Chapter Eight: Infection
Penicillin becoming a concrete possibility instead of a distant hypothetical filled Yui with frantic determination. She couldn't isolate the antibiotic herself; the process was too complicated and expensive to do alone. For penicillin to be distilled, people had to believe it could work… and for that to happen, she had to convince people of germ theory. Rather, she had to convince Dr. Makoto, who had to convince his colleagues.
Thankfully, Yui had the advantage of knowing how it had happened before. This world already knew that spontaneous generation wasn't accurate, so she could move right onto Pasteur's famous experiment. With Eiji's help, Yui detailed the theory behind it. The book she'd written already talked about how boiling water, milk, or wine would prevent diseases and spoilage. This time, Yui aimed to explain why.
She dipped her pen into the inkwell, writing the steps of the experiment that helped prove that germs were the cause of diseases—and not bad air. Yui paused as a thought came to her. In her old world, the term 'pasteurization' had come from the man who'd discovered the technique: Louis Pasteur. In this world, would the process be named after Makoto? Makotozation? Or, perhaps, Yuization? She shook her head, amused at the thought, and continued writing.
Her other project involved the sealing scrolls given to her by Tobirama. He'd said that anything living put inside them wouldn't survive… and did that mean everything? Including germs?
She tested it with a simple experiment. Like Pasteur, she prepared two sealed glass containers with broth. The first she simply left alone. Yui sealed the other one, kept it inside the scroll for five minutes, and took it out. After two days, the broth in the first container grew cloudy and spoiled. The once-sealed one, on the other hand, remained clear.
Yui blinked, stunned at how easy it was. There she had it. Her own little sterilization machine.
Yawning, Yui walked back from her sister's house. Listening to her sister's nonstop stream of gossip and playing with her giggling niece was always a refreshing break from her duties, but as always, she had to return. Today was windy and brisk, and she drew her shawl tighter around her.
Yui opened the door to her clinic, glad to be back in the warmth, and blinked at the sight of Madara. He was still wearing his red armor, but instead of being scuffed and dirty, it was faintly polished. Sen was standing across from him, glaring.
"You need something?" she asked, interrupting the stony silence with slight caution. It was far too soon for the Uchiha to come for more medicine. Izuna had picked them up just two weeks ago.
"I wanted to talk to you."
Something about his smile was less mocking than usual, but she wasn't reassured. Yui glanced at Sen, inclining her head towards the back door. He shook his head and refused to move. With a sigh, Yui glanced back to Madara and waited for him to continue.
"I wanted to apologize on behalf of my clan." He paused for a moment. "Again," he said, dry. "It feels like we've had this conversation before."
Yui approached him, hesitant, untying the shawl around her neck and draping it on her chair. She didn't sit down. Instead, she kept one hand back and the other by her side. Sen stepped forward, stopping just to the left of her. Despite her brother's cheerful, chatty nature, his anger—real anger, not just irritation—started with quiet. And now… Yui didn't know why, but Sen was furious. He'd hold his tongue, though. He always did.
Madara stayed at the other end of the clinic, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He watched her and Sen, quiet for just a moment, and continued. "More specifically, I want to apologize for my brother. He was wrong to say what he did, especially after what you've done for us."
"You're apologizing for him," she repeated.
"Yes."
The silence grew when Madara refused to elaborate. The last time, his apology after the clinic's destruction had seemed like an act of great contrition. This time… it felt more like Madara was apologizing because his brother wouldn't.
She sighed and took a seat. "Sit, please." They might as well get on with it.
Sen remained standing, but Madara sat down, hunched forward on the stool like he was preparing for war.
"You're always doing this, though." Sen spoke, low and harsh, and Yui glanced at him, startled.
Madara simply raised an eyebrow at Sen.
"A ninja comes in. He screws up. He comes back later and apologizes, and we gotta clean up after him." Her brother leaned forward, hands flat on the table. "And repeat, and repeat, and repeat. When does this end? When do you ninja—"
"Sen!"
"No, I have to say it! I'm tired of them walking over you like this! Ninja aren't good for anything but trouble anyway."
"Is that what you think?" said Madara. "That ninja only exist to destroy?" His voice was mild, his expression was placid, but his fingers played with the hilt of the knife strapped to his belt.
