Author's Note: Takes place around Chapter 20. This was fun to write. Healer!Hisana terrorizing unruly patients always gives me joy :D
Well, the good thing about having a constant stream of patients to treat was that I had plenty of people to practice the reiatsu transferring technique on. The bad part was that a solid three quarters of those people tended to inspire anything from frustrated irritation to murderous rage in me, which wasn't exactly conducive to maintaining the focused calm necessary for the technique.
Life was so much easier, I thought wearily, when you were the only source of medical assistance around.
"Taki-san," I said for the umpteenth time, voice only faintly strained. "I'm going to ask you one more time—could you please keep still? I assure you, if you stopped moving around, it would speed up the treatment considerably."
"Of course, healer-san," he said, an infuriating smirk on his face. "Wouldn't want to cause ya any trouble, after all."
"Thank you." Taking a deep breath, I slipped into a state of meditative calm before focusing on channeling reiatsu from my palms to the shinigami's injured arm. Barely twenty seconds later, he jerked his arm away, breaking the steady flow of spiritual energy.
"Oops," he said, scratching at his nose. "Sorry, healer-san. I had an itch; I'm sure you understand."
My eye twitched and I stood up. Fuck it, if he wasn't going to be professional, then neither would I. Besides, I'd been wanting to get in more bakudo spell practice anyway.
"What are you doing?" He asked, eying me warily as I backed up a few steps. He then sat up in alarm as I slid into a battle ready stance. "Hey! The hell are you doing? Stop!"
"Since you cannot be trusted to follow instructions, I have no choice but to restrain you for your own good," I said mildly, gathering up my reiatsu. "Please sit still. I would hate for something to go wrong if you distracted me. Now, Baku–"
"Wait, wait! You can't do that!" The shinigami exclaimed, now sending glances towards the door. I mentally snorted—good luck getting there with your broken leg, idiot.
"Can't I?" I asked, smiling pleasantly. "Might I remind you, Taki-san, that as long as you are under this roof, you are in my jurisdiction." Tilting my head to the side, I added reassuringly, "Do not worry, Taki-san. My bakudo spells only blow up twenty percent of the time now." A lie, of course. My bakudo spells only blew up when I wanted them to.
"And if it does? What then?" Taki was looking vaguely hysterical now, especially when it didn't look like anyone was going to come to his rescue.
My smile widened a notch. "Well then, it's a good thing you're already in a hospital bed, isn't it?"
Watching the way Taki's face paled, I conceded that maybe Ichimaru had a point with the whole 'terrorizing people for fun' thing. It was surprisingly satisfying.
"That won't be necessary," he blurted out hastily. "I was—uh—feeling kind of restless earlier, but I'm feeling much better now. I'll stay still; you don't need to do anything drastic."
"I'm glad to hear that," I said softly, voice regaining its warmth. Taki visibly relaxed in relief, and I resisted the urge to grin. Who said that shinigami couldn't be trained?