Chapter Text
Mukaze’s foot has barely skimmed the gas pedal before the phone is against his ear. A panic he hasn’t felt for many years surfaces, the sound of his heart pounding in his head. “Pick up, pick up…” he mutters through his teeth, completely ignoring the speed limit and traffic lights while he flies down the street, early morning commuters trying to hinder progress. The sky is beginning to turn orange and his intuition whispers that time is running out. A driver lays on his horn when he disregards a stop sign but he could care less. Like he gives a shit if he gets a fucking traffic violation?
“What’s u-?” Itoya’s voice booms through the speakers turned up too loud, his phone tumbling out of his hand and down into the floorboard. Mukaze vomits out words before Itoya can finish the greeting, thankful he’s awake.
“Get to Obi and Shirayuki now!” he orders, making a hard left, tires skidding across the pavement, the smell of burning rubber wafting up to assault his nose. Thank god he’d canceled his plans to return north.
He notices the tone of Itoya’s voice deepen. “What’s wrong?”
“The bitch tricked me,” a fact that once again steals the breath from his lungs. “There's no time to explain. Grab Kazuki and go!” He’s unconcerned with how desperate the plea probably sounds. What if…what if they are already too late? The tightening of his chest is dreadful.
“10-4, we are enroute and will be there momentarily.”
Both brows furrow. “Momentarily?” His foot becomes even heavier against the pedal, free hand blindly fishing for the dropped cell.
“We never actually backed off of the surveillance, sir. Didn’t feel right after she showed up.”
“Sorry, Pops!” Kazuki pipes up in the background.
They owe him no apology. Not this time.
“This is the only instance in which you get a pass for directly neglecting orders.” His palm finally finds what he is searching for. “What is their location?”
“The cottage,” Itoya states grimly, unable to conceal Kazuki muttering something about an archery date from the passenger’s seat. “They just returned from the Louen’s.”
Mukaze hangs up without another word and hits send on the next contact. That cottage is secluded, private. There are usually safeguards in place but if they’ve been disabled…
He barely suppresses the urge to retch.
He’d hoped all of this shit was finally over. For goodness sake, he had told Obi that it was all over.
It seems like he is always letting down the ones he loves. Once a fuck up, always a fuck up.
______________________
“Hello,” Obi greets, promptly yanking the phone away from his eardrum, a common necessity. The General’s voice thunders through the receiver so loud it can be heard a mile away. Stepping out onto the porch, his feet mechanically slide into shoes while his eyes search the tranquil scenery for Shirayuki’s back, already anticipating how beautiful she’ll be juxtaposed against the sun making its appearance on the horizon.
“Where are you?” his mentor shouts again, disrupting Obi’s daydream.
Phone now at arm's length, he activates speaker mode. “At the cottage, why?” The question is barely out before Itoya’s bushy hair blocks his field of vision, his friend pushing him backward through the threshold. “What the fuck?”
“Stay inside,” Itoya advises, gaze darting around the kitchen prior to locking the front door. Obi watches his training partner make sure the windows are secure, total bewilderment setting in.
“What are you-”
He’d almost forgotten that Mukaze had called.“Is Shirayuki with you?”
Obi’s blood runs cold at the inquiry, immediately darting back to the doorway with zeal. “What is going on?” he beseeches, tucking the phone into his pocket, fingers working in overdrive to free the lock.
Itoya unsuccessfully tries to pry it from his hands.
Mukaze’s voice booms through the air once more, a crazed tone revealing the depth of his fear. “Where is she?”
Obi’s stomach has taken up residence in the soles of his feet, his heart beating wildly. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong and Shirayuki is outside alone. Nimble digits fly to wrap around the cool doorknob, throwing a forceful kick into Itoya’s thigh when he dares another interruption.
Within a flash Obi’s legs lurch off the porch, pumping full speed toward the archery range. He stumbles when a palm roughly cups his shoulder, and he’s getting real sick and tired of this shit.
