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Kairi could see it. He didn't want to; he really didn't. But Sakura was acting different, and he couldn't keep it from bothering him. It started small, with her general nauseating cheerfulness dimming down a little, and what was left starting to feel put on. When did he start taking note of her mannerisms, down to the subtle changes in expression, he wonders as he crosses his legs on his chair, going through a patient’s report but not really focusing on it.
Moreover, he thought wryly, she had started to avoid him. Not to a large extent; she still assisted him as a nurse, but she had stopped trying to force her way into his life, stopped coming on to him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was a welcome quiet at first, but eventually his daily interactions had started to feel more empty, his life more dull. He let out an exasperated sigh as he gave up on concentrating on the reports, knowing his mind was elsewhere.
Sakura had turned the focus and effort she usually put in for her mission to woo him toward being a good nurse, and became more determined, hardworking, calm, and less prone to mistakes. In normal circumstances, this would please him, but her general change in behaviour was confusing and—let's say it—worry-inducing. He was sure that something was off, but he couldn't tell what it was.
Why do I care? That was a rabbit hole that he wasn't willing to go down just yet. What mattered now was getting to the bottom of this. He tried to seek her out, but come to think of it, he hadn't seen her at all today. He got up from his desk and went over to Negishi, the head nurse, for help to locate Sakura and was hit with. She was surrounded by the other nurses, who all seemed to be gossiping about something and quietened down as soon as he walked over. “Nurse Sakura has called out sick today. With a fever, I hear.” She went on to say something about how another nurse could accompany him for today instead, but he didn't pay attention.
His mind was on Sakura. Her general change in attitude and disposition, and now this? He did notice her working hard—maybe too hard. Did she overwork herself and fall sick? What an idiot . He knew it was an irrational thought, but he wanted to go and see her, see for himself what was wrong. And maybe take care of her and help her recover. New patients were incoming, and they needed all hands on deck. Yeah, that’s the reason , a voice sounding suspiciously like Kisugi’s piped up in his head. As always, he chose to ignore it.
Admittedly, he was concerned. After making his rounds, he chose to clock out for the day to visit Sakura. Confusingly enough, he felt the thrum of anticipation as he drove back to their shared building and then their adjacent apartments, and the burn of hesitation as he rang her doorbell. He heard the click of the door opening, and then a soft, surprised “Tendo-sensei”—that triggered an ache that he didn’t like one bit. He opened his mouth to reply with something snide.
Nanase Sakura couldn’t see it. She tried to; she truly did, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see herself in a relationship with Kairi Tendo. Of course, that’s not to say she didn’t want to be in a relationship with him; lord knows that’s all she’s ever wanted since she first saw him and became hopelessly infatuated.
Said infatuation later, during their time apart, turned into a slow-simmering fire that felt more like the twinge of an old-but-not-completely-healed-over wound. That constant reminder motivated her to work hard and become a nurse. She succeeded and got to finally meet Tendo once again after five years, after so much anticipation. Their reunion wasn't what she was expecting, to be honest. Where did that kind man with his sweet smile go ? she thought.
She was disillusioned by his attitude at first but eventually realised that the caring and compassionate man that she had met that historic day was still him, only hidden behind the mask of “The Devil”. Needless to say, she ended up falling even harder. Childish infatuation grew into intense fondness, and then lasting love. Her feelings now had a life of their own, completely out of her control. She thought she eventually got pretty good at pretending that she could still breathe when Tendo was around.
But then came Wakabayashi-sensei. A carbon copy of Minori, Tendo’s late wife. Everything came crashing down. She wasn't sure how to win, anymore. Her intense affection blinded her, but she got a wake-up call that was more equivalent to being stabbed awake. I'm not good enough . It was that simple. How pathetic was she that she kept her hopes up even after being shot down repeatedly and told that there wasn't even a .0001 chance of Tendo and her ever being together?
She let out a frustrated sigh. Miori-sensei, Minori-sensei. She wasn't even sure who she was competing with anymore. Maybe the true culprit here was her own inadequacy. It was true; he was leagues above her in all the ways that mattered. Handsome, beautiful even. Capable, compassionate, dedicated, talented, and level-headed. How could she ever be his equal? The place next to him is reserved for people like the late Minori—or even Miori. Evidently not her.
She felt almost delirious. The exhaustion got to her. She was just tired, tired from hopelessly chasing after and being in love with a man not meant for her. After working with a single-minded focus to escape both her feelings and her own inadequacy, she ended up falling sick due to not eating or sleeping and tiring herself out. She had called in sick today. She wasn't trying to escape seeing Tendo. She wasn't . Nevertheless, she was glad that she fell sick anyway; it felt like a fringe benefit. She didn't have to see him. That was a good thing, she told herself.
