RP Log: Oishi & Yukimura
Rating: PG
When: Today
Where: Medical Cave
What: Yukimura has a check-up. Oishi is a little paranoid.
Straightening his jacket on his shoulders, Yukimura rapped lightly on the cave that served as Oishi’s medical headquarters. He did not wait for an invitation, ducking his head as he entered, and smiled to greet Seigaku’s vice-captain. Hating almost anything to do with the medical field, Yukimura felt it better to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Thank you so much for doing this on short notice,” Yukimura started with a smile and slight bow. “Where do you need me to sit?”
Oishi was washing his hands in the small basin of water when the tap on the cave wall alerted him to his visitor. Yukimura was expected and also unsurprisingly, his legendary good manners were in place as he politely thanked Oishi for his time. Despite this, Oishi felt the slight thrill of nervousness as he fumbled for the hand towel that always accompanied any dealings with the tennis player who had earned the title ‘Child of God’. Possibly this was due to the feeling that anyone who led a tennis team as notoriously competitive as Rikkaidai had no business being that nice. And if they were ….
… well shit.
“It’s no trouble,” he said with a small smile. “I’m afraid there isn’t a lot of choice, but if you wouldn’t mind sitting on the table?” It was a make-shift affair that Oishi had nailed together from wood salvaged from the ship but it was sturdy enough. He picked up his stethoscope. “Would you mind taking your shirt off too?”
“That’s fine,” Yukimura simply replied. He neatly folded his Rikkai jacket and placed it on the edge before pulling his shirt above his head and repeating the process. Hopping up on the table, he placed his hands in his lap and fought the urge to move his feet back and forth. Though Oishi was not technically a doctor, the tiniest hint of anxiety began well up in his stomach.
“I also came, because I feel the need to apologize for my kouhai,” Yukimura mentioned, in part to break the silence and partly because Akaya would never apologize for his tacky behavior himself. “He took advantage of your hospitality and care, and I am truly sorry.”
Oishi blinked, taken back by the apology. The amorous actions of a boy with a cold seemed like an inconsequential thing for the Child of God to be concerning himself with. “It’s fine,” he said, moving to Yukimura’s back so he could listen to his chest. “He was concerned for Hiyoshi, it’s perfectly understandable.”
And damn annoying, but Oishi was content to forget the whole business, especially if Hiyoshi succeeded in keeping the tail end of his germs to himself.
He pressed the cool circle of the stethoscope against Yukimura’s back. “Breath in,” he requested, listening to the rise and fall of the young man’s chest.
Concern did not equate to hand jobs in a cave instead of training, but Yukimura said nothing. Kirihara and Hiyoshi would be dealt with this coming weekend. Acquiescing to Oishi’s request, he took a deep breath in and only exhaled when Oishi told him to.
Hopefully everything would check out and he could be on his way.
Oishi listened as Yukimura filled his lungs and emptied them. The movement was clear and unimpeded. He stepped back and then paused in shock, green eyes focusing on the three sharp lines trailing down the pale skin. Gently, he touched one with his finger.
“Yukimura, what....?” His gaze moved up to the slender neck where a mottled oval bruise was starkly visible. That looked like … Oishi swallowed. He knew what that looked like. Both Hiyoshi and Kirihara had sported similar marks after a night in the cave once they had started to get well. With a slight cough, he moved away to the racks of supplies. “Never mind,” he mumbled, a flush brushing his cheeks. Opening a box, he lifted out a tube of antiseptic cream and returned to lightly brush it over the scratches. He would rather not be treating these in a few weeks time.
Feeling Oishi’s fingers brush against a tender spot, Yukimura automatically sucked in a breath before remembering what it was from. After their fight today, he would not have to worry about such marks again for a very, very long time.
He watched Oishi move away, and he looked rather....flustered. Interesting. “Are you blushing Oishi?” Yukimura asked curiously.
Couldn’t they just have ignored that?! Yukimura was worse than Fuji. Well, no. Oishi amended that, recalling the nights he had shared a cabin with his team-mate before the boat well and truly sank. No one was worse than Fuji.
“Well, it’s just I realised …,” he began then stopped. He walked swiftly back to his supplies and picked up the fabric ring and pump. “I need to check your blood pressure,” he said as a diversionary tactic.
Yukimura chuckled. He could not tell if Seigaku’s fukubuchou was just that bashful or just that prude. Probably a combination of both, he decided, holding his arm out so Oishi could take his blood pressure.
