blind

One

　I first met him because I slipped on a banana peel, fell, and broke my leg.
　If you think that's impossible, that slipping on a banana peel is something that only happens in comedy sketches, I highly recommend you try it yourself.
　Banana peels contain a lot of oil, and on a day when they've been softened by rain, they become terrifying weapons.
　Especially if the person involved is someone with a visual impairment.
　I have been blind since birth.
　When I say that, most people look at me with a look that says, "Oh, you poor thing." I can't tell if they are actually looking at me, but that atmosphere comes across clearly.
　I think being blind is inconvenient. But being inconvenient is different from being unhappy. I don't think that just because I don't have something I never had to begin with, I am unhappy.
　Everyone would think it's convenient to have wings, but since not having them is the norm, you shouldn't feel unhappy about it.
　When I say this, I receive fierce backlash from people who are blind like me.
　They say, "Society is cold and unkind to the visually impaired." I agree with that, but society is unkind to everyone.
　That's why I don't respect people who only complain. What I respect are people who try to change something by complaining. People who can clearly see a goal beyond their complaints. Though it's useless to say that here.
　I also try not to just complain or grumble, or so I intend.
　But in truth, when I was in middle school and at the peak of my rebellious phase, I once said something terrible to my parents.
　"Why did you give birth to me with a body like this?"
　It was a phrase I should never have said.
　My father hit me for the first time. And with a closed fist, at that.
　My mother didn't say anything, but that night, she cried all night long, stifling her voice.
　Because I can't see, my hearing is very good.
　My sense of smell and the sensitivity of my fingertips are also sharp.
　It was an unfair, selfish word I had thrown at them without even realizing such things.
　Since then, I don't complain.
　There's no point in complaining even about a banana peel. So, while I did curse, I didn't hold a grudge against some stranger.
　However, it hurts. Being in pain and not holding a grudge are two different things.
　Fortunately, I had lived until this day without ever breaking a bone.
　I had often stubbed my little toe on the corner of a chest of drawers, but I had never broken a bone.
　Anyone who has broken a bone knows that it literally takes your breath away. You stay with your breath sucked in, going "hiss," unable to even exhale. Air slowly leaks out from between your clenched teeth.
　For those who have never broken a bone, I want you to recall the time you hit your shin—the "Benkei's crying spot." I think everyone has experienced this. It hurt, didn't it?
　That is where I broke mine. Did you imagine it? It hurts, doesn't it?
　My colleague Yaeko, who came to visit me, is particularly weak with pain, and when I told her the story, she was writhing on the hospital bed.
　That rainy day, when I stopped by my usual cafe on the way home from work, there was a banana peel there, discarded by someone.
　I use my cane—what is called a white cane or just a cane—by weaving together both the slide and touch techniques.
　The slide is a method where you keep the white cane in contact with the ground and swing it left and right, searching the ground with the sensation in your hand. The other, touch, is walking while tapping the ground. This one searches the ground with sound.
　I don't know how it happened, but that banana peel managed to slip past my cane technique and get stepped on.
　Just as I lost my balance, there was a loose paving stone that was likely in cahoots with the banana. Holding an umbrella, I couldn't instinctively protect myself, and I put my weight on my right leg at an odd angle, breaking it quite easily.
　My friends comforted me by listing terrifying things like, "It's a good thing it wasn't a depressed skull fracture, or you didn't pierce your abdomen with the umbrella you were holding, or you didn't fall into the road and get run over by a car," and I thought so too, but this caused immense damage to Yaeko again.
　Even so, the fact that my leg hurt didn't change, and being hospitalized is incredibly boring. I wanted to be discharged as soon as possible, but the "Great Doctor" wouldn't allow it.
　The Great Doctor is the director of this hospital, and I have been under his care since I was small. His real name is Tokichi Harano, but since his son, Dr. Kengo, is also a doctor, he came to be called the Great Doctor. He is the director of a hospital that, while small, can accommodate inpatients.
　No matter how many times I explained that I "slipped on a banana," the Great Doctor wouldn't believe me.
　"You have too many prior convictions," the Great Doctor said.
　Facial abrasions from jumping off a swing, bruises and a sprained left wrist from falling off a horizontal bar, fainting after riding a horse without permission in Karuizawa where my parents had taken me.
　Thanks to various other spectacular histories, I am rarely believed.
　Therefore, I was sentenced to three weeks of hospitalization.
　Apparently, it would have only taken about ten days of hospitalization, but he said if he released me, I wouldn't stay quiet. As expected of the Great Doctor, I can only say.
　If I was dissatisfied with the sentence, he threatened me by saying he would sue the cafe where I broke my bone.
　It was an accusation of the highest order, claiming they left dangerous objects (the banana) knowing that I, a blind person, would pass by, but if he did that, I would never be able to go to that shop again, so I decided to obey quietly.
　Even so, three weeks is a long time.
　By the fourth day of hospitalization, I was completely bored.

