Chapter 15: An Extremely Awkward Recovery

"Real story?" Fuji asks, playing dumb. He pops the lid on the congee. "The real story is that I, uh, have a... deep love for... minimalist, Scandinavian design?"

I just glare.

"And the phone?"

"Phone company. Really. They’re just... very... formal."

"Uh-huh."

I don't believe him. Not for a second.

But I also... don't care.

It’s his stupid secret. Not my problem.

My problem is that I am still in his apartment.

The air is... weird.

He’s eating the convenience store congee. With... relish?

"This is..." he says, taking another spoonful. "This is so good. How?"

"It’s... congee," I say, confused. "It’s rice-mush. It’s for babies."

"It's amazing."

"You... you do eat real food, right? You don't just eat... dog food samples?"

He chokes on a laugh. "I... I'm not a very good cook."

"Clearly."

I'm just standing by the door. I should leave.

My "Aoi-duty" is done. He’s fed. He’s bandaged. He’s not actively dying.

But... his leg.

"What about your leg?" I ask, gesturing at it.

"Oh... yeah." He carefully rolls up his pant leg.

It's not... bleeding. But there’s a... a massive, dark, purple-and-black bruise already forming on his shin.

It looks... awful.

"That looks awful," I say.

"Thank you, Dr. Isuzu. Your bedside manner is... legendary."

"You need ice," I grumble.

"Right."

He starts to get up. He winces.

"Ugh, SIT DOWN!" I snap.

I storm to the kitchen. I yank open the freezer.

It’s... full.

Not with food.

It’s full of... bones.

Like, giant, raw, meaty beef bones.

"I’m not even going to ask," I say, slamming the freezer shut.

"Potato!" he calls out, sounding defensive. "He likes them frozen! It's good for his teeth!"

I find an ice tray. An empty ice tray.

"You are the most incompetent human being I have ever met."

I end up grabbing a bag of frozen peas. (For Potato? For him? I have no idea).

I go back and throw it at him.

"Here. Put this on your leg."

He catches it. "Frozen peas. Classic. Thank you."

We just... sit there.

Him, on the couch, with a paw-print band-aid on his arm, a bag of frozen peas on his leg, and a half-eaten congee.

Me, standing by the door, tapping my foot, wishing I was anywhere else.

This is... so awkward.

BRRR-ZZZT!

My phone.

I snatch it up. It’s Toujo.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" I hiss.

"WE ARE... at the wrong apartment!" he whisper-shouts. "Fuji's key? It opened apartment 301! Not 201!"

I freeze.

"What?"

"Yeah! And... this old lady lives here! And she thinks Potato is her dog, 'Kintaro,' who 'ran away in 1982'!"

I can hear Rika in the background. "She's trying to feed him pickles!"

"Toujo..." I say, my voice dangerously calm. "Fuji lives in 201. The keypad code was for the building."

"Oh. OHHHHHH."

"You... are an idiot."

"We'll be right there! Don't let him die!"

He hangs up.

I put my phone away.

I look at Fuji.

He’s looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Toujo?" he asks.

"He's an idiot."

"I... I gathered that."

I grab my bag. "I'm leaving. Your... dog-sitters... are on their way."

"Hey," he says.

I stop, my hand on the doorknob.

"What?"

"I... Thanks."

He’s not smirking.

He’s not joking.

His blue eyes are... clear. And... sincere.

It's... disgusting.

"Don't," I snap.

"Don't... thank you?"

"Don't look at me like that. And don't mention this. Ever."

"Mention... what? That you saved me from my own incompetence? Or that you're a terrible nurse?"

My head whips around. "I am not a terrible nurse!"

"The band-aid, Aoi," he says, holding up his arm. "It has paws on it."

"It was all I could find in your... dog-shrine!"

He’s laughing again.

"It makes us... 'friends'?"

"Friends? God, no," I scoff. "We're rivals. I'm still going to crush you in the finals."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Good."

I open the door.

"But... Aoi."

"I SAID, WHAT!?"

He gives me a small, tired smile. It’s not his "Prince" smile. It's... just a smile.

It's... dazzling.

And it makes me furious.

"Be careful... going home. Don't... chase any more guys into traffic."

I slam the door.

So hard.

I can hear him laughing all the way down the hall.

I storm out of that building, my face burning.

Stupid, secret-keeping, six-packed, dog-influencing, Prince... IDIOT!

My peaceful life.

Sigh.