Five years ago, I was in the last year of my highschool and when everyone was worrying about careers and universities I...I fell in love.
Not the soft kind of love people ease into.
No — mine hit like a bolt of lightning in the middle of a Tokyo street.
It was the final afternoon of our school trip. I was holding a crepe, laughing at something dumb my friend said, when I heard a scream. A woman had collapsed right on the sidewalk, her groceries rolling across the pavement.
Everyone froze. People stared. Whispered. Waited.
Then he moved.
He came out of nowhere — tall, white coat fluttering, sharp eyes already scanning the scene. His voice was calm, steady, like the world didn't scare him at all.
"She's dehydrated. Pulse is dropping. We need space."
I couldn't look away.
He moved with this quiet authority, like he wasn't just helping — he knew what to do, and everyone else just followed. The way he spoke to the woman, so gently, like she wasn't just a patient but someone he genuinely cared for... it changed something in me.
He knelt, rolled up his sleeves, and pressed two fingers to her wrist.
"You're alright, ma'am. I've got you."
I didn't even know his name, but in that moment, I knew this:
I wanted to be near that kind of strength. I wanted to be someone like him.
And maybe, a little embarrassingly, I just wanted him too.
And that's when I decided that I'll be a nurse that'll stand next to him
---
Five years later, I walked into the lobby of Kanzaki Memorial Hospital with sweaty palms and a pounding heart. My name tag felt too new, my uniform too stiff. But under it all, there was fire. Determination.
This was it. Today, I'd see him again.
Dr. Ren Hayashi.
I didn't even know if he still worked here. But part of me had always believed we'd meet again.
And then — just like that — there he was.
White coat. Scrubs. Clipboard in hand. Same serious face.
My breath caught. My feet moved before my brain did.
"Dr. Hayashi!" I called out, almost too loud.
He looked up, eyes flicking toward me, unreadable.
"I became a nurse because of you," I blurted. "Five years ago. Tokyo. You helped a woman who collapsed near the train station. I saw you. You… you inspired me."
His stare didn't waver. "I don't remember," he said coolly. "And if you're here to fantasize about some old street scene, I suggest you get your head out of the clouds."
My heart dropped — just a little — but I lifted my chin.
"I'm not fantasizing. You changed my life. I worked hard to be here."
He blinked once. "Then show it. With your hands, not your mouth."
And just like that, he walked away.
I stood there for a moment, burning from the inside. Not from shame — no, I wasn't embarrassed. I meant every word I said. I just didn't expect him to be so…
Cold.
By lunch, I had a nickname:
"The Warrior."
Apparently, nobody confesses to the Devil Doctor and survives.
---
I dragged my suitcase up the stairs of my new apartment building that night, tired but still buzzing. Floor two. Unit 2B. I reached for the key—
A door opened beside me.
I turned.
And froze.
There he was.
Dr. Ren Hayashi.
Holding a grocery bag. Standing in front of the door to 2A.
He froze too.
We stared at each other for what felt like an hour.
"…You?" he said, flatly.
My voice came out 10 pitches higher from shock "Wait. You live here?"
He sighed like the universe was personally mocking him. "Apparently."
Then he stepped inside and shut the door.
I just stood there in the hallway, staring at his closed door, keys still in hand.
"…You've got to be kidding me."