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AGE / GENDER / HOMEWORLD
AGE / GENDER / HOMEWORLD
ABOUT YOU. ASPIRATIONS. ABILITIES. LOOKING FOR? FEARS. OCCUPATION. ISSUES WITH? MONSTER AFFINITIES IF ANY. ETC.
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[Likely because some of them won't find soulmates.
And by some she may just mean herself. Any system set up to judge for attractiveness spells doom for Fukawa...
#foreveralone. As in life, so in death.]
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But if you ever need help, please reach out. I am still a doctor, after all.
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[Somewhere in Stygia there is a string of curses and mumblings and utterances such as "I'm not pathetic, you're pathetic!"
After some time:]
It's so stupid that anyone would even need a doctor in the afterlife, but I suppose we're at least suffering this idiocy together.
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Toko-san, if you don't have anything productive to add to the conversation, I have other things I should attend to.
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[Never mind that Sakura is completely right. They're just talking in circles, and Fukawa is getting furious over things neither can control.
Maybe she should just throw this stupid phone into a river. What good has it done her so far?]
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I didn't say it was worthless.
Hey, do you know anything about first aid?
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It's better this way, actually. By now her foul mood has mostly dissipated, and she can brush the olive branch aside without picking another fight.]
Whatever.
I'm not very well versed in it. I used to faint at the sight of blood.
[Getting over that had become a tragic necessity.]
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Well, if you'd like to learn, I have a few patients down near the docks with some minor injuries I haven't had the time for. No blood, just things like sprains.
I could use a hand if you feel up for it.
CW: self-harm mention (also just realized, should I use sakura or haruno in meta text?)
There's no answer.
But forty minutes later, there's someone at the edge of the docks. Dithering at the wooden lip is a rather unkempt girl, her hair over-long and her sailor fuku ripped in several places. Most obviously along her left leg, where the skirt splits high on her thigh and teases two rows of hand carved tallies. The marks are old, but sit vivid and cruel between the fraying pleats.
Fukawa watches the other girl through large glasses, her expression knotted with unease.]
... Y-you're that medic girl, right?
(either one would work! use whatever is natural for ya girl)
Yep, that's me. （ she gives the other girl a nod, not quite ready to try a reassuring smile. ） Call me Sakura. Does your culture do handshakes?
she's rude and refuses honorifics too, so plain old sakura it is
She pulls at her knuckles. Purses her lips. Why did she have to be named Sakura, of all things? Sure, it's as common as dirt back home, everyone knew at least three. It's just, well. Hard to shuck the memories away.
Nightmares, rather.]
F-Fukawa. [Sakura might feel bold, but she won't offer her given name in return. That's far too familiar.] Um. Isn't that b-bad practice for medicine? You don't know where I've been.
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（ plus, she can use chakra to sterilize her hands, but that's neither here nor there. ultimately, she's not concerned, though she's hardly going to insist on a handshake. ）
I know it's not much, but — （ a bit of a gesture at the ramshackle 'clinic' she's set up. it's neat and tidy, but it's a tarp pinned up against a reasonably sturdy wall. there's an operating theatre cordoned off to one side tucked away behind a sheet, the whole space is brightly lit and there's three available cots, two currently occupied, and the little sanitizing station is set up near the entrance, with a second one in the small theatre beyond. it's slapdash, but put together with knowledge that can only come from experience. ） Thanks for coming.
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Fukawa ducks in after the other girl (even prettier in person, the pettiest part of her notes, probably because she's standing next to you) and is rather impressed with what she's managed so far. Better than most would in a pinch, and she's seen enough slipshod disaster relief to know.]
D-don't thank me just yet, [She mumbles, fixing herself up at the sanitation station.] I'll probably give them ulcers with one touch.
[Once she's certain her hands are clean, she turns expectantly to the other girl.]
Well? It's sprains, right? Sh-show me what I have to do.
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This is Etana. Etana, this is Fukawa. She's going to watch me wrap your good leg, and then she's going to try doing the wrap on the injured one if she's feeling up for it.
（ so, she goes through all the motions. shows the girl how to properly hold the foot so it doesn't pull on the bad side and remains neutral during wrapping, how to unravel the bandage as you work so you can keep the fishbone pattern smooth and not too tight, and importantly — to always begin away from the heart and work towards it for proper circulation. she'll pause at any point if fukawa has questions, and explain her techniques or redo anything, and when she's done and has gently affixed the bandage to the woman's ankle — ）
There. How does that feel, Ms. Etana?
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She's almost nibbling her thumb as she watches Sakura work. Then she remembers she'd just washed up, and clenches her hands to fists instead. The weave of the bandage appears to be simple. Perhaps she can manage it?
"It feels quite all right, dear." The woman smiles warmly at them both. Fukawa gingerly takes the next bandage.]
...Y-you're sure you want to risk yourself?
["It's just a sprain. I'm sure you'll do fine."
Fukawa winces and casts a sour look at Sakura.]
You b-better not make fun of me when I fail miserably. [It was her idea, after all.
No matter. With a sour grunt she makes her start. The hand that holds the foot keeps the grip light, she's too scared to use any kind of force. Round the bandage goes. The pattern is inelegant, not the tight and even criss-cross of Sakura's work. Fukawa swears under her breath.]
God. D-do I have to start over?