“You know....” he began, voice still as pleasant as ever. “If you ever become a true doctor, you are going to have to deal with far more embarrassing situations than this.”
Green eyes flicked to the violet ones as Oishi secured the band around Yukimura’s upper arm. His hand pressed down on the small rubber oval, pumping air into the sleeve. “Probably not with people I know,” he mumbled, releasing his grip slowly, his eyes fixed back down on the dial. He scribbled the number down on the clip board and frowned, returning to his bench to check his notes from Yukimura’s last medical.
“Ah, but we hardly know each other,” Yukimura could not help but tease lightly.
He waited patiently as he felt the far too familiar pressure and release of the cuff. Wait....why was Oishi frowning about it? The nagging nervousness pooled once more in his stomach, but he pushed it away just as fast. There were several explanations as to why blood pressure could drop. Nothing was wrong.
Oishi compared the numbers on his clipboard. Yukimura’s blood pressure had dropped, making it slightly low, but it was still within the bounds of normal for an athlete. He returned to his patient’s side, placing a finger over the pulse in his wrist and timing it with his watch.
“How have you been feeling?” he asked. “Bowel movements regular and sleeping well?” He tried to push out of his mind what his inspection had so far revealed of Yukimura’s sleeping habits.
“A little stressed. Though, I think we all are,” Yukimura admitted. Fighting about ‘parenting’ strategies and realizing he would not be going pro anytime soon was always the tiniest bit stressful. “Everything has been normal as far as I can tell.” He studied Oishi carefully. “Is there something wrong?”
Oishi waited until he had finished counting before he answered. Heart rate low too. He tapped the pencil gently against the metal clip on the board, thinking. Was this from normal wear and tear of island life or was he missing something important? He glanced up to see Yukimura studying him intently and forced a smile. “Your heart rate and blood pressure are a little low, but still within the normal category for an athlete,” he explained. “But they have dropped a little since I last measured them.”
He stepped back and scrutinised Yukimura carefully from head to toe, his previous embarrassment forgotten as his mind mentally flicked through the medical texts he had read.
“Excuse me,” he said distractedly, moving forward again and sliding his hands through the blue locks of hair. The ends felt brittle under his touch. Lifting one of Yukimura’s hands, he examined the nails. Chipped, but then his own were not in much better state.
Yukimura hummed, mulling over the possibilities in his head. Subconsciously, he wiggled his toes and jiggled his legs. Everything still moved; a very good sign in his book.
Oishi’s green eyes were studying him intently, and thankfully, the blush was gone. That would have brought this visit to a whole other level of awkward. Hands skimmed his hair before taking his hands and tapping his nails, and Yukimura attempted to stay as still as possible.
“What are you looking for now?”
“Minor signs of bad health,” Oishi replied, his tone still distracted. “Do you normally have a problem with split ends?” It was doubtful, since Yukimura chose to wear is hair on the longer side. It might also be slightly tactless to point it out, as it was still more than likely to be down to the lack of real bathing facilities. Oishi, however, had moved on to examining Yukimura’s skin. Slowly, he walked around the other teen, running a hand over the patches of redness around the neck line of his shirt. “Do you forget to wear sunscreen?” he asked.
We live on an island. We all have minor signs of bad health, Yukimura thought, but kept to himself.
Yukimura did not understand the stream of random questions, but he figured they had to exist for a reason so he would be a good sport and answer them all. “I do not, but I have not been washing my hair as regularly as I would at home.” Nobody did, and all everybody ever smelled like was salt and sweat. “And I wear sunscreen, but did you not notice my skin tone Oishi?”
Yukimura was fair skinned, it was true. This was all probably nothing and yet ….. “It’s almost certianly fine,” Oishi agreed. “But I would like to take a blood sample, just in case. Would that be ok?”
He had one of the travel kits they used for doing blood tests on the fly while he had been visiting remote villages as a volunteer for the Japanese medical aid charity. It was not as good as an actual lab, but it would cover the basics.
The former Rikkai buchou hated needles. But he supposed for the sake of covering all of their bases, he should probably just give in and do it. If Oishi messed up, however, the consequences would not be pretty.
“If you think is the best idea,” Yukimura decided politely. “Where would you like to draw the blood?”
“Inner arm.” Oishi moved to a sealed chest and flicked open the clasps, removing his new hypodermic needles in sealed packages. “Your left arm would be best, in case there is any bruising.” He turned to face his patient once more. “You are right-handed, Yukimura?”
