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Fic Dumping Ground: 2017
A new year, a new place for fic. As with last year's, this is a place for fic that I want to share but don't want to post to AO3 for whatever reason. Some of them may make it there eventually, some of them may not. Series, pairing, rating, and any relevant warnings will be in the subject of each post.
Haikyuu!!, TsukkiSugaYama, G
"You miss him, don't you?" Suga asked.
Yamaguchi bit his lip as he nodded. "It's stupid," he whispered. "Tsukki's off chasing his dreams, and I should be happy for him, but…"
"It's okay to miss him," Suga said softly, brushing Yamaguchi's bangs out of his face. "I miss him too you know."
"He sent some of the new songs he's working on," Yamaguchi said as he offered Suga one of his earbuds. "I don't know how he does it, finding the time to write new things while they're in the middle of a tour."
"Because he's Tsukki," Suga said, and then they fell into silence as they listened to what Tsukishima had sent. They were all songs in their very early stages, just Tsukishima and his guitar, likely recorded in a hotel room some night and sometimes dropping into nothing more than humming and a few chords as he passed through parts he hadn't figured out yet.
They were nearing the end of the file when Tsukishima stopped playing. "It's been twenty-three days since I saw you," he said, "and another nine until I see you again, but this is for you."
Yamaguchi bit his lip harder, and Suga pulled him closer as Tsukishima started singing
I'd only meant to watch as the crow flies,
but somehow, my heart, it multiplies,
and one day, it made me realize,
it was time to open my eyes
Any further lyrics were lost in tears and tender kisses as they fell back onto the bed together, Tsukishima singing softly in their ears the entire time.
Haikyuu!!, Noya/Yaku, G
As if on cue, Noya's wig fell off and tumbled to the floor, crushing the spikes Yaku had spent the past hour trying to set in place.
"—wig," Yaku finished weakly, picking up the bright orange monstrosity he was beginning to hate and inspecting the damage. It wasn't as bad as it had looked at first, a few flattened bits, but nothing a bit more hairspray couldn't fix.
"It's too exciting, Yaku," Noya complained, practically vibrating in place as Yaku tried to decide if the entire card of bobby pins would be enough to keep Noya's wig secure through all of his bouncing. "This is my first con! Believe it!"
Yaku raised an eyebrow at him, but Noya just laughed.
"That doesn't work without eyebrows," he said. "You just look ridiculous. What happened to Gaara's eyebrows anyway?"
"No idea. Maybe he lost them in a sandstorm or something? Now hold still or we're going to be late."
"Awww, someone's a spoilsport. Just because you're cosplaying the grumpy sociopath doesn't mean you need to act like him," Noya said, but he did stop bouncing just enough for Yaku to put the finishing touches on his wig.
"You know I'm excited too," Yaku said. "Now let's go!"
"Yeah! We're going to show this con the best Naruto cosplay they've ever seen! Believe it!!!" Noya yelled, and Yaku couldn't help but laugh as he hurried out the door after him.
Yowamushi Pedal, Aoyagi/Teshima, G
He had never seen the fourth competitor before; he assumed he must have just arrived from some other town. He knew first impressions could be deceiving, but his first impression was that the boy wasn't going to be much of a threat either. Sure, this wasn't a beauty contest, but impressions still mattered, and the way the boy was hiding behind his hair wasn't exactly sending a confident one.
He revised his impression slightly when the boy's Smeargle peeked around the edge of the curtain, but only slightly. Smeargle were always a bit of wild card, but it took an experienced coordinator to use them to their full potential, and that was one thing he was fairly certain this boy wasn't.
Any further thoughts had to wait as the curtain opened and he made his first appeal. The contest unfolded about as he had expected with no surprises for the first several rounds. The newcomer was solid, though more aggressive than was standard in clever contests, and Teshima would have bet his background was originally in tough contests.
By the time the final appeal round rolled around, Teshima was feeling the most confident he had in months. The audience was getting excited, and he had carefully planned for his appeal to steal the show. Even the Kadabra in front of him appealing with a cute move barely dampened his enthusiasm as he used Destiny Bond to finish the combination he had started on the previous turn.
