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Really it should have been even more suspicious that it was when the Bugster actively walked up to you, but how were you to know it could just… do that?
It was such a standard thing, and then suddenly it wasn’t, but that’s maybe just a sign of what’s to come.
Emu reaches you first. Of course he does, the boy is probably extra nervous because you know you’re one of the only people in his life who cares for him, and it’s mutual. Nothing is quite like that first time a loved one gets sick or hurt after you start knowing enough to be involved.
Worse is, well, it is Emu’s crisis, now, isn’t it? His job, and you’re proud, just a little.
“It’s the game disease isn’t it?” You ask, just in case. But you know.
“Yeah,” Emu says. He really does look so worried.
But you want to trust him.
“Leave it to me, I’ll definitely save you,” Emu says, and you’re realizing he’s handling this badly. Sure, he’s doing pretty damn good, but not perfect. It makes you worried, that dark look in his eyes.
You don’t know the details, but if Emu is here, after what happened to Hanaya… Emi is not the side of him that wants to care. The side with the smaller, kinder smile he’s carefully grown.
He is the side with that dark glare, the one who is angry and hurt —even if he deserves to be, and it worries you for his future as a doctor. He has to get used to difficulties with the people he works with.
To working with them anyways.
Doctors always have large heads, especially if they’re good.
Especially if they last.
“I won’t lose to anyone when it comes to games,” Emu says, and you know for sure, and you are worried. You are so damn worried for this boy.
He can’t keep going like this. You have to tell him this soon. Tell him this now. He’s smart enough to adapt, but he’s worried enough to ignore this fact.
(You do not know this, but a young man with the same bright smile does check, to make sure you have some high odds.
He still cares, just a little, but he knows you do not know him .
So he watches Emu, instead.)
Bugsters are targeting a crowd. Of course they are. This is the Bugster who managed to reach… completion. On that day, all those years ago.
And then Emu runs off .
You knew. You knew this would be a disaster. You’re worried for two reasons, now. The Bugsters, the crisis going public… yeah, that’s worrying. But it would be so much better if it didn’t look like the boy who is practically your son was hurtling towards violence, a mental breakdown, or...
…or both.
Probably both.
“So you’re the one who saved the Ace’s life,” says the man banging into the room.
“…What do you wan with Emu?” You ask. Because he looks suspicious under his smirk, and you don’t like it.
Nothing he asks you makes any real sense, and he clearly leaves frustrated.
It only adds to your worry.
You know you have to put your foot down. He’s getting hurt , in all this. CR and it’s Riders are unlike anything else because, in a way, it’s the doctors most at risk every time they start an operation. Not just careers, though that too, but lives.
“I’m only here because of you, Sensei…” Emu says, wide eyed and worried, and it almost makes you feel bad. “I’d do anything to save you!”
“An aspiring doctor shouldn’t say that!” You say anyways. You meet his gaze with your own, sure that it’s better he learns this now and not later. He can’t play with lives like it’s a game, even if it kind of is, and he seems to have been doing goo so far. You don’t see that.
You see this. Emu, flailing. Refusing advice from his senior coworkers. Talking like this is a game.
(You do not see them attacking him, ignoring him at every opportunity. But even if you had, he still needs to hear this.)
“The most important thing is to build effective team chemistry,” you say. Emu blinks.
“Team chemistry?” He asks. You’re remembering again how lonely he’s been his whole life.
Well, not anymore. He needs to understand that.
“Operations aren’t performed by lone doctors,” you say. “They require the expertise of many professionals. Doctors and nurses have to work with, trust, and support each other. They treat the patient as a team .”
Emu stumbles back. He looks stricken. He probably blames himself now, doesn’t he?
But he needs firm words, now. For the sake of the future.
“I didn’t save you all by myself 16 years ago,” you say. “The paramedics, the anesthesiologists, the assistants and the nurses are what made it work. What doctors need are a trusting and cooperative relationship.”
You can’t keep totally strong, unfortunately, collapsing to the ground. Asuna catches you, some, but you stay focused on Emu.
“The lives of many people are on the line,” you say. “Don’t forget your own limits.”
You hope he understands, as you return to your room.
He wins. Of course he does. He succeeds, because he’s good at games, and he’s smart and caring enough to be a really important kind of doctor, and you really are, just… so proud.
“Emu. Thank you very much,” you say, and he’s smiling. You think this really did get through to him , though you might check in privately, later. Certainly, there are things you missed, but… a lot was going on.
“No.” Emu says. “Thank you for your guidance.”
You nod, and then you put a hand on his shoulder.
“Come and check in later,” you say. “I want to talk to you about a few other things.”
Emu nods.
“Right,” he says. “Thank you, Kyotaro-Sensei.”
…He’s going to do amazing here.
“And then they told me me—”
“Please stop,” you say. “I get the idea. I might have been a bit too hard on you, as well.”
Emu’s eyes widen.
“No, Kyotaro-Sensei,” he says. “I did need to hear it. I’ve tried very hard to do the right thing, but I was at my breaking point. Now I know how to get us all to work together, anyways.”
He smiles. He seems confident, in a much stronger way, now.
“If you say so,” you say. “I really am proud of you, though.”
“I know. Thank you.”
…Yeah. He’ll definitely be fine.