Always the same thing
This will be over quickly
Just a little more

“Alright, now breathe out.”

I comply, trying to imagine myself somewhere else. My main problem isn’t the pain; I can deal with that like a pro. Rather it’s the very cold hands on me and my general dislike of things involving the medical field. Few things irk me like feeling like an object for inspection under a critic’s eye.

I learned after a while to approach this like meditation: Just focus on breathing in and out and try to ignore everything else. I wish Shiro wasn’t so insistent about getting me checked regularly, which is another sign that he’s not quite willing to give up control over me, if only in that area.

Not that I can really blame him. I’m infamously bad at telling him certain things pertaining to my health, which I feel should be my business and no one else’s. Then again, I wasn’t the one watching over me when I was halfway across the river, so maybe he does have some right, not that I’d ever say it to his face

I wince as something pricks my arm for an instant, having to resist the urge to swat the offender as one would a mosquito. I know the doctor would not like that and might very well decide to hit me with his notebook were I to do that. I don’t know what exactly he keeps in that thing, but it looks heavy and probably would hurt more than this little pinprick.

I open one eye to look over at Doctor Kensei, attempting to figure out how long it’ll take him to get this over with. He’s actually no longer crouched over me, but reaching for something in that seemingly bottomless bag of his. He strikes me as a mole-like individual, a resemblance not in the least bit alleviated by the singular lens he wears over his bad eye to help him see.

He’s a nice enough guy, rather grandfatherly and gentle, and has some amusing little habits I’ve picked up on over time. For instance, when he’s thinking about the best way to tell someone something he strokes his short white beard with one hand and squints his eyes, something I’ve learned is an indication to not expect good news. I think he deserves much more credit than he probably gets for being the bearer of bad news, and I try to thank him as often as I can.

He’s also a good sport, considering that his first experience with us involved Shiro showing up in the middle of the night, dragging him off with a very brief explanation, and probably thoroughly convincing the old boy that he was in mortal danger. But given his line of work this probably wasn’t the strangest way Kensei’s been hired.

With an accomplished sigh he sits back and adjusts his eyepiece. Given his slightly distracted expression he’s probably already thinking about dinner. The growl of my stomach reminds me that I’m in the same boat as far as food is concerned; and I remind myself not to keep him long for the sake of us both.

“Alright Kazuma­-san,” he says as he stands up. “Just need you to watch that one muscle in your shoulder there, but all told you seem healthy as a horse.” The last bit is accompanied by a slight smirk that I have to scowl at, since he just had to make a pun on the second kanji in my name, which unfortunately reads “horse”. Considering it’s him I’m willing to let is slide, but were it one of my men a slight whack with a paper fan would be expected punishment for that type of wisecrack. At the very least it indicates that everything really is okay, as he wouldn’t be making jokes otherwise, and as far as I can tell his hand is nowhere near his beard.

In short, it’s all good for the moment, and I feel I can finally breathe normally, though I wasn’t aware until that moment I was holding my breath.

“Thank you doctor.” I say while pulling my shirt up before he opens the door, in case someone is on the other side.

“Your welcome. Just make keep in touch, Kazuma-san. Good day to you.” He bows as he leaves, a slight smile that I imagine might have once crossed the face of a grandfather I never met, and a father who left too soon. It’s amazing how it seems like people just step into roles like that in other people’s lives without even realizing it.

On that note, it strikes me then that I don’t actually recall the first time we met. I’m sure he remembers, but I was so delirious I didn’t even know what day it was, much less who was looking after me. It’s an interesting experience to know that someone’s been around you even when you didn’t know it, like parents who have been in their children’s lives since the moment of birth. It makes me wonder how Shiro feels about the week or so I was so out of it that I didn’t even know where I was half the time, and practically the only thing I do remember is that he was there almost constantly.

As I mull over this I hear the door slide open and the brief greeting he gives to my lurking brother. Shiro has this thing about not wanting to be in the room when Kensei’s there unless he’s invited, so instead he stands just outside the door leaning against the paper screen. I almost wish the thing would just collapse; it would be pretty funny and make him go read as a beet.

All this is supposedly because he respects my privacy, but I know a certain amount is that he doesn’t like being reminded that all this has to be kept secret, which is the very reason we being Kensei up from the town. Shiro doesn’t trust the palace doctors in the least; according to him even money’s not enough to keep them quiet. I didn’t really believe him until all this happened, and he went to the trouble of running down to the town to avoid having to see them in the middle of all that. He’s not one to do something like that for no reason, and that whole incident cemented the idea that the palace doctors were treacherous.

I smirk as I stick my head out to observe him as he stands there, trying to look like he’s just hanging out and not doing anything suspicious. I know he likens me to the gray feline who’s taken up residence with us fairly frequently, but right now I can’t help but draw comparisons to a cat trying to pretend like they weren’t just eyeing a plate of shrimp. Of course, if I ask he’ll claim it’s guard duty or just make something up as to why he’s there.

“So,” he says, false casualness absolutely dripping from him. “What’d Kensei have to say?”

I can’t suppress sigh of exasperation at the question, to his annoyance. It’s not like he couldn’t have heard what we were saying through the screen, but I guess he doesn’t feel it his place to even acknowledge he could have been listening in. It’s admirable, but at the same time maddening. I close my eyes and try to look very serious and official purely to irk him.

“He said that I’m healthy as a horse, and just to watch that one shoulder.” It’s not like I’m lying, since that is essentially all that he said. Shiro looks at me skeptically, and I sense an opportunity for payback.

“He also said that you should lay off the pork buns.”

“He didn’t say…” Shiro stops short and looks away, obviously embarrassed. I smirk and begin leisurely pace towards the outside, happy to have given my brother his daily dose of humiliation before it got too late. After a moment of grappling with words he realizes I’m no longer stationary and calls down the hall after me.

“Hey! Just where are you going?”

“Out.” I answer simply as I fold my hands into my sleeves. “I convinced one of the boys to buy me a beef bowl in exchange for not writing him up.”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” He asks incredulously.

“He offered.” I wave goodbye briefly without turning around, leaving him to wonder about that last statement. In truth the kid’s just trying to make something up to me, since I went through a lot of trouble cleaning up a mess that was entirely his fault. Truth be told, I wasn’t actually planning on writing him up in the first place, but he was pretty insistent about this. But I’ll let Shiro believe what he wants. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m going soft.

A small cough shakes me as I step out into the cooling night air. As I stop to adjust my collar I can’t help but frown and make a note to keep an eye on that.

After all, as much as I like Kensei, I’d prefer to see him only for regular checkups.