Work Text:
Tighnari doesn't often visit the Akademiya. He did his time there, and while he had enjoyed it more than most of the other students, he couldn't imagine staying long-term. His work as a Forest Ranger keeps him busy, anyways, so he's content to visit a few times each year to spend time with Master Naphis and other old acquaintances.
Ever since the Withering was cleared, though, he's had more time on his hands. He's taken to putting up more warning signs in the forest, putting together guides for travelers, and leading seminars in Sumeru City. After all, the forest is a wonderful place, even moreso when people aren't being mauled by tigers after trying to befriend them.
It's also enjoyable to see new advancements in other fields from time to time. Master keeps him updated on any findings relating to mycelium, thankfully, but Tighnari has plenty to gain from listening to others, expert or otherwise.
Of course, he also hears some of the worst sentences known to mankind. As the saying goes, a jack of all trades but master of none is better than a master of one. Sometimes, Tighnari wonders if his colleagues are too focused on their own studies to think about anything else.
"Doctor! We need a doctor!"
Despite originating from the front end of the Akademiya, Tighnari could hear the cry clearly within the House of Daena. He shuts his book, placing it on a nearby table before hurrying out.
The front section of the Akademiya is crowded. He moves to the edge of the crowd, trying to get a better view of the situation.
"I'm a doctor!" someone shouts. Tighnari recognizes the voice: Hadeer, a Dastur from Amurta. If he remembers correctly, her studies had focused on...
"Please, help!" the panicked voice from before begs.
There's a brief moment of silence. Tighnari's ear twitches, picking up on muted gasps and shuffling.
Then, expectedly: "I'm a doctor in animal communication!" she exclaims, almost offended. "I don't know first aid!"
There's another brief pause, likely as the poor man was stunned. Then, he shouts, "Can I get a real doctor?!"
Immediately, there's an uproar in the building.
"I'm a real doctor!" he hears Adam yell.
"A doctorate in Deshretian-era pottery is useless!" another Dastur—Zeina—counters.
"It's far more useful than being a doctor of grass!"
"Do you know how much grass there is in Sumeru?! There couldn't be a more useful field! Go on, prove me wrong!"
Tighnari pushes through the crowd, ears flat against his head as he tries to muffle the noise. He kneels down next to two men, one panicked and the other unconscious.
At a cursory glance, the unconscious man didn't seem to have any obvious injuries aside from a scrape on his knee.
"What happened?" Tighnari asks, pulling the man up into a sitting position.
"Are you a doctor?" his companion asks, frazzled by the whole situation.
He falters. Briefly, the image of Cyno appears in his head, his eyes shining. Tighnari banishes the image as soon as it appears.
"No," he answers, "but I know first aid."
The Matra have started dispersing the crowd, and Tighnari feels a brief moment of relief as the room becomes quieter.
Evidently his answer is good enough. "He tripped and scraped his knee," the man explains.
Tighnari waits for more, but nothing comes. "And...?" he prompts.
"It started bleeding."
The worry in the man's voice is palpable. So is the headache that suddenly struck.
"He fainted from the sight of his blood," Tighnari fills in, having seen similar situations too many times. Usually with more blood involved, but everyone has their own tolerance levels.
"Yes," the man confirms, sounding no less worried.
Tighnari pulls out his first aid kit. Swiftly, pours some water on a cotton pad and gently wipes the dirt and blood off. "It's not uncommon for people to faint from that," Tighnari reassures, drying the site off and applying an adhesive-based bandage. "Make sure he keeps the injury clean, and he'll be alright."
The man looks visibly relieved. "Thank you, sir..."
"No problem. I suggest you replace the bandage, as there may be some blood on the inside. Give it until tonight to heal before replacing it. If there's any signs of swelling, go to the Bimarstan."
"I really can't thank you enough! You may not be a doctor, but you're a lifesaver."
Please. "The Forest Rangers sometimes hold short classes on first aid," he pitches instead. "We welcome everyone to join."
And, well. There is some humor, he supposes, in that he's technically a doctor. A doctor of mycology, yes, but a doctor nonetheless. Not that he'll ever admit that out loud. He has enough difficulties persuading everyone that he isn't qualified to handle their medical emergencies as is.