a form of cosmic penance

Soujiro was in prison for eight years, yet lately, he feels as though life started going downhill only after he joined the Fujinomiya estate.

At first, he couldn’t believe that those people would hire him with that record. It all made sense now, but at the time, it’d felt like a sign–perhaps even a miracle.

“...yes.”

Now he realizes that it’s a form of cosmic penance.

“Where do I put them?”

The nurse replies, “Don’t. I’ll be there in a second,” before hanging up.

Thus, Soujiro stands before an empty front desk. The kind old lady that confirmed the nurse’s number is beside him. She didn’t run away when Soujiro walked into the hospital. In fact, she even greeted him. It was crazy. Three cabs wait outside, holding the gift baskets.

“What are we waiting for?” Asks the old lady.

“He said he’d be here in a second.”

“Oh, poor Toshi. He must be planning on carrying all of these by himself.”

“Really?” Asks Soujiro. It’s a bit hard to understand her. Even when using a similar dialect, ‘Toshi’ uses formal language, which mitigates this a bit, but this old lady really clips her words. It’s giving him a headache.

“Really. What if we help him?”

“Uhh… but he said…”

The old lady is already jogging outside. Jogging. Rattled, Soujiro chases after her. “Ma’am, please. Let’s just wait for the nurse.”

“Nonsense!” She opens the door to the closest cab. “Please call me Matsu. What is your name, young man? And where is that lovely accent from?” As she speaks, she picks up a basket.

“Ma’am… Mrs. Matsu…? Please don’t do that.”

“That’s not an answer!” She picks another basket–one for each hand–then heads back into the hospital.

Sighing, Soujiro picks six of them to expedite the process. He can’t forcibly take the baskets away from her, for obvious reasons. By the time he reaches the front desk, “Mrs. Matsu” has already placed hers and gone back for more. “W-wait! Oh GOD.”

Another elder approaches them. “Matsu, what’re those baskets for?”

“Help us, Oda, you fool! They’re gifts from the actress!”

“Is that even allowed?”

If a nurse smoking so close to the medical center is, Soujiro doesn’t see how gift baskets wouldn’t be.

Though he gets ignored, “Oda” joins the party while Soujiro scrambles. Why is that stupid nurse taking so long? Did he go grab some beer?

Fortunately, the second elder struggles to pick one up. “What… is… this… made… of…”

The driver from the cab emerges. “Mr. Oda, Mrs. Matsueda, please stop. Gouda will already kill me when she sees this.”

“Ha,” Is Mrs. Matsueda’s response. “That old blobfish doesn’t scare me.”

Mr. Oda seems to recoil at the name, though. “A-anyway, Matsueda, have you told him about Iroha?”

“Oh!” Soujiro’s heart stops at her exclamation, but Mrs. Matsueda reacts to Oda’s question, not… her bones cracking or something. By this point, the driver has also begun to “help”. “That’s right. Sweetheart, are you single? You see, I’ve been trying to… to find… my, this is heavy, to find a good man for my granddaughter.”

Soujiro drops the baskets he carries to help her stabilize, which is around the time the nurse shows up, pale as a ghost, panting and leaning over the front desk. He looks like he ran down the stairs, which is safer and faster than using that elevator, to be fair. “What the…” He trails off. “How is… why is… Mrs… goddammit, put those things down!”

“Toshi!” Snaps Mrs. Matsueda. “Where are your manners!?”

“S-sorry, sorry. I know.” The nurse runs a hand down his face. “Hino, could you please take those things away from them? Why did you even let them…” He trails off. Soujiro doesn’t like this nurse for reasons he hopes are self-evident, but even then, he can’t help but feel a bit bad for the guy. He does not look well. However, as if on cue, he marches onward, taking the baskets out of one elder, then the other. “I understand that you want to help, but you have to remember your hip, Mr. Oda. Eguchi, why did you even agree to this?”

The driver shrugs. “Hey, it’s a gift. You guys deserve it.”

“A fire hazard is what this is! Just–tell the other drivers to stay put. I’ll deal with this.”

“You look pale, Toshi,” Mrs. Matsueda observes. “You haven’t been neglecting your iron levels again, have you?”

“No, no, I’m… I’m fine.” He rubs a temple, then gives Soujiro a pointed look.

While Eguchi, presumably through a work device, tells the other two drivers not to “help”, he walks out. Mr. Oda doesn’t seem that bothered about stopping the unnecessary labor, but Mrs. Matsueda crosses her noodly arms; thus Soujiro opts to intervene in a different way. A self-indulgent way. The Fujinomiya estate way. “Wait, Mrs. Matsu. What were you saying about your granddaughter?”