That belief was easy to keep. Even Yui found her thoughts drifting in that direction from time to time when she had to treat the aftermath of their actions. But ninja wouldn't exist if there weren't people who paid for them, and pinning all the crimes of a system on an individual was futile. Moreover, it was never smart to proclaim that belief to ninja, no matter how friendly they were.
"I haven't seen 'em do anything else," Sen said.
"Sen, that's enough—"
"It's fine." Despite his well-kept appearance, Madara's eyes were haggard. "Let him say his piece. I'd like to hear it."
"I…" Sen's anger seemed to drain, but he pushed on. "Well, what else is there to say? You heard me just fine."
Madara didn't stand. His gaze slid away from her brother with casual disregard. "Certainly, ninja aren't saints. But we're far from the demons you make us out to be. I'm rather disappointed by your ignorance. It seems like your sister's sense hasn't carried on to you."
Sen bristled. Yui didn't know whether to intervene or shake her head with exasperation.
"Listen, boy. Who do you think clears those roads of bandits? Why do you think your town is attacked less often than any other? Did you think it was a coincidence?" He looked back at Sen with a smile. "Did you think it was your quaint militia?"
"Well—"
"Much of the work we do is based around protection. And the rest…" Madara shrugged, languid. "Lords hire us to take care of their problems and fight in their wars. If we didn't, who do you think would? You. Your fellow villagers would be conscripted, and you'd be dying instead of us."
Sen hunched his shoulders but pressed on. "Your fight with the Senju doesn't have anything to do with that."
"Yes, but I'm changing that," he said with the easy self-assurance he wore like a cloak. Madara eyed him, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued speaking, voice dropping. "I don't allow people to speak to me like that without consequence. But, in light of what you and your sister have done for my clan… I'll let it go." Despite the warning, Madara seemed more amused than angry. "Now, do you have any other complaints, or can I get back to doing what I came here for?"
Yui cleared her throat, getting both men's attention. "No threats, please," she said, low. Madara tilted his head in acknowledgement, lips twitching, and Sen cringed. She sighed. "I think you were apologizing."
"Ah, yes. My brother was being a fool. Uncharacteristically so. After his actions, it might not seem like it, but he is truly grateful for your help. Running into Tobirama, of all people, so soon after witnessing a battle between our clans made him lose his temper." His eyes darkened. "He hadn't taken my suggestion for peace that well, either. It was a matter of poor timing."
"Peace?"
He looked down at his clasped hands. His next words were acerbic, his face pinched and drawn. Normally, his snarl would be intimidating, but he just looked tired. "Izuna doesn't want the fighting to end until they're all dead. He thinks that it's the only way for real peace. My brother, he… he doesn't know how to forgive. And he doesn't know what to do with forgiveness." He spoke slowly. "Izuna is my only surviving brother." He hesitated again, and when he continued, his words were even softer. "I once had three more, all younger. They died because of the Senju."
Sen inhaled sharply, stricken at the thought of losing a sibling. As the youngest, he was the one that everyone else babied, and neither of them had memories of their oldest sister's passing or their mother's stillborn child. Yui could hardly fathom losing one sibling, let alone three. But why was Madara telling her this?
"Izuna was never the same after that. Izuna blames the Senju, yes, but he blames himself more. What kind of older brother can't protect their younger siblings?"
His laugh was broken, and for the first time, Madara looked vulnerable. Yui's breath caught. A ninja could never show weakness, and yet Madara, the quintessential shinobi, was allowing them a glimpse.
"But my brother is wrong. Peace is possible." Just as quickly, the moment of weakness disappeared, leaving only resolve. He smiled again, but it lacked his usual sharpness. "Now that Hashirama is the leader of the Senju clan, we're able to work towards the dream we both had since we were young. Though I'd lost faith, he never did."
"A world where kids don't got to fight." Yui thought of Hashirama sitting by the fire all those nights ago. The warm glow of the embers had made him look tired. Now, the sunlight cast different shadows on Madara, but the effect was the same.
"Yes." He chuckled quietly. "We'd first met as children ourselves, though we were ignorant of the other's identity. I'd suspected it, and I think he did, too, but if neither of us asked, then… it was easy to pretend. Easy to pretend we were just two friends instead of sworn enemies."
"And now you can make it the truth."