The half-smile the new boy flashed in his direction was the only warning he had that perhaps he had dropped his guard a little too soon. The boy waved a hand at his Smeargle, and Teshima could only watch as the audience went wild as Smeargle used Sketch to steal his thunder. It stung to lose, but despite that, he couldn't help but be impressed by how smoothly the newcomer had built off of his momentum and used it to catapult himself into the lead.
When doubles contests were introduced a few months later Teshima and Aoyagi were one of the first pairs to enter. Teshima's first master rank win came a few months after that with a team composed of Smeargle and Gengar.
Prince of Tennis, Eiji/Gakuto, G
For those shows, Seishun's legendary animal trainers and Hyoutei's famous magician always took second-billing to their acrobats. Seishun's Kikumaru Eiji was known for charming audiences with his charming smile and daring feats on the tightrope while Hyoutei's Mukahi Gakuto wowed them with his powerful flips and seemingly endless stamina. When the two met in the middle of the circus ring though, sparks flew as each tried to outdo the other.
It wasn't until a period of political unrest, when safety in numbers caused the two troupes to combine, that Eiji and Gakuto spent more than those few days a year in one another's company. It wasn't until Eiji nearly fell off of the tightrope when Gakuto started stretching below him and Gakuto missed a trick completely when Eiji laughed while tumbling past that people began wondering if maybe it wasn't just rivalry causing the sparks between them.
Later, no one would remember who had first made the suggestion—some said it was the magician Fuji, others said it was the ringmaster Yuushi, and still others said it was lion-tamer Momo—but everyone remembered the first time Eiji and Gakuto performed the trapeze piece they had created together, one gravity-defying stunt after another in a sequence that never should have worked, and yet somehow it did.
Re: Prince of Tennis, Eiji/Gakuto, G
Haikyuu!!, Kuroo/Suga/Kenma, medical procedures/needles, G
"How are things?" he asked.
"About the same as when you left. Kenma's napping now, but he's still miserable, still can't keep anything down."
"Nothing?"
"Not really, and he feels awful enough he doesn't really want to keep trying either. Not until he feels better."
Suga sighed. "I was afraid of that. This bug is a nasty one; I admitted three kids to the hospital this morning for dehydration, and it sounds like we're heading in that direction too. If it doesn't break soon, we may be making a trip to the clinic tonight."
"You know Kenma's not going to like that."
"Keep trying to push fluids, but if that doesn't work, then he's going to need an IV. It's either the clinic or we do it at home."
"You know he'll want to stay here."
There was a long pause before Suga replied. "I know," he said eventually. "I'll call his doctor and see if she'll put in the prescription. Barring any emergencies, I'll be home around 6; see if you can't convince Kenma to have at least a little something before then—broth, diluted juice, anything really at this point. He's never an easy stick, and the dehydration's only going to make it worse. I don't want this to be any harder on him than it already is."
He heard Kuroo sigh on the other end of the line. "Sorry, Koushi," Kuroo said. "I know this is hard on you."
"I don't mind."
"You do mind. You wouldn't be you if you didn't care too damn much about everyone, especially Kenma."
"It's easier than bringing him to the clinic would be. How's that?"
"I'll grant you that much at least," Kuroo conceded.
"If that's the plan, then I should sign off now so I can make that call before my break ends."
"Thanks, Koushi."
"No problem, and thanks again for taking today to stay home with him."
"Like I said earlier, not a problem," Kuroo replied. "I only had a couple of meetings, and none of them needed me there in person; I can work from home just as easily."
"Thanks anyway. Call me if anything urgent happens, but otherwise, I'll see you in a few hours."
"See ya."
Suga looked at the clock as he hung up; he had less than ten minutes before the next appointment on his schedule, so he sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that he wouldn't get stuck on hold.
Luck was with him, and the receptionist answered on the second ring, and his luck held when she said Kenma's doctor was available to take his call immediately. Suga explained the situation, and after a few more questions, the doctor agreed to send a prescription to the pharmacy.
