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“Doctor, do you have a moment?”
Midorima Shintarou looked up from his book, returning the chopsticks to his lunch. The clerk who had called him stood in the doorway of the otherwise empty breakroom; there was agitation in the young man’s face. “Of course, what is it?” Midorima answered after a moment, sensing he wouldn’t be able to finish his food before his next appointment.
“Um, well,” the clerk fidgeted, glancing down the hall. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Really?” the surgeon said, now curious. Packing away his food and returning it to his personal locker, he motioned for the clerk to lead the way out to the reception desk. “Who did they say they were?”
The third floor of Fukuoka Sanno Hospital was one of the busiest places in the building during the weekend: ward patients milled about with their caretakers, heading to the various rehab centers and gyms. Midorima himself worked on long-term surgery patients and knew many of those who passed by him and the clerk. He took the necessary time to greet each of them, ask how they were doing, and if they were having any problems, but his mind remained on the visitor that had disconcerted the young clerk.
“He said he was a friend of yours,” the clerk told Midorima, bustling towards the front desk while avoiding a wheelchair. “I told him you were on break, but he insisted he wouldn’t be long.”
Once they reached reception, Midorima had to do a double take. “Well,” the doctor laughed, easing his nerves as he realized who his visitor was. “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”
Akashi Seijuurou smiled at the address, standing from his seat in the waiting area. “Far too long,” he agreed, shaking Midorima’s hand when he put it out. “It’s good to see you’ve settled in so well.”
Midorima chuckled, thanking the clerk quickly. “The pressure seems to agree with me,” he admitted, motioning for Akashi to follow him. Heading into the waiting area, he then asked, “You’re alright? You’re not here for medical help, are you?”
“No, no,” Akashi assured him. They sat, side by side as they had as preteens in Teikou’s gymnasium. “I only wanted to see you, Shintarou, don’t worry. How have you been? You know it’s been almost a year.”
“ Really? ” the surgeon returned, his expression incredulous. “The pub stint was already a year ago?”
“We’re getting old, my friend,” Akashi laughed at the thought Midorima had to put into remembering.
Midorima gave a haughty look. “Twenty-six is not old, ” he chided, scowling at his friend. “You may have forgotten, but you’re the same age .”
“Of course, of course,” Akashi agreed once his laughter subsided. After a moment, the redhead leaned forward intently, curiosity in his bright eyes. “Now tell me, Shintarou: how have you been? I can hardly believe it’s been so long either. You were still in medical school the last time I saw you, for heaven’s sake!”
“Things are good,” Midorima said, after a moment’s thought. He couldn’t help but smile, fondly remembering the ‘pub stint’: nothing more than a rowdy reunion of him and some high school friends. What made it a ‘stint’ was Midorima and the other Generation of Miracles having to take Aomine and Kagami back to their respective apartments due to a heated drinking contest; apparently, neither could hold his liquor very well. “I can’t complain at least. The hospital puts all new surgeons in General until we specialize, so it’s a lot of very rigid days. Though I’m hoping to get into the ER eventually. We’ll see about that.”
Akashi gave him a satisfied look. “Good. I’m glad to hear it, Shintarou. You deserve it, really.”
At that, Midorima scoffed. “I’d certainly hope so,” he said, smiling. “I only put eight years of schooling into getting this career.”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise.” Akashi then paused, a frown washing over his features. “I have a question, Shintarou, and I’d like you to be honest with me.”
Midorima was more than willing to be honest whenever he liked, but he especially could be with his friend; Akashi sighed and continued when he didn’t protest. “How I was when we were younger - even how I am now - it likely seemed as though I never valued your friendship.”
A cocked eyebrow. “And what would give you that idea?” Midorima asked curiously.
“You know,” Akashi simply stated. There was a pained smile, and the redhead continued. “I’ve always cherished our time together, Shintarou, and have always admired your drive to be the best version of yourself. It’s difficult sometimes to not look up to you.” He pointedly met Midorima’s eyes, serious and true. “If I have ever made it seem otherwise-”
“Would you give it a rest?”
Akashi balked, surprised at the interjection. “I… What?”
Midorima chuckled, shaking his head. Akashi had given a similar speech when they graduated high school, with the same self-deprecating look and everything. Back then, Akashi had only just begun to be hyper-aware of everything he said and did around people, but anxiety had taken form hardly a few years later. Akashi hated what he was like in middle school, as did Midorima and the rest of their team about their younger selves.
But the former captain had more than proven the loyalty he had for his friends, Midorima included. “Stop doubting what is all but set in stone, Akashi. I know you well enough to realize your superiority complex is unintentional.”
“Thank you,” Akashi flinched at Midorima’s bluntness, grimacing.
The surgeon laughed again. “But,” he began again while Akashi rubbed at his temples with a shake of his head, “I also know you always put those you care about before yourself. Perhaps it isn’t noticeable through your anxiety, but I see it.” Midorima gave him a confident look, making sure Akashi met his gaze. “Don’t be so hard on yourself where it’s undue.”
They remained in silence for a while, the sounds of the hospital surrounding them: sounds Midorima had become accustomed to, and looked to for comfort. He had worked hard to get where he was, and knew his self-awareness in high school attributed to that. Akashi had to know the same went for him, as it had allowed him to master the skills that had made him so formidable in basketball.
And Midorima had had to allow himself to realize that it wasn’t his reliance on luck that had made him a doctor and renowned surgeon: it was his own skill and perseverance.
“Thank you for coming to see me, Akashi,” he finally said thoughtfully, standing. “Let’s not go for so long next time.”
Akashi smiled, and stood to shake Midorima’s hand. “Of course, my friend. And we’ll play again soon?”
Midorima couldn’t help but smirk at the challenge. “You’re on.”