It was an unseasonably cold afternoon when Tomioka found himself on his usual rounds at the hospital, his white coat draped neatly over his shoulders. He moved with quiet efficiency, his face a study of calm, professional detachment. Today was like any other, or so he thought.
As he entered the next room, he was met with a stark sight: a patient with raven-black hair, lying on the hospital bed with visible signs of exhaustion. Iguro looked small and frail, his figure painfully thin, wrapped in a hospital gown that seemed too big for him. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath his mismatched eyes, and his lips were chapped, a clear testament to fatigue and malnutrition. Giyuu's usual neutrality faltered for a split second.
Giyuu crossed the room and took the patient's chart, studying it as he neared the bedside. "Iguro... Obanai?" he asked softly, glancing down.
Obanai looked up with a weary, skeptical gaze. He seemed almost wary of the nurse standing beside him, as though bracing himself for something harsh. But Giyuu's expression softened slightly, sensing the guardedness behind those tired eyes.
"You're... the nurse?" Obanai asked, his voice barely above a whisper, hoarse from what seemed like too much silence and too little kindness.
Giyuu nodded, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "I'm Tomioka Giyuu. I'll be looking after you." He couldn't explain it, but something about Obanai's presence tugged at him in a way he hadn't experienced before—a subtle, magnetic pull.
Obanai gave a slight nod but looked away, the shadow of mistrust still lingering in his eyes. Giyuu sensed it, the barriers Obanai held so close around him, and for some reason, he felt the urge to break through, to reassure him.
"Are you... comfortable?" Giyuu asked, adjusting the blankets. It was a question he asked all his patients, but today, it felt different—genuine, almost personal.
Obanai's gaze softened, as if surprised by the unexpected kindness in Giyuu's voice. He cleared his throat, but the exhaustion took over, and he closed his eyes, too tired to answer.
Giyuu, realizing the toll it took on Obanai to even keep his eyes open, made a quiet decision. "Rest, then. I'll stay nearby."
There was a pause, and then Obanai whispered, almost inaudible, "Thanks...."
It was nothing more than a small word of gratitude, but the way his voice softened, vulnerable and unguarded for a fleeting moment, left Giyuu staring just a second too long. He didn't know why, but in that instant, he felt a strange warmth—a spark—like he'd just met someone who would change everything.
