There is an ancient legend. Final short for DJ/YD.

It's something he read once, in a book with yellow pages and a roughened cover; he couldn't remember the full title or the author but he did remember a name—it was Japanese and female: Sadako, if he recalled correctly.

The book had been buried in a box full of other old books that his mother said had belonged to his grandmother, who had passed it down to her and now to him. He didn't want to read a bunch of novels written for girls, but this book had captured his attention after he peeked at the first page.

The idea sounded fun at first, and his mother had only indulged him when he requested she buy him sets of colorful origami paper for his new project. He had started out eager and determined, but like all children soon gotten bored, and abandoned his project before he barely even started.

He had forgotten all about it until that fateful day.

They stood outside the emergency room. His mother and him.

“It'll be alright,” his mother assured while she caressed his head soothingly. Dong Jae couldn't help but flinch at her touch.

“It's my fault. It's my fault.” He repeated as he cried, clutching his own hands together—hands that had nearly killed his dearest friend. Hands that couldn't touch other people anymore, for fear that he might kill them too.

“Hush, darling, it was just an accident,” his mother bent down to envelop him in a comforting hug, but he ripped away from her embrace and ran down the hospital corridor, stopping only when he realized that he had no destination in mind and he did not know which way was home.

When finally back at his room he collapsed in grief and guilt, not even making it to the bed and instead winding up on the floor. He spent an hour sobbing, praying, angrily blamming himself until his fumes finally ran out and all he could do was lay there on the cold floor and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

He imagined Yeon Doo's face—smiling Yeon Doo, angry Yeon Doo, sleeping Yeon Doo...and Yeon Doo, pale and motionless, wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to an IV.

Dong Jae choked back another sob and turned to his side, curling up in a fetal position as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the image from his mind.

When he finally opened them again, his eyes was captured by something hidden underneath his bed. Curious now, he half crawled inside to withdraw the object.

It was a book. It was the book.

Dong Jae's eyes widened and he suddenly knew what he was suppose to do.

.

The lights were too bright and it stung her eyes. When she tried to move she discovered that she couldn't. When she tried to speak she realized was so hoarse and dry, she couldn't get a single word out.

Her other senses were working fine though. She smelled antiseptic; a clean but unpleasant scent, and Yeon Doo immediately knew where she was—the hospital.

She could hear strange beeping sounds, and there was a rustling of something...the crinkling of paper.

Yeon Doo blinked a couple times, and finally the lights and blurry shapes began to take form.

There was someone by her bedside. Mom?

No.

“Ha...Dong...” Yeon Doo called with her weak and scratchy voice.

Dong Jae's head shot up. He had been busy with something in his hands, but now his full attention was on her.

“Y-Yeon Doo?” His voice trembled. He sounded so unsure, so afraid.

“What...are you doing?” Yeon Doo asked, trying to smile but found that her lips were cracked and it hurts to move her muscles.

“It's...I...” Dong Jae's eyes were tearing up, and his hands shook visibly when he brought them up and showed her what he had been working so hard on.

A crane, half finished.

The confusion must have showed on her face, because Dong Jae was fumbling to explain. “I r-read it in a book, and...this girl, S-Sadako, she...”

Dong Jae took in a deep breath, trying to steady his voice enough to continue. Tears were running in rivulets down his cheeks.

“Japanese legend says...if you fold one thousand paper cranes t-then...you get a wish.”

And then he reached down under his chair, and he showed her the shoe box.

Yeon Doo gasped in awe. Inside was filled with origami paper cranes of all colors. Each one seemed to have been folded with meticulous care, and there were so many of them that the box was overflowing.

And then he took out another box. Two shoe boxes, full with origami cranes.

“Dong Jae...” She breathed, when he took out one shiny golden crane, and placed it on her open palm.

“I was going to wish for you to wake up. For you to be okay again.” Dong Jae rubbed at his eyes, nearly crinkling the half-finished crane still in his hand. “I'm sorry, Yeon Doo. I'm sorry.”

“Stupid...” Yeon Doo chided half-heartedly, “I don't need a thousand cranes.”

“I-I was so scared..."

“But I'm fine now.” She brought the golden crane nearer to her so she could admire it. Light reflected against it's golden wings, almost making it glow.

Yeon Doo sigh. It was beautiful.

She cradled it close to her heart, with a look of such contentment and peace on her face that Dong Jae was struck speechless.

She didn't have to say anything and he knew, with a crushing wave of relief, that he had been forgiven.

They stayed that way for a while; Dong Jae silently continue to fold his one hundred and fourth crane while Yeon Doo watched with a soft smile on her face...until her mother finally came in with an armful of snacks from the vending machine. When she realized Yeon Doo was awake, immediately dropped the snacks on the floor without care and began fussing over her with cries of joy and happy tears.  

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Word Count: 1000