“It’s not safe!” his friend warns, trying and failing to wrestle him back into the cottage. Obi fights back tooth and nail, sand dispersing in all directions as he tussles with Itoya while scrambling to reach Shirayuki. “Calm the fuck down! We’ll find her. Take your ass inside and wait.”
“Get your hands off me,” Obi growls, twisting to elbow the son of a bitch in the gut. While he’s rewarded with a grunt, his training partner’s grip doesn’t waver, prompting a follow-up right hook.
Itoya dodges his strike, hand roughly fisting Obi’s shirt. The men are now nose to nose, teeth bared in animosity, and so help him, Obi will knock his ass out if-
A familiar yelp carried on the wind causes both of them to freeze. Blue eye wide and full of concern, Itoya reveals, “Kazuki was supposed to get Shirayuki.”
The pair glance at one another before booking it toward the range, sheer panic fueling their stride. Obi finds that he can barely swallow. Mukaze’s worry, Itoya and Kazuki’s intervention…it can only mean one thing. He was never free, after all. Letting his guard down was a dangerous mistake and it’ll destroy him if she has to pay the price for his stupidity.
Stomach devoured by his spine, Obi struggles to get even half a breath of air, his world having once again turned on its axis. With a trembling voice he orders, “You focus on Kazuki. Leave Shirayuki to me.”
Soundlessly agreeing with a nod, the two split up, movements smooth and purposeful. Itoya takes the long way around the dunes that shield the scene while Obi moves directly up the middle. He has no idea what he’s about to burst into, so hopefully their element of surprise will come in handy. What Obi is certain of is that he cannot simply barrel in on the hunt for blood like he would if he was alone. With Shirayuki and Kazuki involved, defense is paramount.
Persevering through the sharp burn plaguing his thighs, Obi curses each and every sinking step up the mountains of sand. His intestines are coiled into a painful knot. What if he doesn’t make it?
He shakes his head with vigor, managing to dispel the unpleasant thought from his mind. He won’t lose her. It isn’t an option.
By the time Obi scales the last dune, the blood pulsing in his veins makes him feel like he’s on fire, and when her red hair graces his line of sight he almost collapses out of relief to see she’s standing upright. “Shira-”
The final two syllables become lost in the cavern of Obi’s throat. That small shred of comfort he’d felt contorts into absolute dread, the weight on his shoulders an anvil. While he isn’t sure what he expected, it certainly wasn’t this.
A menacing presence from his past assaults his eyes, a pinnacle of anger and impulsiveness. It stands only yards away from his beloved, a semi-automatic pistol trained straight in her direction. He’s unable to keep his feet from staggering, knees weak. Shirayuki’s frozen in shock. Fear rolls off of her in waves and it makes him sick. Obi forces himself not to show it.
“Don’t move, Nanaki,” a one-handed man spits from the base of the dune, venom oozing from the order, “or I’ll blow this pretty little lady’s head off.” As soon as the threat is made, harsh delight cuts into his sunken cheeks, the bastard obviously giddy, getting off on this fucked up shit.
It’s disgusting.
And Obi will kill him for it.
Desperate to protect the woman he loves, Obi obeys, stopping in his tracks to assess the situation further. Kazuki is sprawled out on the ground behind the assailant, back moving up and down in a steady rhythm–alive, at least, for now. No sounds of shuffling feet or blades being unsheathed find his ears. There aren’t any others approaching. It appears that he’s acting alone.
Against Obi’s better judgment, he chances another glance in her direction. Shirayuki’s started to shake and it hurts to watch, the sight threatening the last remaining shreds of his sanity. Never in his life have his fingers itched this severely for his knives, but reaching for them is too risky. One wrong move and this trigger happy psycho could harm the person he treasures most. He’ll have to play this carefully, exploiting any and all weaknesses.
“Still alive I see, Kiru,” he drawls, feigning a look of utter boredom. One hand rests against his hip to convey nonchalance. He observes the grip on the gun tighten, this lowlife still a hothead at his core. This…this he can work with. “Nothing better to do than obsess over an old grudge? Pathetic.”
Fury becomes etched into the lines drawn in Kiru’s face, eyepatch shifting upward with a snarl. “It’s your fault I’m like this.” The missing extremity is shaken toward him, the action reminding Obi of a toddler pitching a fit.