Two

　What would you think if I told you that you could also see ghosts?
　The method is simple. Prepare a room with only white walls, no windows or anything else. Go inside, put in earplugs, and wait intently without doing anything. After a few days, you will see things that shouldn't be there and hear sounds that shouldn't be heard.
　It is a famous experiment called sensory deprivation.
　This is because the human brain always requires some kind of input, and without input, the brain creates its own.
　What I mean to say is that hospital life was so boring that I had reached my limit.
　As soon as the three-week hospitalization sentence was announced, I asked my mother to bring me my music player.
　I actually wanted her to bring my smartphone and laptop too, but I gave up because I couldn't connect to the internet in the hospital.
　Like the computer, the music player also has a voice-reading function, thanks to which I can listen to music and my favorite podcasts by myself.
　Testing these functions and products designed for the visually impaired is also my main job. By the way, the system where voice guidance plays in necessary places using IC tags is something I came up with.
　However, a problem arose.
　First of all, music is surprisingly boring. No matter how much I like an artist's songs, I can't listen to them all day. And podcasts have a slow update pace.
　Most podcasts are updated once a week. If I were subscribed to many, they would probably be updated one after another, but I only subscribe to five. Assuming fifteen minutes per episode, that's one hour and fifteen minutes a week. That is far too little, no matter how you look at it.
　Moreover, since I ask my mother to update them at home, it's not like I can listen to new podcasts immediately.
　The last thing I can rely on is the radio. For killing time, AM broadcasts, which have more talk than music, are the main thing, but there aren't many programs for young people during the day.
　I still lack the training to fully enjoy topics like, "A mushroom shyly poked its head out from under the fallen leaves piled up on the mountain behind the house," or "I was surprised when a monkey appeared while I was soaking in a hot spring on a trip with my husband."
　So, I decided to go on an exploration of the hospital.
　I got used to sitting in a wheelchair and maneuvering my cane quickly.
　So I go with that during the day. But it inevitably gets caught on various things, making a noisy sound. So I decided to use crutches at night.
　The Great Doctor said bluntly, "You don't need such things," but I finally got him to lend them to me by saying something about how I couldn't cause trouble for the other patients in the room by making a clattering sound when going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
　With crutches and a white cane, I am full of canes in the middle of the night. However, after clumsily going around the hospital a few times, I realized the white cane was unnecessary. I could manage with just the crutches.
　The hospital is properly equipped with tactile paving and braille information boards, so I can walk around even without the delicate sensation provided by the white cane.
　Thinking that was my mistake.
　I usually hold my white cane in my right hand. With my right hand, I can maneuver the cane very delicately and obtain information.
　However, at this time, I was relying on the crutch in my right hand to protect my right leg. Inevitably, the crutch in my left hand had to serve as a substitute for the white cane.
　I don't know where or how I hit it, but I unlocked the stretcher that was placed in front of the nurse's station.
　A stretcher with the lock released moves wonderfully lightly. Japanese precision machining technology is terrifying.
　The stretcher, which slid straight down the hallway, crashed into the wall, and a magnificent metallic sound echoed through the hospital in the middle of the night.
　"You are now forbidden from leaving your room."
　The Great Doctor snorted.
　"Come on, wasn't that an unfortunate accident?"
　"What are you saying after beckoning misfortune?"
　My argument was completely useless.
　"What about the bathroom? What about the bathroom?"
　"Have a nurse take you."
　The Great Doctor still calls them nurses (kangofu) instead of nursing staff (kangoshi). Of course, he calls men nursing staff.
　"I don't want to!"
　I know I shouldn't say such things, but that is embarrassing. On the first day when I couldn't move at all, I couldn't go when I needed to, and I thought I'd rather have them use diapers if this were to continue.
　"Then, stay quiet. Don't go out in the middle of the night. I'll have someone watch you."
　You shouldn't think, "What a terrible hospital." This is a conversation that only I, who have been under his care since I was small, and the Great Doctor can have. The Great Doctor doesn't say such things to other patients.
　I am special treatment, in many ways.
　And on the sixth day of hospitalization, the monitor really arrived.
　His name is Mr. Matsuura.

Three

　"I heard you're doing something like a comedy sketch?"
　Mr. Matsuura said, laughing with a chuckle.
　As a pitch to throw after introducing himself, it really digs into the inside corner.
　"Are you talking about the banana peel?"
　I sighed.
　He must have been fed this by the Great Doctor.
　"Yeah, the Great Doctor said you were the comedy queen of our hospital."
　I knew it.
　"I don't break my legs in comedy sketches."
　I am pouting, I'm sure.
　"Well, either way, you have to be careful on rainy days. Is the pain gone yet?"
　He is asking, but it doesn't sound like he's very worried.
　Still, I thought, is he a counselor? He could be a little more worried.
　"It doesn't hurt much usually. It just aches sometimes."
　"Then, you shouldn't walk around. You definitely need rest."
　Darn. I didn't intend to elicit sympathy, but since he didn't seem very worried, I accidentally told the truth.
　"But if I'm locked up in a place like this, I'll go crazy."
　"Better than having the broken part go crazy, right?"
　That's true, but.
　It's a big mistake to think that just because I can't see, it's the same wherever I am.
　If I go outside, I feel the warmth of the sun and the wind on my skin, and inside a building, the resonance of sound is different. If I'm in the forest, I constantly hear the voices of birds and insects. And everywhere, there is a unique scent.
　That it never changes is painful.
　"If you use a wheelchair properly and have a nurse with you, isn't it okay to go out into the garden?"
　"When you say 'isn't it okay,' is it okay or is it bad?"
　"I don't have the authority to give permission for that."
　"You're a counselor, aren't you? Can't you do something with a judgment like 'no psychological problems' or something?"
　"I'm not appointed as a counselor, you know."
　According to Mr. Matsuura, he is not in the position of an official counselor. The Great Doctor's request seems to be, "Be a companion to kill time."
　"Psychologically, there is absolutely no problem. In the first place, cases where a psychological counselor is needed for a fracture, while I won't say they don't exist, are rare for ordinary people."
　According to Mr. Matsuura, in the case of athletes, counseling is often an important case. Especially in the case of Olympic athletes under pressure or professional athletes whose livelihood is at stake, there are people who despair of their future and try to commit suicide.
　"In your case, it's like the frustration of a child who can't play outside because of the rain."
　I retract my thought that he was a counselor.
　I myself thought it was childish to hate not being able to move around.
　I'm glad this bullseye wasn't officially written in my medical chart.
　"If you behave, you'll soon get permission to walk around freely. You can't see it from this room, but the ginkgo tree in the backyard is turning yellow and is beautiful."
　The window of this room faces the street, and I can't see the garden with the ginkgo tree that the Great Doctor is so proud of.
　Although, no matter where I am, I can't see the ginkgo or anything else.

