Jun's eyelids moved beneath closed lids, fragments of a face flickering at the edge of his mind. A girl—he could not remember her smile, the shape of her eyes, the way her hair fell—hovered in his thoughts.
The memory slipped away each time he reached for it. A voice, soft, distant, echoed in his ears, but he could not place it.
A shock of icy moisture pressed against his shoulder, pulling him from the haze. His eyes fluttered open. The room was pale and quiet.
A sodden cloth tracked along his back, and he realized his bare skin was slick with water. The towel around his waist shifted with each movement, clinging to him.
Nurse Shiraishi crouched beside the bed, her hands precise and controlled. The cloth moved methodically along his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of cool dampness.
The faint scent of soap and antiseptic filled the air. Her fingers brushed lightly over his skin, lifting his arm slightly to clean beneath it, careful not to startle him.
Jun pushed himself up slightly, muscles quivering and stiff. His chest heaved, shoulders laboring against feebleness. His face flushed, warmth spreading along his neck and ears.
His lips parted, voice rough and uncertain. "What… what are you doing?" His fingers flexed against the sheet, nails pressing into the fabric. His gaze flicked toward her hands, then down to the towel at his waist, wide and unsteady.
Shiraishi's hands paused mid-motion. Her brown eyes met his, calm and unreadable. A faint shift of her weight pressed against the floor as she adjusted the cloth.
"I see… you are finally awake," she murmured, tone flat, measured. Jun turned slowly onto his back, eyes fixed on her.
Jun's throat tightened, and his breath dragged unevenly through his chest. His heart thudded faster, the sound loud in his ears. His voice trembled as he looked up at her. "B-but… what is happening…?"
Shiraishi's shoulders dipped a little as she leaned closer, the faint rustle of her gown brushing against his arm. Her eyes stayed fixed on his face, calm and unreadable.
"Isn't it obvious… I am cleaning you," her voice steady, each word leaving her lips without hesitation.
Jun shifted slightly, his muscles tightening from the low temperature.
Shiraishi placed her hand on his shoulder before he could lift himself any further. Her palm pressed with controlled pressure, warm against his chilled skin. "Jun… stay still. I will wash your front carefully."
Her fingers adjusted just enough to follow the small vibration in his body, steadying him without forcing him down.
She lowered the cloth to his chest again. The moment the damp fabric touched his skin, a penetrating chill traveled across him. He drew in a quick breath, his shoulders twitching.
Each slow pass of the cloth carried the same biting cold, and he winced with every downward motion, his abdomen tightening under the temperature difference.
Jun's breath caught in his throat. A wave of heat gathered across his face as he turned his eyes away from her. "W-why am I… naked…?"
Shiraishi's cloth paused for a moment. The faint sound of dripping water filled the space between them before she resumed her work.
Her tone stayed even, her expression unchanged. "So you would rather be cleaned with all your clothes on? There is no need to feel embarrassed. I have already taken care of your body for months. I have seen everything many times."
Jun's face grew incandescent, his chest rising with an uneven breath. "W-what…?" The word slipped out, thin and tense, his shoulders tightening beneath her touch.
"Even while you were resting…"
Nurse Shiraishi's eyes followed the white edge of the towel, her posture softening as she exhaled.
"…there was always something so energetic about you."
Jun yanked the blanket over his face, pressing it tight against his cheeks. Please kill me now… The words were muffled, barely leaving his throat. A scorching sensation burned across his face, his ears tingling, heart hammering too fast.
Jun curled onto his side under the blanket, the fabric pulled up to his chin. The mattress creaked faintly beneath the shift of his weight. His shoulders slumped, tense and heavy. Every breath felt shallow, his chest tight.
The soft rustle of Shiraishi's uniform moved through the quiet room.
"I have good news for you… Doctor Kurosawa approved you to start physiotherapy today, since there are no abnormalities in your vitals or health."
The words settled in the air. Jun's chest lifted subtly, shoulders easing a little. He slowly lowered the blanket. He was wearing the hospital gown and a pants, its fabric soft against his skin, covering him completely. His eyes were still tired.
A faint rasp slipped out as he pushed himself a fraction higher against the pillow.
"P-physio… today?"
Shiraishi's chin dipped once, a small, precise motion. The hem of her uniform shifted as she moved to the side of the bed, the faint scent of disinfectant following her.
"Yes. We will begin by getting you upright."
Her hand settled near his elbow, steady and patient, waiting for him to move.
"I need you to sit up now."
The mattress dipped slightly under her adjusted stance, quiet but firm support ready at his side.
