Goemon declined to go, instead volunteering to keep a look out near the hideout of any indication that they were being tracked by law enforcement.
He decided to take a walk, to acquaint himself with the section of London they were in. It was a relatively long walk to the city, as their hideout was outside the city limits, but Goemon enjoyed the verdant countryside and was surprised when his entry to the city took him on a road with little traffic and ornate streetlamps. Unlike other parts of London they had been, which had been a metropolis with towering skyscrapers, this area looked a bit more like the Britain he had seen in films.
Goemon remained alert to any threats, and aside from a few strange looks he got from passerbys, the stroll was quite peaceful. He became long used to expecting the strange looks, as the clothing he wore as a descendant of the Ishikawas differed from the clothing that people in European countries wore. What he watched for was the little movements: a hand reaching into a coat, the tip of a hat to obstruct one's face, the tactics he often saw by those wanting to disguise their identities, whether they be undercover officers, undercover mercenaries, or Lupin himself. Thankfully, he didn't see anything of that nature.
A loud, popping sound shook Goemon out of his thoughts. He pulled the sheathed Zantetsuken from his side. Just as abruptly as the noise was two of his fingers colliding with metal. When he pulled out the Zantetsuken, his hand struck a metal sign that he had been too distracted to notice.
The pain caused him to bend over, clutching his hand to his chest. As he reacted involuntarily, he felt immense shame. Didn't he train for years, decades to be at full alert? Surely he should have noticed the sign directly in front of him? He would need to train more.
"Are you OK?" Goemon heard a voice to his left. On the other side of the road, a man looked in Goemon's direction.
Goemon, struggling to look up and keep the pain out of his face, nodded.
He heard footsteps as the man approached him. "Please, if you don't mind the intrusion, I am a medical doctor and have an office just across the street. I could bandage your fingers. You wouldn't even need to leave the waiting room."
The man seemed sincere enough. It was actually quite kind of him to offer. Goemon wondered if he would need to pay for the bandage, but decided against asking.
He followed the man to the doctor's office, keeping his hand close to his chest and hastily placing his Zantetsuken out of sight.
They walked into a clean, yet cozy waiting room, retaining the same sense of character that Goemon had noticed on the street. The chairs looked comfortable and a stack of magazines were placed at the ends of each table. Sunlight streamed through aged windows.
Nodding warmly to the receptionists, the man made his way to a dresser with an impressive amount of drawers. Goemon initially thought the dresser was for decoration, but the doctor swiftly opened a drawer and pulled out a bandage tape.
"Can you extend your fingers?" the man asked. Goemon nodded, wincing as he slowly held out his hand. The doctor bandaged carefully and quickly, breaking off the end of the tape and placing it back in the drawer.
"How does it feel?" the man asked.
"It feels …" Goemon hesitated to find the right word. "Secure. Thank you."
"You are very welcome, and there's no charge. We have more bandages than we know what to do with."
"That's very kind of you."
"It's all in a day's work." The doctor exuded friendliness, but not to the level of playful arrogance Goemon was accustomed to seeing in Lupin.
"Do you use a walking stick?" The man glanced at the Zantetsuken. Goemon stifled a gasp, realizing the weapon was more visible than he thought. To someone unfamiliar with weaponry, it would very much look life a staff.
"…Yes." Goemon closed his eyes. He hated to lie, but it seemed better in the moment than telling the doctor and everyone in the waiting room that he had a weapon that could cut through every object known to humankind.
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "It's good to have. People don't realize the damage you can do to your feet and legs if you need to walk long distances."
Goemon, still out of sorts, wasn't sure how to respond.
The doctor's eyebrows raised, as though he had forgotten something. "Oh! I'm Dr. Hatson. I'll give you my card, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
"Oh, uh, thank you," Goemon said, not certain whether he should have also introduced himself. "Mr. Hatson, I appreciate it."
"You are very welcome!" Dr. Hatson replied.
Goemon made a slight bow and walked out of the waiting room, aware that he was once again given odd looks. He winced as he looked down at his bandaged fingers. He would need to be more careful.