Chapter Text
Yuuji’s on the first train south after he places the ashes in the family grave.
He’s only a second-year resident, but he saw it coming all the same. Saw the way Gramps struggled for breath, saw the way he stopped eating and drinking. It was his time, simple as that.
It hurts, but it’s a good kind of pain. The right pain, for the right kind of death. Gramps may not have had a bunch of family or friends gathered around at the end, but he had Yuuji. They’ve always had each other.
And now, what does he have? A ticket to Tokyo, and a place in a small hospital on the city outskirts – Ome City Hospital. Most of their patients are geriatrics or long-term medical stays, the kind of patients who really should be in a residential care facility. Well, that’s fine. He’s used to dealing with confused, cranky, difficult patients after all. Sendai Gen had foisted them all off on him, the head doctor an asshole who had equated Yuuji’s pink hair and red sneakers with the worst kind of liberalism. His attitude had quickly spread to the rest of the staff, the environment becoming toxic. If it hadn’t been for Gramps, Yuuji would have accepted the offer from Tokyo ages ago.
So to hell with Sendai, with country air and his rambling three-room apartment. He rents a shoebox just big enough for his impressive collection of classic sneakers and printed Ts, buys a Suica card, and sends his belongings down on a truck. All that’s left after that is to board the bullet train and enjoy the scenery.
***
Ome isn’t at all what he was expecting for what is technically part of Tokyo. It feels rural as fuck, the sharply-slanted roads cut through forests and valleys, the skyscrapers just a distant blur on the horizon. The hospital is an old mouldering facility at the foot of a mountain, five stories plus a few smaller out buildings.
He arrives early on his first day. It’s late spring and the sun’s already up, the valley humming with life. This is the kind of place where the deer come to the edge of the forests to feed and tanuki steal scraps from garbage drop-offs. The birds are singing and the sun is bright overhead when he bikes down the hill and coasts through the front gates. He catches sight of the sheets waving on the hospital roof like flags and snorts; fuck, this place is ancient. He walks his bike into the lock-up and secures his chain.
The hospital grounds are treed and green, moss thick on the ancient trunks and the earth rich with grass. Squatting on the edge of the paved parking lot where it edges up beside the woods with one hand extended is a man dressed in black. There’s a small squirrel inching its way forward; Yuuji stops to watch the drama.
The man holds perfectly still; his back is bent like a cat’s but his shoulders are strong. His hair, though, is perfectly white, white as dandelion fluff and just as upright. Yuuji watches as the squirrel comes closer and closer, until finally it darts in, grabs something from his hand, and runs away. The man laughs and stands, brushing his palm off. He turns and Yuuji sees that he’s wearing narrow but strongly tinted sunglasses that completely hide his eyes. His face is smooth, his cheekbones high and his brows delicate. He’s younger than expected – maybe only five years older than Yuuji.
He catches sight of Yuuji and smiles. “Ah, good morning.”
“Morning! Feeding the squirrels?”
The man’s smile becomes mischievous. “Disposing of the evidence,” he says.
“A-ah,” replies Yuuji, confused.
“Never mind that! You’re new here. A doctor?”
“A resident,” replies Yuuji. “How did you know?”
“It’s a small hospital; I know all the inmates.” He steps closer; he’s tall, taller than Yuuji realised. He looks down and Yuuji sees his own curious face reflected in the glasses. He leans in close, closer than is comfortable, his face only centimeters from Yuuji’s. “I’m glad; it’s been terribly boring here lately. You don’t look boring…?” He raises his narrow eyebrows, his face strangely elegant in the early morning light.
“Ah, Itadori Yuuji.”
“Do you mind if I call you Yuuji? I’ve never been one for formalities.” He turns partially away before Yuuji can decide if he minds being called by his first name. No one but Gramps has called him that since he was a kid, and this rando just suddenly decides to? Strange.
Just as he’s contemplating refusing, he realises that the stranger turned away because someone’s coming. It’s a woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform, her heels clattering on the parking lot asphalt. “Gojou-san! Gojou-san, you’re late!”
“Ara, Hana-chan. But I’ve just met someone very interesting. Your new resident, Itadori Yuuji.”
Her eyes flicker to him, and she bows. He hurriedly bows back.