"Call us back or take him to the urgent care clinic if anything worsens, but I agree it's probably the same virus everyone else has right now," she said. "Tell Kenma I hope he feels better soon."
"I'll pass it along," Suga promised as he hung up. He was down to five minutes until his next appointment, which gave him just enough time to put away his lunchbox, wash his hands, and hurry to the front desk to pick up his next stack of charts.
His afternoon was crowded with all of his normal appointments, plus a couple of sick children who were squeezed in somehow, but they were all fairly straightforward, and by some small miracle he actually managed to leave at close to his scheduled time.
After the detour by the pharmacy, he practically ran to make it to the station on time for the next local train, but it was worth it. He was unlocking the front door less than half an hour later..
"I'm home," he announced as he stepped inside.
"Hey, Suga," Kuroo called from the bedroom.
"Hey, Kuroo," Suga said as he joined them. "How are you feeling, Kenma?"
Kenma whimpered and curled into an even smaller ball in Kuroo's lap. "It hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Everything."
"I know. I'm sorry," Suga said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Did Kuroo explain what needs to happen now?"
Kenma shook his head. "Don't like needles," he said.
"I know, but I can tell just by looking that you're already badly dehydrated, and that's just making you more sick. Especially when you aren't feeling well, your body needs fluids; it's dangerous if you can't give it that. Did Kuroo tell you I could do this here if you wanted? Or we could go to the clinic."
"Want to stay here," Kenma mumbled. "Can Kuroo stay too?"
"Of course he can," Suga replied.
"I'll be right here the whole time, okay?" Kuroo said, running his hands through Kenma's hair.
"I'll be right back," Suga said, and Kenma nodded miserably. While Kuroo whispered quietly to Kenma, Suga retrieved the bag he had picked up at the pharmacy and washed his hands. Inside the bag was everything he'd need to start an IV, plus several bags of normal saline and one smaller bag of medication to help with Kenma's nausea. He set up as much as he could in the kitchen, out of Kenma's sight. He knew waiting made Kenma nervous, but watching and waiting was worse.
When he was ready, he stepped back into the bedroom. The question of where to hang the IV bag was solved for him when he remembered the old picture mounting hook they had never gotten around to removing. He clipped the tubing securely out of the way before asking, "Kenma, can I see your arms for a minute?"
Kenma shifted until both of his arms were free, closing his eyes as he held them out. Suga ran his fingers over the inside of Kenma's elbows and his forearms, looking for a good site. Unlike Kuroo, whose veins were visible from across the room sometimes, Kenma's weren't prominent even at the best of times and dehydration didn't help. Suga briefly wished they were at the clinic where they'd have access to an ultrasound to help, but it was only a fleeting thought. He was used to dealing with children and their tiny veins; he'd manage somehow, and there was no point in putting things off any longer.
"Kenma, this is going to be tight, okay?" Suga warned before he wrapped a tourniquet around Kenma's bicep.
Kenma flinched anyway, and Kuroo kissed him on the top of his head while Suga stroked his arm.
"Squeeze my hand for me," Suga instructed, and Kenma did, though his grip was weaker than Suga would have liked. Suga studied Kenma's forearm and picked his site. It wasn't ideal, but he thought it was going to be his best option. He ran his fingers down its length.
"I'm cleaning off your arm now," he said as he tore open an alcohol swab. "This is going to be cold."
Kenma whined, and Kuroo took his other hand. "Go ahead and squeeze as hard as you want," he said, and Kenma grabbed on until his knuckles were white.
"Kenma, don't forget to breathe," Suga reminded him as he waited for the alcohol to dry. Kenma's tendency when confronted with uncomfortable sensations was to hold his breath, which was often counterproductive, but Suga didn't even have to ask before Kuroo started rubbing Kenma's back and nudging him whenever he stopped breathing.
The sound of Suga opening the needle packaging had Kenma's eyes flying open as he flinched away. Suga waited until Kuroo had pulled Kenma's attention away with a kiss on his ear before he took hold of Kenma's arm and lined the needle up to the vein.