With a raised eyebrow, Obi’s stare travels to Kiru’s absent hand. “My fault? Perhaps you’ve forgotten in your old age, but you tried to kill me.” A grand gesture towards his torso makes the vein in his adversary’s neck pop out. “The boss-”
“Don’t talk about him!” the man roars, becoming more unhinged by the second, now waving the pistol around. Obi zeros in on Kiru’s labored breathing, more evidence that the plan is working.
Itoya creeps toward Kazuki behind the idiot’s back. Keeping him distracted…solely maintaining his attention is crucial to the integrity of this operation. If he can bait Kiru into training the muzzle at him, they all stand a chance of making it out alive.
Obi tsks, donning a pitiful look. “Does that strike a chord? Remembering how I was chosen to be second in command and not you?” His arms cross. “Boss did favor me-”
A shot fires into the sky, interrupting his taunt. It makes his stomach briefly drop. Shirayuki’s palms raise to shield her mouth, a muffled scream slipping through the cracks. Her verdant eyes are so wide it’s a miracle they haven’t torn at the seam. Itoya, apparently a humble genius, uses the distraction as an opportune moment to snatch Kazuki, throwing him over a shoulder.
Kiru’s demand is nothing short of a shriek. “Shut! The fuck! Up!” One foot moves in his direction, but at least it’s one step farther away from Shirayuki. Itoya stealthily scoots backward up the hill, inaudibly encouraging him to continue.
He can do it. Drawing the enemy away will lead to a fair fight. Between Obi’s blades and fists, he’ll end this. He doesn’t need a gun to purge this shitstain from the human race.
“You always were one to blame others for your failures,” Obi goads, a dark smirk dressing his lips. “Maybe if you were stronger and had enough sense to find your way out of a paper bag, you’d have received more recognition for your dedication to the Syndicate.” Scorn purposefully bleeds into his laugh, the sound cruel in his own ears. “Yet you’re weak…thickheaded.” Kiru’s trembling and Obi knows it is taking everything within him not to charge.
He piles it on even thicker.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you wouldn’t have climbed the totem pole–even if I hadn’t joined. Your best was never good enough.”
It snaps the last shred of control his enemy possessed.
With a roar Kiru rushes toward Obi, abandoning the hostage situation he’d meticulously contrived and unknowingly providing an escape route for the pair behind him. Malice will always override sense at the end of the day when it comes to this asshole, and for once, he’s grateful that’s the case.
In a smooth dive, he simultaneously pushes Shirayuki out of immediate danger and avoids the yolked criminal, muttering “Get out of here” through his teeth, praying with all his might that she’ll actually listen. Obi’s tone leaves no room for discussion as he shifts to place himself between her and his prey. He grips the knives withdrawn from his back so tightly that his knuckles crack.
The shuffle of Shirayuki’s departure is music to his ears. Only a little more time before she’s out of harm’s way. Then the fight can truly begin and he’ll make this sorry son of a bitch wish he’d never been born.
A question burns on his tongue, eyes now nothing but slits as he regards the aggressor. “Why target her?” Obi does not like the amusement that seeps into Kiru’s features at the inquiry. It makes him want to slice the shitty smile right off his face…and the lowlife knows it.
“Because you care about her. I’ve been watching.”
While he suspected as much, hearing it out loud takes on a whole new level of fucked up. Obi’s brows drop dangerously low. He’ll gouge the bastard’s good eye out for this shit.
“I’d planned for her to die in front of you,” Kiru sniggers, anger once again taking the driver’s seat, gun now trained at Obi’s sternum. “But I’ll settle for this.” His tongue darts out to run the length of his neglected teeth. “I’ve dreamed about killing you since that night I was thrown into the river. I want to see you grovel—beg for your life at my feet like the little bitch you’ve always been.” He takes a step closer, near enough that Obi can smell the remnants of cigarettes and booze clinging to his skin. Nodding in the direction Shirayuki fled, Kiru smiles, a nasty twist of his dry, cracking lips. “And don’t worry. After you bleed out on this beach, I’ll find Little Red and show her what a real man is–see if the carpet matches the drapes.”