“So you see, it’s not my fault I’m late. It’s Yuuji’s!”
Yuuji’s head snaps around. “Hey! What? It’s not! You were out here feeding –”
Gojou’s finger shoots up to his mouth, imploring silence. But the nurse has already caught on. “Mou, Gojou-san. You’ve been eating nuts again. You know they’re strictly against your diet. Come on, now; it’s time for your lab work.” She latches onto his sleeve and tows him away. He waves as he’s dragged off, smiling broadly.
“Nice to meet you, Yuuji!”
Yuuji scratches his head. Maybe the guy’s in for some mental disorder. Whatever.
***
He introduces himself at intake and is sent to the hospital administrator’s office where he’s greeted by the head doctor, Dr Yaga. Yaga’s a big, beefy man who appears squeezed into his white coat, his biceps bulging. He’s austere but polite, and personally accompanies Yuuji on a tour of the hospital. There’s no ICU or maternity ward; just a small surgical unit and two larger medical units. Three ORs, a small Emergency Department with limited trauma ability, diagnostics and nuclear medicine.
In the outpatient lab he’s just finished meeting the staff and receiving a rundown on ordering protocols when he hears his name being sung. He looks around and sees Gojou in the hall rolling down his sleeve, a small band-aid on the inside of his left forearm. It may be Yuuji’s imagination, but his arm seems to be trembling lightly. Certainly he’s not paying it any attention. “Ah, and the Head Doctor! Good morning, Yaga-san!”
Beside him, Yaga sighs. “Gojou-san.”
“I’m here for my tests. See, I showed up this time.”
“Very good,” replies Yaga dryly, with the tired tone of someone trying to explain logic to a toddler.
“And I’m glad I did. You’ve got such a handsome new resident, I might just have to be on time next time.”
Handsome? Yuuji blinks. Gojou’s grinning.
“I’m sure we would all appreciate that, Gojou-san,” rumbles Yaga. “Don’t forget your medication counselling appointment this afternoon.”
The tall man makes some vague rejoinder and heads off down the hall waving. Yuuji considers asking Yaga just who Gojou is that even the hospital’s head doctor knows his schedule, but Yaga’s already hurrying him along to see the small day surgery suite.
***
He’s assigned to rounds in the two medical wards and given Dr Nanami as his supervisor, a young doctor with a chiselled face and blond hair swept back like a yakuza enforcer. He’s taciturn and upright, but he seems fair and genuinely offers to answer any questions Yuuji has.
The patients are a mixture of old folks recovering from pneumonia or broken bones, and young ones who’ve been unlucky with their health. Yuuji makes the rounds and introduces himself, spending time talking to them and getting to know their charts. There’s only one other resident on these wards, Fushiguro Megumi, who seems decent but distant. They have coffee together in the staff room, the coffee machine old and slow to brew, the coffee itself watery.
“The brew’s better in the cafeteria, but they charge you there,” Fushiguro explains, sipping from his cup without complaint.
“You’d think they could afford a decent machine,” says Yuuji.
Fushiguro shrugs. “The hospital’s finances aren’t in great shape. I’m surprised you agreed to come down here – Sendai General’s much more prestigious. And probably pays better.”
“Yeah, well. Money’s not everything.” He doesn’t bother to go into it further; Fushiguro doesn’t press. “I did have a question, though. I met this weird guy outside the entrance today. Seems like Dr Yaga knows him. Gojou-san?”
Fushiguro’s eyes glitter. “You should stay away from him. He’s trouble.”
Yuuji stares. He’s heard about troublemakers in the big city, about punks who run extortion rackets and gangs of young men who race on the inter-city highways and wreck businesses. Gojou hadn’t seemed the type. He was weird, but not delinquent. But then maybe he’s here because he picked up some condition on the inside. Prison inmates are notoriously unhealthy. “Is he on probation?”
“What? No – not that kind of trouble. He’s just an asshole.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. He’s supposed to come in every two weeks for tests and once a month for medication counselling, but he’s always skipping his appointments and breaking his diets and generally making trouble for the nurses and lab techs. Dr Yaga himself has been overseeing his care lately, just to save everyone else the trouble.”
“Wow. He seemed kind of flaky before, I guess. I caught him feeding something to the squirrels by the woods.”
