Shirakawa Natsu got up, drew the bed curtains, and made a soft "whoosh" as the fabric slid together, isolating the sound from the outside. In that moment, the two created a temporary, private space.
"My brother really knows what he's doing," Shirakawa Natsu thought, nodding subtly. Drawing the curtains was a simple but effective way to ensure their conversation wouldn't be overheard.
Yazukui closed the curtains, unzipped his leather jacket, slipped it off, and tossed it over the back of the chair.
A small question mark formed in Shirakawa Natsu's mind. The ward was well-ventilated, comfortably cool—why the jacket removal now?
Beneath the jacket, Yazukui wore a T-shirt marked with stylized lion claws. Shirakawa Natsu noticed how athletic Yazukui's chest appeared, firm and toned from obvious physical activity.
Yazukui tugged the hem of the T-shirt out of his jeans, letting the fabric hang loosely across his torso. Reaching for the waistband of his jeans, the placket popped open, revealing the sleek, black silhouette of his undergarments against his fair skin.
"You really don't have to go to all this trouble," Shirakawa Natsu said, trying to stay calm. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but he trusted that his brother wouldn't suddenly act on base impulses—they were different genders, after all. He attempted to navigate the situation with words alone.
Yazukui paused, listening to him. Halfway through undoing his jeans, he muttered with pursed lips, "Virgins are such a hassle."
Shirakawa Natsu thought of all the exaggerated depictions in comics and movies, where things often escalate dramatically—but real life rarely follows those scripts. Yazukui seemed to assume Shirakawa Natsu's understanding came from those fantastical depictions, which led to a misunderstanding of reality. But correcting it would be pointless. In this life, Yazukui wasn't planning any romantic entanglement. What had been promised would remain unchanged.
Yazukui reached back to tie his hair up into a simple knot, lifted the hospital bed's quilt, and leaned down.
Shirakawa Natsu's expression betrayed his curiosity, though Yazukui didn't notice. He hadn't learned the "professional" technique of keeping eye contact while maneuvering. In a novel, a scenario like this might be dramatized: a heroine misunderstanding a hero's intentions, followed by a righteous explanation at the critical moment. But in reality… Shirakawa Natsu simply went along, feeling… very tense.
Within a minute, a sharp "Ah!" escaped him. He clenched his teeth, suppressed his scream, bent over the bed, and began questioning his life choices.
Yazukui calmly picked up a water cup to rinse, dabbed his lips with a tissue, and remarked with habitual poise, "Sorry. Want me to call the nurse? I thought it would be easier."
Shirakawa Natsu waved him off, waiting until the discomfort subsided. Then he spoke casually, "I remember you change girlfriends almost every month."
"The structure of men and women is different," Yazukui replied, pausing in his motions, almost apologetically. He slipped back into his leather jacket and added, "I'll help you next time."
In today's information age, the only thing stopping people from learning new techniques is laziness.
Yazukui finished tidying himself. "I'll be going now."
"Uh, wait," Shirakawa Natsu blurted, pain forgotten, rushing his words.
Yazukui frowned. "Don't push yourself. I'm only helping as a brother."
"No," Shirakawa Natsu quickly clarified, not daring to hesitate, "I also want you to help me track Hashimoto Arina. I want to know if she has a boyfriend—everything, even details about him."
He knew it might be inappropriate to bring this up right now, but the persistent weakness in his body made him aware of how little time he could waste.
Yazukui paused, taken aback. Combined with what had just happened, she instantly realized Shirakawa Natsu's request could be misunderstood. Embarrassment flickered across her face, but she maintained her composed expression and replied casually, "Got it."
With that, she opened the curtain and left the ward.
Shirakawa Natsu watched her go, finally letting himself relax. Slumping onto the hospital bed, he couldn't shake the strange feeling that had surged in him. Not only women cared about emotional connections—men did, too.
Imagine a charming woman's childhood sweetheart, handsome but cold, showing disdain. The sensory impact is entirely different.
"It's such a hassle," Shirakawa Natsu muttered, pulling the sheet over his head. In a strange way, he felt his brother had grown even more beautiful.
Downstairs in the hospital, Yazukui banged her forehead against the wall, creating a rhythmic "bang, bang."
"Ugh," she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her intended meaning had gone completely wrong—she just wanted to escape from reality for a moment.
