Void Contract

Chapter Three: Hormones Stormin'

obsidianfox

Started: July 03, 2004

Last Updated: July 29, 2004

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I kick a chunk of broken concrete and watch as it skitters across the ground. It bounces, rolls, and changes direction a bit to veer off into a nearby alley.

"Damn murderers," I mutter. I begin to follow the piece of concrete, intent on kicking it again.

A series of images flash through my head. A man lies facedown in a pool of blood with a pen in his hand. A man is broken, impaled upon a tree, shirt stained with blood and pants soaked in urine. A woman of angelic features smiles peacefully at the sky, lying on the concrete, white kimono stained red, and head surrounded by a growing halo of her own blood. A demon lies unmoving in its own crater; bullet wounds paint its side, and yellow ichor stains the ground.

Death. Death. Death. And Good Riddance... to that demon.

I reach the torn concrete block and look down at it for a moment. I glance up again when I feel a foreign presence. Four toughs surround me; two in front, two behind. Knives and metal pipes are evident. For whatever reason, they seem a bit hesitant to approach me, despite my roughed up clothing.

I grin wickedly at those ahead of me, and say, "I've had a REALLY bad morning, and I'd love to share it with you. I'll feel better; you'll feel worse. Bring it on!"

To my disappointment, all four of them fade back into the shadows, leaving me to my thoughts and a lonely chunk of concrete.

Those deaths... I worry, about those deaths, about my reaction to them... the lack thereof. I feel nothing except that, somewhere deep down, the feeling that I should be feeling something. Anything. But what should I be feeling? Sadness? I didn't know them. Guilt? I didn't murder them; I didn't even witness any of the deaths. I had tried my best to save a man, and failed, but I feel nothing about that. Why not?

Why don't I feel anything, dammit! I kick the block of concrete again, and again I begin following it.

My thoughts return to the living. An old man stands with a scowling face, arm extended; I shudder as I recall a rather intimate view of the shadowed barrel of a large caliber pistol. Oyaji stands, arm limp, stupidly staring down a demon that paralyzes with its baleful glare. A girl slumps against a tree, bleeding on her torn blue kimono, arm broken.

My heart beats a little faster. Did she survive? For some reason, the idea of her death scares me. Maybe it's because she's my age, or just a little younger. I find myself walking a bit faster. Maybe it's because she's cute. I halt. I feel my heart beat even faster and a slight blush rise to my cheeks. Then I shove those feelings away. No. That couldn't be it. I begin to run, quickly passing the chunk of concrete I'd kicked earlier.

Maybe it's because I know her name: Shiina.

Briefly, I close my eyes and pray for the health and safety of Oyaji and Shiina.

Bump.

The kami hates me. I know it.

As my face plants itself into something soft, I begin to fall forward... along with the woman I ran into. However, being the uber martial artist that I am, I almost instantly recover my balance and secure the woman so she doesn't fall.

But the movement still leaves me with my face planted in her chest and an arm about her waist. Mmmm. Whatever perfume she's wearing smells nice. Wait! What am I doing? I back away as fast as I can, and look at the woman I almost tackled. A huge blush rises to my cheeks, and I suppress it as best I can.

She is wearing glasses on a pair of rather pointy looking ears, and has long dark hair. For a moment, I vaguely feel I recognize the face. Then I notice a few other things: she is a head taller than I am, she carries herself like a martial artist, and she currently is not looking at me; instead, she's staring at a new splash of yellow ichor that adorns her jacket.

I glance down at my shoulder. Yep. It's still covered in the goo.

"Errr..." I grunt intelligently.

She turns a glare towards me, then snaps something out at me in Chinese.

Aha! Now I recognize that face. I was upside down, looking into her car... to make sure nobody was injured by a huge dent I left... oh, shit.

Memory flash: right about now, fourty people are coming over a hill with pitchforks; property damage is on the rise yet again; it is time for Pop and me to leave.

But Pop is nowhere in sight. I return my eyes to those of the woman.

Surprisingly, however, her glare has softened. "You speak Japanese?" she asks.

I relax, just a little. Then I notice a mischevious little smile appear on her face. The tension comes back, twice as strong. Hesitantly, I nod my head. "About the car and the jacket... err... I was chasing a demon." Yeah, right, like she'll believe that.