Within a second Obi’s rolling sideways, maneuvering to skid down to level ground. Enough time has passed for her to meet up with Itoya. The trio can get the hell out of dodge while he drives a blade right through this motherfucker's heart. He’ll make Kiru regret ever threatening Shirayuki.
He slips one bullet, then another as the enemy advances, nerves settled into steel. Two knives fly from his deft hands, one embedding in the bastard’s abdomen and another in his shoulder. A cry of frustration cuts through the air before a third shot enters the battlefield, much too close for comfort. He’d bet his left nut the bastard’s carrying a double stack magazine–a damn nuisance. In preparation for his next attack, Obi clutches another pair of blades but is caught off guard by a startled grunt, the whites of Kiru’s eyes bulging.
The man’s upper body contorts, seemingly folding in on itself, and when it does, Obi’s brain ceases function. There, atop the opposite dune, stands Shirayuki, bow in hand, expression positively murderous. The shaft of an arrow protrudes from Kiru’s back, his love already at anchor point with a second.
“Drop your weapon,” she commands in a tone he hardly recognizes, “or the next one will go through your skull.”
Obi’s jaw comes unhinged, and if these were different circumstances, his dick would be hard as a rock. But she shouldn’t be here. She should’ve run away as fast as she could and never looked back. He’s a piece of shit loser with a shoddy past that keeps coming back to haunt him. For fuck’s sake, he’s the reason Shirayuki’s in danger in the first place.
If anything happens to her, he’ll never forgive himself.
Fury emanates from Kiru’s hunched form, a shout tearing through his lungs as he pivots. Obi knows what’s about to transpire and there’s no way in hell he’ll allow it. Kiru will point the barrel of that pistol at her again over his dead body. Sprinting forward in a blink, it’s almost as though everything is rendered into slow motion. A knife is expertly released from his grasp while Shirayuki’s arrow soars downward, his weapon barely striking home first. It embeds into the exposed eye socket with a rewarding thud. The wretch ducks from pain, narrowly managing to avoid the second projectile, her shot grazing his scalp. Obi pinpoints the flash of Itoya’s silver hair briefly re-enter the fray next to Shirayuki before all hell breaks loose.
A curse is carried on the wind before Kiru clearly says fuck it, blindly pulling the trigger and waving his gun without abandon. Bullet after bullet exits the magazine which Obi can now say with complete confidence is not a single stack. Shirayuki has the wisdom to fall on the ground and cover her head, Itoya shielding her with his body before rolling them away. Obi tries to seek shelter himself, though there’s nowhere to hide–he’ll have to make a break for it. Pelting the maniac with one final blade, the metal strikes true, but not before a burning sensation lances through Obi’s knee, leg buckling beneath his weight.
“Shit,” he hisses, dragging himself away, both eardrums ringing from the deafening blasts fired one after one.
Abruptly, the air stills, only a phantom buzz filling his head. He risks a peek to determine if Kiru had simply run out of bullets or put himself out of his misery. If it’s the former, Obi has every intention of sauntering over to slit his throat. Surprise skyrockets Obi’s eyebrows into his hairline when he spots Mukaze standing over a motionless body, the final shot apparently his own.
“Are you alright?” the General asks, toe roughly nudging the man crumpled at his feet. Obi can barely hear him, watching as a glock is tucked away for safekeeping.
He doesn’t bother answering, choosing instead to lean into his one-track mind. “Shirayuki!” He tries to stand so that he can reach her. “Shirayuki!” Desperation is evident in the way Obi calls her name, his stare scanning the periphery for any sign of her. Please, please, let her be ok. Gravity pulls him down, knee once again failing. Bright, warm blood trickles out from the gunshot wound but he doesn’t care. Pushing up from the sand, he hops on one leg in the direction she’d last been sighted.
“Obi!”
