I took the prescription from the patient's hands and followed its ingredients list to prepare the medicine. Observing the wall full of medicine cabinets, I opened several small drawers, each harboring a particular herb. After weighing out the required amounts, I mixed them with care.
As I reached for the medicine in the third row from the left, in the leftmost wooden drawer, I noticed a small glass bottle placed at the edge inside. It contained pristine white capsules. I stared at it, lost in thought, as a shadow flickered through my mind. It was vague yet gripped my thoughts tightly, inundating my consciousness with a torrent of fleeting moments. Yet, I soon realized that these remnants of memories were shrouded in a bewildering haze. I massaged my temples, and after a brief bout of dizziness, those vivid scenes were once again wiped clean from my mind.
"Mr. Yoshida, Mr. Yoshida..."
Only then did I notice the elder at the counter was calling my name. Realizing my lapse in focus, I retrieved the purple wisteria from the cabinet, turned around, and offered an apologetic smile.
"Mr. Yoshida, I imagine your work must be quite stressful. Please take care of yourself."
The elder leaning on a cane, wore a face with a hint of concern.
"Thank you, it's not a big deal."
I continued weighing the medicinal herbs and mixing them while engaging in small talk with the patient.
After preparing the medicine, I explained the instructions for brewing and consumption, considering that the elderly might have difficulty remembering. I jotted down the details on a piece of paper.
"You've worked hard. Mr. Yoshida is truly a kind-hearted person..."
As I handed over the neatly bundled medicine package along with the note, I heard the elder murmuring.
This phrase was one I had heard many times since starting this profession.
I offered a slight bow, watching the elder depart. After seeing off the last patient of the day, I returned to my chair intending to begin tallying the accounts. However, as I turned to leave, I couldn't help but notice the small, still-open wooden drawer. Inside, that bottle of medicine remained quietly in place, capturing my gaze.
The owner of this bottle of medicine, I realized, would likely never return...
I changed my mind, the accounting could wait until tomorrow.
With that thought in mind, I stood up and walked to the door gazing at the gloomy gray sky outside. The rain had woven a hazy curtain of drizzle, and warm light seeped through the windows of the houses across the street.
The first time that person had visited, it had also been raining.
My vision gradually blurred into faint spots of light, and this rain had been falling for several days now.
My name is Yoshida Ryouhei, and I am just as ordinary as my name suggests. I work as a pharmacist in a peaceful small town in a small country, where I dispense medicine to patients, prepare prescriptions, and offer medical advice. That's all there is to it. I've known Itachi for about six years now, and during these six years, I've been his pharmacist. But to me, he is not just my patient.
I have no idea what I am like in Itachi's eyes. "Ryouhei is someone who came out of utopia," is probably the closest thing to a comment he's ever made. And Itachi, he is the person who led me out into the world.
As I thought about it, I began to feel a bit gloomy, so I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes. Leaning against the wooden door frame, I gazed towards the end of the street, shrouded in the misty autumn rain.
A figure emerged in the distance through the rain and fog, and I shuddered all over, unable to help but wonder if he had returned. Despite knowing that this person would never return, I awaited his arrival.
As he drew closer, step by step, filled me with both surprise and confusion.