Disclaimer: I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

Note: Several people have asked how many chapters I anticipate this story to have. The story was mostly planned out from the beginning. How many chapters it will take to complete, I'm not sure.

Chapter 21

"Looking for this, Nyamo?"

"Wha—! Where did you find that!"

"Oh, I have my methods."

"Yukari! Give it back!"

It was nearing five in the morning. A seat in the waiting room had opened up and Nyamo had been occupying it for the past several hours. Her back and neck were aching and she had leaned her head back against the wall in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. Her eyes were closed but she was no where near falling asleep.

Thoughts churned through her mind like products on an inspection belt. Yukari, Yukio, the car accident, the old man, the vice principle, dance clubs, drugs…She was still having a hard time believing that she had come across Yukari at all. The entire thing made her want to think that it had been a set up. Coincidences did happen. Then again, she had always taken comfort in the belief that there were no true accidents.

"Are you Ms. Kurosawa?"

A male voice came from in front of her and brought her from her musings. She opened her eyes to see a man in a collared shirt, black pants, and a white doctor's coat. The man was tall with cropped black hair and dark eyes, leaning slightly on a cane in his right hand. He looked to be in his mid forties and was rather attractive in the face. Tucked under his left arm was a patient chart. Immediately Nyamo shot up from her seat.

"Is Yukari all right?"

The doctor shifted the chart from under his arm and opened it in his hands with a sigh. This was one of the many things he regretted about his job. Years go he had gone to medical school with idealistic intentions of being able to help people. At the end of every year since then, he realized that there was no glamour in working with the ill and dying. There was no room for false hope where hope could not exist, and there was no point in sugar coating the future for those who had none.

"Ms. Tanizaki…They're cleaning her up right now."

"And?" Nyamo's tone grew impatient. Whenever someone didn't get right to the point it could have only meant that they were hiding something. "How is she doing?"

"We've done what we can for now," the doctor replied and flipped through the procedure notes in Yukari's file. He then closed the file and crossed his hands in front of him. His gaze and tone were both matter-of-fact like a weatherman reporting the daily forecast. "I can't tell you that her complete recovery is guaranteed. The blunt trauma to her head caused inflammation of the tissue surrounding her brain, the dura mater to be precise. As of yet we're not sure how severe the damage to her brain itself is. It may be severe, and it may be nothing at all."

Nyamo felt her breathing grow deeper. Her cheeks became hot and she had to bite her tongue to try and keep herself from crying. If Yukari didn't recover, it would almost be just as devastating if she did and wasn't the same as she used to be.

The doctor did his best to ignore the reaction he could see beginning to form on the woman's face. He would have been able to enjoy his job a lot more if medical science didn't include dealing with actual people.

"Her right arm is broken, and an x-ray of her chest revealed fractures in three of her ribs. We managed to set them, but later surgery may be required to ensure that they don't heal at odd angles and protrude against one of her lungs. I read over the form you filled out. You said that she was in a car accident?"

"I wasn't there…but yes, she was," Nyamo nodded.

"Ah. That explains her legs. As you may have been able to tell, both of her legs were broken, and I would be lying to say that the damage isn't considerable. Her left leg sustained one significant fracture of the tibia. That should heal within a few months. Her right leg, however, was broken in several places. Pieces of its fibula were missing and what pieces we didn't have, we had to compensate with grafts. Currently, the leg is being held together with pins until the bones conform to those grafts."

"So she'll be able to walk, right?"

The doctor took in a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Again, I'm not making any guarantees. The bones were shattered. Whether or not she'll be able to use her right leg again depends on how well her body adjusts to grafts. Either way, considering her current state, it's going to take months of physical therapy before she's even able to stand on her own two feet without assistance."

Nyamo felt herself sinking back down into her chair. She brought her hands up and pushed the heels of her palms against her eyes, no longer able to stifle the flow of tears. It couldn't happen that Yukari would spend the rest of her life in a wheel chair or on crutches. If that happened then the majority of her competitive potential would be brought to a screeching halt. No more relay races, no more wrestling for the TV remote, no more dancing, no more swimming, no more of anything that required rough housing or speed. For Yukari that meant there would be next to nothing left.