However, her little smile widens into a full grin. "Then you're that ninja! I thought I recognized you." She frowns at me momentarily, then adds, "You sure did a number on my car. Hmmm... But I'll forgive you if you can give me a good, marketable story. Come with me!" She grabs my arm and starts dragging me behind her. "I am Li Ling Ling of Yougekisha." She looks at me, expectantly.

I gulp... I don't want to lie, but I'd rather not have my name easily traced by those goons with guns. I suppress a brief thought that I'm just planning to escape property damage bills. "I'm Ranma. Umm... I'd rather not have my name put in a story or traced too easily."

Ling Ling frowns for a moment, then smiles softly. She bends down bringing her face a bit nearer mine. "I guess not. I can keep your name a secret if you need it." Then she lifts herself back up and grins widely at the sky before turning her grin on me. "But it'll cost you extra. Your story had better be very good!"

"Well, then, I'm Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu," I say, grinning proudly. "And I can give you a story."

"Ah! Great!" responds Ling Ling.

"But, I would like to get cleaned up a bit," I add, a bit sheepishly. Then my stomach growls. "And I'd like lunch, if possible."

Li Ling Ling just smiles as sunlight flashes off her glasses.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I lift another large sandwich off the tray in front of me, and rip into it with a huge bite before continuing my story. "Amm fthn ow kumped afper ip."

Ling Ling flinches as a small piece of half-eaten bread strikes her in the face, express trajectory from my mouth. "Chew and swallow before you speak!" she snaps. "And I'm not in a hurry. You don't need to eat so fast! And how can you eat so much?" She glances mournfully at her purse.

"Fowwy!" I apologize, still chewing. It won't do to haver her angry at me; she might not buy me another sandwich. Or two. Or maybe three. After all, I didn't eat that much ice cream this morning.

She fixes me with a glare as she makes a show of wiping the piece of bread off her cheek. Then she grabs and takes another small bite of her sandwich. Her glare never wavers.

How can she eat so little? She's a martial artist, and yet she's on her first sandwich while I'm on my fourth. That can't be healthy. "A martial artist lives by his body, boy! And the body lives by the stomach!" I vaguely remember Oyaji barking at me when I was far younger. That was a little while before he started trying to steal my meals as speed training. His platitudes have never changed.

Of course, it didn't take long on the road before I was eating whatever I could, whenever I had an opportunity; it had always been, and still is, an adventure discovering where our next meal is coming from.

Thus a free meal like Ling Ling offered me is too good to pass up. I grin at her from behind my fourth sandwich.

Somehow, Pop always pulls through on matters of stomach... and even when he doesn't, there is usually that huge supply of rice and vitamins we carry in our packs. We don't go hungry too often, but... ugh. Sometimes I try to capture meat for the meal, but I learned long ago that capturing a bunny, squirrel, fish, or fowl with my bare hands is not an easy task, although pop or I do manage the task several times each week.

I lift one of the clean knives and look at my reflection in the metal... maybe these will make it easier? Pop and I have never carried weapons about, though we've trained with them at some of the dojos to which we've been. I'll need a few days more practice with throwing knives to get good at them, though, since it has been a while. Heh. I'll bet ki blasts could take a bunny out, and that invisibility should make it a lot easier. Maybe I should just learn those instead.

My thoughts return to my meal as I swallow the huge bite, and immediately engorge another.

A quick glance shows Ling Ling's eyebrow twitching violently. Uh oh! I've seen that before, lots of times. It usually happens when Pop or I am talking to someone, and nothing good ever comes of it.

But I'm not talking at the moment, I think, still chewing. Maybe that's the problem. Perhaps I should get back to the story.

Ling Ling had already given me a worn white t-shirt to replace the gooey gi I was wearing earlier. I took an opportunity to wash my face and hands. I had also washed the knives off as best I could with soap and water, but the yellow goo is a very strong glue and I was only able to clean two of them entirely. Heck, two of the knives were stuck together like siamese twins at the hip. When I tried to pull those apart, the knives bent, but the glue held stronger than ever.

Ling Ling had seen this and mumbled something about patents, chemical analysis, brazing, and glue factories with a weird gleam in her eyes that looked oddly like the Hong Kong yuan sign.

My only thought had been that the stuff will be impossible to get out of my gi.

