Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

• I know I've got to find some serious piece of mind

Alberto Capellini did not say anything about his new son having a stand, half because there were other, more pressing things to worry about, and half because he was still processing it..

The processing part was having a panic over this, trying to find out the logistics of it all. First off, that meant all those plants that grew around him when he was trying to hide? Those were real. They were real plants and he wasn't hallucinating from extreme blood loss, those were real and a five year old made them..

Second thing, how did a five year old get a stand ? There was no way, no way , that Haruno had even the slightest bit of fighting spirit strong enough to handle a stand. He had the smarts to use it, but again, five year old. Whoever thought it was a good idea to nick a five year old with a stand arrow was going to get walloped so hard, they'd end up not into tomorrow, but in the 21st century. Quite possibly missing all their blood too, depending on how Alberto felt..

Third thing was more of a goal, but Alberto definitely needed to figure out what exactly the stand did, because it was better to know than to not. Just knowing that Haruno had one was probably not safe enough, especially considering how easy it was to hurt yourself with your own stand. He cut his hand on Iron Maiden's spikes one too many times to know that..

And fourth thing: that other pressing matter? Yeah, that was Paolo . He knew it was because Rovino screamed followed by no sound of a fight breaking out, and then weird wet sounds. The wet sound was because Paolo had turned his organs into nets and looked so horrifying that, had it not been for the stand giving context, Alberto would've thought he stumbled upon a crime scene. Again. Then again the ones he was at were ones of his own making so he was the pot calling the kettle black..

So, before Alberto goes over the whole "his kid has a stand thing", he must first take care of the "friend currently having a mental breakdown and no one is enjoying the sight" because he would rather not have the pleasure of normal people seeing a man half eviscerated on the floor..

"Paolo," he firmly addressed.

"Hhhhhrhm?.?"

Alberto sucked in his reservations. He glided a hand over Haruno's eyes, who had taken to looking at Paolo despite being five years old. Alberto didn't even want to know what else he had been through to not be phased by it. There was already so much happening today that unpacking trauma on top of the eldritch horror and baby stand was not going to fit in. He hoped ..

In a low whisper, one that was brought to his attention by a small hand shadowing his own, Haruno spoke. "Is Shino- Shi- Signor Bucha- Bucciarati okay.?"

Alberto hesitated to answer, but he should. He sank down into a crouch and held his breath. Tension was felt down his back. "I hope. He's just feeling down right now. I'll go talk to him.."

"Okay." And the look on Haruno's face told him to quicken it. Alberto couldn't stand that dejected look. It was like looking in a mirror but worse..

"Paolo," he called again, and nary a word of coherence fall from the other's lips. Alberto knew it wasn't exactly the fisherman's fault for having such an unstable stand— well  he kinda was since it was a reflection of his soul— but the man still felt bad that the stand was so unruly to begin with. Paolo was a decent guy who kept trying to do the right thing. Sure there were faults, but ones that came from reasonable reactions..

"Look, I…" Alberto hissed a breath; he wasn't good at these touchy feely things. He'd usually be at a loss if he couldn't force some solution. Words were hard, words were harsh. He learned that with his mother's own issues with it. It wasn't that they were always going to be terrible but talking and fraternizing intimately was deeply alien to him, even with his large family. It took until a couple months ago that he actually managed to do something that had a net positive. "I'm not gonna say I know know you, but… bad things happen a lot. You're only what? 30? I'm nearly a decade older than you and have been through more medical emergencies than I can count. Usually, if you can make it through a gunshot wound and still be coherent enough through the shock, I'd take it you can make it through a stabbing.."

God, that sounded so bad. That was like he was downplaying the severity of it. He really fucking hated words but he was literally the only person who could do it since everyone was trying to manage all the other stuff that was happening..

"I just… people are a lot more resilient than you think. I'm not saying to not worry about Bruno— worry about your kid because getting stabbed is still really bad— just, make sure that you're resilient enough to be able to see him through. Hurting yourself like this isn't noble in any sense; suffering may breed wiseness but that doesn't mean you should always suffer. Plus it's getting really hard to look at… any of you, and I'm sure Bruno would want his dad in one piece.."