Four

　Just as I can't see the ginkgo, I don't know the color of the ginkgo. That's because I don't have the concept of color in the first place.
　I once heard from Dr. Kengo that this is the same as a person living in three dimensions not being able to imagine a four-dimensional solid.
　Dr. Kengo—you must never call him the young doctor. He's already over forty—is a quiet, rather academic person, to the point where I doubt he's really the Great Doctor's child.
　When I told Dr. Kengo that, he said, "Actually, I doubt it too. For being the old man's son, I'm too handsome," so I suppose the blood doesn't lie.
　Mr. Matsuura visited my hospital room the next day and asked about the condition of my injury.
　"It doesn't hurt at all. Maybe it's already healed."
　I lied, hiding the fact that I had taken painkillers last night because I couldn't stand it.
　"If it heals that fast, your body is so different from ordinary people that you'd be flooded with offers to let us study you."
　Mr. Matsuura says, again with a voice containing a little laughter.
　"If that happens, your hospitalization will be extended quite a bit, but is that okay?"
　I don't want my sentence extended beyond what it already is, and I don't want to be different from other people in ways other than my eyes.
　"I'm lying. It's a joke."
　"I know. According to the Great Doctor, it's broken quite beautifully. He said he'd give you a copy of the X-ray as a souvenir."
　"I don't need such a thing."
　I can hear the Great Doctor flipping through the X-rays toward Mr. Matsuura.
　The Great Doctor gets angry as soon as I get injured, but he happily explains it to people.
　"More importantly, when will I be allowed to leave this room freely again?"
　Because of the previous incident, I had been stripped of both my wheelchair and crutches. After much pleading, I am only lent crutches when I go to the bathroom.
　"They said they'll return the wheelchair tomorrow."
　I was surprised at the unexpectedly simple answer.
　"I told the Great Doctor that this patient is the type who feels very strong stress when her movement is restricted."
　The Great Doctor knows that well. However, when told so by a counselor, it seems to be effective.
　"Stress is the enemy of treatment, you see."
　It's a famous story that even with the same illness or injury, recovery is slower when stress is applied.
　"Although, this isn't a professional diagnosis, though."
　That's right, Mr. Matsuura wasn't coming to this hospital room for work.
　That said, it's not a visit either; he's really acting as my conversation partner and someone to vent my stress to. Concurrently with the monitor role the Great Doctor mentioned.
　Mr. Matsuura exchanged a few words with the patients in the same room and left, saying, "Well, I'm off to work."
　I wonder if stress isn't building up for Mr. Matsuura.
　Because of me, who didn't even say "thank you" for getting my wheelchair back, and only said "have a good day."