"Kenma, little pinch," he warned. "Just keep breathing."
Kenma squeezed Kuroo's hand even more tightly and hummed as Suga slid the needle through his skin. Suga waited to see the telltale flash of blood in the needle hub that would tell him it was in place. To his frustration, he saw nothing.
He tried advancing a little farther.
Still nothing.
Kenma was whimpering now though, and fidgeting at the covers with his feet as he tried not to move
"You're doing great, Kenma" Kuroo said as Suga withdrew the needle partway. "Keep breathing."
Suga adjusted his angle and tried again. To his relief, this time he saw the flash he had been waiting for. He quickly advanced the catheter a bit more, withdrew the needle, and put pressure over the vein with his thumb before it could bleed everywhere.
"The worst part's over," he told Kenma as he untied the tourniquet. Then he attached the tubing, checked the line, and taped everything in place. Kenma squirmed as Suga pressed a dressing over everything.
"I know it feels weird," Suga reassured him, "but this way it's harder to get it dirty or knock something loose by mistake. There, all done."
Kenma looked down at his forearm, rubbing his fingers over the dressing curiously.
"The medication will help you feel less sick," Suga explained, "and the fluids will help too. I want to keep this in overnight, but depending on how you're feeling tomorrow, we may be able to remove it in the morning."
He gathered up all of the trash, but Kenma tugged on his wrist before he could go far.
"I'll be right back," he promised, and he was. As soon as he threw everything out and changed into something other than his work clothes, he crawled back into bed with Kenma curled up between him and Kuroo.
"Try to get some sleep, kitten," he said as he ruffled Kenma's hair. "You barely slept at all last night."
"I'll try," Kenma mumbled as he snuggled closer. "'Night, Suga."
"Goodnight, Kenma."
TeniPuri/Yowamushi Pedal, Kinjou & Inui/Kaidou, G
"I like it when it snows, because I can build snowmen," Kinjou's classmate said. "I don't like it when it's really sunny in the summer, because it's too hot to play outside."
"Thank you, Katsuo. Anri, how about you?"
"I like it when it's really windy in the fall, because the leaves look pretty blowing around. I don't like it when it's sunny after it snows, because it's too bright, and it hurts my eyes."
"Thank you. How about you, Shingo?"
"I like it when it rains in the summer, because Father likes running in the rain, and he only lets me come along when it's warm out. He tells the best stories then too. I don't like it when it gets too cold, because it makes Dad hurt. Uncle Oishi is always saying he should stretch more, but Dad never remembers. Sometimes if it's really, really cold, he spends all night in his lab because he can't sleep."
"That was a very…thoughtful answer, Shingo," his teacher said after slightly too long a pause, and Kinjou tried to figure out what he had said wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned going out running in the rain? Or maybe he should have clarified that he suspected Inui was up all night since he didn't actually have proof of that, just a working hypothesis on the basis of the times he'd woken up in the middle of the night to the wind howling and Inui shuffling around the lab? And he supposed he didn't actually know Inui spent those nights in the lab because he couldn't sleep either; that was extrapolation too.
TeniPuri/Yowamushi Pedal, Kinjou & Inui, injuries/mentions of torture, T
"Would she want a hug?" Kinjou asked, only half-listening as he read.
"I mean, if they're close enough she's confiding this sort of thing, then aren't they close enough to hug?" Tanaka said.
Kinjou shrugged. "Dad and I are pretty close, but he doesn't really like hugs. They're too painful sometimes, or at least uncomfortable."
"Huh!?" Tanaka and Kawamura asked in unison, loud enough to make Kinjou look up from the page. "How bad at hugging are you!?"
"It's not me; it's…nevermind," he trailed off, buried his nose back in his book. There were some things that weren't meant for casual conversation over lunch, and that was one of them. It wasn't him; it was Inui, or more specifically, the scars that covered most of his dad's body. He still didn't know where many of the scars came from. Some were obviously surgical scars from numerous port replacements and related procedures, and others were from complications related to the same. Others were from accidents on old missions, which both of his parents would recount as they trained him to follow in his father's footsteps.