Tar was in his mouth. Bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. That was bad and he knew it, but it was the best he could manage out of his underdeveloped social skills and the half-coherent man whose organs were on the floor, still writhing and moving as if they were actually doing anything. How did Nonna Casatta and Mela and Cecil and Donatella and Cugina Aglio and literally any extrovert do any of this talking stuff?

Paolo looked at Alberto then to Haruno. It was like something… shifted as soon as Alberto mentioned Bruno by name. The man took in a sigh, a hand half formed and raised, collapsing the limb down. Alberto pulled Haruno back, tripping his leg on the nets and getting his footing. Alberto blinked as he watched the nets slowly melt back into a person, like someone pulling a rope back into a spool. His breath hitched with every part of Paolo retreating back. The man looked… tired. It was clear his coherence was back, enough that he could finally get a word or two out. "Wh- what? I- where? You told me huh?"

"Don't force yourself," Alberto gruffly stated. The tension in his body left him like a puppeteer letting go of his strings. It was like his anxiety was liberated and his reward was the salvation of his nightly dreams. "Welcome back to the land of the living.."

"S'lot today," was murmured out. Alberto's hands remained where they were; the bones were still not complete yet and the organs were still in slices, though the face was finally in one piece again. He could still see the other man's fingers flex on the nets, but it was more of nerves than anything. "I needed that.."

"Go to sleep," and he said that with all the softness he could manage. There was little more than a chuff from the fisherman..

Alberto sighed, lifting up Haruno and setting him onto a chair some distance away from Paolo. Now, he could finally get a couple answers to the whole stand thing. There wasn't anything wrong going on with anyone else, he could finally focus on Haruno..

"Haruno," he started, and then immediately added, "You're not in trouble." Alberto was sure he was overcorrecting but better to cover his bases twice than to not at all. "I'm just curious about something. When we 'met' that day and you pointed the other way, how did you hide me.?"

"Ahm…" Haruno stopped for a moment, and his legs were swinging softly in his seat. He looked deep in thought but Alberto could wait. "Did I do something bad when I did?"

"Ah, no no no no. You did a good thing, girino. You saved my life. I just need to know how you did it." He bit down on his tongue and fought his incoming nausea about his awkwardness. "Did a stand help you out?"

"Stand? Oh, Kin? Yes!" Haruno nodded enthusiastically, squeezing Kaeru-chan tight. "Kin helped make plants to hide you. He's very good at it. See?"

Alberto barely flinched back at the sudden appearance of a being in the seat next to Haruno. The look of it was… uncanny, yet warm. It looked to be the size of a teenager, but lanky and awkward in its seating. Its eyes bore no pupils but Iron Maiden was the same so it wasn't terrifying. Strangely enough the being seemed to look comfortable, with its hands interlaced on its lap and looking lopsided at him, almost fond.

His breath hitched at the being smiling at him. It was still hard getting used to that: people being so amicable.

"And this is… Kin?" That was most definitely a word Alberto didn't know, probably a holdback of Haruno's culture or a word that the child didn't know in Italian.

"Kin is friend!" Haruno smiled. "Ghost friend. He's– he's uh… まほう？ Ah… don't know the word.."

"Okay. So," and Alberto hand racked through his hair, taking his hat with it. His head was spinning from the amount of brain power he had to put into the logistics of this. He almost lamented that he didn't smoke then slapped that thought away because that was a bit too much even for him. His family was really cagey about those things anyway since drugs and smokes weren't exactly well on a family riddled with so many medical problems you'd have an easier time counting what illnesses weren't in their family. "You have a st– ghost friend , that does… mahou? Okay, that's… good..? We're going with good.."

Haruno stared at him with large eyes, ones that squeezed his heart and Alberto hoped that wasn't a palpitation. His son didn't say anything, Alberto knowing full well that this silence wasn't doing either any favors..

He continued. He spared a glance at the "ghost friend" and just as quickly looked away. "It's not a bad thing. Can you tell me what your friend does exactly.?"

Haruno paused, rocking in his seat and looking down. The child then brightened. "Kin make plants! And frog. Mostly plants. That's how Kin saved you! Thank you Kin.."