Five

　The next time I met Mr. Matsuura was two days later. Apparently, he can't just be my companion every day.
　When I went to the backyard in the wheelchair he got back for me, Mr. Matsuura called out to me from the bench right next to the door.
　"Hikari-san?"
　My parents gave me a very ironic name, Hikari (Light), even though I can't see. But now, I like it very much.
　"Mr. Matsuura? What are you doing?"
　"Taking a break."
　The scent of coffee was drifting from the direction of Mr. Matsuura's voice.
　They say horses can smell a person's adrenaline.
　A strong scent of adrenaline comes from the body of a person who is afraid in front of a horse, and the horse, sensing that, will lick the person.
　It was the same when I first touched a horse.
　The horse, which saw through that I was afraid, ate the carrots my parents offered honestly, but knocked mine down before eating them. On top of that, it lightly nudged my head with its nose.
　Frustrated, I asked my parents to take me to the ranch again the next day, stood bravely in front of the horse to teach it that I wasn't afraid of it at all, stole my parents' eyes to ride it, made it run even though I was told not to, and fell off and fainted on my own. That was the incident in Karuizawa.
　Even if not as much as a horse, I, who have a good nose, can smell various things.
　The scent of coffee, the scent of people, and so on.
　So surely, even if Mr. Matsuura hadn't called out to me, I would have known he was there.
　"I also thought you would come eventually."
　He says it as if laughing again.
　I don't like that my actions are being read.
　"I heard you once fell from that tree?"
　I can tell by the sound of rustling clothes that Mr. Matsuura is pointing.
　"Yes, but that was when I was small."
　One summer day, after I had a checkup with Dr. Kengo, I climbed a tree while exploring the backyard and slipped and fell.
　There was a large stone right next to the place where I hit my head hard, and I was almost a goner.
　The Great Doctor gave me a hard knuckle on the head, right on the bump that had just formed, while I was crying and screaming.
　And he pulled my hand to a tree where there was nothing hard at the base, saying, "This is the tree you are allowed to climb," and hung a wind chime on a branch.
　"I'd be in trouble if you did that now."
　Mr. Matsuura's voice is completely laughing.
　"I heard your war history, you're quite the tomboy."
　"Please call me a challenger."
　"You have many reckless challenges."
　When you can't see, people tend to say that this is dangerous and that is dangerous.
　It's true that there might be more danger than for people who can see, but if you say that, you can't do anything. In my case, it's just that the degree is a little strong.
　Besides, it's not like the sensory world of blind people is poor. When I tried to say that, Mr. Matsuura said.
　"I know you can perceive more things than ordinary people think."
　That's right. We visually impaired people, even those who are completely blind like me, have very rich senses.
　The scent thing earlier is one, and even now I know that several people are walking in the garden. One of them is a child.
　I know that not by voice, but by the difference in the sound of stepping on fallen leaves. The lightness of the sound, the rhythm of the sound, I perceive it unconsciously.
　Surely that is no different from people who can see looking around. If you look with your eyes, you know what is there without being conscious of it, right?
　I was happy that he knew such things.
　I hate being simply pitied.
　Maybe there is no one who thinks that way while working as a counselor.
　"It's sunny today, and I can tell that the ginkgo leaves are swaying in the wind."
　"Yeah, and you know, there's a mountain range spreading out beyond the garden. When winter comes, it's completely covered in snow."
　Then the sky here must be wide, just as I thought.
　"They say it looks even more beautiful if you go to the roof, though."
　He said that and sipped his coffee.
　"Still, more than the scenery, it's a pity that you can't see color."
　"Color is a bit impossible."
　I can understand sensations like wide and narrow, big and small, fast and slow, but I cannot understand color.
　If I had to force it, the heat illuminated by the sun is red, and the sound of grass swaying in the wind is green. Because everyone says things like a bright red sun or a green meadow, right?
　"Ginkgo leaves, you see, turn yellow at this time of year. It's spread all over the garden."
　I told him it was impossible.
　"Come to think of it, the banana peel you slipped and fell on is also yellow."
　He laughs again. Laughing at someone's misfortune is a rude person.
　"That's a nasty color."
　In my mind, yellow started to solidify into an image of being slimy and hitting hard.
　"But you know, it's also an energetic color. Do you know sunflowers? Those flowers are big and energetic, and they bloom in the summer."
　I know sunflowers. But sunflowers are flowers that are rustling, prickly, and round and fluttering. But certainly, they are also energetic and seem strong.
　Slimy, rustling, and an energetic color. Yellow is a mysterious color.
　"And as you said, it's sunny today, and the sky is blue."
　"Blue, to me, is the image of a melody played by a buzzer."
　"The pedestrian crossing one?"
　"Yes."
　"That is truly a function-first image."
　"Because, if I were to associate something with blue, it would first be the sound of the green light."
　"What about the sea or something?"
　"They say the sea in Japan isn't blue, right?"
　Yaeko said that when she returned from a trip to Guam. I myself have never been abroad.
　"Wow, that's no dream. Since you can't see, let's just think you're in a beautiful place."
　"Huh."
　I thought that "since you can't see" was a strange way to put it, but I let it slide.
　Even if I can't see, I can overlook things.
　"The sea is chilly, sloshy, and gritty."
　"I wouldn't like it if something like that was spreading all over my head."
　"It can't be helped, can it? That's what my sea is."
　"The sea is no good. Then my blue is, let's see, the taste of peppermint."
　"Peppermint?"
　"Yeah, the taste of peppermint candy."
　"Not the taste of mint candy, but the taste of peppermint candy?"
　"Ah, mint, mint, mint candy."
　He hurriedly corrects himself.
　"Mr. Matsuura, how old are you?"
　People who say peppermint these days are rare.
　"I'm not much different from you. That's why the Great Doctor sent me, saying we'd get along."
　"Really? Your voice sounds young."
　"It's true. I was just raised by my grandmother."
　"I understand. Since I can't see, I'll believe you."
　"It's true, it's not a lie."
　"Why are you panicking? It's fine, I'll let you be just a little older than me."
　"Even if you don't let me, it's really like that."
　"If you're too insistent, it's suspicious."
　I was enjoying teasing him a little.
　I feel bad for him, but it's just the right stress relief. Since the Great Doctor told him to let me vent my stress, he shouldn't have any complaints either.
　From that day on, my blue sky became the image of peppermint and being raised by a grandmother.

Six

　After that, his attempts to teach me color continued.
　Brown is the scent of dry soil.
　Gray is the damp wind before it rains.
　Purple is the touch of silk and the city at night.
　Pink is ticklish.
　Orange is a palm and a bouncing ball.
　"I think 'chocolate color' is a truly magnificent name," he said while stuffing his cheeks with a chocolate bar he bought himself.
　"This taste and scent are exactly chocolate color, and it couldn't be anything else."
　He, who loves chocolate, talks even more happily than usual.
　"Is that so? My chocolate color feels a little different."
　Saying that, I also bit into a chocolate.
　By this time, I had started visiting his counseling room to talk. Of course, when he didn't have work.
　It's not that I wanted to talk just the two of us, but for the practical reason of not bothering the patients in the same room.
　"Is that so? What does your chocolate feel like?"
　"It's a bit rounder, or softer, something like that."
　"Round?"
　"Yeah, how should I say, each one is wrapped, and you tear it open and pick it up to eat, something like that."
　I showed him the gesture of eating chocolate.
　"Ah, like Godiva, something like that?"
　"Yes, that's it. Godiva chocolate is good, isn't it?"
　I had a full smile on my face.
　"What is that, are you telling me to go buy you Godiva chocolate?"
　"That's not it. I'm just conveying my image of chocolate color."
　He saw through it. As expected of a counselor.
　"So the chocolate bar I bought at the convenience store doesn't convey the image."
　"Mr. Matsuura's chocolate color was conveyed. It's just different from my chocolate color."
　"Terrifying. There is a terrifying creature named greed in this room."
　We both laughed, holding our stomachs.
　And the next day, we tasted Godiva's chocolate color together.
　I had become completely happy to know color.
　But on the other hand, it was also true that frustration was building up.
　No matter how much I imagine color, I can't see real color. The more he teaches me color, the more the world expands, but I can't see that world.
　When he was talking about rainbows, I threw that thought at him.
　"I don't understand such a messy image."
　Until now, I had accepted not being able to see as a matter of course.
　Except for my rebellious phase, I had never felt dissatisfied with it, nor had I ever envied people who could see.
　That, while being taught color by him like this, the desire to see had become too strong.
　"No matter how much you teach me color, I can't see the color Mr. Matsuura sees."
　I pouted and didn't say anything more.
　He also remained silent for a while, just the same.
　I think it was more than a full minute before he finally opened his mouth.
　"I'm sorry."
　Then we were both silent again, and it was him who opened his mouth after that.
　"Shall we go back today?"
　I nodded and headed to my hospital room.
　No, that's not it, I don't hate not being able to see color at all.
　Even if I can't see the world, I don't mind at all.
　The truth is, I was frustrated that I couldn't see the same things as the person I like.