Oishi was such a thoughtful doctor. Though Yukimura supposed that came from being a tennis player himself. Most had no regard and would reach for his right arm before he caught them and scolded him away.
“I am,” Yukimura said as he stuck out his arm. “Thank you for being so considerate.”
Oishi smiled, his eyes studying the veins in Yukimura’s arm as he positioned the limb and tied a cord above the elbow. Pulling over the single stool, he sat and ran his thumb over the soft skin as the vein pulsed. Fortunately for both parties, Yukimura’s fair colouring was an advantage here.
“We did a lot of blood tests when I worked with the medical outreach team,” he explained in way of reassurance as he slid the needle through the skin. “Things like anemia could be a big problem away from the cities when diet depended heavily on what was growing at that time of year. Blood is the easiest way to test for that.”
He snapped on the collecting tube as the blood started to run. Red liquid poured up the narrow hole to fill its container. Oishi wryly acknowledged this ease was probably due to the number of blood tests Yukimura must have undergone during his serious illness back in Junior High. Sliding out the needle, Oishi pressed a cotton bud over the red dot before indicating that his patient could take over that role as he moved away to seal the sample.
Well that comforted him...slightly. “When did you work with them?” Yukimura asked as a means to distract himself as the needle slid into his skin. Oishi had not missed, meaning the buchou was almost mildly impressed. Extra bruising was not an issue he wanted to deal with at the moment.
Soon enough, the needle was sliding out, and his current physician was motioning for him to apply pressure so he placed his thumb on the cotton ball and pressed down. “When will I have my results?”
“I was working with them this year, as a gap year before medical school.” Oishi pushed the used needle in a small sharps disposable box he had in the metal chest. “I’d only been with them a short while when I heard about the storm and came to find you all.” He gave a short laugh. “I wanted to spend time working with people in remote areas and I guess I got my wish. Although not quite how I imagined it.”
Peeling off a sticky label, he stuck it to the tube of blood, labelling it in precise handwriting. It was an unnecessary measure, since Oishi was hardly overwhelmed with samples, but the habit had been drilled into him. “I can process this here, but it will take a few hours as I want to make sure I do it right,” he said. “I’ll let you know tomorrow what the results are.”
“You certainly did,” Yukimura agreed with a chuckle. He pulled up the cotton ball and checked to see if he was still bleeding before pressing it back down. “For what it is worth, I am grateful that you came.”
All of the other idiots on this island would have missed. Except for perhaps Renji and his friend, but Yukimura doubted that he would ever truly trust Inui.
“Do you have a band aid I can put on this?”
Oishi’s cheeks took on a rosy tint again although for an entirely different reason. He often felt helpless and particularly here, where his rescue attempt had gone so badly astray. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes still turned down as he shut the metal chest and rifled through one of the lighter boxes for a band aid. He lifted one up for inspection. It was the size of a knee cap. Glancing over at the small incision on Yukimura’s arm, he shook his head and took down a second box. In the corner of that container, he found a small packet of suitably proportioned band aids, each with a colourful snowflake design on their outer surface. Well, it could be worse. Presenting the captain of Rikkai with a ‘hello kitty’ bandage would have ruined Oishi’s professional image.
The appropriately sized square showed a blue-grey ice world scene. Oishi motioned for Yukimura to remove the cotton ball and pressed the band aid into place. Perfect. Thank all the gods he had not messed up.
Yukimura stared down at his arm. The scene depicted on his arm was very...Atobe-esque, and not at all appealing, even if they were getting along for the one and only time in their lives.
“I would hate to make things difficult for you,” Yukimura murmured, lavender eyes meeting Oishi’s. “But would you happen to have one in either yellow or black instead?”
Oishi blinked in surprise. “Um.” He returned to the box and held up the options. “There is yellow,” he said, holding up the square. “But it’s for much bigger cuts. If I put it there, it’ll restrict the movement in your arm.” He shook out the rest of the packet onto the bench. “The only other colour is pink and it’s for in between fingers. It’d probably just peel right off the moment you move.”
Sighing, Yukimura simply gave Oishi a slightly disappointed look. “This one will have to do,” he simply said as he slipped off the table and pulled on his shirt. By the time he was done and pulling his jacket onto his shoulders, the disappointment had faded and the smile had found its place once again.
“Thank you for everything.”
“No problem. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have the results,” Oishi promised. He watched Yukimura head back down the hill towards the camp before turning to stare at his boxes of bandages, swabs and band aids. Did he really have to co-ordinate his medical supplies into team colours?