I finish chewing and swallow yet another overly large chunk of sandwich.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I jumped after the beast," I clarify. "It crashed a party in a building across the street."

"Crashed a party?" Ling Ling asks.

"Yep. A bunch of goons with guns, and an old man with a scowling face, were standing in the room. I think they were in a bit of shock cuz' the window broke and a big beast fell in. Half of them were pointing guns at the thing, and most of the rest looked confused as hell.

"They had apparently just shot someone too, cuz' the guy was dead at his desk and the pool of blood was still growing. At first I thought a shard of glass got him, but none of it was near the guy. I'm thinkin' some goon with a twitchy finger probably shot the guy when the glass broke."

Li Ling Ling looks down at me. I catch a bit of a frown on her face as she says, "You seem pretty casual about death, especially for one so young."

I sigh, and my shoulders droop a bit. "I've been thinkin' about that too. I think maybe it's the adrenaline. They're dead, and I need to save my own life. Pop always tells me that it's a martial artist's job to protect the weak, but I can't be everywhere at once. I can only protect the people near me."

"Of course."

"But, in lots of my fights, the people near me are in danger too. The frog demon could make things explode, and this one could break a person with a flick of its wrist. Some of the other martial artists I've fought throw knives and things around in ways that could hurt others if I'm not real careful where I dodge to. If the people near me are in danger, and I can't protect the people not near me, who can I protect?" I pause for a moment. "Maybe that's why Pop sealed his techniques. He's all big on protectin' the weak, but he says he could kill people too easy on accident."

I fall silent to think about that, and for several minutes, silence reigns. I don't even take a bite from my sandwich.

"Ranma," Ling Ling starts softly, "If you are fighting something or someone that kills people, then you need to be a warrior, not just a martial artist. As a warrior, you kill your enemies and you accept the loss of innocent lives and allies that are beyond your ability to control. Just remember to put aside the warrior and honor the dead when the task is finished, or you'll become the monster you hunt."

I look up at Ling Ling's bespectacled face, and think about this for a few moments. "Just put the warrior aside?" I ask, softly.

Ling Ling nods. "Life moves on. Anyhow, you mentioned a frog demon?"

"Heh. Oops. I think that was just a dream."

"Oh. Well, demons don't exist outside of dreams of course, but maybe it'd be a good story. Can you tell me about it?" She pauses for a moment, then adds, almost to herself, "No. Nevermind. A frog alien was already used in a competitor's tabloid this morning, so a frog demon wouldn't sell." Then she speaks up again. "Well, tell me more about the animal you fought."

I feel my eyebrow twitching. Demons don't exist, eh? Then I calm down a bit. That thing ain't like any animal I've ever seen or heard of, but maybe it's some sort of genetic experiment. But, Pop said it's a demon. Well... whatever. I guess it don't matter.

"Yeah. Anyhow, after I jumped in after it some people started aiming guns at me. I kinda just stood there, stupidly." I grimace. "I mean, nobody's ever pointed a gun at me before, and there's about a dozen guys pointin' them at me now, and a little bit later the demon starts standing up. When they look at the demon, I jump behind it. The sudden movement has them shooting the demon up, while I use it as a shield.

"They just kept shootin' until it drops, so I prop it back up since it's my shield, and they're shootin' again. Heh. They probably thought it was moving on its own. When they stop, the scowling guy is pointing a gun at my head. I didn't notice him walkin' up to me, but you can't blame me with my ears ringin' and all. So, I throw the creature's body at the goons and take off out the window. Then I'm wondering through the streets and here I am. Is that good enough for ya? I really need ta' get back to Pop."

Li Ling Ling tucks a small notebook and pen back into her purse then says, "I guess so, but if it doesn't sell well enough, then you'll owe me another one, Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu."

"Hey! It ain't like I get attacked by demons every day or something."

"You said you left your father at the park, along with an unconcious girl and two bodies. If your father is smart at all, and he didn't lose too much blood to make that call, then he got the police and ambulances for the girl and himself. The police will wish to ask him about these events. If you get in contact with the police, you'll be able to figure out where he is at the moment. That's my advice, anyways. Later, young warrior."

She grins at me, then leaves.

I snarf down what's left on my plate. More would have been nice, but four was enough. I stand for a moment and consider where to go. The park. After all, Pop isn't smart at all.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

A few hours of leaping from building to building, sprinting along power lines, and leaping from tree to tree, bring me huffing and puffing to the place I'd last seen Pop.

