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Kunikida grits his teeth, trying and failing to will his hands to stay still, goddammit. He has too much paperwork to fill out and unlike most reports, these must be completed by hand. The stress headache that started around his temples has spread to his neck and shoulders, and he’s barely holding on to his composure.
The worst part is that these hand tremors have put him drastically behind schedule, which he’s already adjusted for three times this week. Thick black lines mar the recent pages of his precious Ideals, and he’s come worryingly close to tearing them when his tremors become too severe.
Atsushi, Tanizaki, and Naomi have been blessings, helping out with paperwork as much as possible. But it just deepens his guilt, pushing his work on his subordinates instead of them being able to rely on him.
Kunikida reaches for the pill bottle, wanting to assuage his worsening headache at least. But his damn, fucking, useless hands can’t even do something as simple as this. The tremors just rattle the bottle too much for him to get a good grip on the top.
Kenji walks by and greets him with a merry smile, striking up a conversation about how preparations for harvest on his farm were going. It’s difficult to focus on the conversation, though he does his best to be attentive. As Kenji speaks, he gently pries the bottle from him and opens the cap, then hands both back over. It’s done quickly and without interrupting his chatter in the slightest.
Once Kenji takes his leave, Kunikida stares at his medicine. He swallows thickly and stands, announces to the office that he’s taking lunch, and storms off before anyone can oppose. He hates that he can feel Dazai and Ranpo’s gazes on his back.
Yosano is organizing her medical supply closet in the back when Kunikida enters the Infirmary, taking only a few long strides to reach her. Her head snaps to him, then she tells him to shut the door.
He’s transported back to just after the final battle with Fyodor. His hands had been constantly shaking after Yosano restored them, but he chalked it up to an ongoing adrenaline rush.
But the tremors never stopped.
Even after everything went back to normal, even after the Agency resumed battle with paperwork, instead of with an Ability user with a god complex hellbent on ending the world. His hands refused to stop shaking.
He can barely cook, clean, or dress himself. He can barely write which, he realizes with dawning horror, means he can’t efficiently use his Ability.
“Yosano-sensei. I can’t live like this.” He’s hanging from a cliff, fighting to keep from plunging into a deep abyss.
Yosano leans on her desk and crosses her arms. “Kunikida, we discussed this. I can’t cure you anymore. You need to see a specialist; they can prescribe medication and physical therapy.”
“But it won’t cure me.”
She shakes her head. “It most likely won’t. It’ll help manage your symptoms and make it easier to bear with your condition. But you’ll have to learn to live with it.”
And there it is. He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life. He can never be rid of this condition. He’ll always struggle, be a burden to others, and become more unreliable on the front lines.
Kunikida’s eyes burn and he sinks into the patient chair, head in his shaking, trembling hands.