We'll be switching POV over to Kyoya this round. (It's just temporary, Tsubasa's getting his brain picked by police officers, so he is unavailable for torture at the moment.)
. . .
The green-haired knucklehead hesitated just as he's about to go out the door.
"Thanks."
Tsubasa noded.
"Same here."
Kyoya stalked down the hospital halls, starched white and reeking of lemon. Lemon. Why does it have to be lemon? Couldn't they switch the soap scent with something like "Mountain Rain" once and a while? "Winter Breeze" maybe? PLEASE?
The Lion continued grumbling about random inconveniences, glaring at innocent nurses, and otherwise working himself into a fit.
But, as he was in the middle of cultivating a really good bad mood (it's an art, you know), the Earth promptly stops spinning.
Room P24.
Hikaru's room.
"And here I was hoping I could just storm in and order her to wake up," Kyoya muttered under his breath. He sighed, feeling the old ache return to his chest. It's similar to the time when the doctor told them he had heart disease. This discovery had marked the end of his beyblade career. And the start of Hikaru hitting him over the head with the heaviest object in sight the second his blood pressure started to rise.
It really was a shame, Tategami really had enjoyed the screaming matches with his wife. Life just became all the more dull after that. Of course, the Haganes visited nearly every day for three years to share their condolences. Frankly, Kyoya didn't know what he would have done without them, Nile and Demure being long gone. Benkei basically became a tenant.
Kyoya was wrenched from his brooding when the ICU door is opened.
"Tategami-sama? Your wife is stable. You can see her any time you please, you know. We'll be moving her soon, but there's no reason to wait out her-"
The older man shot the young doctor a well-practiced glare. The younger man is kind-faced, black, with dark brown hair in a dreadlock-ponytail. An interesting character, but probably yet another high-class shut in who went into the medical field for the money.
"Oh, so you weren't waiting," the heavily-scarred 60-something's eyes widened. Alright, so this guy was smarter than he looked.
"I know how you feel."
Kyoya growled. That's what they all said, but never meant.
"My daughter's in the room to your right," the doctor waved his goodbye, and Kyoya suddenly finds his shoelaces to be an absorbing spectacle "I'm sure you're every bit as great as Natsuki claims. She's got quite a crush on you. Don't be a stranger. But . . ." the man comically turns on his heel, making his dreadlocks nearly slap him in the face. "Please stop terrorizing my nurses. The only one willing to stand up to you spent ten years in the army. Locking horns with her would do nothing for your heart."
Kyoya blinked.
"How did you-?"
"Medical file. I do my homework."
The doctor saunters away, clearly proud of himself. Tategami just groaned. Whatever happened to privacy? Right, that went out the window with the invention of Facebook.
The ex-blader felt all the color drain from his face as he turned his focus on the ICU door.
Time to suck it up Kyoya.
The Lion opened the door. It was a clear glass, unlike the rest of the hospital. There was also a distinctive smell of nothing. No coffee, no soapy lemon, nada. Not even the distinctive stench of gossip. Kyoya would kill for that right now. So this is what it feels like to be intimidated, eh?
The shades were closed, giving the place a gloomy feel. Tategami decided to open them, as Hikaru always made a point to complain about how the house felt like a cave when he forgot to. He would then joke that it was fitting, as he had to nearly hit her over the head with a club to get her to marry him. Mrs. Tategami would then take the liberty of smacking him on skull with a spatula.
Eh, he deserved it.
Life was good back then. Painful, but good.
Kyoya took a seat in the single beige wannabe leather chair.
He took his wife of 40 years' hand. She was still warm, heart still pumping, brain working on at least one level. Hikaru, the ol' firebrand, she was here, and somehow she wasn't. Kyoya softly squeezed her palm, but felt like he's the one who's been squeezed over the past few days.
He looked up to the sky, ready to plead, to make a deal, but thought better of it. Miracles don't happen. Not unless God had some big recruitment plan in the works. Kyoya wouldn't sacrifice his pride for a lost cause. He wasn't a preacher, no missionary, heck, for a couple of years, he was teetering on the edge of becoming a murderer. But he had met Gingka and the others. Hikaru, too.
The Lion let one, exactly one, tear drop on their hands.
Hasama had always been a grounding force when Kyoya and Kakeru's business was taking off. A calm voice, almost in a monotone, and the occasional slap on the face worked wonders when he was on the edge of doing something stupid. Or outright panicking. Kyoya nearly cried with relief when he got a kid to pass the business onto. Let someone else go through hell, he was an old man and more than ready to laugh at someone else being in pain for once.
Kakeru wasn't scrambling to stay in charge either.
Now, don't get him wrong, Nile had also been a huge help in preserving the brothers' sanity. But Hikaru . . . was Hikaru . . . scrupulously honest, nice, and wouldn't let herself get sidetracked by a landslide.*
Eventually one tear turns into two, then three, and Tategami finds himself silently sobbing by his wife's bedside. Was this what she felt like when her mother was dying?
Pride be damned, Kyoya wanted his wife back.
"Please, please. Just one more day, an hour, a minute, please. She's the only thing I've got left. Just one #^&$*!(# slap on the wrist. I'm begging You." Kyoya kept his back straight, even while breaking down. He didn't want nurses to interrupt him in a moment of such weakness. Lions don't collapse in times of strife. They may roar in pain, but they always stand tall.
The scarred man spent a few minutes practically mewing pleas, but eventually gave up. It was an exercise in futility, like he always knew. He looked hopelessly out the window, noticing the sun still had the audacity to shine.
A nuthatch** fluttered to the window. (Kyoya's mother was crazy about them. Nuthatch pictures, pillows, kitchenettes, eek. It was the only reason he could recognize the bird.) It looked the man straight in the eye and blinked, and delicately turned its head to the side, as if trying to figure Kyoya out.
The Lion shook his head for a second, swearing the bird had instead winked at him.
Then Tategami felt it.
Hikaru squeezed back against his palm.
Maybe God's willing to give a freebie once in a while.
. . .
Yes, all these things can be said about Nile too, but this particular monologue is about Hikaru.*
A Japanese Nuthatch***, of course. **
Nuthatch, symbol of grounding faith and higher wisdom.***