"Yes, thank you for that," he sighed, finally putting his hat back on. A wave of relief washed over him; the stand wasn't particularly dangerous unless Haruno got creative with it, but it seemed that the child was limited with how big the things he could make. Plants, as long as they weren't poisonous, were not an immediate cause of concern, and frogs were generally harmless all around; unless the stand (because Alberto still wasn't sure on its sentience) deliberately made something dangerous, he could rest a bit easier with this knowledge. "It's nice that it can make frogs.. Frogs are your favorite.."

Haruno nodded, bright and elite. The weight of today's stress was finally letting up. "Mhm! Frogs and ladybugs.."

Just as soon as Alberto was to continue his thoughts, the doors bursted out a very confused set of words from a very distressed Narancia. "Don't help!! Don't help.!"

• Adrenaline crash and crack my head

Risotto Nero would tell you that he didn't have any problems with his team, but that was a fucking lie. Out of his team, one said he was grounded, another was spouting fear-filled nonsense over the phone, two were dealing with one's concussion, and two had yet to get back to him. On top of all of that, he was pretty sure the medicine he ate today was actually someone else's medicine, but he had an appointment today that he really needed to get to. Knowing his teammates, they didn't have any complex medical problems, so what he accidentally took was probably fine. The most he could think up was Ghiaccio's sister, who took medicines for her menstrual cycles; and Illuso's grandmother, who had generic old people health problems. Usually, his team would meet up at their base with those in hand and forget sometime later..

This whole week was hectic anyway, with several jobs popping up that the Boss wanted done as soon as possible. He managed to flick through a few, but not all of them. Risotto specifically noted the grandmother and the cop, as it seemed odd that either was in this bounty. The real crime was some of the fashion; he just couldn't understand why someone would put leather, wool, and denim together like that. At least the women they were after had taste. One even had a very nice… skirt..? It was more like several layers of fabric held together by one clip but it was pretty nonetheless..

He was so distracted today too, even accidentally bumping into a woman on the way to the hospital. His appointment was soon, so he was impatient and didn't say anything to the woman. His track record of crashing into women didn't stop when he entered the lobby, however, as he collided straight into another..

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the other woman snapped, though it was more out of annoyance than anger..

"S-sorry, I'm in a rush. I- I…" Risotto faltered, taking in the look of the woman. She was short, though, that was mainly because Risotto was 185 centimeters; he finally hit his growth spurt after so many delays. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a scowl on her face, but that was due to the aforementioned collision. The most interesting part was what she wore on her waist: a bundle of fabrics of various textures and lengths all held together by a single clip..

Risotto's stomach dropped. This was one of the targets. He could easily deal with her now, but that meant missing out on his health appointment. With Metallica, he didn't need to but Zia Glicemia said that he should be going to every appointment regardless, and with his blood, he really needed to. She was going to rag on him if he didn't. BUT. If he went to his appointment now, he would miss an opportunity to get some money, and he risked losing track of the woman. Here he was standing in front of a gift horse, and he was looking at it in the mouth..

The woman blinked at him. "Well?" She shifts for a moment, leaning in. "Are you alright?."

Risotto could always just do his chelation with Metallica anyway, his aunt yelling at him or not..

"Metallica!."

"Oh shit!" And the woman ducked under her arms for cover..

A beat went by..

"Me- Metallica?" He was trying to focus on the iron in her body and force it out in a horrific way, but nothing was happening. If anything, Risotto was feeling what should've been pain to her in his bloodstream. His hands were outstretched, and he tried to will out his stand, but still. It was like he had been given his late  cousin's sickle cell disease, his blood feeling the slightest edge of pain. Did… did his joints always feel this achy? No, argh fuck. Not again!.

"Were you trying to take out your stand?" The question paused his thought, now realizing he was posing very awkwardly in front of the woman. She looked him up and down. "Are you another assassin?."

"Uh… uh…" Risotto's mouth was agape in embarrassment, and he wasn't sure he should've kept trying but, he was a bit too far in with the summoning his stand. He was eighteen, you could forgive him for his rashness. That rashness however, didn't entirely justify him now decking the poor woman and running off..