Seven

　The next day, I didn't visit his counseling room, and he didn't come to my hospital room.
　Instead, I was called directly by the Great Doctor.
　Oh, I'm going to be scolded again.
　Maybe he gave up on me because I lashed out at Mr. Matsuura like that.
　Dr. Kengo was also in the Great Doctor's examination room. When both of them are there, this is a major event.
　As expected, the Great Doctor started with, "I heard from Mr. Matsuura."
　"It seems you are quite interested in vision recovery."
　Since I didn't have vision to begin with, I thought it was acquisition, not recovery, but more than that, I was more concerned about how he talked about me. How I am reflected in his eyes.
　Dr. Kengo continued the Great Doctor's words.
　"A friend of mine is researching artificial vision at a university hospital, and to put it simply, it's something that sends images taken by a camera directly to the brain, and he's looking for people to cooperate in clinical trials.
　There's no guarantee it will go well, and even if it does, I don't know if you can deal with the world you see for the first time.
　In that respect, Hikari-chan is mentally strong and has a lot of curiosity. But you've always said you have no complaints even if you can't see, so I asked Mr. Matsuura to probe a little."
　Probe, that was it?
　That wasn't a probe. My interest was stirred up so much that for the first time in my life, I am frustrated that I can't see.
　I, who didn't think anything of hearing people talk about how beautiful the scenery was somewhere, or stumbling and falling over things, am that person.
　Mr. Matsuura is an excellent counselor. I was completely taken for a ride. But is it okay for a counselor to manipulate people's hearts like this?
　"So, what do you think? Why don't you try taking the examination just once?"
　"Even if you tell me that suddenly..."
　"Yeah, I'm not asking you to answer immediately. They seem to be looking patiently, too."
　I said, "Let me think about it," and returned to my hospital room.
　When I returned to the room, one by one they disappeared for checkups and medication, and when I was finally alone, Mr. Matsuura came.
　I intended to apologize to him as soon as I saw him next.
　"I heard from Dr. Kengo."
　I'm sorry about the other day.
　"Was teaching me color for this reason?"
　I was afraid that I couldn't reach the world that was expanding.
　"Were you really keeping me company every day because the doctor told you to?"
　I was lonely because I couldn't see the same things as you.
　"No, that's not it."
　I was selfish and was throwing that at you.
　"Because if I hadn't talked to Mr. Matsuura, I wouldn't have wanted to see color this much."
　Because you are kind.
　"I came to you because the Great Doctor told me to, but talking about color was my own will. It was before Dr. Kengo consulted me about artificial vision."
　You are very kind.
　"I also knew about artificial vision, and so, as soon as I heard the story, I recommended you for the clinical trial."
　Is that the same kindness as being kind to the grandmother in the bed across from me?
　"I am not an experimental animal."
　Do you also bring chocolate to the grandmother?
　"Yeah, I know."
　If that is professional kindness, I don't need such a thing.
　"You don't know. It's cowardly to show the goal after motivating me first."
　"I want you to be able to see."
　"Why?"
　"I don't think not being able to see is unhappy. But I think you can find many more wonderful things if you can see."
　"For that, you even bought Godiva chocolate?"
　"No, that was just a present."
　"Why?"
　"I thought a present was necessary to woo a girl."
　"I am blind, you know."
　"I know."
　"If you go out with me, you'll have a lot of trouble."
　"I'm prepared for a tomboy."
　"And I don't even know what my own face looks like."
　I like you.
　"You are very beautiful, you know."
　I like you.
　"Even if you lie, it will be found out when I can see."
　"It's okay, love is blind."
　Even though I am truly blind, is that okay? I want to be able to see. I want to see your figure. I want to see the same colors as you.
　"Will you go out with me?"
　I, who am not cute, could only nod and couldn't say anything, but I really wanted to say, "Please go out with me," all along.