The doctor shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, bringing his cane up to hook onto his forearm. He reopened Yukari's chart and skimmed over it one more time to make sure that he was relaying accurate findings. When Nyamo made no reply, he cleared his throat and continued softly.

"I'm afraid that's not all. Aside from being malnourished and underweight—um…The nurse did tell you about the results of her blood work?"

"I know, I know…" Nyamo sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. As much as she wanted to know the details of Yukari's condition, there were also some things that she didn't want to hear about. She would have rather ignored the extent of Yukari's drug use. Somehow she considered it a failure on her own part.

"The puncture wounds on the backs of her hands have been stitched up. Unfortunately the veins have already been over exploited and one in her left arm has collapsed. A collapsed vein is irreversible, but if Ms. Tanizaki chooses to pursue it, we may be able to correct it surgically. As for the—'substances' themselves, her results came back with—"

"Don't tell me," Nyamo interrupted him and stood up. "Just…I would rather hear it from her…If that's all right."

The doctor nodded and shifted his cane back into his right hand.

"I understand. Let me just forewarn you that the results were not encouraging. In a few days we'll be transporting her to our drug rehab department where she'll stay for about two weeks. During those two weeks I would advise you to keep from visiting her."

"What?" Nyamo frowned angrily. She looked up met the doctor's gaze to see just how serious he was being. He couldn't have really thought that she would just leave Yukari there in the hospital for two whole weeks without even a single visit. It hadn't even occurred to her that she should leave the hospital at all unless Yukari was coming with her. "What the Hell do you mean by that?"

"It's for your own benefit and for hers. With the type of drugs that had have weaved their way into her system, it's going to get ugly when they're weaving out. Drugs will be the only thing on her mind, and if you pay her a visit I doubt that she'll do anything more than beg and plead with you to supply her with another hook up."

It had happened before that a patient's recovery was inhibited by a sympathetic family member who would occasionally sneak in with something at the patient's plea. Due to higher security measures, such instances were less frequent, but still there was the emotional toll to consider. Withdrawal was never a graceful thing. Often times it was violent, and in rare cases even fatal when a person's body simply couldn't adjust.

"I'll take my chances," Nyamo replied curtly and brushed past the doctor on her way from the waiting room. She couldn't just leave Yukari alone for two weeks. Someone had to be there, even if it meant seeing Yukari reduced to a whimpering mess. By now Nyamo was sure that nothing else could be worse than what she had already seen.

The doctor turned and held his hand out to the woman's retreating back.

"Wait. There's something else you should know."

"What is it?" Nyamo stopped and looked over her shoulder. She didn't want to hear anything else right now. She just wanted to see Yukari and believe that everything would be fine. Instead at every corner she was being met with pessimism and facts that weighed against Yukari's chance at recovery.

"About Ms. Tanizaki…" The doctor approached her steadily, his expression stern, but calm. "I'm not sure if you were aware of this, and if you weren't then I don't want to get your hopes either up or down. Right now her condition is very fragile and we're not—"

"Would you just tell me?"

"Well…" he took in a deep breath. For a moment he wondered if he should have said anything at all. Like everything else regarding this current case, nothing was a guaranteed success. Nonetheless, he met the woman's gaze and lowered his voice gently. "She's pregnant."

---------------------

The dealer slumped at the base of an aluminum door. The door was one of a dozen like itself located along the top floor hallway of an apartment building. The floor of the hallway consisted of brownish, vinyl tiles that had been white many years ago. Age and disregard had left the tiles cracked and covered with mystery strains ranging in color from red to black to yellow. At the end of the hall, water was leaking out through minute cracks in the foundation. A thin puddle had formed and expanded all the way down the length of the hallway to the stairs.

It had taken the dealer two hours to reach the building. With the use of only one leg and half of his body nearly shredded of its skin, he was surprised that he had been able to make it anywhere at all. Going to the hospital had been out of the question. His information would have been pulled up and so would his previous criminal records. There was no way that he was going back to jail. He would take his chances elsewhere, and that decision had landed him there in that hallway.

