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Yuuya was having trouble processing just what, exactly, was happening. His thoughts were running a mile a minute and he couldn't focus, couldn't focus on anything except Hiyoko's hand in his and her labored breaths and her flushed face and--
"Hiyoko, Hiyoko, mon amie, stay with me please." He held Hiyoko's face, tried to get her to look at him. "S'il te plaît, ne t'en va pas, je t'en supplie!"
This wasn't good, this wasn't good. Her breaths were getting shorter and shorter and her eyes glassier and glassier. She tried to form words, but they stuck in her throat. He should--he should do something, anything but Yuuya is shaking all over and his throat feels tight and--
Yuuya finally glanced behind him, to where Iwamine was simply watching, albeit with a rather grave expression his face.
"Help her!" Yuuya yelled at the doctor, clutching Hiyoko's limp body closer.
Iwamine shifted his gaze from Hiyoko's face to Yuuya's, and sighed.
"There's nothing that can be done. Move her to the bed."
"What?"
"I said, move her to the bed." Iwamine turned to the medicine cabinet behind him and began pulling out a number of syringes, scalpels, and other supplies.
Yuuya wanted to protest, wanted to demand Iwamine save her, but in the end he couldn't think of anything better to do with Hiyoko, so, as gently as he could, he lifted her up and placed her on the infirmary's cot.
Hiyoko wheezed and rolled her eyes to Yuuya. He grasped her hand tightly, leaning forward to place a firm kiss on her forehead.
It was then that he felt Hiyoko give one last shuddering gasp, her body losing all form.
Yuuya screwed his eyes shut, resting his forehead against hers. He didn't want to see, he didn't want to see, he didn't want to see—
"Move aside." Iwamine forcefully shoved Yuuya away from Hiyoko's dead body, placing his tray of medical supplies on the cot's pull out table. Yuuya stumbled back, and watched, stunned, as the doctor went about casually double checking Hiyoko's pulse (or lack thereof) and time of death, as if it were all part of a normal check up.
After quickly scribbling some notes onto his clipboard, Iwamine reached a hand up to delicately stroke Hiyoko's cheek.
"Such a pity it had to be you...but you did promise," he whispered, clicking his tongue.
Withdrawing his hand, Iwamine set the clipboard down on the cot, walked over to his desk, and began fiddling with his computer. Eventually he looked to Yuuya, who had remained rooted to floor.
“Go and make sure the door is locked. Then, fetch the box of gloves and bio-hazard bags in the backroom.” When Yuuya just fixed him with a dead stare, Iwamine simply shooed him, saying, “Well, go on now.”
Still in a daze, Yuuya did as he was told. He unlocked and relocked the infirmary door, and then began to rummage around in the office, attempting to calm his nerves the whole while, biting back the bile and the tears that threatened to rise from within him.
Hiyoko was dead.
Hiyoko was dead.
Hiyoko was dead and—why was this upsetting him so much? Death was something he dealt with every day as a spy for the Dove party. And yet—and yet—
Wasn’t it just a few days ago they held hands for the first time, at the summer festival? She looked so beautiful under the light of the fireworks; for a fleeting moment, as he had leaned over to kiss her chastely, he prayed time would stop.
How could this have happened? Hiyoko was, without a doubt, the healthiest person he knew. She was always full of energy, bounding from here to there, a smile on her face. Hadn’t he just seen her minutes ago? Bright and cheerful--plus radieuse que le soleil, he had wanted to tell her—blushing brightly when he grabbed her hand and flirtatiously placed a kiss upon it. And then the doctor had asked for assistance in the back office; Yuuya had excused himself and Hiyoko—what did she do? She—she—ah, that’s right, she had walked over to the cots, where Kawara had been resting. He had fallen ill that day and she had come to visit him—but then—
Yuuya’s mind was filled with Hiyoko’s glassy eyes and her wheezing cries and he found himself overwhelmed with a sudden dizziness.
Taking a deep breath, he managed to steel himself. He lifted the large container of waste bags and gloves and carried them over to where Iwamine was laying out a rather large array of bone saws, clamps, and scissors, as well as an even greater collection of tissue sample containers. He glanced over at Yuuya when he set the box down.
“Ah, prince charming finally returns from his quest.” The doctor returned his gaze back to Hiyoko's body. “Place that next to the beds—“ he motioned toward the box “—and then you may begin to undress miss Tosaka and mark areas for incision.”
Yuuya once again felt bile rising in his throat, his chest and lungs seemingly on fire. “Pardon me, doctor, but I can’t have heard you correctly just now.”
“Hard of hearing today are we? I do so hate repeating myself.”
He barked out a laugh, sharp and shaky. “I know, I know. But I must have misheard you; because, you see, I thought I heard you tell me to undress miss Tosaka and prepare her body for dismemberment.”
Yuuya could have sworn he saw the smallest, most positively evil smile worm its way onto Iwamine’s face. “That would be correct, mister Sakazaki.”
It was then that Yuuya doubled over and retched right onto the doctor’s shoes.
As Iwamine’s clipboard came down harshly on the back of his head, and more vomit dribbled out of his mouth, Yuuya felt his heart break into a million pieces that he knew he’d never be able fix no matter how hard he tried.