I pause a few moments to catch my breath before looking around. The midafternoon sun shines through the trees and elongates the shadows. Sitting on a wooden bench is a broad man, with features shadowed to a profile by the bright yellow orb slightly above and behind him.

"Pop?" I ask tentatively, before approaching.

"No," says the man in heavily accented Japanese. He stands up as I approach, and I catch the muted scent of tobacco. The man is tall and broad, but he wears a business suit over a well-toned frame, and has a full head of hair. Nope; Definitely not Pop.

"You haven't seen any tall, fat, bald fools with a gi and glasses around here, have you?" I ask as I turn to look for Pop a bit more.

"Yes, indeed I have. Are you Ranma Saotome?" asks the man. When I nod, he whips out a cigarette, lights it, and continues after pulling a drag. "I'm here to pick you up. Your father refused rather violently to leave until we agreed to leave a man here to pick you up. Thanks a lot for wasting half my day," he adds sarcastically.

"You're welcome," I respond with a smirk, then I snarl, "Now where's Pop?! He didn't do nuthin' to go to jail for! We saved that girl!"

"Other than resisting arrest?" snarls the man in return. "He hurt an officer! He's lucky we aren't holding it against him!"

"Shut up! Pop would never hit an officer, unless the officer hit him first! We don't pick on the weak! Besides, my old man always told me to never fight outside self defense and honorable challenge!"

The man's eyes darken a bit, then he chuckles. The man takes another large drag from the cigarette and returns to a somewhat calmer state. "You shouldn't go around calling officers weak unless you are looking for those challenges. You're right, though. Your father just resisted getting pushed into the car while yelling 'bout you coming back here, and he fell on Officer Jun Dee. Squashed her good.

"Right now your father is in a hospital, getting some major quilting work on his body. When we arrested him, his bloody gi was the only thing holding his intestines in. I'd say your father has a lot of guts to be standing with those wounds," he laughs. "I'd like to take you for questioning, then to see your father. Is this okay with you?".

"I guess. You aren't charging Pop or I for anything, are you?"

"Not yet," he responds casually.

I feel a surge of anger. My eyes darken and I snarl, "Whaddya mean, 'not yet'!? We haven't hurt anyone! The demon did it!"

"Demon?" asks the man as he raises an eyebrow. His mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Well, some sort of creature!" I shout, still angry.

The man looks at me sternly, then calmly replies, "We don't know the whole story yet; the girl is still unconcious. However, we do know about the creature, as it left an arm here. You aren't likely to be charged for anything. Are you ready to come with me?"

I nod assent, and he begins leading me to his rather beat up police car.

"By the way, my name is Officer Kong," he says we enter the vehicle. "I've been investigating a series of similar attacks."

Then we are off.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Several officers escort me to a sterile room with flaky puke-green paint, a few uncomfortable metal chairs, a long table, a large mirror, and a small security camera in one corner. The room was obviously designed to instill discomfort in the interviewee, and if those movies are right then observers could watch from behind the mirror. I hear the low thrum of air conditioning and the echoing Mandarin babble of the officers.

The ride with Officer Kong was rather uneventful. The man seemed content with driving and smoking and listening to some awful Korean pop on the radio. After a few failed attempts to start a conversation, I settled back and zoned out to preserve my sanity from the music. Upon entering the station, Kong was stopped by a few other officers on the way into the station, leaving me with the few officers that escorted me to this room.

"Any of you speak Japanese?" I ask hopefully.

"Speak little. Please, you sit chair," says one officer as he points to one of the uncomfortable looking chairs.

I eye the thing warily; I've slept on surfaces less comfortable, but the chair has arms that would restrict my movement. "I think I'll stand," I reply.

"Sit!" demands the officer. Another of the officers gives me a light shove from behind. Rather than resisting, I go ahead and sit down. Clink! The officer that spoke expertly slaps a pair of handcuffs about my wrists.

"Hey! Whatd'ya' do that for?" I snarl. With a quick motion of my wrists, the chain joining the cuffs snaps. The officer that cuffed me goes livid and the other two step back in surprise and shock. I take a moment to casually peel the cuffs off my wrists with two spare fingers, warping them as though they were flimsy and flexible.

