Chapter Text
Patient Name: Nanashi no Gonbei
Vital Signs:
- Temperature: 37℃
- Blood Pressure: 90/60mmHg
- Weight: 63kg
Respiratory: Respiration uneven, tracheostomy inserted
Neurological: Disoriented
Circulatory: No problems, but continued monitoring needed
Pain Assessment: N/A — Patient is heavily sedated
Past Medical History: Patient is heavily scarred along torso and hands but identity is unknown
Family History: Unknown
Medications, Allergies, and Reactions: Unknown
Notes:
- Blood pressure remains low but has steadied since the last time it was taken
- Based on reactions, patient may have prior medical trauma.
- Patient is roughly 16 yrs old - What has he been through to cause such scarring?
—
An incessant beeping rang in Goro’s ears. The harsh lighting of the apartment filled his vision and he groaned, blinking away the haze. He must have slept on his arms wrong, because he couldn’t feel—or lift—them to cover his eyes. Eventually he grew sick of the alarm and managed to turn his head towards the sound.
There was no phone on his pillow. Instead he stared at an unfamiliar screen with lines that jumped around. It took him a moment to realize that was where the noise was coming from.
A monitor of some kind.
The noise only grew louder the longer he stared at the display, faster and faster until it was all he could hear.
The smell of chemicals was suddenly overwhelming as he realized he wasn’t in his apartment. As was the lingering presence of death hanging in the air.
He was in the hospital.
He was alive.
And yet something in the back of his mind said that was wrong.
He remembered
a splitting headache
screamed words
a puppet wearing his own face
a gunsho—
A choked gasp escaped him and he realized there was something in his throat. He coughed and fought against his body that refused to move, his every instinct screaming to tear whatever it was out.
Sensation crept back into his limbs and he stared at them, willing them to move. He wasn’t restrained—he could see every scar not covered by the threadbare gown that seemed to swallow him—but he might as well have been a puppet with its strings cut, unable to move.
The pain wasn’t far behind. It started as something dull and easily ignored when there were so many questions, but grew until it was all he could focus on. He couldn’t make a sound with the object in his throat and tears streamed silently down his cheeks, choking him up further.
Death seemed more appealing at the moment.
All he could hear was the unrelenting beeping of the machines. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t understand anything—why he was alive; why he was in the hospital; why he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe—
A sudden noise tore him from his spiraling thoughts. He couldn’t even turn his head to look, but could see the culprit out of the corner of his eye: a young woman in scrubs and a mask.
He managed to move his jaw but there were no sounds.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
Death was absolutely more appealing. It didn’t involve pain and humiliation and—
He realized the awful ragged sound in the room was coming from him; his own breathing through the tube. There were so many wires attached to him. An IV with several bags hanging from it fed something into his arm.
The woman cleared her throat. She looked like she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. “You’re at Tokyo Saiseikai Central Hospital, in the ICU,” she said, clearly struggling to keep herself composed. “Today is December 22nd.”
No… No, that wasn’t possible. It was the 17th. He hadn’t been out for five days—
“We performed emergency surgery—”
He didn’t hear anything else she said, the static in his head becoming all-encompassing. Nothing made any sense. He was supposed to be dead.
The infernal beeping continued, picking up its pace again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was his own doing.
“—look at me and—”
She frowned and the pity in her eyes made him want to scream, but no noises escaped the damned tube in his throat aside from his ragged breathing.
A moment later she crossed the room, fiddling with his IV. It wasn’t hard to assume what would happen next. Especially as he felt the effects almost instantly.
He fought against the drugs and the pull of sleep. He needed answers.
But he was no match for the sedative in the end. The last thing he saw was the woman scribbling something on the clipboard in her arms.
—
Notes:
Patient has prior medical trauma