"I suppose so." Instead of the hope and excitement she'd expected, Madara's eyes were grim. "Our clans are in a shaky ceasefire, but it's a start. Both of us have to wrangle the more militant factions of our clans, the ones who don't want to let the conflict go. People like my brother. But just because something hasn't been done before doesn't mean it can't be done. Your clinic helped me realize that that," he said. "I admit that I'm not entirely convinced of your methods or desire to share so freely—it seems rather foolish—but I'm willing to be convinced."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a tightly-bound scroll. "In here is a jutsu that is used to numb pain. I… borrowed it from another clan." Madara gave her his usual smirk, sardonic with just an edge of sincerity.
She took the scroll. "Thank you," said Yui, holding his gaze. Not only for the information but the trust he'd shown, the honesty that ran counterintuitive to the kind of life he lived.
Madara gave a slow nod. His eyes flickered to Sen, and his expression shuttered.
"Sorry," said Sen suddenly. "I shouldn't have said all that stuff. I was rude. You're a patient, and you being a ninja don't change—" he swallowed, "it doesn't change that. I should've asked before blaming you." He crossed his arms and lifted his chin up, defiant. "I don't take all of it back, though! You ninja still make a lot a messes. And while you're figuring everything out, we still gotta clean up after you."
Madara looked at him for a moment, cold and sharp-edged again, before softening. With a languid smile, he vanished.
Sen blinked. "Wait, that's it? He's not gonna say anything back?
"Well, disappearing without warning is basically a ninja's version of goodbye."
"Does that mean he's not gonna stab me in my sleep?"
"Probably," Yui said, smiling. "That was good of you to apologize."
He shrugged. "I was kinda wrong. Not all wrong, but a little bit."
"You're still not off the hook for yelling at him, though. It's not a good habit to get into, yelling at people who could kill us without blinking." Her tone was dry, fully aware of her hypocrisy. Not so long ago, she'd done the same to Izuna, who was more volatile than his brother. "I know it's not fair, but we're at their mercy. We shouldn't push it."
"Maybe, but they're at ours. We don't gotta fix them."
"Yes, we do," she said, firm.
Sen sighed but didn't protest. "Before you make me clean the shed for the hundredth time, can I first see what he gave you?"
"Alright." Of course, Yui was curious too.
She opened the scroll and pressed it flat on the table so he could see. In thin, long strokes of ink were paragraphs of descriptions and theory. Detailed diagrams were interspersed between the blocks of text. Yui skimmed it, pleased at recognizing most of the terms. She'd been working her way through Hashirama's book as well as Dr. Makoto's, and all three texts agreed on the basics. In particular, this scroll talked about the numbing properties of chakra.
"Interesting," she murmured, and she sat down to read.
Tsubaki chattered away as Yui cleaned up her injuries. Besides the road rash covering both arms, Tsubaki was in good health and more vibrant than usual, literally and metaphorically; her glass beads were in every shape and color, glittering as light shone through them.
"How ironic that I was injured, not by bandits or ninja, but by my own caravan!" said Tsubaki, laughing and shaking her head. "I haven't seen any fighting in a while, though, especially in this cursed stretch of land—not including Chiyuku, of course." She gave Yui a sideways glance. "Thanks to a certain someone, this town's blessed to be free of that ninja bullshit. Still, it seems like the conflict between both the Senju, Uchiha, and the war-hungry lords has faded a little."
Tsubaki lowered her voice, though the only other people there were the two apprentices and Hatake. "I hear that one of the newer daimyo has gotten involved, Lord Hosokawa. He's been consolidating power like mad, and rumor has it that he has been dealing with both shinobi clans—Senju and Uchiha. Not only that, I hear that Lord Hosokawa's forced Lord Fukuyama and Lord Motonari to stop their silly fight." She snorted. "If he keeps this up, Fire Country might have one daimyo for once."
Yui nodded, contemplative. She didn't keep track of politics that much, but thanks to her merchant patients, she had a better understanding of what went on nowadays. Lord Fukuyama—the same lord who'd placed the bounty on those bandits who'd ransacked her home—was technically the liege of their village. Unfortunately, the land of his bitter rival Lord Motonari was right next to them. One hired Uchiha, the other Senju, and all jokeyed for power over their sworn enemy. Now, though… Yui thought back to Hashirama and Madara's words. Perhaps there was a reason behind Lord Hosokawa's meteoric rise.