Eight

　When I pressed my thumbprint on the contract my mother read for me, my hospitalization was transferred to the university hospital.
　After the three weeks of hospitalization for the fracture, seven weeks of university hospital life for the artificial vision implantation. Although, that's only if I pass the first week of examinations.
　The university hospital is a little distance from the Great Doctor's hospital, and it became impossible for him and me to meet every day.
　When I asked for permission to use my mobile phone and computer, knowing it was a stretch, I was granted permission to use them within the private room where my bed is.
　Are there hospitals where you can use wireless LAN like this these days? I'll suggest introducing it at the Great Doctor's hospital after I'm discharged.
　"You can also use it in the common space on each floor or in the lobby on the first floor," said Dr. Kozuki, who is going to give me vision. She was a doctor who smelled very good.
　"When you have equipment in your room, it might have an effect, so please turn it off."
　Not only that, I was also granted permission to bring work into my hospital room. This is helpful.
　If this doctor and Dr. Kengo are just friends, I thought Dr. Kengo is really wasting a good opportunity.
　From the afternoon of the first day of transfer, my examinations began.
　From tests I've heard of like CT and MRI—every time I said it, Dr. Kozuki gently corrected me, "fMRI, you know." She seems to have quite a fixation—to PET, SPECT, and NIRS, which are unfamiliar devices, they passed over my head one after another.
　"The signals that enter from the eyes are transmitted to different parts of the brain on the left and right."
　I convey the explanation I heard from Dr. Kozuki to him by phone or email.
　"You'd think that what you see with your right eye is transmitted to the left brain, and what you see with your left eye is transmitted to the right brain, right? But it's different. The right half of the field of view of the right eye goes to the left brain, and the left half goes to the right brain. The same thing happens with the left eye."
　I told him as if it were something I had discovered myself.
　Some of that knowledge might have been wrong, but I didn't notice. And I remained unaware of the much bigger mistake I was making.
　"And you see, the signals from the eyes are organized in a place called the lateral geniculate body and transmitted to the visual cortex at the back of the head."
　He listens happily, saying "Yeah, yeah" on the other end of the phone.
　"So, you are seeing things not with your eyes, but with your brain, and at the place farthest from your eyes. Isn't that mysterious when you think about it?"
　To such stories, he always gives me the response I want.
　"In my case, it seems they are going to connect a cable to the optic nerve extending from that lateral geniculate body and see the image from the camera implanted in my eye. I'm waiting for the results of that examination now."
　It's probably not that simple, but that's about as much as I can understand.
　"Yeah, it will surely be okay."
　Whether it was because his praying for me was effective, I passed the examination.
　According to Dr. Kozuki, it seems to be 90 points out of 100.
　"I'm a doctor, so I shouldn't say anything carelessly optimistic," she prefaced, and Dr. Kozuki said.
　"Your lateral geniculate body is completely normal, and the optic nerve extends properly to the orbit. So I think the possibility of connecting a camera and obtaining vision is very high."
　The problem is whether I can deal well with the newly acquired sensation.
　"It's like suddenly being able to fly in the sky, so the shock will be great."
　But I have a strong will.
　"I'm okay."
　It was a bit of a stretch to say that compared to when I first stood in front of a horse, this was nothing, but anyway, I tried to convince myself of that.
　"We will also do our best. So, let's do our best together."
　Dr. Kozuki gripped my hand tightly.
　"Come to think of it, is the person on the phone your lover?"
　"Yes."
　I was very happy that I could answer that.
　Besides my parents and Dr. Kozuki, there is someone who will do his best with me.
　The surgery was decided for three days later.

Nine

　When I took off the bandages, the world was spreading out there.
　The world jumped into my eyes, and I jumped into his arms.
　There is no such convenient story. My path to acquiring vision is much more modest.
　Even when I took off the bandages, I couldn't see anything. On the contrary, as soon as I took off the bandages, I had various cables connected to terminals deep in my eyes.
　At this point, the camera is not yet in my orbit. Cables connected directly to the terminals deep in the orbit are sending signals from the computer to my brain.
　I think I was the woman with the most gorgeous eyelashes in the world at this time. I don't think anyone would be envious, though.
　But when Dr. Kozuki turned on some switch, saying, "Can you see this?", my world changed forever.
　It was a gray that was featureless all over, but I saw color for the first time.
　It was the color of the damp wind before it rains, just as he had taught me.
　"Good, good."
　Saying that, Dr. Kozuki turned off the switch. If not, I would have been staring at that gray for hours.
　"If things go well, in about two weeks we'll implant an eyeball-type camera, and after that, we'll increase the resolution. In about a week, you'll be able to distinguish the shapes of things. And finally, let's add color."
　"Wasn't that color just now?"
　I felt like I had been tricked.
　"It's color if you call it color, but what you saw just now wasn't real gray, but white with low brightness. In terms of sound, well, it feels like a muffled voice that you don't know whose it is."
　Dr. Kozuki tries to explain in a way I can understand. But I, who was so happy, feel a bit cheated.
　I also conveyed that to him.
　Not by phone or email, but directly to him when he came on Sunday.
　"Isn't it because your brain would be surprised if it were sudden?"
　He says it happily, as always.
　"Even television broadcasts started in black and white, and then became color."
　"That's true, but I was a bit let down."
　"You were explained that you wouldn't be able to see suddenly, right?"
　"Yeah."
　"It's going according to plan, so don't be impatient."
　"Yes, I understand."
　I answered while stuffing my cheeks with the Godiva he bought for me.
　"Besides, in your case, if you were able to see all of a sudden, another illness might recur."
　"What do you mean?"
　"Severe tomboy disease."
　"When I can see, I'll scribble on your face first thing."
　Dr. Kengo entered just as I stuck out my tongue like that.
　"Well, I'm going home now."
　Dr. Kengo brings him here every Sunday, as he doesn't have a car.
　He is thoughtful and goes to Dr. Kozuki immediately, but even so, I still can't feel like it's just the two of us.
　But it seems it was good for Dr. Kengo to have an excuse to meet Dr. Kozuki.
　If they were Americans, they would probably share a casual kiss at a time like this, but as Japanese, we naturally don't do such things.
　On the contrary, even when we are alone in the hospital room, he still doesn't even hold my hand. I wish he would at least sense a maiden's heart.
　If he doesn't hold my hand like this, I'll hold his hand when I can see.
　The scribbling can wait until then.