"Ow! What the-"

He headed for the stairs, mainly because getting trapped in an elevator with someone you tried to kill was a bad idea. Strangely enough, he could feel the pull of iron in the building, but his strength was not enough for bodies? The only reason this would happen would be if his body was the one with too much iron. It was an unfortunate side effect that if his body had too much iron, Metallica would favor forming inside him than to others. He was not a master of Metallica yet, and he hated that his own body would betray him like that. Usually, if he wasn't going to any appointment, he'd take out the extra iron medieval style, but he didn't eat anything iron heavy today. Did he?.

Risotto coughed, a wave of nausea forced down, and him now realizing the danger. No, he couldn't have. That would've been stupid. His family always told him to be diligent with his medicine, his iron intake, but, it was possible. He could have eaten the one thing he was not supposed to today and was going to not enjoy explaining this to his doctor. Really, how was he supposed to explain he ate his teammates sister's iron supplements to him? Maybe if he ran up to his doctor now, he could still make it?.

He flinched, hearing the door on the first floor slam open, the sound making him hasten up the flights. The woman he had fled from only took a moment to spot him, shouting "Hey!" and rushing after him..

The run up the stairs was messy, and his counting got jumbled the more flights he ran until he was fed up with the winding stairs. A crash through a door (which was a bad idea considering how badly his bones were screaming at him) set him at a long hallway, the stark quiet now interrupted with his entrance. He paused (another bad idea), his mind trying to formulate a plan; he was jumpscared by the woman catching up to him..

"I'm not gonna hu—" 

Risotto didn't bother listening to the rest, instead foolishly running off and into a poor nurse with a cart. He staggered, stuttering an apology and went back to rushing through the halls. Thankfully, it seemed that steel was still at play. Since it was an iron alloy, he'd have less precision with it, but it was better than nothing. By less precise, he meant he could only move the darn things around. He only had Metallica for only… 2 years? He wasn't very innovative just yet, only being able to move iron within someone, and fuck 'em up well enough; his creativity was lacking. It wasn't that he was slacking on it, it was just that he had numerous issues (personal or otherwise) that slowed him down instead. As an assassin, getting them dead quickly was much easier than finding creative ways to do it. Reshaping iron took effort, effort that Risotto's body didn't have on account of him definitely taking iron pills which was really bad for him..

He only stalled for a moment, taking note of the various nurses with their carts. He decided to forgo pleasantries and bulldoze through them. It was possibly a mistake to do that, as he was now trying to block his tracker by using said carts. His hands clenched, and he pulled them towards himself to cause the carts to crash into each other, the sound irritating his ears. Fuck, his stomach hurt..

He rounded the corner, trying his best to ignore his drowsiness and push on, but he was probably going to need a doctor. In his scramble, he didn't have time to dodge another cart, instead using his momentum to go faster and leave the woman in the dust. Unfortunately, being in a building with bends and being in a cart without means to turn said cart meant that he was unfortunately going to crash. Vertigo slammed his senses from the speed, so Risotto didn't have time to even register that plight when slammed into the was equal to his vertigo. He slipped forward, a groan out of his lips and his legs above him; his cousin would probably lambast him for the upside down position..

He felt the metal pool at his backside and Risotto was regretting many decisions he made up till now. Dammit, he was eighteen! He had more sense than more of his other teammates! He was their leader and here he was, struggling against a woman who didn't even want to fight him in the first place. No, scratch that, struggling against his own body that knew he didn't want to fight. He should've listened to his oldest cousin… this wasn't the kind of lifestyle you just crawl out of after you're done. After avenging his late cousin, he should've just stopped…

He probably should've stopped when Metallica failed him, the iron with him being too much, but his lamenting was halted when that lady bounded over the cart he abandoned, and leaves started sprouting..

• Dude looks like a lady

Mela Ghirga kinda hated that she possibly, if a bit irrationally, got punched in the face while asking questions. Still, she wanted her answers, and in pursuit of that, she didn't expect to push her stand like this.

Her answers were probably going to be pyrrhic, in that this fight wouldn't really have any good come out of it. Besides, she was starting to feel really bad for the kid. He looked awful, and maybe sleep-deprived. Whatever the case may be, she was not going to try and beat this guy in a fight, even if he did punch her. It seemed like he realized he was at a disadvantage and ran; Mela didn't care too much. She was just tired and didn't want to check in another kid to the hospital.