“Probably nuts. He’s on a low-copper diet. Wilson’s Disease.”
“Oh. Oh.” Yuuji doesn’t know too much about the condition, other than that it prevents the proper metabolism of copper, so that the metal builds up in the body.
And that, if not treated properly, it’s fatal.
“He really should take care of himself.”
Fushiguro snorts. “Yeah, try telling him that.”
***
He’s only on a half-day shift for his first day, so after a simple meal at the cafeteria he heads out. Most doctors drive to work but Yuuji’s never needed a car before; in Sendai he lived across the street from the hospital. Right now all he has is a bike. He heads for the bike shelter, only to find that he’s not alone.
Gojou is sitting cross-legged on the ground in the bike shelter smoking a cigarette and reading a manga book. His back is against the curved plastic shelter, his book resting on his knee.
“Um. Hi,” says Yuuji.
Gojou looks up. His smile is sudden, wide and wild. “Yuuji!”
“Yeah. You look like you’re on the lam.”
“I am. My medication review is in half an hour, but who needs the worry? It’s much nicer out here.”
“As a doctor, I really think you should meet with Dr Yaga. It’s important to keep on top of your condition.”
He regrets it the moment he says it. He’s not supposed to know about Gojou’s illness, has no reason to know. The tall man’s slender eyebrows rise.
“Oh, you know about that, huh? I guess it’s no secret around here. They keep shuffling the staff on my file. For some reason no one keeps me for very long.”
“Could it be because you feed your illicit nuts to the squirrels and hide from your medication appointments in the bike shelter?”
Gojou stubs his smoke out on the concrete. “You’re pretty quick with the intel.”
“Yeah, well. It’s not every day I get called handsome by some guy I’ve only just met.” Yuuji stares straight back at him. He can deal with the shit this weirdo throws out. He’s dealt with far worse.
“Problem?”
“My only problem is with you not taking your health seriously. Your condition can be fatal, you know. You should be more careful.”
Gojou’s smile is sharp-edged, with just a hint of white tooth. “Is that concern I hear? It’s been a long time since anyone worried about me, you know. You’re a gem in the rough.”
“People would probably worry more if you weren’t so hard to deal with. Don’t pretend like this is about me – it’s about you.”
Gojou stretches his long arms upwards, manga book flipping closed – it’s some sparkly shoujou book with a big-eyed heroine. He unfolds his legs and stretches them, too. “What did they tell you about me, I wonder? That I’m a difficult patient? That I ignore medical advice? That I terrorize the staff? It’s all true.” His smile is so simple, and yet conveys so much: pleasure, passion. Pain.
Yuuji’s spent the past several years living with a man whose time is limited; he knows the expression. Gojou, like Gramps, might be looking down a short future.
Yuuji sighs and flops down on the concrete beside him. “I didn’t come out here to lecture you. Your health is your business. But you seem like a pretty interesting guy, Gojou-san. I’d like to get to know you better. And I can’t do that if you don’t accept treatment.”
“Ara, are you seducing me into good behaviour, Yuuji?”
He leans forward, and as he does his glasses slip down his nose. His eyes are bright, sky blue, so pale they almost glow. And, around the outside edge of the iris, is the tell-tale copper ring of Wilson’s Disease. A beautiful reminder of a potentially deadly illness.
Yuuji crosses his arms. “Nope. I’m just telling the truth. I want to help people – and right now, maybe you’re someone I could help.”
Gojou blinks. Surprise is a good look on him, eyes wide, lips parted. He looks attractive this way – not preened, not posing. Just like a normal guy who happens to also be really hot.
“So how about it? You gonna go back for your appointment?”
Gojou tilts his head back; his sunglasses slide back to cover his eyes, his smile bittersweet. “You’re such a nice guy, Itadori Yuuji. I can’t compete with that.” He sighs and stands, brushing dust off his black pants, and heads towards the hospital’s front doors.
“Hey,” calls Yuuji. Gojou pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “You never introduced yourself.”
“Gojou Satoru. Professor in Folklore, Ome City darts champion three years running, and man voted most likely to die without paying his bills by the hospital nurses’ association. Nice to meet you.” He throws a peace sign, turns it into a salute, and then keeps walking.
What a nut bar, thinks Yuuji.