The livid officer falls back a few steps in surprise, growls something in Chinese, then draws a small handgun and aims it at me. I smirk at him, confident that a single officer with a gun, or even three, can't take me down; I also plan a quick escape from this chair. As I eye the table in front of me, I'm curious as to whether it can block bullets. However, I make no sudden movements.

"I'm not some sorta' dangerous criminal! Get someone in here who knows Japanese so I can get this damn thing finished and get back to my pop," I demand.

At this moment the door opens and Officer Kong steps through, followed closely by another officer, an attractive and athletic woman with cerulean eyes and a long straight black ponytail reaching her ankles. The woman's left arm is in a sling, marking her as the woman my father hurt earlier. Officer Kong says a few words to her in Chinese while sweeping an arm in my direction, and she bows slightly towards me. I see the other officers in the room calm down a bit and back away.

Then he speaks to me, "Ranma, this is Officer Jun Dee. She's my partner in... um... crime. Yeah. She doesn't speak Japanese, but she does know English."

" Hello. My name is Mr. Johnson. It is nice to meet you, Mr. Smith, " I say, grinning, belting out one of those few phrases I actually recall with absolute confidence. I return a slight bow to the woman then stand up to see her holding in a giggle.

"Perhaps you should practice your English a bit more," chuckles Officer Kong.

I scowl in response. How dare he insult my English! I know for a fact I spoke perfectly. Now, if only I could remember what it meant...

Then Officer Jun Dee's sky blue eyes attract my own, and I see her look my body down and up before meeting my eyes; I feel a mild body-blush in response. " It is nice to meet you, too, " she says. She gives me a warm, satisfied smile and I see a familiar glint in her eyes... a hungry, predatory glint... one I usually see when my Pop is looking at a morsel of food just moments before attacking it. Somehow I feel I'm the piece of meat. But, it isn't an entirely bad feeling... a little embarrassing, but also a little flattering. I give her a smirk in return, although I feel the corners of my mouth turn upwards in a genuine, but hidden, smile. Is this what girls feel like when I look at them? I wonder.

Thoughts of food and meat reach my stomach and it responds by growling, loudly.

Officer Jun Dee laughs heartily, and Officer Kong chuckles again. "We'll get you a little something to eat," he says in his thickly accented Japanese. After a few words from him in Chinese, Jun Dee and the other officers leave.

Officer Kong sits down in the seat opposite me, sets a small recorder on the table between us, and says, "I'm Officer Kong. I know we've already met, but could you say your name for the record?"

"Umm... sure. I'm Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. I'm the best," I say proudly. However, something in my mind bangs me on the head and forces me to add, "... of my generation."

Perhaps Pop's lesson in humility this morning is sinking in. One half trained and two halves to go...

"Ranma, could you describe the creature you saw earlier today? ..." asks Officer Kong as the first question of a long, boring, and rather professional question and answer session. It was interrupted only when Jun Dee returned with a coke and a bowl of udon the twice size of my head. I devoured the food greedily and completely within a few seconds.

" Thank you, " I said, my smile directed at Officer Jun Dee.

" You're welcome, " she replied, although her own face carried a frown.

Heh. I do know this level of English.

I answered the Officer's questions honestly. Other than a few breaks when the officer received a call, he grilled me hard and efficiently. He seemed particularly interested in where the chase was leading, but I was unable to describe much more than a blinding chase and the final building.

After Officer Kong managed to extract everything and more than I had given to Li Ling Ling earlier, plus a little information on Li Ling Ling herself, he called in a young artist. After a long and painful session of slowly translated questions and answers, the artist rendered aproximate images for both the old scowling goon and the creature.

It disturbed me for a moment that the hellbeast's image raised no brows. Are such things so common that they raise no fuss? I suppressed the thought before it shattered my currently fragile world-view.

"Well, Ranma, thank you for your cooperation. We're not going to charge you for the property damage, or pursue charges against your father. We'll pay the hospital bills for your father and the girl," concludes Officer Kong.

"How are they doing?" I ask.

"They'll heal. I'll take you to visit them soon. For the moment, look here," he says as he and Jun Dee expertly flip on a pair of shades. He points to the top of a silver pen he pulled from his jacket. He's right. It is interesting looking. But, what is he trying to show me? I glance to him in question, and blink when it unexpectedly flashes red.