Ten

　Even if it was a change like climbing a slope slowly for me, I had achieved a dramatic progress for him, who only comes once a week.
　Of course, we were emailing and calling almost every day, and my progress was being conveyed from Dr. Kozuki to Dr. Kengo, and then further to him, but it seems it's different to meet me and hear it directly.
　Sandwiched between his two visits, I underwent a half-day surgery and had an eyeball-type camera attached.
　There is a small terminal next to the iris, and it seems adjustments will be made from here on out.
　Finally, I was able to see the world through my own eyes, not through signals from a computer.
　My eyeball is a camera, and the image sensor acts as the retina. In that sense, it might not be different from input from a computer. But such technical things didn't matter to me.
　No matter how blurry it was, even if it was black and white, this is my own world.
　I saw the world as a black and white grid. Immediately after the surgery, each square of the grid was still large, and it wasn't at a level where I could understand the shapes of things.
　Even so, I saw his figure.
　About fifty blocks represented by various gradations between white and black. His figure, seen for the first time.
　I can't tell him apart from other people, but he is definitely there.
　My parents seemed to finally be relieved at this stage, and I could hear my mother saying "I'm glad, I'm glad" many times with a tearful voice.
　My father walked back and forth next to the bed many times, saying, "Can you see?" When I followed him with my face and eyes, he stroked my head and praised me like when I was small.
　Increase the resolution, check, increase the resolution, check. Repeat this every two or three days.
　I am very tired after increasing the resolution, but the fact that the world was steadily becoming clearer was my encouragement.
　"With a few more adjustments, I'll increase the resolution significantly. In terms of vision, about 0.1."
　On Tuesday of the third week after attaching the eyeball-type camera, Dr. Kozuki said while wrapping bandages around me. I was happy that Dr. Kozuki herself did this work.
　At this point, I had become able to understand the shapes of things roughly. I have a white cane just in case, but to the extent that I don't have trouble walking around alone in a wheelchair.
　"And then, we'll add color."
　How should I express the surprise when I heard this?
　Should I say it felt like hearing a great scientist announce, "I have discovered God"?
　Of course, it was planned that color would be added to my field of view, but in a different sense from being able to see, it sounded like a declaration that would turn heaven and earth upside down.
　It was when it became night and I was calling him that I became able to accept it.
　"They said I'll be able to see more in a week. Specifically, they said about 0.1 vision."
　"How much is that?"
　"It seems it can't be directly compared to real 0.1, but it's about enough to know the face of someone nearby."
　"That's amazing. Finally, it will be found out what kind of face I have."
　"More than that, worry about my face. You'll find out whether what you said about me being so beautiful is true or not."
　"That's okay. At least, to me, you are very beautiful."
　He says it while laughing, so it's not credible at all.
　"I'll expect it at most. And, there is one more announcement."
　I cut off my words as if to tease him.
　"What is it?"
　I took a deep breath and told him.
　"I'll be able to see color."
　This time, he cut off his words.
　For a while, we were both silent.
　"You did it."
　With those short words, I knew how happy he was for me.
　Because he said it in such a serious voice, as if whispering.
　"Yeah."
　Then I ended up crying, and I ended up letting him hear the sound of me sniffling for a long time.

Eleven

The process of giving me color did not require surgery; it was just a software adjustment as usual, so it didn't take much time.
I connected the cable to the terminal next to my iris and turned off the camera for a moment. Then, after a brief darkness, my vision returned with increased clarity.
This time, my vision was much more detailed. The outlines that had been jagged until now were clearly smoother.
And above all, there were real colors there.
Is this what it's like?
Is the world so full of color?
I had thought I might cry when I saw a world with color.
But in reality, it was far from that.
My mouth was dry, parched.
My breathing became ragged, and I was on the verge of hyperventilating.
My nails were digging deep into my tightly clenched hands.
"Are you okay? I'm going to disconnect the cable now, so you can keep your eyes closed."
Dr. Kazuki skillfully disconnected the cable, covered the terminal with a jelly-like membrane to seal it, and removed the device holding my eyelids open.
I closed my eyes and took slow, deep breaths repeatedly.
The image of the room I had just seen floated vividly in my mind. The walls of the room with the curtains drawn felt as if they were closing in on me.
It was almost frightening, seeing so much and having so much color.
I gathered my courage and opened my eyes once more.
The colors and the world were still there, not having vanished.
"I can see."
My voice was raspy.
I looked at Dr. Kazuki.
Though her eyes, nose, and mouth were just blurry smudges, Dr. Kazuki was a lovely person with long hair. I felt like her lips were slightly red.
I could see those lips moving.
"From here on, the more your optic nerves and brain get used to it, the better you will be able to see."
The thought that I would be able to see even more made me feel faint.
But the face Dr. Kazuki was turning toward me.
This is a smile.
It was blurry, but just looking at that expression made me feel very happy.
"Of course, maintenance is necessary, but the matching between the sensors and nerves is good, and data transmission is going smoothly, so there shouldn't be any major problems. But don't overdo it. Dr. Kengo has strictly told me to be careful."
I tried smiling too. I wonder if I'm smiling like Dr. Kazuki.
"Both the Great Doctor and Dr. Kengo are exaggerating. I'm not that reckless. Besides, right now, I'm so dazzled that I don't think I can move."
"You'll be buried in tests for about a week, so I really want you to stay still. But you know, both the Great Doctor and Dr. Kengo were truly worried about you. The Great Doctor even said, 'If my eyes would do, I'd give them to her.'"
He has never said such kind things to me. Usually, just by going for a checkup, I get showered with harsh abuse.
But I knew. To the Great Doctor, I was like a grandchild.
"I want to report to the doctors soon."
"And to your boyfriend, too, right?"
Dr. Kazuki has her hands on her hips and is smirking, I think.
"Yes."
"Oh, what an unfilial daughter. Usually, you'd report to your parents first."
This time, she has her hand on her forehead and is looking up at the ceiling.
She's a fun person.
"O-oh, I'm sorry. That's right, I'll call them right away."
I hurriedly looked for my phone.
But in truth, I had already sent an email to my parents last night.
Because I'm too embarrassed to call.
"Tomorrow, I will finally be able to see properly. Even if I can't see any better than this from now on, or if I lose my sight again for some reason, I am grateful to you, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry for the terrible things I said when I was in middle school. I'm sorry I couldn't say I'm sorry for so long. Well then, good night."

