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Nezumi doesn’t think he’s in the rink anymore; he hasn’t thought about that for longer. Though, the real question is where? When? How was he delivered to here –a blank, tiled room with distinct cabinets filled with small bottles, then curtains around Nezumi's bed – when he’s supposed to be somewhere else? More importantly, who delivered him here–
“Oh, you’re awake! That’s great,” a soft yet familiar voice comes through the curtains. Nezumi’s eyes soon dart along the moving shadow – alas, a young man with strange, strikingly white hair and red-rimmed glasses that frame his red eyes. Nezumi assumes the man is a doctor, but he wears a red trench coat over the typical suit and tie for a doctor – everything about this guy is red; is he even a normal doctor? – is what swirls inside Nezumi’s head, but he digresses.
“How are you feeling, um– Eve?” the supposed doctor’s voice raised out of concern, followed by a cough.
“You know my name, wait no, title?” Nezumi manages.
“You’re a celebrity, no? It’s only natural that I would know you,”
“Ah, so you’re familiar with sports,” Nezumi rolls his eyes, “more importantly, what happened to me? I don’t remember anything about this, what did you do–”
“That’s something that I will elaborate on if you will,” the doctor clears his throat, “You see…this is um, partly my fault, but please don’t raise your voice just yet,”
“No promises, but shoot your shot,” Nezumi grimaces as he raises a brow.
“...I kinda ran over you,”
“...What?”
Nezumi was training in a nearby outdoor rink from the current hospital. The next derby was near, and Nezumi wasn’t going to lose any time soon. He had a winning streak for years, and he got Inukashi in the first game with him. Although it didn’t guarantee safety, Nezumi judges that Inukashi would be okay after this round.
In the middle of his thoughts, Nezumi suspects something. Even though the West Block had better athletes, the majority of equipment is still in No. 6. Those officials are not going to waiver anymore to West Block, even though it’s clear which part needed them more. Besides, why was No. 6 concerned about gymnastics when more than 3/4 of the population encouraged white-collared jobs, research, and all the things alike rather than physical labor, artistic expressions, and the things alike? Nezumi could never rationalize that, not even if it were rational at all.
Unfortunately, Nezumi carried all thoughts outside the rink, when he wasn’t paying attention to the road around him…
He swore he sensed the faint noise of engines coming near him.
“Agh! Watch out!”
“Huh–”
“...”
“I’m terribly sorry about this,” the doctor rubs his nape, “I wasn’t able to hit the brakes quick enough when my car crashed into you. Luckily, it’s not too serious. What you experienced was an immediate shove to the ground, so you fainted with some minor injuries in your leg-”
“You ran over me,”
“If you’re curious, it has been about two to three hours past the accident. Once again, it was my fault, and I apologize for your situation in advance. The good news is that you’ll be discharged quite soon-”
“You ran over me,”
“Also, nothing severe happened to your leg. The bad news is–”
“You ran over me,” Nezumi raises his voice now, and the doctor is caught off guard. The skater’s expression doesn’t show anger but only some variation of an aftershock as if to say, ‘That was a hell of a story’ . Despite his leaning pessimism, Nezumi is sure enough of the unlikeliest of being run over, while it is still technically true, to be so careless that he wakes up in this hospital room in hours seems a bit embarrassing. Oh god, whatever and wherever Inukashi is, he mustn’t tell them this story, or if they ever bothered to ask about this.
Nezumi stops his dissociation when his ears finally pick up the doctor’s frantic apologies.
“Goodness, I deeply apologize. I didn’t– I was reckless, I thought I could’ve killed you, or injured your legs severely. There weren’t too many people around the rink, but a couple got me screenshotted, and then I was interrogated by the police,” the albino-haired doctor weakly grinned.
“How the hell did this happen between two to three hours? Boy, you must’ve been a wreck there,” Nezumi raises a brow.