Shirayuki’s head pops up and he doesn’t know that he’s ever been so happy to see her. In seconds she’s skidding into his arms, the force knocking him back on his ass. He can’t help but bury his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing in the familiar lavender of her shampoo. His vision starts to swim. Blinking rapidly, Obi pries her away to inspect for injuries, thankful when he only pinpoints a few scratches. Clearing his throat, he embraces Shirayuki again, barely keeping the tears at bay.
She struggles against his hold, trying to wriggle out from the hands around her head and waist. “You’re hurt!”
“I’ll be ok,” he whispers, placing a chaste kiss on her temple. “Just-just stay here with me a minute longer.”
She must hear him, for she stills at the plea, fingers gripping the material of his shirt until it's bunched within her fists. He can feel tears silently soaking the fabric stretched across his chest. “I’m sorry.” The apology sounds as if it's been punched out of his stomach. “I’m so sorry.”
“Everything is f-fine,” Shirayuki tries to soothe but the words are wet and broken. “I-I’m fine.”
Teeth dig into the tissue of his cheek, the taste of metal flooding his mouth. Obi manages to nod, despite the fact that very little about this entire scenario feels “fine.”
Trying to dry it up, she sniffles out a “Let me see your leg,” and he caves.
It takes him about two seconds to regret the decision when Shirayuki’s cheeks pale. Haphazardly wiping her face, she jolts upright to dust the sand from her clothes. Obi watches her movements transform from purposeful to frantic while she digs through her pockets. “We-we need to get you some medical attention. I have to find my-”
“I’ll call an ambulance.”
Both their heads turn toward Mukaze, who is awkwardly shuffling away, fingers already tapping at the screen in his grasp.
Even though Obi’s hearing is still re-adjusting, the message is received loud and clear. That’s the last thing Obi wants to do right now. “No!” It comes out more forceful than he intended, making Shirayuki flinch and halting Mukaze in his tracks. He tries to scramble away, though not before Shirayuki latches onto his forearm, grip a vice.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Each word is punctuated with menace, not unlike the fury present when she’d been armed with her bow. “You are going to the hospital!”
Obi knows that physically he’s much stronger than her. He could easily pull away, yet the stern tone and furrowed brow has some strange power over him, cementing his ass in place.
It doesn’t stop the avalanche of thoughts cascading through his brain. No others from the Syndicate are here now, but what if more are coming? They cannot afford the potential publicity. This would put them in danger–her in danger. “No.” Obi’s neck shakes back and forth wildly, his entire form trembling. It’s embarrassing but he can’t make it stop. “It isn’t safe.” Fuck his leg. Shirayuki’s life is far more important.
“It’s perfectly safe.” The General’s chin is low when he assures, “He was the last one.”
Indignation rises up. “You said-”
“I know what I said!” Within seconds he storms their way, a vein in his forehead bulging. “I fucked up. My ego got in the way. I wanted…I wanted to protect you—both of you. The realization that I’d made a mistake came too late. Now, right this very moment, I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that this was the last shred of your past that will ever surface. That’s a promise. Do you understand?” Mukaze crouches, attempting to force him into acknowledging the declaration. “Do you understand?”
When Obi doesn’t respond, his mentor’s teeth grind together. “You will go to the hospital if I have to knock you out and drag you there myself.”
Testing the water, Obi glances around for an escape route. Mukaze reminds him of a volcano about to erupt. Itoya guards the area behind him, seemingly unscathed, not blinking while he plucks a twig out from his ponytail. Both arms cross, countenance daring him to make a break for it. Shirayuki’s expression is also set, though it barely holds on by a thread, her lashes filled to the brim with unshed tears. That alone is his undoing. “I’ll go.” Relief floods their posture, his girlfriend instantly volunteering to support some of his weight when he tries to stand. “But I’m not getting in an ambulance.”
“We’ll take my car,” she concedes without missing a beat, already beginning to lead him away.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mukaze’s arm wraps around Obi’s other side, bearing the brunt of his pressure. “Blood all over Constance’s floor boards? We can take mine. Itoya, help me out.”
Without blinking, his friend relieves a reluctant redhead who’s apparently willing to go along with this since he’s agreed to see a proper physician.
