Authors: Hideaki Sena
“If it’s not too much
trouble...I’ll have a glass of water.”
“Sure, no problem at all.
Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
He smiled gently, to put her
at ease, then left.
The room was blanketed in
silence. Kiyomi bent down her head, sighed in relief, and fixed her collar.
The young man’s face floated
in her vision like an afterimage.
It was the face she had
noticed behind her in the lecture hall right before the slides began. The face
she had seen just before she fainted.
She remembered falling into
his arms and the warmth in her cheeks.
Kiyomi thought of the letters
on the screen. She searched her memory for what they said. A person’s name. She
closed her eyes and tried calling them back from memory. Naga...? Yes,
Nagashima. That was the name, or something like it.
Startled, Kiyomi opened her
eyes and looked up. I’m such an idiot, she thought, at last recalling who the
young man was.
He came back into the room
with a mug in one hand.
“Here you go,” he said with a
smile and handed it to her. She leaned forward and put it to her lips. Iced
oolong tea flowed soothingly down her throat.
“Urn, thank you. Mr.
Nagashima...right? Sorry if I’m mixing you up with someone else.”
For a moment, Toshiaki made
to speak, then stared at her face. She knew he was going to ask how she knew
his name.
“We met once, two years ago.”
She smiled as cheerfully as she could. “At the orientation party. You probably
don’t remember me. I was just a freshman then. My name is Kiyomi Kataoka.”
Toshiaki looked to be at a
loss before a broad smile came to his face.
“Ahaaa... I remember now.”
They then talked for about
half an hour. He apologized for not remembering her. She had thought him to be
very calm and collected then, and now, talking with him again after such a long
time, this impression grew even stronger. Back then, he’d said he was a first-
year master’s student, so she was not surprised to learn that he had graduated
already and was now working on his Ph.D. Kiyomi made no efforts to hide her
respect. He’s so different from me, she thought. He knows exactly what he wants
to do with his life. Toshiaki explained with a laugh how obsessed he was with
his work. She thought it was wonderful when he smiled like that...
She probably would have
talked with him more had Ishihara not interrupted them. He had just come back
from his presentation. Upon recognizing Kiyomi, he spoke to her in an almost
melodramatic way.
“Are you okay, young lady? You
really gave us quite a scare back there.”
Kiyomi apologized for the
inconvenience and bowed her head. The professor talked to her with a paternal
solicitousness, asking if she had ever had such a fit before, and recommended
that she have a doctor take a look at her. She answered all of his questions
until he was satisfied.
“Nagashima, take her home,
will you? Just so she’ll have someone with her in case she has a relapse.”
As she got into the passenger’s
seat, Kiyomi thanked Toshiaki numerous times for the ride.
“Now stop apologizing, I’m
running out of rejoinders,” he said with an embarrassed smile. Kiyomi
apologized. He started to laugh. She laughed as well.
The following Sunday, they
went out together for lunch and afterwards for a drive. They exchanged phone
numbers.
Kiyomi called him the next
day. The day after that, Toshiaki called her late in the evening.
From that moment on, their
relationship was sealed.
Toshiaki was busy with his
experiments for school and, even though they met on Sundays, he wasn’t able to
spend all day with her. Since he dealt constantly with cells and animals, he
could not afford to take an entire day off. Nevertheless, he managed his time
to accommodate her as much as possible. When he was working on an experiment
and had free time only in the evening, they would rent a video to watch
together. Regardless of his hectic schedule, Toshiaki could not get her out of
his mind, and he came to like her more and more.
Kiyomi wanted to know
everything about him. For the most part ignorant about the details of his
research, she usually asked about it whenever there was a break in the
conversation. Toshiaki’s face practically lit up as he told her about his work
in his eager, accessible way. His eyes were so lively when discussing his
research. Kiyomi was in love with his passion. It was amazing being with a man
so devoted to his pursuits.
“Because I provided that data
to Professor Ishihara.”
Kiyomi had asked Toshiaki why
she’d seen his name on the slides that open-house day.
“I got some useful data when
I was still a master’s student, and the prof told me I should write an article.
I knew I’d be going on to get my Ph.D., so I suppose that drove me too. It was
hard since I had to write it all in English, but it ended up being included in
a pretty good publication,
The Journal of Biological Chemistry
.”
“Is it famous?”
“It’s first-rate, actually.
It contains biochemistry-related articles and it’s read worldwide. The slides
you saw were included in my article. You might know this already, but
scientific journals are divided into two types: those with articles and those
with commentaries and more general information. You’ve probably seen magazines
like
Newton
, right?”
“Sure.”
“Those are the more general
ones, but they aren’t usually considered quote-unquote science. They’re just
designed to enlighten the general reader. The other more technical ones devote
their pages to reporting new discoveries made by working scientists. Researchers
from all backgrounds read these journals and contribute articles on their own
findings. Usually they have to write them in English. These journals also have
panels of respected professors. The committees read our submissions and decide
what is fit to be published. If it’s not up to par, they send it back and tell
us to rewrite it.”
“How did yours turn out?”
“Well, I did this one
experiment that wasn’t as complete as it could’ve been. I was told that if I
fleshed out my results, then everything would be fine. So I reworked it. They
published it verbatim. I actually have a copy right here.”