When: Today
Where: Medical Cave
What: Yukimura has a check-up. Oishi is a little paranoid.
Straightening his jacket on his shoulders, Yukimura rapped lightly on the cave that served as Oishi’s medical headquarters. He did not wait for an invitation, ducking his head as he entered, and smiled to greet Seigaku’s vice-captain. Hating almost anything to do with the medical field, Yukimura felt it better to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Thank you so much for doing this on short notice,” Yukimura started with a smile and slight bow. “Where do you need me to sit?”
Oishi was washing his hands in the small basin of water when the tap on the cave wall alerted him to his visitor. Yukimura was expected and also unsurprisingly, his legendary good manners were in place as he politely thanked Oishi for his time. Despite this, Oishi felt the slight thrill of nervousness as he fumbled for the hand towel that always accompanied any dealings with the tennis player who had earned the title ‘Child of God’. Possibly this was due to the feeling that anyone who led a tennis team as notoriously competitive as Rikkaidai had no business being that nice. And if they were ….
… well shit.
“It’s no trouble,” he said with a small smile. “I’m afraid there isn’t a lot of choice, but if you wouldn’t mind sitting on the table?” It was a make-shift affair that Oishi had nailed together from wood salvaged from the ship but it was sturdy enough. He picked up his stethoscope. “Would you mind taking your shirt off too?”
“That’s fine,” Yukimura simply replied. He neatly folded his Rikkai jacket and placed it on the edge before pulling his shirt above his head and repeating the process. Hopping up on the table, he placed his hands in his lap and fought the urge to move his feet back and forth. Though Oishi was not technically a doctor, the tiniest hint of anxiety began well up in his stomach.
“I also came, because I feel the need to apologize for my kouhai,” Yukimura mentioned, in part to break the silence and partly because Akaya would never apologize for his tacky behavior himself. “He took advantage of your hospitality and care, and I am truly sorry.”
Oishi blinked, taken back by the apology. The amorous actions of a boy with a cold seemed like an inconsequential thing for the Child of God to be concerning himself with. “It’s fine,” he said, moving to Yukimura’s back so he could listen to his chest. “He was concerned for Hiyoshi, it’s perfectly understandable.”
And damn annoying, but Oishi was content to forget the whole business, especially if Hiyoshi succeeded in keeping the tail end of his germs to himself.
He pressed the cool circle of the stethoscope against Yukimura’s back. “Breath in,” he requested, listening to the rise and fall of the young man’s chest.
Concern did not equate to hand jobs in a cave instead of training, but Yukimura said nothing. Kirihara and Hiyoshi would be dealt with this coming weekend. Acquiescing to Oishi’s request, he took a deep breath in and only exhaled when Oishi told him to.
Hopefully everything would check out and he could be on his way.
Oishi listened as Yukimura filled his lungs and emptied them. The movement was clear and unimpeded. He stepped back and then paused in shock, green eyes focusing on the three sharp lines trailing down the pale skin. Gently, he touched one with his finger.
“Yukimura, what....?” His gaze moved up to the slender neck where a mottled oval bruise was starkly visible. That looked like … Oishi swallowed. He knew what that looked like. Both Hiyoshi and Kirihara had sported similar marks after a night in the cave once they had started to get well. With a slight cough, he moved away to the racks of supplies. “Never mind,” he mumbled, a flush brushing his cheeks. Opening a box, he lifted out a tube of antiseptic cream and returned to lightly brush it over the scratches. He would rather not be treating these in a few weeks time.
Feeling Oishi’s fingers brush against a tender spot, Yukimura automatically sucked in a breath before remembering what it was from. After their fight today, he would not have to worry about such marks again for a very, very long time.
He watched Oishi move away, and he looked rather....flustered. Interesting. “Are you blushing Oishi?” Yukimura asked curiously.
Couldn’t they just have ignored that?! Yukimura was worse than Fuji. Well, no. Oishi amended that, recalling the nights he had shared a cabin with his team-mate before the boat well and truly sank. No one was worse than Fuji.
“Well, it’s just I realised …,” he began then stopped. He walked swiftly back to his supplies and picked up the fabric ring and pump. “I need to check your blood pressure,” he said as a diversionary tactic.
Yukimura chuckled. He could not tell if Seigaku’s fukubuchou was just that bashful or just that prude. Probably a combination of both, he decided, holding his arm out so Oishi could take his blood pressure.
