DISCLAIMER: I don't own KnB.
Midorima groaned the moment he opened his eyes. He winced at the heavy feeling on his chest, reaching with a shaky hand and was met with the texture of bandages.
There was suddenly a streak of purple on the right side of his blurred vision.
"Eh, Mido-chin is awake?" There was a sound of munching that followed. "Good afternoon."
"M-Murasakibara?" The green-haired man's throat was dry, and his voice came out too rough to his liking. "Water…"
The heavy footsteps rang against the floor when the giant walked out to fetch a glass compliantly.
Midorima painstakingly made himself sit up, flinching occasionally at small movements. When he had gotten himself in a more comfortable position, the door burst open to reveal three more company.
"Shintaro."
"Midorima."
"I only said you bring me water, not all of them." There was no hint of irritation though. Instead there was a small twitch on his lips, most likely trying to force down a smile.
"Welcome back, Shintaro."
Midorima slept the whole day and the following one until evening when he began feeling better and could stand up without shaking.
"Don't force yourself to move too much. Better rest again if you can," Akashi said.
"I've rested enough. Besides, I don't think you could wait any longer for my side of the story."
After narrating everything that had transpired, Midorima wasn't surprised anymore that Akashi had learned the crucial parts already. He figured that after almost a month, the redhead handled everything with his own hands, and in his own way.
"A question, Shintaro." The man addressed turned his head towards Akashi. "What caused you to engage?"
Of course, expect Akashi to know.
Midorima's gaze found the floor. At the back of his mind grateful that the room only have the two of them.
He would hate it if anyone other than their leader saw his vulnerable side.
"It seems that I'm quite incompetent still. Especially at some things."
Akashi was silent for a moment. "You're anything but incompetent, Shintaro. Remember that." Before Midorima could reply, he added, "I had decided to keep it from you before. Your family is here at the country. Your sister finally got herself a donor. Apparently, the donor wanted the operation to be done here in Japan. It has been awhile since. The week after next, they will be back overseas again."
The redhead left him alone after mentioning the hospital.
Tokyo General Hospital, private room 607.
The decision to drop by is up to Midorima.
"Hmmm…" Kiyoshi's gaze shifted between the two different books.
Takao was watching the man amusedly while sipping on his coffee. "You're deep in thought, Kiyoshi-san," he commented.
"Am I now?" The taller man placed down the two hardbound books. "Sorry about that. It's just that there has been something bugging me after reading these. Nothing serious."
The one with red cover read Under the Shade of Falling Petals by Hana Kotomiya. The one with plain black cover, but with characters engraved in silver fonts displayed The Taking of Innocence by Toko Miyama.
"Wow, never pegged you as the reader type."
Kiyoshi laughed. "I'm surprised myself."
"Wait I think these titles are familiar." Takao thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah. They're both top sellers."
Kiyoshi nodded. "Hit with adults and teenagers alike too."
"Eh? But which takes the higher place in the ranking?"
"Actually, both are in the top one list."
"Woah! I bet these authors are secretly competing with each other."
Thick eyebrows met in a frown. "I'm not sure, but after reading both it gave me an idea that these were made by the same person, only in different pen names, that is. Weird, huh?"
Takao grinned at his co-workers usual unusual way of his thinking. "Heh. That's some cool assumption. But don't you think that's highly unlikely? I mean, they say these two romance books are like… opposites of the coin."
Well, most readers do have a point. While Under the Shade of Falling Petals depicts pure love brimming with innocence and with no mention of sexual attraction at all, the Taking of Innocence is a different matter entirely where the plot focused on the main character's sexually explicit adventures almost bordering the context of barely consensual activities in vivid details words could express. Not to mention, lots of BDSM.
Now that Kiyoshi thinks hard about it, there was no way those two were created by the same person.
"I guess so…"
After engaging on the topic for a bit, jumping on and off the subject, Sakurai came towards the two.
Who was, well, almost on the verge of crying.
"Sakurai-kun, something wrong?" Kiyoshi was the first one to ask worriedly.
"Kiyoshi-san." Sakurai looked at him and then sniffed. "I didn't know you could be labeled a degenerate if you knocked only twice."
"Ha?"
"Also, I've never heard such curse words before.
"And nobody told me there was someone who can utter strings of insults for the whole hour!"
Sakurai broke into a sobbing mess.
Takao can only offer him a pat on his back.
It wasn't uncommon to have patients with little to no patience at all. The cases are mostly with elderly patients. That could be blamed to their old age and medication at some times. And so the nurses' top duty is to be the calm-headed one.
Kiyoshi took the clipboard from Sakurai. "Is this the patient's information?" He read the paper after an affirmative nod from the younger one. "Hmm, but this person is only twenty-six years old."
"Eh, here am I who thought it's an old man or something," Takao said exactly what Kiyoshi was thinking.
"Let's see… Private room 511… Hanamiya Makoto."
Midorima slipped inside the room, which was, thankfully, vacant save for the lone patient. He approached her who was seemingly asleep judging from her steady intakes of breath.
Her bedside table was overflowing with fruits and flowers and other mostly useless stuffs. He deduced they were from their parents who, as always, having no time to even spend a night with his little sister.
"They still haven't changed, don't they?" Midorima half mused and half asked. He adjusted the blankets to cover her body up to her chest.
Chiaki's eyes were still covered with gauze, the organs transplanted yet to heal. He watched her unmoving in his stead, not making any move to even get a seat.