The trap works. Meanwhile, the nurse comes and goes with the baskets, two at a time, then four. Soujiro has to hold back the urge to tell him to stop. Still–they’re around the same age and the guy isn’t that thin. Surely he can handle a few chocolate bags. Mrs. Matsueda, plus Mr. Oda, follow Soujiro back to the front desk, where she says, “My granddaughter, yes… she’s great, if I do say so myself. Smart, beautiful, polite, and a great cook.”

“If you’re a horse, maybe,” Mr. Oda opines.

“Shut up, blobfish. You’d adore her, young man. And she’d adore you. Trust me, I know a good man when I see one.”

Meanwhile, the nurse wobbles in with six baskets at once. Soujiro knows he should help, but one, it’s cathartic to see that atrocious nurse struggle, and two, this could be the chance of a lifetime. “I’m flattered, Mrs. Matsu. I’ve been getting into high cuisine lately.”

“What?” Asks Mr. Oda. “Speak normally, city boy. Where you from?”

“Oda! Manners!”

“Kyoto,” replies Soujiro.

“Lovely accent, young man. Ignore this hick. Iroha has gone to Kyoto before. She loves it.”

Iroha… even her name sounds beautiful…

“Oda, make yourself useful. Show him a picture.”

Soujiro’s heart races. A beautiful country girl with a beautiful name… this might be it…

Then there’s a thud.

Then there’s several of them.

Then there’s a, “Shit!” from the driver. As Soujiro and the elders turn around, he sees the nurse fall to one knee as he tries, and fails, to pick the baskets that he just dropped. A second later, he uses one as support, and the next one he collapses.

Soujiro bolts. The driver and the elders loom above them while Soujiro gently taps the nurse’s cheek, but no–he’s out cold. “Oh, dear,” Soujiro mumbles. “If he has the clinic’s main number, who else can we call? Where are the other doctors?”

The locals exchange glances.

“...are there other doctors?”

“Yuu slipped,” says Mr. Oda. “Iroha’s out. The rest are at the other clinic.”

“...fine…” that’s the Nurse. “Don’t. I’m fine. I…”

“Toshi!”

Mrs. Matsueda holds his shoulder so he doesn’t sit up, but it’s futile… well, kind of. The nurse does sit for a moment, but then he’s out cold again.

Incredible.

Something, deep inside, somehow, someway, tells Soujiro that Fuji was involved with this. He just knows. It’s barely been a day and she already took down the entire clinic. “Mr. Oda,” says the driver, “Can you call Mrs. Gou… never mind, not her. Dr. Shimazu? Just not my wife. You know how she is. Ugh, and we can’t even call the other clinic. Any decent hospital is at least an hour away.”

Mr. Oda is already on his phone, dialing.

“Iroha will fix it,” responds Mrs. Matsueda. “She’ll know what to do.”

Mr. Oda sucks his teeth. “She never replies the first two times. Hey, Kyoto kid, can you carry Toshi to one of the beds? None of the old geezers here are of any help.”

While Soujiro picks up the nurse, Mrs. Matsueda asks, “How is Yuu, by the way? I heard she got into a terrible accident.”

The driver walks in front of them. “Nah, it’s nothing that serious. She slipped while bathing the new girl, although she had never had a work accident before, so that was… weird.”

Fuji’s fault, no doubt.

“But I mean–first Yuu, now this? Is this clinic cursed?”

Yes, and that curse is called Fujinomiya Koharu. “Don’t say that!” Chastises Mrs. Matsueda, but even she doesn’t sound too convinced.

While Eguchi the driver guides Soujiro to one of the rooms–makes sense, since he’s apparently married to one of the staff here–Mr. Oda passes the phone to Mrs. Matsueda, who says, “Hello, sweetheart! Oh, I’m doing great. Everything is great… except that Toshi passed out.”

By this point, they’ve reached the room. Soujiro places the nurse on what was probably a bed fifty years ago. As he does, he lets out an exhausted breath. Not good. He’s been slacking off at the gym lately.

Mrs. Matsueda sits at the edge of the bed, nodding, then presses her fingers against his pulse. “It’s weak, yes. Yes, he’s breathing. No, he didn’t… did he fall onto or against anything?” Everyone else shakes their head. “No, he didn’t. He just passed out. No blood, no. Anything we can do to h–fine, fine, I’m not touching anything. Ohh, Iroha, don’t cry…”

…wait.

Wait.

Wait!

Iroha… Dr. Shimazu… her granddaughter…

NOOOO.

After Mrs. Matsueda hangs up, she says, “Iroha will be here soon. She’s bringing a city nurse.” There’s a tense, awkward pause, filled only by the faraway sounds of the sea. “...let’s not be so sullen, boys. Toshi will be fine, though it might take some tough love to get him to take some days off. You know how he gets.”

“Definitely,” mumbles the driver.

More silence.

“I-In any case, Kyoto boy, you’ll adore Iroha, and I’m sure she’ll adore you too.”

“I’m sure,” Soujiro replies. “I’m… looking forward to it…”