Someone gently shook me awake and propped me up into sitting while I lolled a bit, feeling confused, dizzy and sore. Where was I? What was going on? I blinked a few times, trying to understand what was being said. There was more than one person in the room.
Eventually, I heard phone calls being made and more people trying to talk to me. I was really just too tired. Somehow, I was pushed off my seat and rolled onto a stretcher bed and carried away. I felt the familiar pinch of a needle of my arm and blinked at a familiar blurry bag of fluid swinging above my head.
"Relax," said a voice that sounded like my usual doctor in the hospital to somebody else. "She just overdid things today, possibly got over stressed and tired. Things must have been busy and stressful for her the last few days. She's still recovering from those brain injuries. Although she healed suddenly according to the scans and she seemed fine, there will often still be some residual effects. The types of trauma she went through can't be that easily brushed off. The mental state still has to catch up and keep up. Overstimulation of the brain and mental stress can cause extreme fatigue."
There were a few deep breaths and what sounded like somebody being patted on the back of the shoulder.
"Also, from what I've heard of her past, she may have a learning disability. She had to have very specialised and intense teaching and tutoring in the past in order to pass her training assessments. She may also have a psychological barrier to studying, due to how much she struggled too. She called herself a 'barrel scraper'. Don't push her too much or expect too much of her," the doctor said and I wondered how she had collected so much information on me.
"That would make sense as to why she struggled so much to complete just one page of simple questions," said someone's voice. I didn't recognise who they were. "It's a pity. Her husband is such a useful high level agent. We were hoping we would be able to get more use or information out of her than this."
"I did learn that she used to be a field agent," said Suzuki Sensei's voice.
"Oh? She and her husband told us that she was a backbench transcriber. Is it possible that they lied to us?" said the stranger's voice.
"I think it's very possible that she was originally trained as a field agent but became a back desk worker later on," said my doctor. "According to what she's told us about her and her husband's history, she spent most of the beginning of her career being severely bullied, she was kidnapped a few times and then captured during the war and badly tortured. It doesn't sound like she managed to get much work done during the course of her active employment. She may also," my doctor continued, "have forgotten a lot of the things she has learnt. Keep in mind she has had multiple severe injuries and brain injuries. She has been through a lot of trauma. It's not a surprise that she will struggle with a lot of normal activities that you all might take for granted."
"Ugh," grunted the stranger. "We have to rethink what we're going to do with a potentially useful resource like her who seems to actually be useless. Do we continue to expend effort to squeeze more out of her or do we just try to make life comfortable for her?"
"That's for you and your people to discuss," my doctor said. "I can only give you all suggestions and recommendations based on her conditions. You can take her back after her IV has finished. She should have woken up and be fine by then."
"Alright. Goodnight then," the stranger and Suzuki Sensei said to fading footsteps.
"Eisuke-kun, I don't really want to ask this of you, knowing you became a trainer in order to take a break, but do you mind keeping an eye on this gaijin for me?" the stranger said. "I mean other than gathering more information. It's right up your alley. See if there is somewhere, anywhere we can safely put her where she will feel comfortable and useful to the point she starts dropping information without realising it. Hopefully it is also somewhere where we also need help and where she can truly be of use. I've heard from Ietsugu-kun that she's sort of useful as a supporting agent, but I'd rather not put her in a risky position again. Her husband was extremely hard to control when she was in danger and when she was almost dying in hospital. It seems that they are planning to return to their own country as soon as possible. Her husband said he is only willing to provide us some information and help us in exchange for our help in building new identities for them, but that is going to take time. While we think we have him sorted out and under control, I'm not sure what to make of this woman who is full of conflicting and contradictory information."
"Do we have someone who is able to take over my classes?" Suzuki Sensei said in a deep and thoughtful voice. "She seems to be a rare case who is going to need a lot of attention and planning to help her along. She doesn't seem to be of much use to you now, but I think I may be able to help her. Give me some time. I'll work on a plan. I have a feeling she's actually a hidden treasure. Her horrendous performance is not purposeful but it does mask her potential. I think it would be good to encourage her to make friends. I haven't met such an interesting case for a while. Allow me to enjoy the process of helping solve her problems"
"Feel free to seduce her if you think it'd be worth it. Her husband holds her in very high regard and has been heard boasting that she can do just about anything she puts her mind to. Ietsugu-kun and I don't think he's just blowing air. We feel that there might actually be some hidden and useful abilities hidden inside her. Otherwise why would that little girl you recently found be so clingy and anxious about her?"
I fell asleep while the conversation turned to discuss Fuki. When I woke up again, it was dim and relatively quiet. The IV bag was empty and the needle was being removed by a nurse.
"Awake, Nodoka-chan?" the nurse smiled at me. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," I nodded back with a little bow in reply.
"The toilet's there, as you know," the nurse pointed. "Also, we helped to wipe you down and change you while you were deep asleep. You wet yourself. The gentleman out there brought you some new clothes. So feel free to have a quick shower and change into the clean clothes before you go. Take a towel from the trolley."
I thought about it. I hadn't been to the toilet all day. My body had probably not been able to handle it.
Getting up out of bed, to my chagrin, my bowel and bladder both reacted to the gravity and loosened such that it all came out in a rush.
"Oh dear," the nurse shook her head but didn't seem surprised. She rushed me over to the bathroom, calling someone to help clean up the dripping and dropping mess I was leaving behind as I moved.
My face was bright red and I was so embarrassed that I couldn't speak. There was a tight pressure in my throat and face, as well as a burning cheeks with heat that refused to dissipate.
"Don't worry," the nurse reassured me. "It happens all the time. No need to cry. It's alright. There's a dear. It happens to the best of us."
I sobbed and hiccuped all through my shower, while the nurse attending to me tried to keep me calm.
"I'm never going to get better," I sobbed, thumping my head with my fists. "Things just don't work. My brain. My stupid brain doesn't work properly. I can't even use my ability on myself to understand things better. I can't even control when I go to the toilet. It just comes out on its own sometimes."
"Don't hurt yourself," the nurse tried to soothe me. "Don't. You're ok. You're still recovering. Things will get better eventually. Didn't the surgeon say that you have to keep up your exercises? Have you been doing them?"
"Exercises? Uh… No…"
"Well then."
It wasn't that I didn't want to do the pelvic floor exercises. It was that I didn't quite get how to do them. Unlike moving an arm or a leg, pelvic floor exercises were more subtle without an obvious action. And so they were more of a mystery to me. I wanted to do them but I had a feeling I had been doing them wrong.
"I'll get the therapist to visit and reteach you before you leave," the nurse told me after delivering me back into my room in clean clothes.
Suzuki Sensei was there, smiling at me.
"Ready to go?" he asked, holding up the discharge summary.
"Oh. The discharge summary has been done," the nurse sighed and looked at me. "You'll have to go to the therapy offices and organise an outpatient appointment."
I nodded.
"Oh?" I'll keep you company then," Suzuki Sensei agreed.