"Hashimoto Yuna…" Yazukui murmured, leaning casually against the wall while scrolling on her phone. She had encountered her several times while collecting manuscripts and instinctively disliked the cheerful, beautiful doctor. Her warmth, kindness, and gentle manner could mislead any inexperienced boy.
Shirakawa Natsu was a genius, yet bedridden and vulnerable. Naturally, such a woman appearing by his side could only lead to complications—and now, what Yazukui had feared was happening.
"The hospital's central air conditioning is so annoying," she muttered, leaving the ward.
Shirakawa Natsu didn't realize how much trouble Yazukui had faced investigating Hashimoto Arina for him. He wasn't inexperienced either; he knew exactly what had to be prioritized in this situation.
Even after leaving the office, the app's friendliness score didn't drop—it rose slightly, from ninety-three to ninety-five. If conditions were equal, determining the girl's interest might be possible.
Shirakawa Natsu jotted down the obstacles on his drawing board:
"Unprofessional doctor-patient feelings"
"My poor physical condition"
"Hashimoto Arina may be dating someone else"
Getting close to Arina Hashimoto was an urgent problem. Without addressing these issues, communication was impossible.
"Dr. Hashimoto, you're here!" The familiar voice of the elderly woman greeted him at the ward door.
Startled, Shirakawa Natsu quickly shoved the drawing board under his pillow.
Hashimoto Arina stood at the door, chatting with the old lady, her smile bright. The old woman's forehead creased with laughter.
After checking her register and giving a few instructions, she approached Shirakawa Natsu's bed. Hands on her hips, she teased, "Messing things up again?"
Yazukui had stacked sketches and brushes on the bedside table for convenience. Arina Arina noticed and helped tidy them.
Shirakawa Natsu had failed to confess his feelings in the office earlier. He'd thought she might avoid him for the next couple of days—but now, she came willingly.
As she bent down, tucking her long hair behind her ears, the setting sun shone through the window, softening her features.
Arina Hashimoto finished cleaning, clapped her hands, and said, "All done!"
Looking up, she noticed Shirakawa Natsu staring at her face. She smiled gently, "Pretty, isn't it? Want to compliment me?"
"Your beauty can't be described in words," Shirakawa Natsu replied, shrugging casually, though his attention had wandered to the curve of her chest, naturally revealed by her movements.
"You really have a way with words," she laughed, reaching to ruffle his hair.
"Stop messing with my hair!" Shirakawa Natsu protested, surprised by her sudden appearance.
Arina chuckled, then pulled the bed curtain closed. Shirakawa Natsu's expression froze—why did this feel so familiar?
She sat beside him on the bed and asked softly, "Natsu, were you going to confess to me this morning in the office?"
"Um…" Shirakawa Natsu hesitated, still recovering from his earlier embarrassment, before revealing his feelings in the afternoon.
Seeing him silent, Arina smiled. "I've finished reading the manuscript. I really like the ending with Akane Mizuno and Kotaro. I felt all the emotions you poured into it."
"But we're not really suited," Shirakawa Natsu thought, already knowing the line he would say next.
"We can try dating first," Arina said with a warm, trusting smile, the same one she showed her patients.
"…" Shirakawa Natsu fumbled, glancing over her from head to toe, utterly baffled. An eighteen-year-old bedridden boy being accepted by a successful twenty-six-year-old doctor? Could it be a dream?
"Sorry, Arina, I didn't catch that. Can you say it again?" he asked hesitantly.
"Hey, don't make a girl repeat herself," Arina pouted playfully. "Even if it's me, I want to save face."
"Um… sorry. I just feel a little overwhelmed," Shirakawa Natsu admitted, rubbing his temples. "So… Arina, does that mean I'm your boyfriend now?"
"Just trying it out for now," she said, placing a hand to her lips. "If it works, I'll be your official girlfriend."
"Then… can I kiss you?" he asked tentatively.
Arina's expression turned cold in an instant. "Minus ten points, right now."
"That's too easy to lose points," Shirakawa Natsu muttered, touching his head. "How do I earn them back?"
"Be obedient and sleep," she laughed, pushing him gently down under the quilt.
"Okay," he replied, lying still.
"Good." Arina leaned down, touched his forehead, and looked into his astonished eyes. "Start with the forehead."
Shirakawa Natsu didn't feel any inner conflict. If he guessed correctly, Arina Hashimoto truly saw him as an immature boy, confined to a hospital bed for eighteen years.