Hey! I'm NOT camera-shy. Just, who expects a pen to double as a camera? I gaze at the two of them in confusion.

Officer Kong confers in Chinese with Officer Jun Dee for a moment, then the man tells me, "Ranma, your father was injured while saving a young girl who fell from a high tree. However, he landed awkwardly on a large pile of gardening implements that were left there by expert con-artists selling illicit plots of land in the park as gardens. Due to the bad landing on the pile, he broke his own arm and received many large wounds, and the girl broke an arm and received a concussion. We, the police, thank you for your cooperation in busting these con-artists, and we aren't going to charge your father for the harm we initially believed he inflicted on the girl."

Huh? Why the hell did they just tell me that? Con-artists? Is it some sort of lame cover story for the events? Uh-huh, I conclude sarcastically. "Go bust those evil men," I return without emotion, punching my arm lightly through the air.

Yet, somehow my memories of the day turn fuzzy and blur together, as though it were one long lucid dream. Yeah. That would be nice... demons don't exist, except in dreams, right? The pointy-eared woman told me that. Yet I remember the day in bits and pieces, flashes, a dozen harsh defeats at Baka Oyaji's hands, a tattoo, a very important conversation, a demon, a scowling man, a dead angelic woman, a tall pointy-eared reporter, grueling interviews, and a pretty young girl. Yep. Today was definitely a little fuller than most days.

Shortly after, we left for the hospital. Officer Kong drives up front, and I sit in the back with Officer Jun Dee to my left. I gaze out the window, watching the city lights of Hong Kong nights drift by and streaks of rain patter on the glass pane. The hospital we travel to is some distance away... closer to the park than the police station.

Which is a good question... why didn't police investigate or interview from a closer station? Surely there is one closer than an hour away from the hospital. Oh, yeah, this guy has been working on similar cases, I think while glancing towards Officer Kong.

I yawn loudly, returning my gaze to the window on my right, trying to keep my eyes open. It's been a while since I last slept; this morning's training started with being tossed out a hospital window a few hours after midnight. As I drift slowly from awareness, I feel a warm and comfortable arm slip around my shoulders and pull me away from the window. My head drops. Soft. Warm. Smells nice. Mmmmmm...

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Gentle arms shake me to wakefulness, shaking off dreams of a much younger age. "Mom?" I mutter, a bit bleary eyed. I feel a light knock of knuckles on my noggin. I lift myself up a bit and watch as a gorgeous young woman in uniform comes into focus. Somehow I feel I had one of the best naps of my life, as though everything is going to be better.

Then I realize on whom I was sleeping; my heart starts beating faster and blood rushes to my head and... other extremities. I panic. "I wasn't doing anything!" I say, waving my arms in front of me.

I calm down... as much as I can. Something in my brain is running in tight circles: lips, neck, ears, breasts, waist, hips, legs... the image of the athletic woman in front of me, wearing only negligee... lips, neck... I suppress the perverted thoughts in my head. I suppress the urge to lean forward, placing my lips in the crook of her neck, just below those ears. Meditate. Calm! I force my hands to my side, to keep them from slipping about her waist and pulling her to my chest. Relax. Find my center! A martial artist is a master of self.

Slowly, my breathing calms; my heartbeat slows. I notice the woman is only grinning.

The woman speaks up. After a quick chuckle from Officer Kong, and a few exchanges in Chinese, Officer Kong translates in his thick accent, "Officer Jun Dee says she was trying to make you comfortable. She's sorry if it bothered you."

Thank kami! She doesn't think I'm perverted or anything! And... and... and she's the one that held me! Maybe she wouldn't mind if I... stupid perverted thoughts, STAY DOWN! I shout, internally. She doesn't like me that way. She hardly knows me!

"Officer Jun Dee," I say to her, smiling, "thank you very much. You were, umm... very comfortable." I blush a little, and bow to both thank her and hide the blush.

After a few moments, Officer Kong translates. Jun Dee smiles, but a bit reservedly, and responds with a little something in Chinese. Officer Kong chuckles. "She says you drooled on her uniform." I blush again, but he continues obliviously, "Anyhow, we're at the hospital. I'm going to speak with your father a bit more before we let you see him, but Officer Jun Dee can lead you to Shiina's room."

So we head into the hospital.