Gingerly, Midorima lifted his left hand to lie atop his sister's, though he immediately halted when he felt another presence.
Looking past his shoulder, there was a male nurse at the doorway.
The man in white seemingly startled once Midorima's eyes rested upon him.
"Erm.. sorry about that. I didn't mean to—"
Midorima adjusted his eyeglasses. "It's nothing about that. I must be on my way."
"Ah, no. That's not… I mean, I will only replace her IV, no need to leave."
"It's…" Midorima paused. "It's alright." He nodded before leaving.
Takao sighed. It wasn't his intention to interrupt whatever that was.
Though he must say he hadn't seen the man before visiting Chiaki in her stay at the hospital.
He dismissed the thought of the man as merely a family friend or an acquaintance when his hawk eyes noticed the strong resemblance of the unknown tall man and her. The leaf-green color of their hair seems unique after all.
I had an older brother. In that accident eight years ago, it wasn't only my eyesight that I lost. If onii-chan is still alive, he would be around the same age as yours, Takao-san.
Takao frowned at that. The thought suddenly creeped him out. Of course, there was no way her brother would still be alive and kicking. Chiaki told him herself.
"Maybe they were just… close relatives," he finalized lamely.
He blamed it on stress.
Kiyoshi made sure he knocked three times before he pushed the door open.
According to Sakurai's clipboard, the patient in private room 511 was scheduled for an IV replacement at eight in the evening. But seeing how distressed Sakurai had been with this certain patient, Kiyoshi agreed to do an exchange.
Nothing could go wring, right?
"Hanamiya-san? Kiyoshi called softly in the barely lit room.
The curtain was drawn away from the single window overlooking the evening cityscape and its random lights. The patient lying on the bed was pale against the small ray of moonlight that somehow made it inside the room.
When Kiyoshi approached the sleeping Hanamiya, he managed to take a good look at the man. Hanamiya was on the lighter complexion. His face was framed with jet black hair that had grown past his chin until half of his neck.
The nurse smiled fondly at the other's thick eyebrows that seemed to resemble his, if not thicker.
Satisfied at the patient's steady breathing, Kiyoshi proceeded with his work, finishing his agenda as quietly as he could. He switched the night lamp on from the side.
It was only then he noticed the scattered pile of papers littered on top of the blankets; some had fallen on the floor. On Hanamiya's right hand was a pen stuck between his fingers. Upon closer inspection, the papers were filled with words written in a graceful cursive Kiyoshi barely understood under the current lighting.
He refrained from prying in the patient's affairs, dutifully organizing the cluttered papers in one heap, setting them on top of the two books at the nightstand.
Said books were entitled Under the Shade of Falling Petals and The Taking of Innocence.
His favorites.
The former was atop the latter, a bookmark slipped between two pages—somewhere in the middle. Intrigued, Kiyoshi felt for the edges of the book, opening it where it was marked.
If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stoploving you little by little.
If suddenly
You forget me
Do not look for me,
For I shall already have forgotten you.
He was familiar with the passage. It was the poem sent as a letter to the amnesiac heroine by her suitor who was bitter at being forgotten by the queen of his heart—as the author had poetically put it.
Kiyoshi decided to have another good reading of the book. He could do numerous re-reads until the novelty runs off.
He hoped that the next time he would be here, Hanamiya was awake. Looking at him, Kiyoshi wondered if this was the same patient Sakurai feared. He thinks the man might not be half as bad and could be engaged in a lengthy conversation about their favorite books.
That would be great.
"Good night," the nurse said quietly as he left the room.
He couldn't wait for next time.
Nobody seemed to be at home when Midorima came back.
There wasn't any shuffling of magazines to be heard, or a loud munching of potato chips and somebody cooking.
It was quiet. A rare moment.
He padded to his quarters, wanting to lay his body to rest for a short while. His stitches were still constricting his movements—wounds stinging when leaning forward or backward.
His eyes caught sight of his blade at the far corner, sitting inconspicuously against the wall like a newly shined one. As if it wasn't bathed with strangers' blood recently and some time ago.
The blade was special to him in a way. It was the last lucky item he had when he stopped believing luck and unfollowed his fate; wherein the high school version of him was religiously tuning to it, not missing any day at all.
Those days were still normal.
Not far from his weapon was an orange jacket draped on his arm rest.
As far as he knows, he never wore such clothing with a carrot-orange color. Gaudy by his standards.
His hands felt for the fabric. The cuffs and elbows of the sleeves were soiled. Inside the jacket, the back part was stained with something red.
Could it be?
Midorima vaguely remembered being patched before he passed out that night at that dark alley. Somebody had applied to him a first aid before Aomine—as what Akashi had told him—found him.
It was possible that the owner of the jacket was that very person.
Who Midorima owed his life.
The only clue to the person's identity were the crudely embroidered initials T. K. RN. on the inside lapels.
He strongly believes the RN stands for Registered Nurse. It would at least explain how expertly he was bandaged before he could be surgically stitched. But then if that wasn't the case, he would be lost in hunting this person forever.
Midorima was itching at the thought of being indebted to an unknown Samaritan.
He sighed. It looks like a long shot in the dark but he could try his luck at least.
Tokyo General Hospital is a good place to begin his search.
The verse is an excerpt from the poem "If you Forget Me" by Pablo Neruda.
A.N.: I know I have yet to put the first MuraHimu part, and KiyoHana was introduced first. Sorry.
TBC