But that still left quite a few scars unaccounted for, and Kinjou was almost certain at least some of them were a result of torture. He'd never asked about them, but when his class had been covering the early history of spiders and some of the ways they'd been controlled by less-than-ethical companies, he'd turned the page in his textbook to a photo he swore he'd seen in person the last time Inui had wandered through the house in search of a clean shirt. It wasn't a perfect match—Inui had a lot more scars for one thing, but it was distinctive enough to make Kinjou glad he'd never asked.
It wasn't the scars themselves that caused his dad's aversion to hugs though, or at least not directly; it was the nerve damage they had caused, or in many cases, the nerve damage that had led to the scars. As Inui described it, he had no feeling at all over parts of his body, but others made up for it by being hypersensitive; some places itched constantly, and others had had their wires crossed and interpreted everything as pain. On bad days, even wearing certain clothing was unbearable, and Kinjou knew the pain had kept Inui up all night more than once.
So no, it wasn't his fault his dad didn't like hugs, but it definitely wasn't Inui's fault either.
Cheer Danshi, Haru/Kazu, T
He's tracing the lines on the backs of his fingers absently when someone says, "There you are."
He looks up sharply and sees the first and last person he wants to see. "Haru."
"You weren't at practice. We were worried," Haru says. "Is it your grandmother?"
"I lied," Kazu whispers. "She doesn't even recognize me anymore." His hands blur in front of him, and it makes them look softer somehow, like the hands that always held him as they flipped through his parents' old scrapbooks and cut ears into the apple slices in his lunch. "She was the last person I had. I'm all alone now."
Tears start to fall, hot and salty and stinging against his rough skin.
"You're not alone," Haru says. "You have us."
Haru must have had his hands in his pockets, because they're warm when they grab his. "You're not alone," Haru repeats, "so you don't need to cry alone."
A hand brushes against his face, trying to wipe away his tears, but shaking too badly and bumping into his nose instead. The noise Haru makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and the next thing Kazu knows, he's being pulled into a tight hug. Haru's hands are hot against his back, he tears hot against his back. He wants to tell Haru not to cry for him, but he's too busy crying himself.
He's not sure how long they stay like that before they finally separate, their hands shifting to fill the space between them.
He's staring at his hands again, but they're no longer cold and numb. His fingers are moving of their own accord, and it takes longer than he'd like before he makes sense of the pattern they're tracing on the back of Haru's hand—"Haru" over and over and over again. It's a name, but it's also a promise, a plea, a question.
He's trying to figure out how to put everything into words when Haru rests a hand over his and stills his fingers. When Haru squeezes them gently, he knows that maybe he doesn't need the words after all.
TeniPuri/Yowamushi Pedal, Kinjou & Inui/Kaidou, G
He expected the noise to have originated from Dad's lab; after all, that was where it normally came from. But this time, he only made it as far as Father's spare training space before he found what he was looking for—Inui scrambling around on the floor picking up the scattered circuit boards and drives that surrounded him.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Kinjou asked.
"I'm fine. The new server arrived, so I was just moving the old parts to storage. I think I've got them all now, so go back to dinner, your father should be coming up any minute now."
Kinjou would have listened. He was already halfway back to the door. But then he noticed the tear in Inui's pants and the blood dripping slowly down his knee.
"You're hurt," Kinjou said. His own knee, scraped on the sidewalk earlier that week, stung in sympathy.
"It's nothing," Inui said as he placed the last of the spare parts on top of the precarious pile in his arms.
"You're bleeding."
"Not badly. I'll take care of it later."
Kinjou shook his head. Uncle Oishi was very insistent about taking proper care of injuries (Dr. Oshitari was too, but Uncle Oishi came over more often, and Kinjou didn't want either of them to have reasons to scold Dad).
"Come to the bathroom; I'll make it better," Kinjou said.
