Where Our Chances Count

The Beginning

He was dying. Slowly, but still dying. Agonizingly with every second that tick as the bald man glanced over at the wall clock from his bedside view. 12:00 P.M., exactly as the annoying chicken came out from the small doors the clock had. He looked away from it and turned his face towards the window.

He recollected his thoughts, remembering and wishing he had done all the things he had in his bucket list, sadly, they were cut short due to his illness: Cancer. And unfortunately, vastly spreading around his body.

He had hair once but thanks to the chemotherapy, he had lost it, like most people would. The treatment wasn’t working and it was only stalling the inevitable.

He sighed, depressed at the sight of rain dripping down from the window. He looked away and turned to look at the TV. “In other news-” He simply just turned it off with the remote in-hand.

The door to his room was suddenly opened, coming along a doctor. He looked as generic as any non important doctor in shows. “Saitama, is it?” The doctor read his name off the clipboard he held, flipping through the pages rapidly.

“Yes.” He weakly answered.

“Good, didn’t want to butcher the pronunciation,” the doctor put the clipboard at the end side of the bed, where medical personnel can easily access it. “My name is Doctor Eon Howard.”

“It’s fine, really, Dr. Howard.” Saitama had always heard people pronounce his name wrong, though it never bothered him to begin with.

“I’m sorry, but unfortunately-”

“The treatment isn’t working, correct?” Saitama assumed much. Well not so much assume, his previous doctors have always told him his chances of survival and that being said, it didn’t take a genius to know what the current doctor would say.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized. “The cancer is now in both your blood stream and bone marrow.” The doctor deeply sighed, no matter how many times you tell a patient he’s going to die, it never gets any easier. “The best we could do know is give transfusions.”

“How long do I have?” Saitama asked the important question, not hesitating even in the slightest while asking it.

“Without the transfusions,” the doctor paused before continuing. “Less than a week, with it, at the very least a few months.”

“I would still be in pain?” He asked.

“Very much.” The doctor confirmed.

“I’ve already accepted my fate that I’m going to die sooner or later, might as well just get it over with.” Saitama surrendered. He never gave up but knowing you’re going to die nonetheless, he just gave in.

“Are you sure?” The doctor asked. He knew many patients. Both that either decided to take the shortcut or take the long way out, either way, it still ended with them in a coffin.

“I’m sure.” He reassured the doctor.

“If you ever change your mind, do please tell our medical personnel.” The doctor now left the man’s room, leaving him be.

Saitama now stared at the ceiling of his room. With a depressing view to go with the depressing situation, he had enough.
Suddenly, another person came into his room, and this time it was a lovely nurse that brought his lunch. He had many different nurses over the course of his stay in hospital, but none were as beautiful as her.

Smooth and short dark hair that evenly matched her emerald green eyes, she was a sight he’d remember after he died.

“Saitama, correct?” The second person to say his name correctly. From the side of the bed, she took out and extended a small table where it loomed over the man’s legs and placed his tray.