“I’m fine, too. In case you were wondering,” Itoya snarks with a jab to his ribs. It makes Obi snort.
“And Kazuki?”
“Alive–seems pistol whipped.” Itoya shifts closer. “How’s the leg?” he asks under his breath, as not to startle Shirayuki. Obi almost misses it.
“Peachy.”
The response is little more than a growl. “Don’t fuck with me.”
Making sure she’s out of earshot, he mutters, “Can’t feel a thing.”
_____________________
The air circulating through the surgery waiting room is frigid, goosebumps crawling up her arms and legs in droves. She paces the rows of royal blue chairs, neck craning from the bright white tile to the scrolling display every few seconds. Waiting for the screen to indicate “Recovery” was driving her mad. It feels as though she’s lost years of her life, not mere hours, “the real-time” updates happening far too slowly.
“Yuki, hun,” Yuzuri prods from the bed she’s fashioned out of empty chairs, “you should sit down and rest. There’s no telling how long he’ll be in there.”
Shirayuki knows it’s true but the reminder doesn’t serve to calm her nerves. Her hands are shaking. “I don’t think I can,” she admits after a moment, arms hugged against her chest. “Too anxious…”
Even sipping on the gingerale Ryuu had thoughtfully delivered managed to turn her stomach. To be honest, she’s a bit of a wreck. The mere sight of her lanky friend standing in the hallway, arm elevated in an awkward wave, had sent her over the edge. She’d apologized after the tackle, then burst into tears when he gently patted her back in understanding.
Obi had tried to soothe her after receiving the news that his patella was fractured. “Not to worry!” Then again after learning surgery was recommended right away to avoid infection. “They’ll fix me up good as new, just wait and see!” Yet the plastered smile was brittle and the lilt of his voice exaggerated, clear evidence that he was putting on a brave face for her sake.
A sigh makes her feel like a deflated balloon. Shirayuki’s lost count of the number of times she’s stretched her back or scrubbed at her eyes. There’s always an element of risk with surgery and she struggles to block out the more distressing possibilities–neurovascular damage, errors or complications…a shudder runs down her spine at the idea.
Curling onto her side, the look Yuzuri gives Shirayuki is knowing. “That’s to be expected under the circumstances,” her friend sympathizes, standing to wrap a warm blanket around her shoulders, the very same she had been snuggled beneath. It’s comforting, Shirayuki powerless to refuse her embrace.
Yet so like Yuzuri, the tender moment is fleeting, the blonde unable to handle a quiet room. “Where’d the scary guy go?” she mutters in her ear, a blend of curiosity and wariness.
Shirayuki barely smothers a laugh, drawing back. “You mean, Itoya?”
“That really intense dude with the scar running down his face,” her friend tries to mime without drawing too much attention, loosening up when he’s nowhere in sight. “Did he leave?”
“No.” She pulls the fabric draped over her form tighter, knuckles turning white. “He’s outside giving a statement.”
Trying not to think about the events leading up to this point has been difficult, though manageable. She’s aiming to compartmentalize it for now, Obi’s well-being her number one priority. On the way to the hospital, the group ironed out what information would be shared with the authorities and which details would be kept amongst themselves. Shirayuki packed most of it away into an unpleasant box, only removing the lid for her own interview and a rudimentary synopsis for close friends.
“And that other man?”
Ah. Her teeth threaten to snap shut. Another topic she’ll skim over for the moment. “At the police station–evidently he was working with the department on this case and is tying up loose ends,” she air quotes, endeavoring, and apparently succeeding, to appear unbothered.
“How crazy is all of this?” Yuzuri rubs her forehead, a low whistle puffing out her cheeks. “It’s lucky you were all there.”
Lucky isn’t exactly how Shirayuki would choose to describe it. “I suppose,” she acquiesces with a shrug of her shoulders. “Truth be told-”
The statement is cut off by her best friend emphatically pointing toward the wall. “Look! He’s out!”
Shirayuki glances up in time to spot the gray “Recovery” update leave the screen and be replaced with a sea of yellow and green, other patients’ preoperative and in-progress notifications displayed to comfort others waiting in the same room.