Twelve

The day I would see his face came unexpectedly.
When I was talking on the phone about being able to see color, he told me he would come to visit me tomorrow.
"Is work okay?"
I'm very happy, but I'm not childish enough to demand, "Which is more important, your work or me?"
"Yeah, the Great Doctor told me to go."
I hadn't called the doctors yet, but Dr. Kazuki must have contacted them first. Now I'll get scolded by the Great Doctor again.
"I can only keep my eyes open for about an hour. Most of the time is taken up by tests, so could you time your visit?"
I want to see his face soon. I want to tell him that I can see the same colors as him.
"Yeah, I'll do that."
He hung up the phone.
The next day, my tests finished sooner than expected.
"I'll come to put the bandages back on at four o'clock," Dr. Kazuki said, setting an alarm just in case before leaving.
I spent my time alone looking in the mirror.
My first meeting with myself.
Unlike nearsightedness or farsightedness, it doesn't focus whether I move the mirror closer or further away. Still, things closer look larger, so it's easier to see if I bring the mirror close to my face.
Hmm, so this is my face.
Is this the face he called beautiful?
I still don't know what a beautiful face is. But in terms of charm, I feel like Dr. Kazuki's face is far superior.
I'll have to grill him about this when he arrives.
Just as I was examining my face like that, he entered timidly.
I wonder if he saw me just now.
"Hey, can you see me?"
He didn't need to be so timid until he sat in the chair. It seems my appearance of looking in the mirror at close range was quite comical.
"Yeah, I can see you. And that you brought a souvenir. Is that Godiva chocolate?"
"That's right. You have a good intuition for someone seeing it for the first time."
"The sound of the bag is the same as always. Besides, is that a white cane in your other hand?"
"Yeah."
"Did you buy a new one for me? But I can walk without a white cane now."
"This is mine."
"Yours?"
"Yeah, I'm blind."
For a moment, I didn't understand what he was saying.
I'm the one who is blind, and that's a thing of the past. Now I can see everything.
"What are you talking about?"
Weren't you the one who taught me colors and explained how good it would be if I could see?
"I'm blind. Just like you, I've been totally blind since birth."
Oh, you're different now, he says with a laugh.
"No way, then how could you teach me the color of the sky or the color of ginkgo leaves?"
"I heard about them. I've been interested in color for a long time. I talked to people who could see and had them teach me, or had them listen to my images."
"Did you lie to me?"
If he's going to lie, I'd rather it be a lie that he's blind.
"I didn't lie. I never once said I could see."
"That's true, but why didn't you tell me you couldn't see?"
"If I had told you that, would you have had the surgery?"
I fell silent.
To be honest, that's doubtful.
Stubborn as I am, if a blind person told me "it's better to see," I wouldn't have just said "yes, you're right." On the other hand, I don't think I would have obediently followed the advice of someone who could see either.
I wasn't dissatisfied with being blind, and I hated being pitied for it.
"I felt like I was the closest person to you, who couldn't see."
Is he trying to say he understands me?
"Why do this?"
"I wanted you to be able to see."
Are you saying you understand me?
"So, why?"
"You either don't trust me at all, or you're forgetful."
He was laughing.
"I think I said this before, but I think you'll be able to find many more wonderful things if you can see. I thought that while talking to you."
Do you really think you understand me?
"Of course, that's not just for you. If blind people can see, they can find many wonderful things. In terms of actual life, I think it will be a great help in many ways. That's why, if the person wishes, I want as many people as possible to be able to see."
Mr. Matsuura, if you think you understand me,
"But I wanted you to be able to see more than anyone else."
Bullseye.
You understand me so well it's frustrating.
If someone else had persuaded me, I'm sure I would have refused.
"Aren't you going to have surgery?"
"My lateral geniculate nucleus has atrophied, so it's no good."
"That's..."
Then you gave me something you can never have yourself?
Talking about colors so happily, expanding the world, making me fall in love.
"So I will never be able to see."
I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at his face in silence.
"Have you seen your own face yet?"
"Yes."
"How was it?"
I looked in the mirror again, gently.
Rough skin, mismatched eyebrows, crooked lips.
None of this is beautiful.
No matter where you look, there isn't a shred of beauty.
"How was it?"
He asked again.
"I was beautiful. Just as you said, I am very beautiful."
I looked down.
"You are very handsome, too."
"I know."
He said that and laughed.
I wanted him to believe me. Just as I believed his words.
I wanted him to know how wonderful he looks in my eyes.
"What color is the sky?"
I got out of bed and opened the thick curtains that had remained closed.
It was something Dr. Kazuki had forbidden, saying, "The shock is still too great."
Outside the window, the city spread out.
It wouldn't be until much later that I understood the individual things there were buildings, trees, roads, and houses.
But I knew the sky immediately.
The blue sky spreading over the winter city.
It was so vast that my legs trembled.
I wanted to close my eyes and return to the darkness. But I must see this sky now.
"The sky is blue."
I looked back at him.
He was smiling quietly.
"And it tastes like peppermint."
"I see, that's good."
He seemed very satisfied.
You can never see that blue, the peppermint-flavored sky you taught me about.
What can I do for you?
For me to be your eyes is too presumptuous.
My eyes are what he gave me.
My colors have been his from the start.

"They say it looks even more beautiful if you go to the rooftop."
No matter where we go, you can't see it.
"More than the scenery, it's a shame you can't see color."
It's not me who can't see.
"It's okay, love is blind."
That's not because of love.
"Since you can't see anyway, let's just think we're in a beautiful place."
It's not the scenery that's beautiful.

The reason you didn't even hold my hand was because you knew you were blind, wasn't it?

I went back to him, held his hand tightly, and said,
"Please go out with me."