Grieving

"Yakushi-san, Yakushi-san, wake up.."

Not now, Iwatani-san, Tadashi thought as he turned his head away from the fervent shakes to his shoulder. Wakefulness begun to pull at the edges of his conscience and drag the warm blanket of oblivion from over his mind. An intent gaze prickled the hair at the back of his neck until it stood on end, and he bit back a sigh inwardly. It wouldn't do him any good to pretend to be asleep anyway; time was too precious to waste here. He cracked open one bleary eye, blinking slowly to try and focus his sights on the blurry edges of the indigo blob standing at the edge of his periphery.

"You slept through your alarm again," the blob — no, Iwatani Shizuku — sighed, seeming wearied from having to repeat those words to him so many times. Tadashi rubbed the heel of his hand beneath his eyes, brushing away the dampness clinging to his eyelashes. He pulled his hand away from his eyes, examining the smeared tears glistening in the low-light. His eyes traveled to the woman leaning into the doorway of the on-call room; her dark hair pulled high into a thick, wavy ponytail which rippled as the locks fell over her shoulder as she tilted her head to one side. Brown eyes sloped downward at their ends after taking another sweeping glance over him.

He could imagine the sight he made to her - hair unkempt, clothes askewed, and a patch of drool dried at the corner of his lips.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Another one?

He tried to remember the exact details of his dream as he felt around his eyes, brushing the dried trails at the corner of his left eye. Had he been crying in his sleep? The dream definitely felt real enough that his chest tightened at the thought of his grandpa's smiling face on that sweet golden day. But he didn't want to trouble his colleague with such things; it was best to leave it, especially with their current epidemic.

"No, I just needed a longer nap," Tadashi said, swinging his legs to the floor. He pushed up to his feet and stretched his arms out to pop the kinks and throbbing aches dancing along his spine. "How long was I out for?"

"Mm, only twenty minutes, I would let you sleep longer but we don't have many hands, so.."

From the bustling sounds outside the doorway, and clamoring voices somehow managing to talk over one another whilst the contents of the conversation remained subtly obscure, Tadashi figured she was right. The hospital was crowded as ever with the influx of cases but with the number of patients needing treatment, and the lack of personnel to do so, it felt as if they were fighting a losing battle.

"I'll do my rounds shortly," he told her, going to the small wash basin adjacent to the narrow bed he'd been laying on. In the mirror's reflection, his colleague smiled softly before bowing her head with a hastily murmured excuse me. She slipped out of the doorway, pulling the door shut behind her. Tadashi let his face fall once he was alone and grasped the basin's sides, staring himself down in the mirror. Exhaustion stained the skin beneath his eyes in slightly sunken, dark circles. He blinked slowly at his face, wary of shutting his eyes for too long as his head careened forward to press against the cool glass. With a jolt, he startled awake and dragged a hand down the side of his stubbled chin.

Hold on, did she say... another?

He pressed his fist to his forehead and cursed underneath his breath. How long had it been like that? Did everyone know or was it only Iwatani-san? She wasn't the type to talk about other's private issues, but the fact that she'd come to find him and worried about his sleep -

How long would it be like this?

Tadashi couldn't remember the last time he'd gone home, or slept longer than a few hours at a time without an alarm startling him out of a doze. Saying that it was beginning to take its toll would have been an understatement. How was he supposed to reassure someone of their health when he looked more dead than alive?

The lack of sleep is making me careless... 

He turned on the tap and cupped his hands under the water spout, watching the misty swirls in the pooling water gathering in his palms before splashing his face. He scrunched his nose and coughed into his elbow as the water flung up his notrils and plastered his hair against his brow. But he certainly felt more awake than he had before, brushing the wet strands from his face with a sigh.

I have to keep it together, be more careful. Worrying everyone now will only make things worse..

A short chime rung out from the bed, and he turned around to fish through the tangled blankets when it repeated with increasingly louder chirps.

My phone?

He pulled it out and turned it over to read the name on the screen.

It's Kojiro, he thought, jabbing his thumb against the ANSWER button before bringing it to his ear.

"Good morning," Tadashi greeted, heart racing as he waited for the voice on the other side.

To his relief, Kojiro answered with a spirited, "Tadashi-niichan, morning!"

Tadashi cracked a small smile.

Good, he sounds as if he's doing well.