"Peace," she said out loud.
"Peace? Between who, the Senju and Uchiha?" said Hatake, derisive.
"Sounds strange, doesn't it?" Tsubaki mused. "If a few years ago, someone had told me that both clans might actually, well, stop fighting, I'd have called them insane."
The look on Hatake's face suggested that he still thought so. He stepped closer as Yui slathered salve on Tsubaki's arms, his frown deepening.
Tsubaki looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop being a busybody, R—Hatake."
Yui pointedly ignored the slip and continued her administrations. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
The merchant shook her head. "I know my shoulders are going to be sore in the morning, but other than that, it's just my arms and knees."
"I'll give you something to kill the pain."
"Thank you!" said Tsubaki, smiling. She watched as Yui went to her shelves, stocked with glass and wooden jars. "Oh, that reminds me. I have your special glassware and crossbow bolts, but a few jars are broken thanks to that little accident."
"That's fine." Yui had asked for more flat pans for the penicillin experiment so that she could run a few more strains. She'd also requested glass jars for the salves; with the amount of people who bought them, Yui was always running a little low. "You can bring the rest the next time you come around."
"Of course." Tsubaki paused, tossing her hair back so that the beads clinked like windchimes. Hatake snorted in the corner. After shooting him a glare, she cleared her throat and continued. "Thankfully, the other thing I'd brought wasn't damaged."
"The other thing?
"Do you remember what we talked about the last time we met?"
Yui nodded. A few months ago, Tsubaki had finally given into her curiosity and had asked about the purpose of all those strange glass objects. Yui had told her, obviously, and Tsubaki had been impressed, if a little puzzled by it all. She'd already been vaguely familiar with the concept; one of her clients was an eccentric noble who studied animalcules.
"Well, I have something that might help with that."
"Oh?"
She grinned. "Hatake, if you would?"
The pale-haired ninja grunted and picked up one of the crates they'd brought into the clinic. With surprising gentleness, he set it on the table. Then, he unclasped the latch and lifted the lid.
Yui gasped when she saw what was inside.
A microscope.
It was archaic compared to what she remembered, with a brass body and simple glass lenses, but to Yui, it was like rediscovering fire after stumbling in the darkness for so long. She didn't know what to say. She stared at the the microscope and then at Tsubaki, overwhelmed with gratitude and questions.
Tsubaki gave her a soft smile. "Yeah. I didn't think I could get it, honestly. Microscopes are rare and specialized, and not many people can make them. Of those who can, even fewer are willing to sell them to a merchant. There's always that fear of rival makers getting their hands on them and taking them apart. But! I managed to get a really simple one from a maker who buys glass from me. I assume you're interested in buying it?"
"Yeah. Yes, I am," said Yui, voice thick. She felt like reaching out and hugging her. "Thank you, Tsubaki. How much do you want for it?"
"Well, you could always throw in a few extra supplies." She shrugged a shoulder and hissed as Yui began to slather turmeric, marigold, and neem salve on her arms. "I have a feeling I'll need a little more for myself this time around. But, besides that…"
Yui didn't even bother to haggle, agreeing to the first price that Tsubaki gave (to the merchant's surprise). Even that felt a little low compared to how much Yui wanted it. With how rare and difficult microscopes were to procure, Yui wasn't about to insult her friend after she'd done her a massive favor.
Since the deal was settled, she leaned over the crate and touched the cold metal body of microscope, marveling. Ten years ago, having a microscope would've been unimaginable. Now, she had that and more—people who were willing to listen and help, no matter how long that took, no matter how hard it was.
On a good day, they were lucky enough to see the outlines of cells. Although high-quality microscopes in this world could probably see the individual components of cells, this was not one of them. It was alright, though, because Yui expected as much. What she hadn't expected was Sen's interest.
Her brother was a social, hardworking boy—well, an adult now, though she sometimes forgot—and though he enthusiastically studied the hands-on parts, like sewing wounds or making tinctures, the theory side of it never really grabbed his attention. That had been Eiji's passion.
But ever since she'd showed Sen how to operate the microscope, she could hardly drag him away from it.
"You mean these square things are inside us?" he asked, breathless as he stared at the grainy image of a leaf.