“You know....” he began, voice still as pleasant as ever. “If you ever become a true doctor, you are going to have to deal with far more embarrassing situations than this.”
Green eyes flicked to the violet ones as Oishi secured the band around Yukimura’s upper arm. His hand pressed down on the small rubber oval, pumping air into the sleeve. “Probably not with people I know,” he mumbled, releasing his grip slowly, his eyes fixed back down on the dial. He scribbled the number down on the clip board and frowned, returning to his bench to check his notes from Yukimura’s last medical.
“Ah, but we hardly know each other,” Yukimura could not help but tease lightly.
He waited patiently as he felt the far too familiar pressure and release of the cuff. Wait....why was Oishi frowning about it? The nagging nervousness pooled once more in his stomach, but he pushed it away just as fast. There were several explanations as to why blood pressure could drop. Nothing was wrong.
Oishi compared the numbers on his clipboard. Yukimura’s blood pressure had dropped, making it slightly low, but it was still within the bounds of normal for an athlete. He returned to his patient’s side, placing a finger over the pulse in his wrist and timing it with his watch.
“How have you been feeling?” he asked. “Bowel movements regular and sleeping well?” He tried to push out of his mind what his inspection had so far revealed of Yukimura’s sleeping habits.
“A little stressed. Though, I think we all are,” Yukimura admitted. Fighting about ‘parenting’ strategies and realizing he would not be going pro anytime soon was always the tiniest bit stressful. “Everything has been normal as far as I can tell.” He studied Oishi carefully. “Is there something wrong?”
Oishi waited until he had finished counting before he answered. Heart rate low too. He tapped the pencil gently against the metal clip on the board, thinking. Was this from normal wear and tear of island life or was he missing something important? He glanced up to see Yukimura studying him intently and forced a smile. “Your heart rate and blood pressure are a little low, but still within the normal category for an athlete,” he explained. “But they have dropped a little since I last measured them.”
He stepped back and scrutinised Yukimura carefully from head to toe, his previous embarrassment forgotten as his mind mentally flicked through the medical texts he had read.
“Excuse me,” he said distractedly, moving forward again and sliding his hands through the blue locks of hair. The ends felt brittle under his touch. Lifting one of Yukimura’s hands, he examined the nails. Chipped, but then his own were not in much better state.
Yukimura hummed, mulling over the possibilities in his head. Subconsciously, he wiggled his toes and jiggled his legs. Everything still moved; a very good sign in his book.
Oishi’s green eyes were studying him intently, and thankfully, the blush was gone. That would have brought this visit to a whole other level of awkward. Hands skimmed his hair before taking his hands and tapping his nails, and Yukimura attempted to stay as still as possible.
“What are you looking for now?”
“Minor signs of bad health,” Oishi replied, his tone still distracted. “Do you normally have a problem with split ends?” It was doubtful, since Yukimura chose to wear is hair on the longer side. It might also be slightly tactless to point it out, as it was still more than likely to be down to the lack of real bathing facilities. Oishi, however, had moved on to examining Yukimura’s skin. Slowly, he walked around the other teen, running a hand over the patches of redness around the neck line of his shirt. “Do you forget to wear sunscreen?” he asked.
We live on an island. We all have minor signs of bad health, Yukimura thought, but kept to himself.
Yukimura did not understand the stream of random questions, but he figured they had to exist for a reason so he would be a good sport and answer them all. “I do not, but I have not been washing my hair as regularly as I would at home.” Nobody did, and all everybody ever smelled like was salt and sweat. “And I wear sunscreen, but did you not notice my skin tone Oishi?”
Yukimura was fair skinned, it was true. This was all probably nothing and yet ….. “It’s almost certianly fine,” Oishi agreed. “But I would like to take a blood sample, just in case. Would that be ok?”
He had one of the travel kits they used for doing blood tests on the fly while he had been visiting remote villages as a volunteer for the Japanese medical aid charity. It was not as good as an actual lab, but it would cover the basics.
The former Rikkai buchou hated needles. But he supposed for the sake of covering all of their bases, he should probably just give in and do it. If Oishi messed up, however, the consequences would not be pretty.
“If you think is the best idea,” Yukimura decided politely. “Where would you like to draw the blood?”
“Inner arm.” Oishi moved to a sealed chest and flicked open the clasps, removing his new hypodermic needles in sealed packages. “Your left arm would be best, in case there is any bruising.” He turned to face his patient once more. “You are right-handed, Yukimura?”