Mela was a haphazard individual, one that would often think on the fly more than to slow down and fix any hindrances on the way. If anything, what she thought would be a boost may be a hindrance. She was getting very tired of jumping over carts and pushing aside people. It looked like telekinesis to her, but seeing (or rather not seeing) Donnie's stand meant it could be some other ability. After the third cart she had to parkour her way over, Mela decided that she needed something else to combat this, especially after how many shoes got on medical supplies that shouldn't have had shows on them.

"Looks Like A Lady!" Her dashing came to a halt when she summoned her stand, tearing open the bag and messily spilling the seeds on the floor. That… wasn't exactly intended as she was just in a rush, though she should've looked where she was going. She hadn't even noticed the kid had crashed into the wall or noticed the cart that she so carelessly ran into. She winced from the collision, her hands grabbing her stand and turning it downward, the multitude of apple seeds damn nearing to be emptied out. From the few seconds of nothing happening, Mela surmised that a hospital wasn't a suitable place for her stand.

"Huh. Guess it's just not a good– woah woah wOAH WOAH!"

That was not what happened, and a multitude of trees that looked like ladies sprouted from the lot thrown on the ground, all forming under them and out the window. It was clear to both parties that neither expected this, nor did the teenager expect Mela to haphazardly grab him by the waist when the trees busted through the window. Fortunately, any apparatuses that got caught in it didn't hit either of them, but the event was a surprise to be sure. The action threw both of them out, and didn't stop jostling them. From Mela's very frantic and still moving view, she realized the trees were craving up the side of the building, twisting and turning until..!

It suddenly stopped. The only sounds were all the trees created from the stands, leaves rustling in the whistling wind. They were high up, as was the hospital's height. The people below weren't ants per se, but they looked more like grapes that had fallen to the floor. It was almost calm, unlike the scuffle that happened prior.

"Woah…" She looked up at the kid, noting that he was pretty tall, maybe Angelo's height if the guy didn't slouch so much. "You okay? You took a pretty nasty fall there."

"Mn…"

That pause distracted her for a mere moment, before the teenager whose shirt she was gripping suddenly pitched forward. 

"Woah shit!" The fall stopped for a moment, perusing on the top most tree, when Mela suddenly realized the plant had an expression of worry mixed with curiosity on its face. Well, the fact that it had a face and was capable of expression was a different thing to unpack, but that wasn't important right now. What was important was the fact that the only thing that stopped the two from falling was said tree. It gave a frown. "So this is what Rovino feels about his sentient stand. Weird."

Good news: the tree was holding onto Mela just fine. Bad news: the tree wasn't holding onto the teenager and was holding onto Mela's waist instead. Even worse news: said teenager was severely drained and not very strong at the moment which led to horrible news. That teenager lost his grip on the woman and was now plummeting to the ground. She didn't even want to describe the look of terror on his face upon that realization.

Neutral(?) news: Mela wasn't gonna have someone die on her watch so she jumped out of her tree's grip without thinking up a plan.

She crashed into the other again, grabbing him tightly and fumbling with her stand. The teen stammered, the loud roar of the wind drowning his words. "Ow! Wha- wh- what? What's go-"

"Gimme a moment." She cut him off.

In this fall, Mela realized something. She technically caused this plight. Not the complete cause but the rising and the falling and the falling to their doom thing was her fault. She made way too many trees, so much so that they trailed up and out of the window of the hospital. They were all melding into each other, supporting each other, and now? She and this poor kid were falling from those heights. All the trees' modicum of sentience allowed them to realize this fate. Like a zoetrope, the faces morphed into that of surprise and fear; Mela needed to think fast. She flipped around, the air rushing past her as both of them were heading towards the floor. 

"Looks Like A Lady!" She stuck a hand into Double L Al, grabbing a fistful of seeds and tossing. For a split second their eyes widened as the seeds hit the incoming ground and sprouted out a tree, canceling out their downward force with an equal opposite reaction. Her mouth felt tar, and bemoaned the fact that she recalled a physics fact that Cieco would most definitely tease her on. By all accounts, that shouldn't have worked, but maybe if she was bored enough Cieco could explain that crap more in depth.