"Not the same kind, but we have cells too."
Sen switched out the leaf with a petal and began fiddling with the lenses to refocus the image. "Are there things smaller than cells?"
"Yeah. We can't see them, but the cells have tiny organs, too. And the germs that make people sick are even smaller," she said.
"Wow." He scribbled something down on a bound book and put his eye back against the ocular piece.
"Stop hogging it, Sen!" complained Eiji, walking into the shed with freshly collected herbs. "I want to take a look too."
"Aw, shut up! I'm still looking at this petal."
Yui smiled. It was much easier to isolate the penicillin strains from other fungi using the microscope, but Yui had to admit that one of the best parts was Sen's—and by consequence, Eiji's—renewed enthusiasm. Perhaps she could write to Dr. Makoto and see if the boys could study with him. Being a woman, a university education was still beyond her, but her students had a chance. They could bring the theories she'd taught them to a wider audience, and unlike Dr. Makoto, she didn't have to try and convince them of the theories' merit.
"Sen, move over." Eiji said, giving Sen a light shove. "Go kiss your girlfriend Kiko or whatever her name is!"
"Hey, don't talk about my girlfriend like that! And her name's Kaori!"
"Boys, relax! And not in front of the microscope! It's the only one we got. If you knock it over, we aren't getting another one."
They both mumbled an apology, and reluctantly, Sen stepped aside. Before Eiji pressed his eye to the lens, he stopped and drew away from the microscope.
"Sensei, how do you know this?" he asked, curious.
She stiffened. "Know what?"
"Know about the cells, their parts, the germs... and the microscope." Eiji tilted his head down and examined the petal through the microscope. "I used to think that Old Anzu taught you, but that's not right, huh? There's no way she could've known, and I don't know how you do either."
Sen watching too, careful and quiet. Yui hadn't expected it from them, but maybe should have. She wasn't the only one who'd been affected by the outside world. Sen and Eiji had learned from Dr. Makoto too, and with their exposure, they had a better idea of what was normal.
"I just know," she said, and she didn't say anything more.
Both of her apprentices were helping her scrape out the penicillin mold from the containers, a tedious task that no one liked. Halfway between dumping out a failed specimen, Sen paused, nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Hey, Sis, I thought you found the special fungus thing you needed for the medicine. So, where's the magic medicine you were talking about? We've been growing mold and cleaning for ages, and you haven't used none yet."
Yui picked up another pan. "Unfortunately, it's not easy to make. Now that we found the fungus and I've written about what it can do, the first part is done. But it's just the first part." She pointed to the crude mixture of semi-filtered penicillin. "I tried to make what I could, but we need technology and pure materials to get the medicine. And, with the amount of fungus we have, I doubt we could get more than a vial of medicine, even if we did have the best filter. Making all that stuff on a big scale costs more money than I have, which is why I'm trying to convince people to help me pay for it."
"Like all those letters you and Eiji keep writing to Dr. Makoto, right?"
Yui glanced at her other apprentice, who scrubbed furiously at the glass pan and was doing his best to pretend like he wasn't listening. Eiji was writing letters too? She didn't know anything about that. Maybe he was writing about the penicillin, though that seemed unlikely. Maybe it was about medical matters or something else. It wasn't her place to police what he did, and it probably wasn't important. Eiji would tell her if it was.
"Yeah," she said after a moment, and Eiji's shoulders relaxed. "That's why."
Unfortunately, Makato was a noncommittal about helping her with penicillin. He'd done (and taken credit) for the experiment she'd written about, and to their excitement, germ theory was slowly beginning to spread. But despite his rising status, Yui doubted he had the power or desire to get the funds needed to produce penicillin. Yui had put out feelers with her merchant friends, seeing if any of them were interested, but none of them were in the medicine business. They came to her for that. Most were hesitant about funding something so expensive and risky.
Yui knew that this whole idea was a crapshot. Penicillin was only found in the early 1900s, and after the lucky discovery, it took two full decades for it to become a viable medicine. The fungus was fickle, requiring oxygen and nutrients and pressure, and the complicated extraction process took industrialization. Yui didn't know if this world had the technology needed.
But damn it, she'd never forgive herself if she didn't try. If it didn't happen in her lifetime, it'd happen in the next. Her notes were detailed enough for that. Yui would lay the groundwork needed, and the next generation would continue the fight.