Relief floods her system and she’s finally able to sit, nestling into a stiff chair the best she can. Yuzuri settles beside her, taking her hand with a gentle squeeze.
She’ll see Obi soon, and when she does, hopefully she will breathe more easily.
_____________________
Almost an hour passes before a staff member collects Shirayuki, Yuzuri, and Itoya from the waiting area and escorts them to a more secluded space that smells of bleach, explaining that Obi will soon be transferring to a room he’ll stay in overnight. With late afternoon quickly approaching, she’s glad to hear that he’ll remain in-patient at the hospital for the time being, a physician available if something unexpected occurs. When the nurse turns to leave, a more familiar face darkens the door, Shirayuki almost melting onto the recently mopped vinyl. Reading the room, Itoya mumbles that he’s going to make some calls while Yuzuri dismisses herself to go visit Suzu, the pair clearly trying to give her some privacy.
Yatsufusa enters after their exodus, scrub cap still in place, eyes barely visible. It's rare to see him out of the operating room, but Shirayuki knows he’s trying to bring some comfort.
“He did well,” the surgeon praises, lowering his surgical mask. “The exit wound was as clean as could be expected. I completed irrigation and debridement, repaired the fracture with wiring and screws. Physical therapy will assess him first thing in the morning, if he’s cleared.”
She barely manages to swallow the lump in her throat. “What about his pain?”
“I’ve recommended something for that and the inflammation. The doctor assigned to him can go over all of that with you in finer detail. Pain management can be consulted, if necessary, but you already know that.”
Her nod is rote, mouth dry as a bone. “And…and the expectations for a full recovery?”
Shirayuki unsuccessfully ignores his lips pressed into a thin line. “Generally positive, though I won’t make any guarantees. There are several factors at work here. We’ll have to see how his body responds to the surgical intervention and how he tolerates outpatient therapy.”
“So…optimistic?” she fishes, trying to make him meet her stare.
The colleague indulges her to a degree. “Based on what I could see in the operation alone, yes. Four out of five people with this type of injury do not experience lasting effects.”
“Can I see him?”
Yatsufusa’s smile is soft. “Soon. He’s in and out, but he’s already been asking for you. Higata will come along and show you to his room once the transfer is complete.”
Lost for words, Shirayuki simply thanks him and claims a seat directly beneath the clock.
Time is going by slow enough, she doesn’t need the constant reminder.
__________________________
Shirayuki bolts upright when the door opens moments later, yet is frozen in place when she sees who has entered the room–a broad-shouldered man with maroon hair and a forest gaze, a man she hasn’t seen for a long, long time before today. He looks incredibly nervous.
“I-ah, I’m finished up at the station for now. My contacts should be handling everything going forward. Thought I’d…I thought I would come and see how everything is going.”
Verdant eyes track the palms fidgeting with the hem of his robe. She barely smothers a snort. How everything is going? Not well.
Her boyfriend just went under the knife because he saved her from being held at gunpoint. There’s a twenty percent chance he’ll walk with a limp for the rest of his life. There’s a one hundred percent chance he’ll blame himself for this turn of events for the foreseeable future.
So yea, not well.
By some miracle, Shirayuki manages to keep her mouth from spewing those thoughts out loud. “Seems to be going as expected.”
Questions hang between them and she can’t stand it any longer. Obi had attempted to discuss the sudden reappearance while they waited in the emergency room; she’d shut him down. It wasn't the most important thing on her agenda. Now that Obi’s made it through surgery without any complications, she’s had plenty of opportunity to reflect, a plethora of feelings rising to the surface.
He reaches up to graze the five-o’clock shadow on his chin. “You probably don’t remember me-”
“I know exactly who you are,” Shirayuki interjects, matter of fact. “You’re my father.” Crescents cut into her palms, fists clenched. She watches him sway, shocked by the recognition, wind seemingly knocked from his lungs.
Aware of his identity from the start, she’d held her tongue at the cottage, through the car-ride, and during their interaction in the lobby, but this has been a really rough day and her restraint has dissipated.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.”