Page 129 of Kotori
"Safe. Sleeping. They don't know yet."
Relief flickers across his features before pain pulls him under again.
Dr. Yamada arrives in a flurry of medical bags and quiet competence. He's a small, elderly man who takes one look at the wounds and gets to work. No questions, no hesitation. Just skilled hands doing what needs to be done.
I hold Kaito's left hand while the doctor works, feeling his fingers grip mine whenever the pain spikes. His strength, even wounded, anchors me to this moment.
An hour of careful work. An hour of watching the doctor clean and stitch wounds, of monitoring vital signs and praying to gods I'm not sure I believe in. An hour of trying not to think about the wife who won't get her husband back tonight, the children who will grow up fatherless because their father died protecting mine.
When Dr. Yamada finally straightens, dawn is painting the windows pale gold.
"He'll be fine," he says simply. "Rest and time."
"I'll watch him."
"I know you will." He packs his supplies with efficient movements. "I'll check on him tomorrow."
After he leaves, Hayashi helps me arrange pillows and blankets.
"The girls?" I ask, suddenly realizing I haven't seen them.
"I kept them in their rooms while the doctor worked. They're awake, worried. Waiting for permission to see their father."
I nod.
"You should rest," she says quietly. "I can sit with him."
"No." I settle into the chair beside his bed, my hand finding his again. "This is where I belong."
She bows slightly, a respectful acknowledgment of one woman recognizing another's devotion.
"Shall I bring the girls?"
"Yes. They need to see he's okay."
Minutes later, all three appear in the doorway together: Aya clutching her stuffed rabbit, Kohana pale with worry, Mizuki trying to look composed but failing. They hover at the threshold, afraid of what they might find.
"Come see for yourselves," I say gently. "He's going to be fine."
They approach the bed together, a united front of sisterly concern. Aya reaches him first, studying his peaceful face and the medical equipment with six-year-old seriousness.
"Can I kiss it better?"
"Very gently. We have to be careful not to wake him."
She presses the softest kiss to his forehead. "Get better, Papa. We need you."
The whispered words make my throat tight with emotion.
Kohana touches his uninjured hand carefully, relief flooding her features when she feels his warmth. "It was bad, wasn't it?"
"Bad enough. But he's strong, and he's home, and that's what matters."
Mizuki hangs back slightly, her composed mask finally cracking at the edges. "I keep thinking about the sound of the cars arriving. The way Takeshi-san looked when they carried him in."
"It's okay to be scared, Mizuki. You don't have to be strong all the time."
"Someone has to."