Mela was fortunate enough that her fall ended in the soft leaves of her stand, like a bed that caught her. The other person wasn't so lucky, as while his fall was impeded, the action afterward was him falling past the branches and onto the ground.

"Ah..,what the fuck. Mn, never doing that again. Ugh, or maybe I will. I don't know…" Mela huffed, shutting her eyes and making the move to climb down the tree. She made probably enough for a forest today; note to self, do not throw down seeds in a small area. Looks like this tree was trying to tend to him, trying to prop him up against itself. She could see the other person leaning, almost laying down, breathing heavily and looking to the ground. He looked unfocused, catching his breath after that entire chase.

"Alright," and she went right up to the other in some annoyed fashion, but no malice was in her words, only curiosity, "mind telling me why you decked me in the face now? I'm guessing you're another assassin with a stand about controlling metal and all that since you yelled out Metallica and– Are… are you alright?"

The teen didn't respond, only blinking slowly. He looked really shitty. He was kinda lanky, pale, with an uncomfortable expression. His eyes were freaky but then again Angelo's were the same so she shouldn't judge. The teen suddenly jerked, bringing a hand to his mouth, trying to block something from coming up. He failed, and Mela flinched back as the other suddenly threw up. That was already unnerving enough, especially with the followed dry-heaving, but the smell of metal assaulted her nose and she realized it wasn't just regular stomach problems. The puddle he threw on the ground was a dark red, a color abnormal to normal stomach bugs: no.., this was blood he was throwing up.

She immediately threw all other questions out the window, ready to help the kid with… whatever was going on. "Woahkay, questions later. We need to get you to the ER, stat!"

"Ah, ah-ehn… i-ehn ah, iron overlo- I… havta…" He fell to the floor, his hand missing the puddle of red at his knees. If she squinted, she could see globs of silver moving and forming in the color. He started ripping the gauze on his arms, but it wasn't doing him any favors. "Meh… metahl… Metallica… get it— get it out!"

"Ah jeez, don't try to talk now." Mela crouched down to the teenager. Since she didn't know if the blood was coming from his throat, it was better not to risk him talking. "And stop trying to mess with your arms!"

"Mami!" She turned her head and saw her child running to her. "Mami, what's not happening?"

"Ancia? What are you..?" She shook her head, her attention to the very in peril teenager on her hands. She snapped her fingers in front of the other's face. "Whatever. Hey, hey kid. Stay with me, alright? I'm sorry for chasing you, okay? And the trees and the falling and the landing, just… stay with me, okay?"

The teenager moaned, leaning his head against the tree, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his mouth and his eyes still focused on his arms. He was pretty tall compared to her, but the convenient thing about fighting in a hospital was how quickly someone could get medical attention. If she rushed it, she could get someone to take him off her hands.

"Ancia, go get someone in our group and tell them I need help." She wanted Donnie to come in and help with her multitude of hands but remembered that she had run off to get food.

"Uhh, not not not okay!" He ran off, though the sentence her little boy said confused her. Whatever, that wasn't important right now. She had a teenager in dire need of medical attention.

"C'mon kid. I need ya to stand, okay?" She scrambled to get the teenager's arm over her shoulder, the tree besides them edging in as support to get him standing. The duo buckled slightly, the tree suddenly grabbing to halt it, and a wet cough came from the boy. "No no no. We're so close okay? The ER's right there. Just focus on my voice. Just one foot in front of the other."

" ...hurts, " he rasped. She grit her teeth, he sounded awful.

"Don't talk, just listen. Your throat sounds shredded." Step by step, they moved past the tree, and Mela didn't have the energy to dissipate them. The trees would be fine, they were slightly sentient, and she trusted her own soul that they wouldn't do anything stupid. But still, this kid was heavy . "Help is on the way. I hope. Just focus on my voice and putting one foot in front of the other."

"Mela!" The two perked up at the voice. She knew that gruff voice anywhere. A man in a frumpled raincoat spun into view, Ancia and then Haruccia trailing right behind. "What ha– Risotto?"

"Albe–?" Mela cut the teen's words off before he could shred his throat more.

"Angelo! Help me out here, ya goof!"

• Hataraku? Hataraku!