With winter came the flu.
First, it was the baker's daughter who fell ill. Then the blacksmith, then three more, and four more, until finally, she had an epidemic on her hands. The flu season was expected at this time of year; each time, three or four people fell sick.
Never had it been this bad.
The elderly and the very young were the most likely to succumb to the flu. It wasn't a disease for healthy adults. Not a fatal one. The flu was supposed to take a week or two to overcome. A week of aches, chills, coughing—a week of pain and sickness, but just a week. Yui would treat the symptoms, give instructions, and wait for the body's immune system to overcome it.
This flu didn't remind her of last winter or the winter before. It wasn't anything she'd seen, not in this life or the last. This flu reminded her of a pandemic she'd only read about, one caused by an aggressive, infectious strain of influenza that mainly affected young adults. The Spanish Flu, one of the deadliest disasters in all of human history.
There had been many theories about it. Theories upon theories upon theories. Perhaps those deaths were a result of a cytokine storm, in which healthy immune systems overreacted. Perhaps it was just a bad strain of flu, or bad luck, or the infections that came after… perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. None of the theories helped now.
With her apprentices' help, she quarantined the sick. She posted signs warning travelers away, despite the protests of lost business from the village council. Yui used fabric to make make crude surgical masks for the patients and their families, and she insisted on frequent hand-washing to prevent the spread of the flu.
She did her best.
It wasn't enough.
The innkeeper followed her down the street as he talked at her. He'd bothered her about it for the last two weeks, incessant in his pursuit.
"Healer, don't you think it be time to take down those signs? The sickness is right gone, ain't it?"
"It's not," she snapped. The worst was over, but she still had fifteen patients.
"Look, no one's gonna come stay in my inn if they think there's a plague goin' on!"
"There is a plague going on." Yui sighed. "Just one more week, alright? We don't want to spread it around."
"But healer—"
Yui closed the door on him. She had no more patience. After two weeks of little sleep, constant fear and losing patients, she was damn tired. She sympathized to some degree; nowadays, the village was dependent on travelers for income, and the innkeeper more than most. But Yui wasn't going to indulge people who disregarded public health despite having it explained to them a dozen times.
"Him again?" asked Sen, rolling his eyes. He was cutting a coarse bolt of fabric into strips and rectangles for the sanitary masks. Most the local villagers had several by now, and Yui handed out the extra to the few travelers who didn't get the memo. Sen's own mask was hanging around his neck, though he pulled it up when he saw Yui frown.
"Unfortunately," said Yui. An ache throbbed behind her eyes, threatening to spread. She almost rubbed her face but stopped, privately admonishing herself for her stupidity. Tiredness was no excuse for carelessness. The three of them took shifts, but none of them could rest for long. "How are our patients? And Eiji?"
"They're all doing better." Sen's voice was muffled by the mask, but she could tell he was smiling by the crinkle of his eyes. "Rika is still touch-and-go, but she hasn't gotten worse. Hiroshi's fever broke. I think he'll be fine. Eiji's been with them for the last hour, but he'll probably come out to eat any minute. I'll watch them next."
Yui shook her head. "It's fine. I'll take over."
"What? No!" said Sen. He paused in his cutting to narrow his eyes in a scowl. "You've been working for the last eight hours. Don't push yourself!"
"It's fine, Sen." She sat next to him, picked up a needle and thread, and began to sew the masks together, all while ignoring the growing headache. She couldn't not work, not when more people needed her help.
"Uh, no, it's not fine—"
The inside door opened, and Eiji walked in, yawning. Due to overflow, they'd been using both the surgery/treatment room and the boys' room as the quarantine zone. Eiji paused in the doorway, looking between the two of them.
"What's wrong?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing.
"She won't take a break!" Sen set the shears down and pointed an accusing finger at her. "She wants us to rest while she works herself to death!"
"Sensei!" Eiji became just as indignant as her brother, and she sighed again. When the two put up a united front like this, they were impossible to dissuade. "You told us the problems with overworking. Stress makes it easier to get sick!"
"Yes, but—"
Sen sneezed.
He had his mask on, but he covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow anyway. He sneezed again. Eiji's shoulders tensed, and his mask didn't flutter as he held his breath. Yui looked down at her needle and thread. Her hands were shaking. The silence unfurled under the weight of what no one acknowledged.
