.”
Dissociative amnesia, as the doctor described, typically arises from a severe, traumatic event causing the patient to lose certain memories, particularly those related to personal identity. “This kind of amnesia is the brain’s response to psychological trauma. It’s a protective mechanism, isolating distressing memories,” the doctor added, his finger tracing the affected areas on the image.
Tajima and Rika nodded, absorbing the heavy news, their faces etched with worry.
“How is he able to speak English but not Japanese?” Tajima asked.
“It’s an interesting aspect of his condition,” the doctor began, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Language function is primarily housed in the left hemisphere of the brain, specifically areas known as Broca’s area and Wernicke’s area. Depending on the nature and location of the brain injury, a patient might lose proficiency in one language but retain it in another. This is especially true in bilingual patients. There’s a documented case where a patient, after suffering a stroke, lost the ability to speak his native language but could still communicate fluently in his second language.”
Tajima and Rika listened intently.
“What should we do now?” Rika asked.
The doctor leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “First, we continue with his physical therapy to address the nerve damage and improve his motor skills. For his amnesia and language recovery, we should consider cognitive rehabilitation therapy.”
