The line outside the Atlas Tower Medical Bay is long — winding halfway down the hallway. People are tired, sweaty, grumpy, and barefoot.
Some of them even snore in line. And in the middle of it all is James, tall for his age, arms folded, staring at a toddler who's been giving him the stink eye for five whole minutes.
"I'm not sick," James mutters to his mom for the tenth time.
She doesn't even glance at him. "You screamed last night you were dying."
"That was— It was stomach noises!"
The toddler in front of him suddenly sneezes. All over James' arm.
James nearly yells. "MOM!"
"I told you to stay behind me," she replies coolly, as the line shuffles forward by half a step.
From behind them, a younger girl pipes up. "He's scared of injections!"
"I am not!" James snaps, looking like he wants to melt into the floor.
Whispers and giggles ripple through the line of kids and parents. Some of the smaller ones chant, "Neeeedle, neeeeedle!"
James glares at them. This is torture. Literal torture.
Inside the medical bay, Doctor Haniko, the only medical practitioner on all of Atlas Tower, kneels before a giggling five-year-old with her hand stretched out like a superhero.
"Okay, Super Oto, time to get your special serum. Will you be brave for me?"
The little girl nods. "I want two candy after!"
Haniko laughs. "That's a hard bargain, but okay, Deal!"
With a practiced hand, she swabs the arm, pokes gently, and slips the syringe in. Oto doesn't even flinch.
Her mother claps. Haniko hands over the promised pink candies. "That's one brave hero!"
Behind her, her husband, Seito, helps refill a few medicine bottles, moving slowly.
He watches her carefully. Haniko's belly is swollen — she's at least seven months along, but refuses to slow down.
"Maybe it's time to take a breather?" he suggests softly.
Haniko smiles, though sweat beads her brow. "Not when half the tower is coughing."
He frowns, but says nothing. This is a familiar argument.
She leans closer to him. "And besides… two more months. This baby's not ready yet. But the tower needs me."
"Haniko…"
"I'm fine," she says brightly, slipping a herbal balm into a mother's hands.
"No synthetic meds for now. We're out till next week's drop."
The woman thanks her deeply and leaves with a bow.
Haniko lets out a soft sigh, rubbing her back. "Okay… next!"
Suddenly the door bursts open—James's mother walks in, dragging him like a sack of rice.
"Doctor! He's been… protesting."
James looks like he'd rather walk into a lion's mouth. "Please tell me you're out of needles…"
Haniko's face lights up. "James! Come in, come in! I've got new candies today…"
His eyes flicker toward the glass jar of multicolored sweets with a mischievous grin.
"Just a quick check," Haniko says.
"…You mean the totally sour and sweet ones,right?" he asks carefully.
She winks. "Yes, your favorites."
James smiles.
James sits rigidly on the clinic bed, flanked by pastel-colored cartoon posters on the wall — smiling organs with arms and legs, a dancing skeleton labeled
"Brush Twice A Day!", and the dreaded "Happy Needle Family" poster that makes him visibly sweat.
Doctor Haniko reaches for her stethoscope. "Okay, James. Let's check that totally real sickness you screamed about."
James tries to play it smooth. "I've been… dizzy. And my tongue tastes like battery."
Seito raises an eyebrow from across the room. "Battery?"
"Could be a sign of advanced iron deficiency," James blurts out. "Or alien spores."
Haniko grins, playing along. "That so? Open your mouth."
James complies. She checks his throat, ears, listens to his chest.
"Mmm-hmm… your heartbeat sounds completely dramatic."
"That's not a diagnosis," James says flatly.
"It is in here," she smiles, tapping his chest. "Pulse: 140 beats per minute. Diagnosis: you're perfectly fine."
He slumps. "So no… pills?"
"Well," she picks up a little candy from the jar. "There is the traditional prescription."
He lights up instantly. "I knew it, Say hello to candy town!"
But as soon as he reaches for the candy, she pivots—holds up a glinting needle.
James freezes.
Haniko says it sweetly, "Buuut… if you want the candy, I do need to give you a quick booster."
Seito snorts. "Here we go."
"Y-You tricked me!" James cries, trying to scoot backward.
"You tricked me first," Haniko replies, matter-of-fact. "Fake illness is so last season."
From the hallway, a kid calls out: "James is getting a nee-edle!"
James screams:
"NOOOOOO!"
Haniko chuckles, and even Seito breaks into laughter as James tries to crawl under the bed in shame.
Later, after the clinic clears, Haniko leans on the counter, finally sitting. The last bottle is capped, the final chart updated.
She takes a breath. Her hands tremble just slightly.
Seito kneels beside her, gently placing a warm hand over her belly. "You need to rest, Haniko. You've seen twelve patients today."
She closes her eyes. "And twelve people needed me today."
He presses his forehead to hers, softly. "We need you too. Not just them. Me. The baby."
Haniko leans into him for a second, her expression unreadable.
"…There's no one else here who knows the medicines," she whispers.
"The Tower can't afford for me to stop yet."
He's silent. He knows she's right.
Then she opens one eye, lips curling. "Besides, you're still terrible at injections."
"I'm great at herbal teas, though," he says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
She grins tiredly. "Lucky for you, that is one of my cravings."
They share a quiet moment, leaning together, surrounded by medical charts, scattered crayons from the kids, and a now-empty candy jar — evidence of the chaotic peace she manages every day.