Since they were children, Kojiro and Himari always called him big brother despite being his first cousins. Tadashi supposed it was because they had been raised together after his relatives convinced him to move in with them again. He still remembered how Kojiro whined about his insistence on going to university in the city, promising to visit as much as he could.

With the current epidemic though, Tadashi had never been more grateful for the expensive railpass barring Kojiro from contracting an illness.

"Have you been sleeping alright?"

"A little, here and there," Tadashi murmured, rubbing his hand over his throat with knitted brows. He tucked his mouth into the crook of his arm again with a shallow cough, hearing the trembling cry of Kojiro's voice.

"You've gotta take care of yourself, man!"

"Yes, yes…"

Ack! I sound just like Grandpa…

He rubbed a thumb between his brows, trying to stave off the headache forming there.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that me and Hima are gonna be visiting Gramps today."

Eh?

Tadashi's eyes snapped open. He jerked the phone away, swiping down at the top to see the date. A chill rushed down his spine at the numbers reflected up at him.

That was… today?

"Tadashi?"

He startled, scrambling to bring the phone back to his ear, "S-Sorry, I'm still here."

That dream…

Was it Grandpa's way of trying to tell him something?

"Mom said if you've got time for dinner later, you should catch the late train and come by."

"Mm, I'll let you know if I can finish here early. Tell everyone I said hi."

"Really?! Mm, I'll let them know. See ya later, okay?"

Kojiro's voice faded with a click before Tadashi could get a word in edgewise, and he stared down at his phone's screen with a blank expression.

Grandpa… how could I forget…

A knock against the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he stowed his phone away in his pocket before hustling over to turn off the water tap.

"Yakushi-san?" Iwatani-san called out, "Are you still asleep?"

"No, I'm awake."

Pull it together, Tadashi, he thought to himself as he grabbed his white coat. The ends of it flapped around his legs like the fall of a superhero's cape. Though as he straightened the lapels and clipped his hospital badge, he wondered if he was wearing the cape of a hero or the cloak of death.

Everywhere he walked through the hospital, there was someone suffering and fighting for their life. They greeted him with suspicion but also hope that the words coming from his mouth would be the ones to give their struggle meaning. He hated when the hopeful spark in a patient's eyes began to dull, but it seeemd to happen a lot more nowadays.

As his rounds brought him to the upper floors of the hospital, Tadashi replaced his gloves and mask for the hundredth time and knocked on a rather nice door painted a warm shade of copper as most of the wing was. There was a faint murmur on the other side and the door's lock clicked open, allowing him to push it aside. His eyes wandered around the room's spacious interior, lingering on the thick curtains drawn back and bound with an ornate tie and the wide-screened TV mounted to the far off wall. With the small sitting area that could easily fit a moderately-sized family, it was easily triple the size of his grandpa's hospital room.

Strange how things change over time..

Tadashi turned his attention to the man sitting up in bed, looking out the window with distant eyes. A smile touched his lips as he walked over to the end of his bed, checking the chart there.

"Hirahara-san, good morning," he greeted, looking up at the tray of untouched food sitting at the man's beside.

Slowly, Hirahara-san mumbled, ".. Good morning.. Sensei," as if dazed.

"Did you not have an appetite today?" Tadashi tucked the chart back in its place, going over to look at the tray. Even the pair of disposable chopsticks were still in their packaging. "You shouldn't take your medicine without food, it could harm your stomach lining and…"

"Sensei," Hirahara-san sighed.

"Yes?"

"No more pills…"

"Hirahara-san, your treatment.." Tadashi frowned, picking up the small cup of pills. He counted them swiftly and found it was the same number scheduled on the chart. Why hadn't they made sure that he took his medicine properly?

"Look at me, please…"

Tadashi turned to do so with the intent to scold until they locked eyes. A loose robe covered the thin frame of a sullen old man. His piercing eyes were nearly sunken in, redness rimming the corners of his eyes and beneath his nose. He shivered as if cold, and Tadashi stepped closer to lift the blanket onto his lap, though he knew it would provide little help.

Hirahara-san smiled bitterly at the act, but didn't brush him away. "Do you truly believe I can recover..?"

"I do," Tadashi whispered, letting his voice return to its natural volume as he explained, "The mind has more influence over the body than we think. If you believe it as well, then surely…"

A violent cough interrupted them, Hirahara-san burying his mouth against his palm as he hacked wetly. Tadashi took a step back and went to retrieve a few napkins, bringing them back with averted eyes. The squelching rasp of a thanks reached his ears while trembling fiingers lucked the napkins from his hand. While Hirahara-san cleaned up, Tadashi busied himself with finding a hazardous material bag tucked away in the medical cabinets.

