In twenty five years, Hisako had overcome a profound sequence of obstacles. Her career was also peppered with a multitude of unthinkably difficult operations that had left her questioning her life decisions. But she'd always prevailed, because it was in her nature.
But none of that could have prepared her for that day.
She was in Souma's apartment in Evanston, sitting at the kitchen island while he cooked dinner. They were making small talk, joking about his latest interview blunder, admiring the majestic view of Lake Michigan and Northwestern University, talking about Erina, sipping pinot noir.
Souma turned to plate his pilaf-stuffed durum and the next few seconds stretched into eternity.
"Arato… I don't feel… so good," he groaned. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed.
"Yukihira!" Hisako dove for him and yelled, "Stay with me!" All she could see were the whites of his eyes and his breathing was shallow and way too fast. Then he started coughing and there was blood everywhere.
She had to operate. Now.
By the time the 911 dispatcher ended the call Hisako could already hear the wailing sirens of the Evanston Fire Dept down the block. She ran to the door leading into Souma's apartment and threw it open. And then—chucking all doubts and common sense out the damn window, Hisako phoned Souma's ex girlfriend… or whatever they were. Friends? What the fuck?
"Erina-sama!"
"Hisako? Is something up?"
"It's Yukihira. I'm going to have to do open-heart."
"What!?"
"Endocarditis stroke and internal hemorrhage. It looks like his mother gave her heart disease to him. Look, I gotta go, but Erina-sama… pray for him. I don't know if he's going to make it." Then she hurled down her phone, just as the paramedics arrived.
From there it all came down to Doctor Arato and the clock.
Two hours later, Hisako stripped off her bloodied gloves and scrubs, then collapsed onto the sterile linoleum floor of the scrub room with a sigh. Although she and the resident surgeon at this particular hospital — coincidentally a family friend of the Nakiris — had never worked together before, they'd made a good pair, and the operation had gone better than she could've hoped for.
Souma wouldn't regain consciousness for a while but he was alive. In that moment, Hisako thought of all the times she regretted going to med school and took it all back. Because if she hadn't…
She shook her head to clear her mind of that morbid bullshit, because Yukihira Souma was going to be okay. With another groan—holy fuck, her back was killing her—she left the scrub room to check up on Souma.
His heart rate was low, lower than she wanted, and his condition was yet to be stable. But for now he was still breathing, and that was what mattered most.
Hisako made her way over to him and carefully moved aside the tubes stuck in various parts of his body to get a good look at the diner chef. His cheeks were sunken, the dark bags under his eyes almost as prominent as Ryo's. It was a wonder he hadn't collapsed earlier, especially with his stress levels — not to mention his sleep schedule (or lack thereof) and utter caffeine dependency. That wasn't good for his heart. With a sigh, she leaned down and kissed him quickly on the tip of his nose, knowing her boyfriend wouldn't mind. Hell, if Hayama Akira were here, he'd probably kiss Souma too.
An hour had passed since she left him when dread rose like bile in her throat and, suddenly terrified that Souma had gone to high heaven while she wasn't paying attention, she bolted from the waiting room where she'd been filling out patient information, sending her coffee everywhere, and sprinted for Souma's ward.
Hisako's jaw promptly hit the ground.
Nakiri Erina was sitting in a rickety plastic chair beside the unconscious chef, head in her hands, wearing stained whites and looking for all the world like she'd run here straight from a restaurant.
"Erina-sama?" Hisako asked, not believing what she was seeing. "I must be delusional."
Erina looked up, and her lilac eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her makeup a mess. "Is he going to live?"
Hisako glanced at the various monitors hooked up to his body. He'd stabilized and his heartrate had gone up. "I think so. What time did you get here?"
"I got out of customs fifteen minutes ago."
"You flew in from New York for him? Did you take a commercial flight?"
Letting go of Hisako, Erina ran her right hand down her face and replied, "If he asks, I was on business." She really was a little strange. After all this time, she still couldn't admit that she genuinely cared about him. It was almost funny at this point.
"Sure." Hisako gave a tired exhale. "I didn't think you would come, Erina-sama."
At this Erina bit her lip and her eyebrows drew together.
"You alright?" Hisako asked, a little concerned.
"I love him," Erina said flatly.
Hisako blinked once, twice. Twice again. "W-what?"
"I love him." As if it'd taken just as long as Hisako to process what she'd said, Erina gave a lopsided grin that was unnaturally reminiscent of Souma's. "This also stays between us."
Holy fuck. Doctor Arato needed medical care hella fast.
"I thought you two had some unspoken agreement to just be friends?"
Erina gestured at Souma. "I can't. Not when…" she trailed off.
It was good of her, Hisako realized, to leave everything else unsaid.
