the air is heavy like a blanket

Knitting while riding a bicycle is not a good idea. Most people intuitively know this, Koharu being one of them. She only went through with it because she had to get her crafts and arts channel off the ground. Granted, it worked—she got a record-high viewership—but she also got into a horrible freak accident.

so irresponsible

She didn’t get any life-altering injury, nor did she harm anyone else. It hurts a lot, though. There’s physical pain, and then there’s delaying an entire season of the show she stars in due to her pathetic tomfoolery. She also got dropped by her sixth-favorite skincare brand.

celebs do anything for attention these days

Koharu alternates between gazing out the window of the cab and reading delightful comments from fans.

I laughed when she rolled down the hill

She could’ve stayed at the hospital her parents and grandparents and neighbors and her doctors’ doctors use. There is nothing wrong about it. The staff are friendly, amenities are abundant, and it’s inviting and sterile like cheap soda. There is also nothing right about it. 

***

By the time she reaches Otohama Medical Center, she has more DMs than broken bones. Most of them are from her manager. A couple are from her parents. One of them is from her evil co-worker who seems to think they’re friends for some reason.

The cab stops at the entrance of the building, yet… there’s nobody there. Koharu had her assistant call the medical center beforehand. Where are the nurses? Will no one help her with her luggage? “Soujiro.”

“Yes,” replies her assistant, “I called them. Yes, I told them. Yes, I reminded them. Yes, they said they’d be here. Yes, your luggage is on the other cab. Yes, I’ll feed your ferrets. No, I haven’t told anyone where we are. No, I won’t feed that monster fish. Anything else?”

“...that’s not a monster fish. Also, don’t be so insolent.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

By virtue of being her partner-in-crime, Soujiro also seems to believe that they’re friends now. Koharu waits with her good leg dangling out of the car while Soujiro plays on his phone. She stares at the medical center. It’s nice. Brittle and small like a sand castle, but nice. The air smells like salt and is heavy like a blanket. “Call them again.”

“Ughhhkkk…” But he complies; within seconds, he’s dialing the hospital again.

A metal scream ughhhkkks close enough for her to jump. This injurious sound ends when someone picks up the call. “Good afternoon. You’re calling Otohama Medical Center. How can I help?”

Said someone sits on a bench across the street of the medical center. He’s dressed as a nurse, phone in one hand, cigarette between the fingers of the other. Soujiro, who’s squinting at the guy, says, “Good after… uh, there’s a guy smoking right close to the building. Is that…?”

The nurse glances at them from the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t bother turning his head to them. “...ah.”

“Is this really the right number?”

The nurse hangs up. He goes back to smoking. Is that even allowed? How isn’t he getting fired on the spot? Didn’t he see them already? Why is his number the first point of contact? What is he waiting for? “Soujiro.”

“What? I can’t just yank that thing off his fingers.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking—”

“Fine.” Koharu sighs. “Give me the phone.”

“Gladly.”

After she takes it, Koharu calls the insolent nurse, jumping again when his phone blasts the metal scream. Since he probably saw this, he lets it ring for a bit. His greeting upon languidly picking it up again is, “Hi.”

“I need a wheelchair,” Koharu says. “Also, you’ll need more than one of you to help me with my luggage.”

He glances at them again, head resting on the back of the bench. “Sure, sure, Ms. Fujinomiya. I’ll be there in a second. Anything else?”

Now he’s looking at her, and she’s looking at him. Pointedly, almost, he takes a drag. “No. Actually, I don’t need a wheelchair anymore. I’ll do it myself.”

“Mhm… wait, what—”

“Fuji,” Soujiro croaks. “Calm down, don’t be so—oh god.”

Koharu stands, which is to say that she wobbles next to the car on her good foot. Leaning her arm on the roof of the car helps, but it pales in comparison to the look on the nurse’s face, which is… isn’t… wait, why isn’t he worried? Is her suffering amusing to him? To his “credit”, he then stands up.

“Fuji, please. Get back in the car. He has a wheelchair, see? It was next to the bench. He’s setting it up. Just… sit down.”

“No.”

And she doesn’t—not until the nurse is right there with the wheelchair before him. His expression is amicable the way a carnivorous plant is to lure prey. Koharu would know, since she has a collection of them. “Need help?” Asks the rafflesia nurse.

“No.”

“Yes,” Soujiro says. “Ignore her.”

Koharu lets herself fall on the chair. It’s excruciating, but it’s worth the pyrrhic victory. “I s-said no. Also, it’s Fujinomiya.”

“Well, glad to see that was resolved,” Soujiro says as he audaciously ignores her. “I’m Hino Soujiro and this is… well, I don’t think she needs introductions.”

“Nagumo Munetoshi,” says the nurse, without even looking at her. “Pleased to meet you.” (What an impressive name for someone so unimpressive. And rude.)

“Yeah. So, Mr. Nagumo, I’ll help with the luggage. Please take her to her room or however it works. I’m assuming that you know what happened already.”

Koharu has always found Soujiro’s lack of professionalism endearing, mostly because he doesn’t know any better. Perhaps this nurse is the same; he doesn’t know any better. Maybe. It could be. As Nagumo takes the wheelchair’s handles, he says, “We received the full medical report already, yes.”

“So you haven’t seen the video?”

She hears the snort before he bites it back. Never mind, he’s just evil. If Koharu weren’t so mature, she’d grip on the wheels while he takes her to her room just to make him trip, then run him over repeatedly.

Even worse—Soujiro does that thing where he covers a smirk by rubbing the back of his fist against his mouth. “Anyway… I’ll be around until you’ve settled down, Fuji… nomiya. Also, again, if you have any second thoughts about staying here…”

“I won’t,” she replies.

“...yeah, well, we’ll see.”

That’s what everyone says. ‘We’ll see’. Each and every time she proves them wrong, yet they keep saying it anyway.

Koharu won’t have any second thoughts about going back, just like she had no second thoughts about her stunt with the bicycle (or any, to be fair), her decision to get a “useless” degree, her acting roles, her singing style, her failing arts and crafts channel, or the 93 alt accounts she uses to argue with hate comments. The list goes on and on. She. Does. Not. Have. Second. Thoughts.

As the rafflesia nurse pushes her towards Otohama Medical Center, Koharu closes her eyes.

The air is heavy like a blanket.

The air smells like salt.

The air is orange like the sky.

The air sings along with the waves.

Otohama is a seaside town with a population of 759 located a thousand kilometers away from her agency with nurses that act like prison wardens. Why she “insisted” on getting transferred here will forever be beyond everyone but herself. And that’s great—it’s the only secret she gets to keep.