"You know, I was only granted a room like this because of the donations I'd made to this hospital. Making sure I was comfortable during my final days while gratefully taking the money to keep me alive - if that isn't business, I wonder what is…"

Tadashi's eyes widened. "You were a donor, Hirahara-san?"

"Hoho, you didn't know that?" The old man chortled, as if he'd gotten in a good joke.

"Not at all."

"I'd spent most of my life building my reputation, and you don't know a bit of it!"

Hirahara-san laughed, and Tadashi felt a mixture of mortification and relief. It was the strongest Hirahara-san's voice had been since the beginning of his check-in, but he was getting a good chuckle in at Tadashi's expense.

Though, it did make sense now why his director insisted that he take the utmost care of Hirahara-san. Tadashi was glad that his initial concern of his bedside manner failing from exhaustion hadn't been the cause.

So, it was his money..

Tadashi turned around with the waste bag in hand, crossing his hands in front of him as he bowed. "I'm sorry for my ignorance, please accept my apologies for my rudeness."

"There's no need to bow your head like that, Sensei," Hirahara-san sighed wistfully, and Tadashi raised his head to find the man staring at him with a self-satisfied smile. "It's actually refreshing in a way. Like I've been reborn as someone new in your eyes.."

Tadashi wasn't sure why, but his grandpa's words resurfaced in his mind. He gripped the bag a little tighter as he came over to take the soiled napkins and dispose of them.

"I don't think I've done anything that great…"

"Hoho, and you're modest too," Hirahara-san chortled. "Ah, it's too bad this life won't last much longer.."

Tadashi closed his eyes for a moment with his back to Hirahara-san. This was the part he hated most. No matter the reassurances they'd gave, or the talk about new treatments and solutions, a person's instinct always told them more than any machine or man could. The fatigue rooted at the core of his heart flourished for a brief second as he sighed softly.

"You don't seem surprised," Hirahara-san murmured.

Tadashi blinked, looking over his shoulder then glancing away. "Eh, well…"

He'd done this so many times and Hirahara-san had been so genuine thus far. Offering him false reassurance when the proof was sitting between them would have been disingenious. He schooled his expression into a soft smile and crescented eyes, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Is there anyone you would like to call for a visit? Protocol will only allow two family members, ah.. but children can't come here—"

"No, there's no one."

That was… fast.

As if sensing his disconcertion with his hasty answer, Hirahara-san explained, "My wife left me ages ago, and our son would bear my presence only to keep from breaking his mother's heart. I've never seen my grandchild either, but that may be for the best. They shouldn't have to bear with the memory of their grandpa in this state."

In response to Tadashi's silence, Hirahara-san chuckled ruefully and covered his eyes with one hand as if he couldn't bear the sight of him. "It's sad, isn't it? I'd hardly listened to their troubles during my life, why should they bear mine on the verge of death?"

"That's…" Tadashi whispered, curling his hand into a fist at his side. "Hirahara-san…"

They lingered in silence together: one, overcome by their grief and the other unsure of how to heal such a festered wound.

After a moment passed, Hirahara-san drew in a trembling breath then exhaled with his hand slipping down to his lap. "I'm sure you have other patients, Sensei," he turned his face toward the window again, but it couldn't hide the tremble in his shoulders, "Don't stay on my account."

"Hirahara-san…"

Tadashi knew he was right. There were others who needed his aid, and stopping right here for too long could be the difference between life and death for them. However, right here in front of him — "I can't force you to call your family, but at least write a few words to them."

He could see Hirahara-san slowly turning his head to look at him from the corner of his eye, and delved into his coat pockets for a loose sticky note. As Tadashi approached the bedside table, he plucked a pen from his breastpocket and offered both to the old man.

"Leave something of yourself behind even if it won't make up for all the times you turned your back on them before."

Hirahara-san's eyes shined, wavering as he looked between the objects in Tadashi's hands and his face. "I told you, there's no meaning—"

"There is!"

Hirahara-san recoiled as if he'd been struck, and Tadashi swallowed hard. It would be troublesome if his director chewed him out for potentially losing a backer for their hospital. But, wouldn't Hirahara-san be dead already if his soul withered away like this?