One trembling arm he lifted and pounded against the door.

"Kiyoshi! Open up!"

After a few seconds with no response he banged against the door again. There was no where else that he could go right now. If no one was home then he would have to curl up and wait. He was still pounding on the door when suddenly it was yanked open.

On the other side, the man who had opened the door stood with an expectant smile. Looking about in his sixties, he was stocky and wore a dirty white beater and baggy jeans. His light orange hair had more of a grey hue to it and had been spiked with its own natural grease. The most distinguishing feature of his expression was his lips that had a way of curling back into maleficent, cat-like grin. On the back of his neck was a tattoo of three conjoined rings.

"Hey! I've been—" Instantly his grin would fade when he set his gaze upon the mess of a man laying at his door step. "Holy shit! What happened to you? And where's Yukari?" Yukari was the only reason that he looked forward to seeing the dealer in the first place. They had made several trades in the past. He gave the dealer a few sheets or poppers, and in return he got to spend twenty minutes with his girl.

"Don't even say that bitch's name!" the dealer snarled and dragged himself up to his good leg. He braced his hand to Kiyoshi's shoulder and limped inside. "You gotta help me out. I need some mescaline or somethin'!"

"Whoa, hold on!" Kiyoshi put his arm around the man's waist and guided him into the main room of the apartment.

The apartment was furnished on a very vague level. There were no electronics, and the only furniture in the living room was a beaten love seat, a futon mattress in the corner, and a wooden crate in the center. Around the wooden crate were several towels that had been folded to serve as seats. On the far side of the living room, laying on the floor against the wall was a girl of about ten. The girl didn't stir, though she was breathing steadily and her eyes were half open. It was winter, but she was clad in a summer blue school uniform.

Kiyoshi lead the dealer over to the love seat and helped him to sit down.

"You need more than meds—you need a doctor! What the Hell you come here for?"

"Because you are a doctor," the dealer slumped length wise along the near-springless cushions of the sectional. He yanked at his shredded shirt and tore it to the side to reveal his torso. Blood seeped freely from patches of exposed muscle and he made it a point to avert his gaze upwards.

"Not for this!" Kiyoshi went pale to the sight of the man's body, most of which was exposed through what was left of his clothes. His credentials as a doctor all depended on the definition of the word. He wasn't certified and had never even gone to school. All that he knew, he had learned in a prison clinic.

"Just shut up and get me something!"

"Dammit, tell me what's going on!"

Kiyoshi crossed over to the small kitchen area and began rummaging through drawers. In no way did the kitchen look like a place meant to prepare food. The sink was filled with surgical tools ranging from forceps to titanium screws to oscillating double blades. Every inch of counter space was taken up by trays, towels, and piles of papers and receipts. The entire area was marked with hints of old blood spatter and smelled strongly of ether.

"I gotta get outta here, that's what. This place is fucked up." The dealer closed a hand over his eyes and rested his head back against the arm of the sofa.

"It was Yukio wasn't it? What'd I tell you about him?" From the drawer beside the small fridge, Kiyoshi brought out a crumpled paper towel. He unwrapped the bundle as he made his way back into the living room then held it down to the injured man.

"I said shut up! I'm goin' back home…" The dealer shifted his hand from over his eyes as he heard Kiyoshi approach. When he saw what was being offered to him he groaned and curled his lip. "Tell me this isn't all you have."

"I'm not a pharmacist! You gonna crack one or not?"

Revealed in the wrinkled paper towel were three small, plastic bottles of amyl nitrate. The dealer snatched up one of the bottles and cracked it open beneath his nose, eagerly inhaling the vapors. It only took about fifteen seconds before his head began to spin and his legs seemed to lose half their weight. He let his head fall back against the arm rest and stared at the ceiling.

"This is Yukari's fault."

"Where is she did you say?" Kiyoshi dropped the other two bottles onto the couch with the dealer before disappearing into a small back room. He was no where near well enough equipped to deal with the case that had just been presented to him. Routinely he could do abortions, gun shot wounds, and gashes depending on the depth and location. The man sprawled on his couch was in need of much more than what he had to offer.

