SHARPER || Chishiya Alice in Boarderland

-47- Instructions

The elevator hums its slow descent, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. I lean back against the metal wall, the faint vibration thrumming through me. My reflection in the brushed steel looks worn, pale skin, messy hair, a bruise forming under my temple where Goro's skull made contact. My eyes are too bright, still wired with adrenaline and something else I can't name.

When the doors slide open, the hospital lobby is nearly empty. The night staff moves like ghosts—nurses in scrubs, a janitor pushing a mop bucket, a vending machine humming in the corner. The world feels muffled, like it's wrapped in gauze.

I cross the floor, my shoes clicking softly against the tile, the smell of disinfectant thick in the air. My car keys are cold in my palm. I just need to get home, drink water, take something for the ache behind my eyes, crawl into bed, and try not to think about any of this.

The sliding glass doors whoosh open, spilling me into the cool night. The parking lot glistens under the faint glow of the streetlamps, the wet asphalt, the puddles catching bits of orange light, the scent of rain still clinging to the air. I wrap my hoodie tighter around myself, the ice pack long since melted and forgotten somewhere in my bag.

I'm halfway to my car when I hear a voice.

"Excuse me—sorry, are you Yuki Hashimoto?"

I turn, blinking at the woman standing by the curb. She's in her thirties, maybe, with short brown hair and a bright yellow jacket that doesn't match the hour. She's smiling, car keys in hand.

"Uh... yeah?" I say, uncertain.

Her smile widens. "Great! I'm Aya. I'm your driver."

"My what?"

"Your Uber driver," she says cheerfully. "You're headed to..." She checks her phone screen, then squints up at me. "Actually, he didn't give me an address. Said you'd tell me."

"He?" My pulse skips. "Wait—who sent you?"

"Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro." She says the name casually, like she doesn't realize it just made my heart do a somersault. "He ordered the ride for you. Said you hit your head and weren't supposed to drive yourself home."

I blink, stunned. "He—he what?"

Aya laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, he was pretty clear about it, too. Told me to make sure you didn't try to argue, and if you did, I should tell you he'd 'be very annoyed if his patient ignored medical advice.'" She makes air quotes with a grin.

I stare at her. "He said that?"

"Word for word."

For a moment, I just stand there, the night humming around us. He actually called an Uber.

"That's ridiculous," I mutter, though the smile tugging at my lips betrays me. "He didn't have to—"

"Look," Aya says, hands up in mock surrender, "I'm just doing my job. You can yell at him later if you want, but right now, I've got orders to get you home safely. So—address?"

I hesitate, then sigh. "Fine. But this is ridiculous."

"Probably," she says easily. "But he sounded like the kind of guy you don't argue with."

Oh, she has no idea.

I rattle off my address, and she nods, opening the passenger door for me like it's some kind of royal escort. "Careful—watch your head."

I slide in, still too stunned to properly process any of it. The car smells faintly of citrus air freshener and coffee. Aya gets in on the driver's side, checks her phone again, then starts the engine.