Toshiaki handed her a
pamphlet, every page of which was filled with finely printed English, accompanied
by various diagrams. From what she saw flipping through the pages, it looked
like very dense reading, unsuitable for skimming over. Kiyomi expressed a
heartfelt admiration towards Toshiaki for having accomplished this much.
“You have to write more
articles, right?”
“Well, to complete my Ph.D.,
I need to do three articles in English. My seminar prof included my name in one
of his recent articles, so all I need is one more.”
“Will it be put out in this
journal again?”
“No, you can’t get published
in a journal of this stature too many times. I want my work printed in an even
higher-ranking one.”
“Higher?”
“Scientific publications have
different standards and some are more influential than others. I think about
the level of my research and decide where best to contribute it. Each journal
also has its own theme. Some deal with a broad overview of science, others
specialize in unorthodox areas. Some have nothing to do with my own research.
The ones with the most prestige are
Nature
, published in the UK, and the
American
Science
. It’s almost impossible to get published in those two.
The next ones down the list, for the field of biochemistry at least, would have
to be
Cell
and
The Journal of Biological Chemistry
.”
“Then this article must
really be something!”
“I should hope so. But it’s
not like I did it all on my own. I couldn’t have done it without my professor’s
help. Also, an acquaintance of his is on the review panel, and I think that
helped too...”
Good-natured Toshiaki could
never boast without qualifying his own achievements. Kiyomi liked the way he
smiled bashfully as he did so.
The third or fourth time they
kissed, Toshiaki’s tongue slid into her mouth. It felt so good she felt
feverish. She could tell her heartbeat had quickened, too. Toshiaki’s hand
softly alighted on her bosom over her blouse. She was afraid he’d learn how
aroused she was. Nevertheless, she responded by meeting his tongue with hers.
She’d never felt such joy. He’s the one, she thought. He’s the one I’ve been
WAITING FOR.>
Kiyomi pulled herself away.
“What’s wrong?” asked
Toshiaki suspiciously.
“...I thought I heard a
voice.”
“A voice?”
“There it is again!” she
screamed.
Toshiaki held and calmed her,
telling her there was no voice.
She listened closely as she
shivered in Toshiaki’s arms, but could hear nothing anymore.
“You’re just imagining
things,” said Toshiaki while stroking her hair, but she was sure she’d heard
it. It was the same voice she’d heard just before fainting in the lecture hall.
It was high-pitched, but neither male nor female, and seemed to come from
nowhere.
Toshiaki assured her
everything was okay and placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek. Her heart had
settled, but she was still trembling.
“Something bothering you?”
At the sound of Toshiaki’s
voice, Kiyomi came to her senses. He was sitting opposite her for breakfast.
“Nothing,” she said with a
smile.
It was the first time she
stayed with him until morning. She’d been very tense from the beginning, but
Toshiaki had treated her with utmost gentleness. Her body had been on fire, so
shy she’d felt; her chest had hardly been able to contain the wild beating of
her heart. But he’d whispered in her ear that she was beautiful, and that had
made her happy.
15
After receiving word from the
nurse that Mariko’s urinary output was decreasing, Yoshizumi went to check on
her.
She had gained some weight,
and, according to the examination results, her blood creatinine and BUN levels
were on the rise. Yoshizumi prayed that things would work out this time.
He came into the room to find
the young girl lying on her bed. Her face was warm from a slight fever.
Yoshizumi raised her a hand in greeting, but the gesture was ignored. He
flashed a pained smile to the nurse and sat down at Mariko’s side.
“So you’re having trouble
going to the bathroom? Is there anything else bothering you?”
“...dunno,” she answered,
facing the other way.
She had at last been
responding to him the past few days. That said, she answered only bluntly, but
for Yoshizumi it was a relative improvement. Maybe allowing her to walk around
in the courtyard had lifted her spirits enough to instill some self-confidence.
Her recovery was going
smoothly. Any signs of infection or refusal had yet to appear. Beginning this
week, the amount of adrenal steroids in the immuno-suppressant solution had
been reduced, and she had also been allowed outdoors. Her chances of developing
infections from outside contaminants were negligible by now. If things
continued this way, she could be released from the hospital soon. Any signs of
organ rejection, however, would prolong her stay.
Yoshizumi lightly disregarded
her succinct “dunno.” She was probably telling the truth. Patient awareness of
the first stages of rejection was vague. Fever and weariness were common, but
these were often the result of the patient’s restricted water intake, so the
situation had to be dealt with carefully.
“I just want to do a few more
tests. There’s still a possibility your new kidney could be rejected, but all
signs so far point to a swift recovery.”
Upon Yoshizumi’s mention of
the word “rejected,” Mariko nearly jumped out of her skin, though her
expression didn’t change.
“We’ll postpone your going
out into the garden for a while, okay? I’d like to do an ultrasonic wave test
on you. You remember we did that the first time?”
Silence.
“We’ll just be listening to
your blood flow. It only takes a minute or two. It won’t hurt at all, I promise.
We’ll take a look at the results and judge from there.”
Mariko gave a wordless nod as
a signal of consent. Upon seeing that, Yoshizumi told the nurse to prepare the
Doppler meter. With this machine, they would be able to tell if the transplanted
kidney was hypertrophic or if blood flow was inadequate. Because this method
was easily administered right there in the sick room, Yoshizumi used it
whenever possible.