“No. 6’s like that, highly secured,”
“Ah, I see,” Nezumi shrugs off. The thought reminds him of the No. 6 roller rinks when a younger Nezumi competed years ago; cameras and cameras, on top of some policemen surround the outer and inner areas. Suffocating, but not unbearable – at least this tight nature made him more prepared for the competitive nature. Speaking of that, he soon had something rather important…what was it? Oh right, the competition in a day or two, and now he’s on the hospital bed.
“Do you,” the doctor continues after a short silence, “are you worried?”
“About what?”
“Your thing, Eve. You’re a professional skater, and yet your legs are injured. Do you have a competition soon? Do you need a Doctor’s note?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Besides, you said it yourself that I’ll be all fine and dandy in a short time, yeah?”
“That is true, though I didn’t disclose that this discharge will be happening tonight or so. I hope it doesn’t affect your schedule,”
Great . Nezumi is supposed to pack his equipment and other necessities tonight, but looking at the situation, he reluctantly suspects he would have to call Inukashi in some way or another. Instead, the skater thought of killing time here while his legs took time to heal. Upon closer inspection, his legs seemed unharmed – strong, pale, and normal – but then he guessed the impact on the ground was the telling part as he looked for bruises – some were visible enough, but others were probably healed in an instant.
“Do you need ice packs? Food? Water…anything?” the doctor asks again, “Oh, you need water. You’re an athlete, and water is vital. Let’s see if I can get some bottled water for you,”
“Please, I can walk by myself. I’m fine, you said so,”
“But it’s better if you don’t–”
“God, you’re a chatterbox, aren’t you? I thought doctors are supposed to be reserved with their communications, with the whole ‘do not disturb the patient,’ kind of mantra, no?” Nezumi groans as he turns away from the doctor’s gaze, “Everything about you is so… loud ,”
“I never thought of it that way…well, on the first point, I don’t think doctors are reserved at all. I remember my mother told me about my birth, where multiple doctors kept her surrounded and tended, to the point of annoyance. It made sense since they take care of people. Second point, I don’t see why…oh, are you talking about my appearance? Quite red, isn’t it? Safu said it is a loud color,”
“That,” Nezumi points, “why?”
“It’s just fun, I guess,” the doctor huffs a laugh, “Red was always my favorite color, and I don’t even know how to dress for quite some time. So I just…wait, are you laughing?”
Nezumi couldn’t believe it. This man– amazing! The skater lets himself a hard, hysterical laugh as his head rolls away. Gold, amazing, hilarious. However, it was soon when Nezumi caught his breath and a satisfying, yet sarcastic undertone grin.
“You really just said that– that is amazing,” the skater huffs, “you should be a comedian, that was a delivery,”
“I don’t see why, but maybe I can get around that. No one tells me to be in the Arts or the Creative departments, so I don’t really seek them,”
“Of course. What a state No. 6 is,”
“Yeah, which is why it was quite ironic that No. 6 prides itself in sports programs, but we don’t even have that many athletes around here. Don’t you think it’s strange, Eve? There are more athletes elsewhere, such as No. 3 or the West Block, yet most of the equipment is in No. 6. Why is that?”
Red eyes pierce into gray ones, though Nezumi doesn’t sense any resentment or mockery like how he used to see sneers and death stares in the arena. Rather, curiosity flows in the doctor’s gaze, genuine and bright, something Nezumi usually sees in the audience’s front seats, children and lovers’ hopeful gaze on their significant others. How strange, yet Nezumi only blinks through it.
“I wondered,” he manages, “Perhaps there are some things that we shouldn’t know yet, Mr. Philosopher,”
“That is true, yet there is still something there that is worthy to grasp,” the eccentric doctor sighs, “By the way, Eve, I was just thinking if–”
“Shion! The police are outside wanting to ask you!”
“Safu– I’m sorry, I’ll be back!” the doctor, Shion , rushes away from Nezumi – and out the door he was. Nezumi, still on his bed, only follows the lingering presence of this individual – red, yet keening – away from the white room. Good god, he hadn’t thought of the room being white after he was so transfixed on Shion’s bright red appearance. Nezumi’s eyes are more relaxed, yet his mind still reverberates something Shion said,
“Why is that?”
…his gray eyes stare at the blue sky, humming in deep thought.