Oishi was such a thoughtful doctor. Though Yukimura supposed that came from being a tennis player himself. Most had no regard and would reach for his right arm before he caught them and scolded him away.
“I am,” Yukimura said as he stuck out his arm. “Thank you for being so considerate.”
Oishi smiled, his eyes studying the veins in Yukimura’s arm as he positioned the limb and tied a cord above the elbow. Pulling over the single stool, he sat and ran his thumb over the soft skin as the vein pulsed. Fortunately for both parties, Yukimura’s fair colouring was an advantage here.
“We did a lot of blood tests when I worked with the medical outreach team,” he explained in way of reassurance as he slid the needle through the skin. “Things like anemia could be a big problem away from the cities when diet depended heavily on what was growing at that time of year. Blood is the easiest way to test for that.”
He snapped on the collecting tube as the blood started to run. Red liquid poured up the narrow hole to fill its container. Oishi wryly acknowledged this ease was probably due to the number of blood tests Yukimura must have undergone during his serious illness back in Junior High. Sliding out the needle, Oishi pressed a cotton bud over the red dot before indicating that his patient could take over that role as he moved away to seal the sample.
Well that comforted him...slightly. “When did you work with them?” Yukimura asked as a means to distract himself as the needle slid into his skin. Oishi had not missed, meaning the buchou was almost mildly impressed. Extra bruising was not an issue he wanted to deal with at the moment.
Soon enough, the needle was sliding out, and his current physician was motioning for him to apply pressure so he placed his thumb on the cotton ball and pressed down. “When will I have my results?”
“I was working with them this year, as a gap year before medical school.” Oishi pushed the used needle in a small sharps disposable box he had in the metal chest. “I’d only been with them a short while when I heard about the storm and came to find you all.” He gave a short laugh. “I wanted to spend time working with people in remote areas and I guess I got my wish. Although not quite how I imagined it.”
Peeling off a sticky label, he stuck it to the tube of blood, labelling it in precise handwriting. It was an unnecessary measure, since Oishi was hardly overwhelmed with samples, but the habit had been drilled into him. “I can process this here, but it will take a few hours as I want to make sure I do it right,” he said. “I’ll let you know tomorrow what the results are.”
“You certainly did,” Yukimura agreed with a chuckle. He pulled up the cotton ball and checked to see if he was still bleeding before pressing it back down. “For what it is worth, I am grateful that you came.”
All of the other idiots on this island would have missed. Except for perhaps Renji and his friend, but Yukimura doubted that he would ever truly trust Inui.
“Do you have a band aid I can put on this?”
Oishi’s cheeks took on a rosy tint again although for an entirely different reason. He often felt helpless and particularly here, where his rescue attempt had gone so badly astray. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes still turned down as he shut the metal chest and rifled through one of the lighter boxes for a band aid. He lifted one up for inspection. It was the size of a knee cap. Glancing over at the small incision on Yukimura’s arm, he shook his head and took down a second box. In the corner of that container, he found a small packet of suitably proportioned band aids, each with a colourful snowflake design on their outer surface. Well, it could be worse. Presenting the captain of Rikkai with a ‘hello kitty’ bandage would have ruined Oishi’s professional image.
The appropriately sized square showed a blue-grey ice world scene. Oishi motioned for Yukimura to remove the cotton ball and pressed the band aid into place. Perfect. Thank all the gods he had not messed up.
Yukimura stared down at his arm. The scene depicted on his arm was very...Atobe-esque, and not at all appealing, even if they were getting along for the one and only time in their lives.
“I would hate to make things difficult for you,” Yukimura murmured, lavender eyes meeting Oishi’s. “But would you happen to have one in either yellow or black instead?”
Oishi blinked in surprise. “Um.” He returned to the box and held up the options. “There is yellow,” he said, holding up the square. “But it’s for much bigger cuts. If I put it there, it’ll restrict the movement in your arm.” He shook out the rest of the packet onto the bench. “The only other colour is pink and it’s for in between fingers. It’d probably just peel right off the moment you move.”
Sighing, Yukimura simply gave Oishi a slightly disappointed look. “This one will have to do,” he simply said as he slipped off the table and pulled on his shirt. By the time he was done and pulling his jacket onto his shoulders, the disappointment had faded and the smile had found its place once again.
“Thank you for everything.”
“No problem. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have the results,” Oishi promised. He watched Yukimura head back down the hill towards the camp before turning to stare at his boxes of bandages, swabs and band aids. Did he really have to co-ordinate his medical supplies into team colours?