When he didn't take the pen and paper, Tadashi set both on an empty spot on the food tray within reach on his bedside table.

"There is meaning to it, Hirahara-san…" He insisted, fist clenched tightly at his sides as he marched to the door and let himself out. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sky reddened as Tadashi stepped out of the break room with the remnants of his vending machine dinner in hand. He wondered how he would break the news to his relatives that he'd have to work the night shift. As he went to reach for his cellphone, a low, timid voice called out to him hesitantly.

"Yakushi-san…"

He glanced over his shoulder at Shizuku,. Her eyes seemed redder than they had before, and her shoulders trembled when their eyes met. His eyebrows furrowed as he took a step toward her.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?"

She drew her hands from behind her back, offering a black pen and a folded piece of paper to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Please let us through!"

Tadashi glanced up from the receptionist desk at the sound of someone shouting. It was a familiar scene, one he was sad to say that he'd become accustomed to now adays. Family members railed against hospital staff in a frenzied need to see their loved ones, and struggled helplessly as they were turned away. Now, it was an older woman bundled up in a thick overcoat to ward off the winter chill and someone who Tadashi considered might have been her adult son.

While the woman held herself around the arms, her son stood face to face with one of the security officers who stared back at him coolly.

"My dad is in there," the young man shouted, throwing out his hand as if slicing through the air. "I want to see him now!"

"They're Hirahara Tetsuji-san's family," the receptionist whispered.

"I see.."

Tadashi turned around and walked toward the family. The security guard glanced over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised questioningly but Tadashi shook his head. Without a backward glance, the guard stepped aside and watched them carefully while the young man stood with raised hackles while sizing Tadashi up.

"Sir, please calm down," Tadashi started, breath hitching when the man's piercing gaze bore into him.

"How can you tell me to be calm?!"

He really is Hirahara-san's son.

They possessed the same sharp eyes, but where Hirahara-san's voice was softer until he began speaking, his son's was loud from the beginning. Though it gradually softened when his mother laid her hand on his upper arm, and he tensed with wavering eyes and a quivering mouth.

"I apologize, I should have given my name first…" Tadashi drew his hands from his pockets, bowing low. "My name is Yakushi Tadashi, I attended Hirahara Tetsuji-san during his stay here."

When he raised his head, the Hiraharas stared at him with a look he'd also come to hate. Hope.

"S-Sensei, then…" The mother stammered, her eyes wavering as she looked him over then anxiously muttered, "He didn't call.. all this time. Is he really…?"

Tadashi lowered his eyes, giving a single nod. "He didn't wish to trouble you, but… yes. Hirahara Tetsuji-san has already passed."

Hands seized the collar of Tadashi's coat faster than he could see them move and hoisted him high, jerking his head up as he struggled to keep his feet on the ground. The so nstared at him with shimmering eyes, yanking him forward until they were nose to nose.

"Trouble us?! What do you mean by that?!"

Spittle flew and landed on Tadashi's cheeks and forehead, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open even as he stared into lurid, glassy eyes. Tadashi wrapped his fingers around the wrists belonging to the hands holding him and grasped tightly, steeling himself.

"Shuko! Let him go!"

"Sir!"

Hands seized Hirahara Shuko, while others wrestled Tadashi away from him. He coughed harshly into his elbow, grunting at the soreness in his throat where the young man's thumbs had dug into the skin. The security guard wrapped an arm around Tadashi's shoulders as he helped steady him, the sound of his questions of his well-being faded under Hirahara Shuko's cries.

"What would you know about him!? He's my father and I didn't know—!" The young man took in a harsh breath, the tears pooled at his eyes beginning to stream down his cheeks in rivulets. He hiccoughed, lowering his head while the security guard binding his arms behind him hauled him up to his feet.

"That he's… h-he was…"

His mother rushed to his side, trying to plead with the guard while touching her son's shoulder. Her own face was wet with tears but there was no anger in her eyes when she glanced in Tadashi's direction. As the Hiraharas were escorted outside, the guard behind Tadashi followed once certain of his well-being, leaving him to the distant murmur of the waiting rooms and the receptionist's heel click as she rushed to him.

"Yakushi-sensei, are you alright?"

Tadashi frowned and reached into his pocket for the folded piece of paper pressed into the lining. He drew it out and opened the folds, staring down at the dried moisture staining the page. 

"… I'll be fine."