Inui shook his head and tried to turn away, but Kinjou crossed his arms over his chest and stood between his dad and the door.
"Bathroom," he said. "Father doesn't like it when you track blood in the house any more than you do when he does, and Uncle Oishi gets mad."
"It's fine," Inui said, but something didn't sound right.
Kinjou craned his neck to look up.
It was hard to see around the pile of electronics, but it looked like Inui might be biting his lip. Maybe his knee hurt more than he wanted to let on?
"It's okay," Kinjou said quickly. "You don't have to come all the way to the bathroom. Just sit there"—he pointed to his father's lifting bench—"and I'll be right back." For good measure, he tried to mimic the look Kaidou made when he was serious. Something seemed to work, because Inui finally nodded.
Kinjou ran to the bathroom, ignoring the clatter behind him that he was fairly sure was the drives falling to the floor again. He opened the cabinet under the sink and took out the first aid kit Kaidou had left there for him. There was one in every bathroom in the house, and most of the other rooms as well, just to be safe. This particular one was green with a glittering snake on the front, and Kinjou was very proud of it. He had picked out the case all on by himself, and then Kaidou had helped him fill it.
He brought it back to the other room and sat on the floor in front of Inui, who he was pleased to note had actually followed his instructions to sit and had even gone so far as to push up the leg of his pants over his injured knee.
"This doesn't look bad," Kinjou reported. He wasn't sure exactly where the line was that made something "bad," but he was pretty sure Dad's scrape was quite a distance away from anything that would warrant calling Dr. Oshitari or even Uncle Oishi.
He tore open one of the disinfecting wipes in the kit, but when he started wiping the blood off of his dad's leg, he could feel it shaking under his hand. He looked up in surprise, and was even more surprised to see Inui pressing his hands into his temples.
"Am I not being gentle enough, Dad?" he asked. "It only stings for a minute; then it starts feeling better," he said. He didn't understand though. He had just scraped his knee a few days ago; he remembered what it felt like. It did sting at first, but he didn't remember it hurting that badly. And he couldn't know for sure, but he thought that whatever had caused the scars all over Dad's body had to have hurt a lot more than a scraped knee. He only had one scar like that himself—on his arm where he had caught it on a loose piece of wire sticking out of a fence, and in his opinion that had hurt a lot more than all of his scraped knees combined.
Just then, he heard footsteps come up behind him. "Problem?" Kaidou grunted from the doorway.
"Dad scraped his knee. I'm making it better for him, but I think it hurts a lot," Kinjou said. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Kaidou seemed to barely spare him a glance as he crossed the room in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around Inui's shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Sadaharu," he whispered. "You're doing fine, Shingo. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Kinjou bit his lip. "Okay," he said.
By the time he finished, Inui had stopped shaking, but when he looked up again, his dad's fingers were digging into his father's arms hard enough to leave marks.
"Does it still hurt?" Kinjou asked. It shouldn't have. The disinfectant and the antibacterial cream both should have numbed the scrape, but it didn't seem like they were working.
"Here, watch this," Kinjou said. "Our teacher showed it to us, and I tried it on Uncle Eiji when he hit his elbow on the table, and he said it really worked." He pressed his fingers lightly to Inui's knee, then threw them up in the air as he repeated, "Pain, pain, go away! Pain, pain, go away!"
"Is it better now?"
"Yes. Thank you," Inui whispered, and when Kinjou looked up again, he would have sworn his dad was crying. Or at least Inui's shoulders kept shaking as he took short, hiccuped breaths he was clearly trying to hide. But was it still crying even if there weren't any tears? Kinjou had never heard of crying without tears before.
"You did well, Shingo," Kaidou said. "I'm proud of you." His voice sounded hoarser than usual, and Kinjou thought he must have been yelling at the training dummy again while he was sparring.
"Why don't you go finish setting the table?" Kaidou continued. "Your dad and I will be right in."
"Okay," Kinjou said, even though he wasn't sure it was, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He supposed this was another of those "grown-up things" everyone kept telling him he'd understand later when he was older. He'd record it in the notebook he kept under his mattress after dinner; if he had his way, "later" was going to be as soon as possible.