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（ she gently tugs a few of those crooked criss-crosses straight, just so there's no wrinkled pressurepoints beneath the patterned weave. the tension isn't bad — it probably could be a touch tighter, but the woman will be able to walk on it, and the ankle is well supported.
she gestures to the area that wraps the woman's heel, which she hadn't needed to correct — ）
Look here, this part? This was perfect. It's always hardest to wrap any sort of curve.
（ it feels all right to me! see, dear? the woman says with a smile, reaching out to touch fukawa's shoulder in a reassuring pat. ）
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At first she's sure Sakura's patronizing her, because with her jittery hands there's no way she laid anything in place. But the adjustments made are minimal, and (blotches of pink start to paint her pale face) she even calls the heel section perfect. No touch ups.
She startles at the fond touch from the patient too, spluttering.]
Ghh— w-well, it's not like th-that part was hard! It's not spinal surgery!
[Get a hold of yourself. Say thank you.
...]
Okay, so. [Maybe next time.] You said there were more?
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（ #unbothered. she's been around rude jerks her whole life, it's not like she ever expects a thank-you. she undoes the bandage from about the woman's good foot, rolling it back up on itself as she goes, and then walks her through some light care over the next few days. keep it elevated, ice if possible, etc, and then she sends her off on her way. etana tries to offer her payment for her services, and sakura shakes her head firmly. ）
It isn't about the money. If you'd like, once you're feeling well again you could bring some food over for the other patients, all right?
（ they hem and haw a little more over that, like someone trying to haggle at a market, and finally they settle on a nice fish stew to be dropped off in a few days' time. etana's cheerful as she hobbles out the door, waving goodbye to fukawa especially, and then sakura gestures to the other bed. ）
Come on, let's do it again! Same thing, but the other foot this time.
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The flush won't go away, even after Fukawa takes a step back and turns her back to them. She's wringing her hands and biting her lip. (Feet!! She's been touching someone else's feet!! And people were so quick to call her filthy before.) This girl, she must want something from her, right? Maybe she planned to train her up and abandon her own post at the first opportunity! Then she'd be stuck here with all these smelly invalids, inept and ill-socialized and in over her head, and no one would lift a finger to help her. She's not comely or charming, convincing anyone to lend a hand would be ten times more difficult than it is for this girl. Was that even her natural hair colour? Could anyone's eyes be that green without fake lenses?
Except Etana is so cheerful, waving her goodbye, and Sakura keeps that sunshine beaming as she hustles to the next patient. And the next one after that. The limbs shifted, wrists over ankles, etc, but the work stemmed from the same base. Fukawa remains reticent throughout, shying from thanks and sneaking sidelong glances at her mentor.
It's not until they have a spare moment that she speaks up, low and hesitant.]
Wh-why are you going through all this effort? You know I can't st-stick around.
[Hard to work in medicine with a fear of blood and all. Besides which, if she had the misfortune to sneeze? Fukawa might be a piss poor physician, but Syo would be even worse.]
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Well, with the road to Hale cut off, it's good for people to know the basics. Even if you never use it again, at least you know now, right?
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[So it's all for her own benefit?
Fukawa groans. Her hands rake into her hair, tugging it taut as she squeezes her eyes shut and seethes.]
Ugh! This P-Pollyanna attitude is so annoying! Are you trying to achieve nirvana? Become a saint? [Does she get either of those references?] There has to b-be a second motivation! Nobody wastes this much time on complete trash without expecting something back!
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Okay, first of all — I don't think you're trash. No one's trash. （ well, maybe orochimaru's trash, but he's not here, so... ） And secondly — maybe other people you've met expect things back, but I'm not one of them. You can believe me or not, I really don't care.
（ she used to be obsessive over what other people thought or believed about her, but she's been learning to let that go. becoming comfortable in her own skin has gone a long way towards settling those old insecurities. ）
1/?
[She's been handed a paradox. People who handed out charity, especially girls, always tacked on some false platitudes with the gesture. They claimed that they were friends. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, the miniscule time they'd spent together, the complete lack of commonalities between them.
That's how Fukawa knew it was fake. There was no basis for connection, ergo, their words were false flattery. Maybe there were extremely rare exceptions, like Komaru, who was simply too stupid to realize that she shouldn't trust Fukawa in the first place, but ultimately stuck it out until their bond became realized in truth. But she was literally the only person on the planet who said those things and meant it with her whole heart!
...Okay her and maybe her dumbass brother, but he was always too busy sniffing Kirigiri's skirts to pay homely, wretched Fukawa any mind.
But then that leaves her with this. Haruno Sakura, who is offering her kindness, knowledge, and an open door, and yet says she doesn't care what Fukawa thinks?
Her eyes dart between the other girl's rapidfire. Seeking an answer. No, no her expression is clear as day. There's no twitches, no incongruities. She's speaking plain from the heart.
But then...wait. Wait wait wait.]
2/?
And what has Fukawa proved of her worth here? That she could spool a piece of cloth around a leg? Who would be impressed with a thing like that? If she could learn it this quickly, obviously it's a skill of no importance at all!]
3/?
It's the sort of thoughtless generosity Byakuya-sama extended from time to time. He attached no secret importance to sending say, Naegi on errands. It was a matter of practicality, not a manipulative gesture.
If that was the mindset Sakura was using, could she take the girl's words as the truth?]
4/?
5/5 and i'm very sorry
where's mom's spaghetti when you need it