"I said I don't wanna talk about her!"

"You gonna tell me what's going on or not?" the flunky doctor's words rose from the other room.

"Long story…Yukari just went crazy behind the wheel and almost killed me. I blacked out, and when I came around, Yukio was right there."

"Damn! I told you he'd find you out sooner or later!" Kiyoshi returned to the living room with his arms full of medical supplies. Among the bandages and bottles of peroxide were several pouches and plastic boxes. "Did he break anything? I don't have stuff for casts."

"He didn't touch me! This is from the accident….Think my ankle's broken or somethin'. The left one." The dealer lifted his head and watched as Kiyoshi crouched on the ground by the sofa.

Kiyoshi dumped the items from his arms onto the floor and sorted through them until he came to a small, grey box. He flipped open the lid of the box and brought out a syringe and needle. Along with the works was a glass vial that was barely even half full with a transparent fluid.

Suddenly alarmed, the dealer pushed himself into a higher sitting position.

"H-hey! What'd I tell you about those!"

"Would you relax? You know I always clean my stuff."

"Bullshit! You're not puttin' that thing in me!"

"You're fucked up," Kiyoshi sighed. "It's no wonder you were always dirt poor before you got Yukari." He replaced the syringe and vial back into the box and looked around for something else that he could use to lull the dealer into a deeper state of relaxation. A red leather pouch held the solution to his problem within it, but as he lifted it he eyed it warily. "So about Yukio…What happened?"

"I dunno. Some woman showed up and beat the shit outta him." With the needle of the syringe safely out of the sight, the dealer relaxed back against the couch cushions once more.

"You're kiddin'. A woman?"

"Swear to god. I saw the entire thing. I wanna say they knew each other."

"Probably another crack whore he screwed over." Kiyoshi loosened the top of the red pouch and emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. It was a glass salt shaker with the top sealed with plastic wrap and a rubber band. Inside the shaker was a stiff, grey powder. It wasn't quite the consistency of powdered sugar, but it was more fine than sand.

"This one didn't seem like the type. She was a fuckin' dobie."

"I get it. So now your ass is saved and you're just gonna tuck tail and run back to Osaka?"

"I don't care! It's better than staying here."

"If it's so bad then why'd you come here in the first place?"

"That's my business."

"Whatever. Your business is your business. Now sit up and take some of this." The doctor knelt up and opened the salt shaker towards the other man. "Don't take much. Nothing more than a taste. This is the wicked stuff."

The dealer sat forward and dabbed his little finger into the shaker. A small bit of the residue coated the tip of the finger which he then quickly popped into his mouth. He didn't even think to ask what it was. As long as it wasn't a needle or a disease then he didn't really care as long as it took him out.

Kiyoshi resealed the shaker to slip back into its pouch.

"I tell ya…If this has anything to do with your brother then—"

"Shut the Hell up about my brother!" With the amyl having dulled his senses against the pain, the dealer shot forward and grabbed Kiyoshi by the front of his shirt. The effects of the powder were almost instantaneous. His eyes were tense and his body felt wired as though he was holding an electrical cord between his teeth. "You have no idea! No fuckin idea so just back off!"

Kiyoshi raised his hands innocently and waited for the grip on his shirt to relax.

The dealer slumped back in a fit of twitches before his body locked. The wave took him up and washed him out, causing his heart to beat furiously. Every detail of his existence was suddenly amplified, and just like a computer trying to do too many things at once, his brain slowed down. After a few minutes he went limp and his lips parted stupidly.

"Your life, kid. Waste it however ya want…" the doctor shook his head and set to work on the nameless vagabond.

Note: I apologize for the delays between chapters. It's hard during the week, especially now that I'm preparing for a study abroad term in Japan. :sigh: I hope to have this story completed before I leave. I also wanted to say something about the original characters that I have so far used in this story. I admit that original characters tend to irk me. The ones in this story do have their histories, but they exist solely as supplements to the stories of the AzuDai characters.