She wasn't sure what to do with all of these feelings anymore; it felt like they were gradually eating her up inside. Perhaps she could leave and work as a nurse somewhere else. Her aspirations originally started with only a desire to be near Tendo, but she eventually realised that she genuinely does want to be a nurse, genuinely does want to help people. Her time with Tendo resulted in that, if nothing else.
The sound of the doorbell broke her out of her stupor, and she confusedly wrapped her blanket around herself and got up slowly, making sure not to move too quickly, lest it make her feel more faint. As soon as she walked over and answered the door, she was faced with an irritable Tendo, asking a question that felt more like a demand. “What the hell is wrong, you idiot?”
“I—” She was about to respond, but was cut off by a cool hand on her forehead, assessing her condition. “You’re burning up,” he murmured. He pushed his way inside and fixed his gaze on her. “Looks like you’ve been overworking yourself. Why?’ He demanded.
What was she even supposed to say to that when she wasn't sure of the reason herself? Maybe it was subconsciously because he wanted to get better and prove to him—and herself—that she could indeed be capable. It was also partly because working served as a mechanism to keep from feeling unwanted things. She couldn't exactly say that, so she remained resolutely quiet.
He wasn't planning on interrogating her right off the bat, but seeing her wrapped in a blanket, hair messy, face flushed, and obviously feeble stirred something akin to panic in him. Her eyes were red too. Was that—was she—crying? Or was it just another effect of the fever? He waited for her response, but all he got was a look of misery.
Damn it . He let it go for now and assessed the room, taking note of the medicine on the table. “Have you taken those?” he questioned, and was answered with a head nodding no. “Did you eat anything?” Same answer. He sighed, somewhat put on, and went to the kitchen to make her food. As he started gathering the ingredients to make her some chicken soup, he saw out of his peripheral vision that she was still staring at him hazily, mild surprise on her face. “Sit.” He said curtly, pointing the spoon at her.
As the soup was heating, he heard her pipe up softly, “Thank you, Tendo-sensei.” Something squeezed in his chest. A week ago, she would have been giggling, jumping up and down in joy, and making comments about how he was acting like a doting husband, no matter her sick state. Why wasn't she doing that? What had hurt her? He just replied with something akin to a grunt, not turning to look.
He spent some time making the soup, the scent wafting through the apartment as Sakura continued to observe him. He put some in a bowl thick enough as to not let the heat through when she was holding it, and a spoon with a grip so that it doesn't fall from her hands. He walked over, ignoring her eyes on him, and sat down next to her.
Ever so grateful, ever so unattainably perfect, Sakura thinks, and looks away in fear that her expression will give something away. Damn it .
“Eat,” he said, about to put the bowl in her hands, but then noticed her state. Following an internal sigh, he scoops out some of the soup and puts it near her mouth. “Open.” Sakura hesitantly opens her mouth, and Tendo waits for it to cool down a little before starting to feed her. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he questions, not sure he wants to hear the answer.
“...I’m not sure,” she mutters, and an exasperated sigh slips out of him.
“Are you stupid? Why would you bring this upon yourself?” he demands as he directs her to take some of the medicine, since she finally had something in her stomach.
Maybe it was the fever that was making her feel hazy and not in her right mind, but she swallowed the tablets along with water, and all she said was, “What do you care?” That got her a look of surprise but not an answer. He just silently continued feeding her, wondering about the question himself.
As he fed her, Sakura gazed at him. Hair falling on his face, furrowed brows, and mouth straightened into a line. Concern, frustration, and confusion were evident. She couldn't help but admire him the same way she'd done a million times before, except this time, it came with a side of misery. Oh, how she wished she could be enough for him, and how painfully she was aware that she could never be.
“Sakura? What are you—” she heard a slightly panicked voice call out. Her face felt wet. Was she crying? She brought a hand to her face to confirm that yes, she was. Hah, how pathetic. She couldn't hold back anymore, and confessions started spilling out like tears.
“I’m sorry. I just—” she sniffed. “I understand now, why you said nothing could ever happen with us. Minori-sensei—she is—was—beautiful, kind, talented, and everything I could never be. You loved her, and she had so much to give you. I, on the other hand,” her hands start trembling, tears falling even faster. She buried her face in her hands, unable to look at him anymore. If she had, she would have seen the shock colouring his features.