Sekke Cupio was having a pretty monotonous day like any other receptionist. She got relegated to this job after she got lost one too many times, but sorting through and managing things was much easier than the hustle and bustle of other floors. Well, she was still in the hustle and bustle, since her job was in the ER.

There was very little to create dramatic entrances with the invention of automatic doors. It was very convenient and made for little door slamming too. Quiet and quick, people using them could use them without worry. That didn't mean the people using them weren't being dramatic, as a group of five people rushed in suddenly (as opposed to the EIGHTEEN that came in earlier), a mild panic centered around one tall teenager helped in by a scary looking man and a rascal-esque woman. Two children were following behind as well, worry on their faces.

"I don't know! He just started throwing up blood! What's up with that?" the woman cried.

"I-it's his thalassemia. This usually only happens when he ingests too much iron," the man replied, and Sekke realized they were walking towards her.

"Thala-what? Wh- how do you know this?"

She watched as the group would stop and resume their stride multiple times, mostly to make sure the teenager was conscious or at the very least not heading towards the ground, all the while this poor receptionist is hearing this frankly odd conversation.

"You know anything about Metallica then?"

"The band..?"

"THE STAND. HE NAMED HIS STAND METALLICA."

As if to confirm the odd sentence, the teen nodded, though he was more concerned with clawing at his bandages if anything. That person was mostly likely the reason the group was here, as he looked awful. Well that, and the fact that blood was definitely coming out of his mouth. And maybe his arms..?

The man gripped the teenager's arm. "Risotto, stop that."

"Uhh," Sekke slightly rose from her seat, nerves on full display, "Excuse me, do you need he-"

"You!" The man with scary eyes turned and pointed at her, suddenly leaving the woman with the teenager to waltz up to the desk. The two children attempted to help her but were unsuccessful. "Are there any appointments for today?"

Sekke choked, stammering her words, her hands automatically going for her keyboard. "U- u- uh, b- be more specific. There are lots of appointments for today. I'd gladly check him into the ER. I- I just need a name and—"

The man slammed his fists against the counter and leaned over, though it was clear that it was out of worry for the patient and not anger. "Risotto Nero!"

She frantically checked the schedules for the poor kid's name. "Huh, oh. It looks like he had an appointment scheduled a few minutes ago."

"Well clearly he can't go right now!" the woman yelled. As if to support her point, the teenager leaning up against her seemed to throw up more blood.

"Sah… sorry… blegh."

"AHHH, GO. GOGOGOGOGOGO. HE IS BLEEDING SO MUCH," she calmly stated, and by calmly, I mean completely panicky. "GO THROUGH THE DOORS THERE, SOMEONE CAN HELP YOU."

"THANK YOU," the scary man said, the trio of elders finally leaving through the double doors and leaving her with a racing heart.

The two kids that were left behind, to which she wasn't sure why, were peeking over the counter, their eyes wide. 

"No thank you," said the older one.

"What?" she whispered.

"He say thank you. I think," the younger one added, his eyes just being barely visible from her view.

"Uh… well. Were those your parents?" She might as well ask why they stayed behind and didn't follow after them."

"My papa and his mama," was the answer.

"And the other one?"

"Not a stranger," the older one replied. "We know lots about him."

"Got it. Why didn't you follow your parents then?"

"Mn, other family watch us!" the young one exclaimed, pointing to that original group of EIGHTEEN people that had checked in earlier, now a couple people short.

"O- oh, that's nice…" she said, her nerves coming back. Knowing how overwhelming that group was made her all the more worried for that poor kid coughing blood. The conversation ended there, in awkwardness. The younger one led the older one away, and walked off to their presumably other family. Sekke sat back in her seat, the adrenaline now gone.

Maybe this job wasn't for her. Maybe she was better off delivering mail than directing patients. There was so much stress rushing through her for just that one interaction that Sekke would rather not have to go through again. Still, her mind raced with questions.

Why was that teenager throwing up so much blood? Why did two of them have matching scary eyes? Why did it look like the woman holding up the teenager had no clue who the patient was?

But.., she shouldn't pry. After all, this job was made off of meeting people of all walks of life and possibly never getting answers for them. Maybe after today, she'd go home and curl up in a blanket, trying to forget today. Sekke sighed, collecting herself mentally and preparing for the next emergency.