TeniPuri/Yowapedal, Kinjou & Inui/Kaidou, T, Terminal Illness
The locks on his parents' door seemed to be upgraded every time he visited. Kinjou fished his key out of his pocket and tapped it against the reader, pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner, and entered the secondary passcode when prompted. He understood the reasons for it, but even so, it struck him as a lot of security for what was going to be a short visit. He was passing by on his way back from an errand and decided it was as a good a time as any to return a few things he had borrowed.
"I'm here," he called as he stepped inside, even though he knew such an announcement was redundant. The motion sensor on the doorbell would have alerted Inui to his presence the moment he approached the door.
"Shingo, it's good to see you!" Kaidou's hair was still dripping from a post-workout shower as he caught Kinjou in a quick, only slightly awkward hug.
"It's good to see you too, Father."
Inui emerged from his lab several seconds later, juggling clipboards and notebooks that seemed liable to come crashing down at any second. He looked older these days, and while Kinjou had never associated "frail" with Inui, it was the first word that came to mind looking at him now. It was a jarring reminder his parents weren't as young as they once had been.
"Shingo!" Inui called.
"Dad, it's good to see you too! Thanks for the loan of the cables," Kinjou said holding out the bag he had brought. "They made that data migration so much easier. I don't want to think about how long it would have taken manually."
"Happy to help."
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Kaidou asked. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. I know you aren't planning on staying long, but I made enough for all of us…"
"I'll take you up on that offer," Kinjou said. "Makishima's been experimenting again. Love him dearly, but I do wonder at his tastes sometimes."
"You and me both," Kaidou muttered to himself.
Dinner was a pleasant enough affair, with decent food and conversation that ranged from the vacation Inui and Kaidou had just returned from to Inui's pet research projects, which he was devoting more and more time to these days, to some of the newest research coming out of joint project between Ishida's lab and Atobe's hospital.
Then, Inui said, "actually, while we're on the topic of medical," and the look he exchanged with Kaidou had Kinjou's heart suddenly hammering in his throat.
"There's something you should probably know," Inui continued. "I've…not been in as good a health as I may have seemed recently."
Kinjou nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop as his mind filled in all of the little signs he'd written off simply as age over the past months.
"About…three years ago, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer. It progresses slowly, and it's treatable, to an extent, but ultimately incurable."
"Dad…"
"It is what it is," Inui said, "and we didn't want you to worry. There's no changing it, so may as well make the most of the time that's left. That's hard to do if people are always hovering over your shoulder asking how you're feeling; better to avoid it altogether. Plus, several research groups, some of Atobe's included, are actively researching new treatment options. Who knows, by the time we've exhausted the treatments that exist now, they may have found a cure."
"So…why now?" Kinjou asked. His voice sounded oddly distant to his ears, and another look exchanged between his parents did nothing to settle his nerves.
"A few months ago, they found another tumor. The good news is it's much easier to treat. They remove the tumor, and there's a 91% chance that will be enough to cure the cancer completely."
"And the catch?" Kinjou asked. Inui wouldn't be sharing if it were truly that easy.
"The cancer affects modified nerve cells. There's no sign the tumor has metastasized, but it's wrapped itself pretty well around one of the nerves here—" Inui tapped his collarbone "—Even with the best surgeon, you're going to have side effects from digging around in the nerves like that. Especially when the preference is to sacrifice more healthy tissue than risk missing any malignant cells. It would be difficult to hide that from you, and if we're sharing that, we figured it was time to share everything."
"Dad…Father…" Kinjou's head spun as he tried to take in all of the sudden announcements. A thousand questions sprung to mind: Why didn't you tell me sooner? When were you planning on finally sharing? How much longer do you have? What happens from here? It was all unexpected and overwhelming, and he didn't know where to start.
Kaidou's hand on his shoulder snapped him out of the spiral.
"Breathe," Kaidou ordered, and Kinjou tried to force the ragged sounds back into something resembling a steady pattern.