"I might be coming down with a cold," Sen said, bright and false. "These things always have the worst timing, huh?"
"Just a cold," echoed Eiji.
Yui said nothing.
Sen began to cough.
One day of incubation. Sudden onset. High fever, headaches, cough, and fatigue. When Sen collapsed in the middle of the clinic, she knew. Together, Yui and Eiji moved him to the quarantine.
"I'll be fine," he assured between coughs. Sweat shone on his face, and he barely had enough strength to shift on the cot. "It's just a week. A week, and I'll get better."
"You'll get better." Eiji reached down to squeeze his friend's hand but stopped short of touching it. He slowly drew back. "You'll be fine."
Yui didn't need to touch her brother's skin to feel the heat radiating from it.
One week became two. Most of their patients recovered, though few did not. Sen lingered in the cot, assuring them, "I feel better! Let me help!"
Once, he tried to get up by himself. He immediately stumbled, hitting his elbow on the cot as he fell to the floor. Sen couldn't get up. He couldn't call for help. His lungs were too weak, and every time he tried to shout, he had a coughing fit.
Ten minutes later, Yui found him wheezing and gasping on the ground. She helped him back up and brought him another blanket. She wanted to scold him for risking his health, but Yui knew that she'd cry if she said anything. She turned her head and blinked, trying to keep him from seeing the gathering tears. He noticed anyway.
Sen didn't try to stand again.
Climbing fever. A heart rate above ninety beats a minute, respiration above twenty breaths. His pulse felt like a nervous butterfly, and his lungs filled with the flaps of its wings. It looked like pneumonia. It looked like sepsis. His coughs coated his tongue with pus, and through it all, he wheezed, "I'll get better, Sis. I'll get better!"
Eiji pulled her aside. "Will he get better?"
Sen's coughs resounded through the wall. He would pause, gasp for air, and each time, more coughs would interrupt his desperate attempts for air. It sounded like sobbing.
Her breath stopped each time her brother's did, and she hadn't slept, too worried that he'd slip away when she wasn't there. Yui looked at her other student. He wanted her to comfort him, but she couldn't do it anymore. She wanted to scream at him, scream at someone, to breakdown in a corner and cry until her eyes were dry, to finally admit that it wasn't okay, that she couldn't do this anymore. She wanted someone to hold her and lie, to tell her that everything would be fine.
But that was her job.
"I don't know," Yui said finally. "I don't know."
Skin discoloration.
Delirium.
"It hurts," he moaned. "My stomach hurts. Ma, help me! It hurts!"
Yui couldn't do anything.
She couldn't stop a virus. She couldn't use her crude penicillin to fix the infections that came after. She knew what could have fixed him, but she had nothing, no antivirals or intravenous fluid or ventilators. Yui knew more medicine than any other person alive in this world, and she couldn't save her baby brother.
"It'll be alright," she lied, pushing his hair back. "It'll be alright."
Yui and Eiji switched when she needed to eat or treat someone else. Likewise, Yui's siblings and mother came in rotations, each pale-faced and ready. Now it was their mother's turn. She stood in the corner, sobbing, familiar with this pain.
"I'm sorry," cried Sen. "I'm n-not good enough. I'm not strong. I'm not, make it stop—"
"Don't be sorry, Sen," Yui said, grabbing his hand. "You're the best little brother and student in the whole world, okay?"
"I can't do it. I'm scared. I'm scared."
"No, no, don't be scared. Don't be scared, it's okay—"
"I don't wanna… I don't…"
Yui couldn't hold his hand any tighter. His skin stretched across the bones like parchment. She whispered, soft and comforting and desperate, "It will be better."
"I'm scared."
Quietly, Sen died.
AN: It's always darkest before the dawn. We're almost done. There's just one arc to go, a few more chapters before it's over. The plot threads are coming to a close, and it's crazy to think we've gotten this far. Your comments, favorites, and follows truly give me the motivation to keep at this. Thank you all for reading. As before, there is bonus content on tumblr.
Special thanks to masqvia, GwendolynStacy, and Iaso for beta-reading this chapter. They suffered through my writing, my indecision, and my constant questions. They're the best, and I suggest checking them out. Again, thank you all for your patience and support.