Prelude
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The Osaka Private Hospital was one of the most renowned in Japan. It was equipped with the latest medical facilities and, as a rule, employed only the highly qualified and knowledgeable doctors.
'Does it still hurt here?' asked the young doctor.
'Ahhh...yes, duh! Ouch, ouch—It's painful!' The patient twisted his facial features and howled as though he was experiencing an exceedingly mind-numbing pain.
'Stop screaming like a girl.' The doctor grinned, as he found it impossible to make his order a stern one, and stopped pinching around.
'Forgive me, Doc—I'm melodramatic by nature.'
'Right. Anyway, don't carry anything heavy for a week or so. And don't smoke so much, dude.'
'How dare you accuse me of smoking when you clearly have no evidence of—'
'For your kind information, your teeth bear the same shade of colour as mucus; you smell of Marlboro; there are cigarette soot stains on your pants—'
'Oh, fine. Fine. What has smoking got to do with straining my muscles?'
'I have no objections, actually. But in all honesty, I don't want to hear your screams in a cancer treatment room some other day,' the doctor paused, then added, 'Actually, I just don't want to hear you scream. Period.'
The doctor's words caused another round of exaggerate complaints from his melodramatic-by-nature patient who tried to emphasize his point with amplified shakes of his head and hand gestures.
The nurses giggled at this. One of them clasped her hands together and whispered, 'Doctor Hattori is so straightforward—it'scharming!'
'Could you call the next patient for me, please?' The young doctor gave the nurses a polite smile.
'Oh, yes, of course, Doctor Hattori.' The nurse was positively thrilled to have Hattori Heiji talk to her for the fourteenth time in one day, even though the words he spoke were more or less the same.
Perhaps it was because he didn't scowl and say a crisp, 'Next!' to the nurse without sparing her a glance when he wanted to have the next patient called in, like some other doctors did. It may also be due to the rugged smile—although it was only a slight tug of his mouth—that made the hearts of nurses, young and old, flutter and float around all day after seeing the smile just once. If one were to be more precise in analyzing the reasons that the nurses around him seemed to be in a constant state of ecstasy, it could be narrowed down to a sole root cause—his mere presence.
Hattori Heiji, a high school student, was the exception in the rule of the Osaka Private Hospital. He had not acquired a license in medicine, but his uncanny ability in deducing the cause of an illness and effectively treating it was very well recognized by the hospital's faculty. Besides, who would mind having an exceedingly yummy eye candy with a great sense of humor sauntering around in the hospital?
But of course, swaggering around and oozing charm to the female staff and patients in the hospital was not the only thing that he did. He was there to heal patients.
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An alarm to the tune of 'Nanatsu no Umi wo Wataru Kaze no you ni'(Like a Wind Crossing the Seven Seas) rang. A slender arm poked out from the underside of a pillow and stretched out, exploring the corner around the bedpost, searching for the source of the alarm. When the fingertips came in contact with the alarm clock, they clenched into a fist and smacked the poor electronic device, knocking out its breath and shutting off the melody. No doubt, she loved the song—it was the ending theme of Jolly Roger in the Deep Azure, the eleventh movie of Detective Conan, by Rina Aiuchi & U-ka Saegusa, but it intruded her dream and awoke her sooner than she wanted.
After a few minutes of silence, Toyama Kazuha yawned and lifted her quilt. Turning her head on her pillow, her eyes fell onto the framed photograph on her bedside table.
There were two kids who looked to be four, five years old. The little boy was in a midnight blue yukata; he managed to look gentlemanly even though he had an impish smile. The girl wore a peach kimono and had a matching ribbon that kept her hair up; her toothy smile, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and the strawberry ice cream stain on her kimono that she tried to hide with her hand spoke volumes about her personality—easygoing, frank, and naughty.
With an audible sigh, Kazuha did an inelegant stretch and forced herself to get out of bed. Going to school was not an entirely enjoyable thought, but she had planned something she could look forward to.
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