Work Text:
Hatori's memories of Kana are not yet scars. Someday the wound will close over, leaving nothing but an occasional scratchy discomfort, but for now it is gaping wide open, sensitive even to air itself. The best thing, Hatori knows, to quicken the healing process is to keep himself busy. He would not erase his own memories but that does not mean he has to stew in them. He returned to the office as soon as possible.
He lights up a cigarette, draws in a breath, and immediately starts coughing. His addiction to nicotine is brand-new; he took it up in the hopes that it'd slow down, maybe even prevent, the on-coming nervous breakdown. Doctor's orders.
Today is his first day back. The gauze over his eye still needs to be changed twice daily and he has a bottle full of pain killers next to his stapler. Usually he meets work with lethargy-- family pressure has been his one inspiration for becoming a doctor-- so of course the one time he would welcome his sick relatives is the day no one comes. Rumors have spread. They (Akito, Shigure, a few maids who saw enough before and after to piece together what had happened) had tried keeping the whole scandal a secret, but considering the eye-patch and the two-week long vacation there is only so much you can hide. It might have been better to let the truth out, that way the rumors would not wander into absurd's realm.
Being back in the office feels strange. Maids had kept the place clean and organized, yet with both Hatori and Kana out of service, no one had used the office. The papers are old, the calendar claims it is the previous month. Hatori has to dispose of expired medicine and food. He debates throwing out the framed photo of Kana; in the end he decides not. He misses her.
Two visitors came in during the early morning. The first was Momiji who wanted to welcome him back. Ever since the accident they had come closer. Momiji understands and sympathizes all too well with being forgotten. The next person was Yuki's mother, there to remind him to go check up on her son as possible. Her usual polite and charming facade was worn down; apparently getting Yuki medical attention from unknown doctors had been a harrowing experience. Thankfully Yuki's health had behaved itself this week, though from the way his mother put it, it sounded as if he had half-opened death's door. The woman refused to realize that her poor, delicate son was steadily getting stronger. Hatori promised to come by that afternoon. He'd have gone at that very moment but Yuki‘s mother asked him to come later as "he and Akito are playing-- they‘re such good friends-- and we wouldn‘t want to interrupt their time together, now would we?"
Now all tidied-up and cleaned, it is only ten in the morning, and Hatori is bored. There are medical journals he could read, but considering that not even Shigure's latest trash novel can hold his attention, it is a lost cause. Have the rumors really scared the family members off that much? Is the one-eyed doctor not good enough to prescribe medicine to the brats with earaches or recommend a fat-free diets? Not even Akito has the decency to get sick.
He is on his fifth consecutive cigarette when Ayame strolls in. "Greetings, Tori-san!" In his right hand is a plastic shopping bag full of what must be another batch of food. Ayame has made it his life's goal to feed Hatori. Normally this stubbornness makes Hatori want to bury Ayame into a hole, but today he welcomes the distraction. "Back at work already, now that's my Tori-san, we expect nothing less."
Hatori grunts some hello or another. Years of friendship had taught him that being low-key is the best behavior to adopt around Ayame. Otherwise Ayame becomes excited and therefore unbearable.
Seeing the small cemetery of cigarettes in the ash tray, Ayame frowns. "Haven't dropped Gure-san's bad habit yet? You're a doctor, you should know better--" Ayame lets out a loud laugh. To a stranger he might sound genuinely amused. Hatori knows he is trying to fend off his glare. "This is ridiculous! You're the sensible one, you're supposed to be keeping me from being so wild. And speaking of being sensible, you haven't eaten again, I can tell!"
"Wasn't hungry," mumbles Hatori.
"Hungry or not, you must keep your energy! One day you might not have me to remind you. But for now, here, I come bearing tangerines. I thought it most fortunate to find them, as they are out of season, and who can resist the allure of a tangerine? Your patients can wait while you recharge. What good is a doctor on an empty stomach?" Ayame sits down and begins to peel a tangerine.
During these past few weeks Ayame had mothered him the most. Momiji dropped in everyday with flowers, Shigure came often to make sure he kept his sanity, and Akito had clung to him regularly as an unsubtle reminder to whom Hatori belonged. Only Ayame had tried to stop him from passively destroying himself. He brought in food when he saw that Hatori rejected everything the hospital tried to feed him, he reminded him to change his clothes, to bathe. Nothing he has done has stopped Hatori from taking up smoking, though. Maybe one of these days Ayame will accept it and stop tsk-tsk-ing at him.
"Here~!" Ayame holds out half a tangerine which Hatori takes gingerly. Bright orange, a shade you'd find on the rack of a teenage hair accessory store; a color far too vivid, as though it is still alive. He tries a slice. It tastes sharp, sweet, and bitter. Too concentrate in flavor. Hatori can’t stand to eat it, but he does anyway, swallowing entire slices to avoid chewing. If he doesn’t eat Ayame will lecture his ear off, and having just lost an eye, Hatori is in no hurry to lose more body parts.
Ayame, on the other hand, obviously takes delight in the fruit. "Mmm, if there were ever a food of the Gods, it would have to be the tangerine. There is nothing so perfect! By the way, I saw Kana today."
Hatori nearly gags on a slice.
"She's fine," Ayame continues, peeling another tangerine, "in fact, she looked unchanged. I am surprised she remembered me at all; perhaps she thinks Mayu-kun introduced us, or that we ran into each other at some Sohma event. She sends you her regards and wishes you a speedy recovery."
Hatori's throat feels raw. "I'm glad."
"Are you?" Ayame nearly glares at him, but he is incapable of being angry at Hatori. "Glad to have her as an acquaintance? Glad she believes that she spent the last few months in a romantic slump but come this spring she'll get back on the horse and take fate by the reins? Glad she's forgotten everything that matters about you, and she'll forget it all before long?"
"No," Hatori answers deliberately, "but I will be. I need to get back to work, Ayame."
Ayame wrinkles his nose. "I shall return tomorrow." What he doesn’t say is that this isn't over. But for today it is. For today Hatori doesn’t have to fight off Ayame's energy, his concerns, his mothering, his goddamned depressing optimism.
Throwing the rest of the tangerines into the trash, Hatori pulls out a cigarette, sits down, and waits.