“I have my hands full taking care of myself; I keep messing up at every turn, and am more trouble than I’m worth. Of course you could never look at me. But,” she continued, voice sounding broken even to herself. “What do I do?” She was inching into desperation. “How do I become more mature? I know Im acting selfish and ridiculous, but—”
“Oi, Sakura,” he tried to cut in, but she didn’t have it.
“How do I fix this gap? How do I become better?” Her voice broke at the last word. “How am I supposed to act smart, cool, and calm like an adult when I feel so much?”
He tried to grab her hand. “Calm down, for God’s sake!”
“No! I can’t do that.” Her voice was shaking even more, and she slowly lifted her head up to look at him once again, a desperate question escaping her before she could keep it in. “What do I need to do to get you to look at me? I've been trying to figure it out for so long, but I can't find an answer.” She finally made eye contact with him. “I’m so hopeless, and selfish, I know—I even embarrass myself!
But—but this is all I know how to do,” she continues. “Is this something I’ll understand when I’m older? How long do I have to wait? How long till I…” she trails off. “How long till I become good enough? How do I win? What do I need to do to get closer to you?” Her rant finally cuts off when she's unable to keep talking, her tears taking over.
“Sakura,” he says, gentle and somewhat out of character. He was still shell-shocked at her revelation and was unable to gather his thoughts enough to say anything, but at the moment he just wanted her to stop feeling so sad. He carefully pulled her into his arms, letting her cry into his neck. A few minutes after her sniffles died down, he slowly pulled her back, only to realise that she had fallen asleep.
Despite his warring emotions, he couldn't help but huff out a soft laugh. “Always falls asleep so fast.” Although this time, he couldn't blame her. She was exhausted due to her sickness, and had cried so much just now. That brought him back. She had cried . Because of him. He had caused her so much pain, he realised.
He gently laid her back down on the couch, covering her with a blanket and checking her temperature with his hand. The fever had died down a little. Hopefully, she would be feeling much better when she woke up. Her being asleep gave him some time to gather his thoughts, so he went to sit on the floor next to the couch, head in his hands. What was he supposed to do now?
He finally admitted to himself that he does indeed feel something for Sakura. It started with frustration, which turned into intrigue, and then into an exasperated fondness that had him feeling amused at her antics rather than annoyed.
Sakura—she was frustrating, nosey, prone to messing up, and often incompetent when he was around. But she was also bright, cheerful, attentive, inspiring, and cared intensely about her patients. Not to mention she had already improved so much, and had become a fine nurse. As much as he didn't see it at first, she was truly special. Evidently, she didn't think so.
After some internal warring, he made up his mind. Maybe it was a bad idea, but he was set on it. Sometimes, it really was that simple. Sakura had feelings for him, and vice versa. He was scared, but, for once, he just wanted to throw caution to the wind. Damn it, I guess she finally wore me down , he thought with a small smile.
A couple hours had passed as he spent some time cleaning her apartment a little and sat back down next to her. As he looked at her, breaths coming out softly out of her mouth and hair messy, he couldn't help but find her rather adorable. He gently touched her forehead to ascertain her temperature, and noticed that she seemed to be almost back to normal.
She stirred awake at the touch, blearily opening her eyes to find Tendo looking back at her. Was this a dream? She sat up and asked with a surprised voice, “Sensei? What are you doing here?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Huh? What are you—” She cut herself off, memories rushing back. “...oh.” She wasn't sure what to say. In fact, she had already said way too much. She can hear her own pitiful pleas echoing in her head, and feels embarrassed enough to burrow into the ground. She can tell that he's looking at her expectantly, but is unable to make eye contact with him. “Uhm.”
“Nanase,” he utters, and grabs her chin to direct her to look at him.
“Sensei, I—I’m sorry.” She stutters, face flaming and hands starting to tremble, so caught up in her emotions that she didn’t notice the fact that he said her name for the first time.
Before she could get anything further out, she felt a pair of not too soft, not too rough lips against her own, and a hand grabbing her by the waist. She froze in place at first, but couldn't help but melt into the kiss. She gave it back with equal vigour, hands tangling in his hair.
As he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on hers, both breathing heavily, all Sakura could gasp out was a reverent “wow”. Tendo’s expression spelled that very word.
“Nanase,” he says. Soft, heartbreakingly soft. “It was never .0001%.” Her eyes widen at the confession, and before she can say anything, he goes in for another kiss.
The next day, when they both stroll into work together, Sakura with a huge grin on her face and Tendo with a barely-there smile, hands tangled together, they're received with clamouring cheers.