Jun pressed his palms into the mattress. His arms shuddered almost immediately, the fatigue running up to his shoulders. His torso lifted only a few centimeters before his elbows lost stability and collapsed, his body sinking back down.
Shiraishi stepped in, the shift of her shoes quiet against the floor. Her left arm slid behind his back, firm and supportive. Her right hand closed around his upper arm, steadying him.
"Push with your arms."
Her breath stayed even, her hold unmoving.
Jun forced his muscles to tighten again. The pressure built in his chest and arms, and with her support, his back separated from the mattress by slow degrees.
His vision swayed, a light vertigo sweeping through him. He reached upright, leaning heavily to one side, his breaths rough and fast. The hospital gown tugged at his shoulders with the effort.
"Hold yourself there."
Her palm remained firm against his spine, preventing him from tipping further.
Shiraishi shifted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Her hands reached toward his legs, lifting them one at a time. The muscles in her arms tightened as she guided the unresponsive limbs, easing them over the edge of the bed until they hung freely.
Jun's breath caught the moment his feet dropped into open air. His body lurched forward, stability vanishing in an instant.
Shiraishi's grip fastened around his shoulders, firm and controlled, pulling his upper body back into alignment.
"Stable now."
Her hands adjusted, guiding his ankles and heels until both feet made contact with the frigid floor. The surface jolted his soles, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of the blankets.
Shiraishi shifted her stance, knees braced lightly against the bed frame. The fabric of her uniform rustled as she turned to face him.
"We will stand. Place your hands on my shoulders."
Jun lifted his unstable hands and set them on her shoulders. The material under his palms felt firm and clean, the faint warmth of her body rising through the fabric. His fingers tightened involuntarily.
"Push up through your feet. I will support you."
His breath caught. He pressed down through his soles, legs vibrating. A fiery ache climbed up his calves and thighs, and his knees folded before he could rise.
"Again."
Her voice stayed level. Her stance remained unchanged.
Jun pushed once more, gathering what little strength he had left. His palms pressed harder into her shoulders. His knees straightened, hips rising until his spine drew upward. His weight shifted fully onto his feet. He stood.
His body careened immediately. His vision shook. Shiraishi's hands closed around his waist, firm and steady, preventing him from tipping. He dragged in uneven breaths, each one catching in his throat.
"Good. You are standing."
Her hold stayed secure as she reached behind him with one hand, the quiet scrape of a wheel marking the movement of a padded wheelchair drawn close.
"Back up."
Jun attempted a backward step. His heel dragged against the floor, unbalanced. Her hands guided his hips, nudging his balance until the back of his legs brushed the chair. His strength gave out, and he sank heavily into the cushion, the seat absorbing his weight.
Shiraishi drew a blanket over his legs, smoothing it into place. A faint click sounded as she unlocked the wheels.
"Rest now. I will take you to the corridor."
The chair shifted slightly beneath him as she prepared to move, the floor cool and silent in front of them.
The wheelchair moved with a quiet, rubberized drone as Shiraishi pushed it out of the sterile silence of Jun's room. The transition hit him immediately.
The hallway was a sudden, bewildering mix of sensory inputs. The air was heavy, layered with the metallic tang of hospital disinfectant, the faint, comforting scent of fresh-brewed coffee, and the sharper, more immediate smell of reheated cafeteria food—a blend of stewed vegetables and rice.
Sounds bounced off the tiled walls: the creak of nurses' shoe soles, the loud, rattling clatter of a cleaning cart being wheeled past, and a distant, muffled announcement over the intercom.
Jun's head, which felt too heavy for his neck, swiveled slowly, trying to process the sheer volume of external data. Sunlight streamed fiercely through tall windows at the end of the corridor, forcing him to squint.
As they moved, he saw patients—some walking with plodding steps, others sitting inert in chairs. He caught the brief, curious glances of nurses and aides who quickly looked away. This feeling of being observed, of being an object of quiet study, made his skin feel unsettled.
Then his eyes snagged on a figure seated on a bench across from a water fountain. She had dark, straight hair that fell around her shoulders, and she was absorbed in a paperback book held close to her face.
As the wheelchair passed her bench, she lifted her head. Jun felt the intensity of her gaze instantly. Her eyes were a distinct, deep purple, and they were fixed on him.
Jun flinched, the unexpected connection sending a jolt of panic through his chest. He snapped his head upward and fixed his gaze on the front of Shiraishi's crisp white uniform until the girl was out of his sight.
The wheelchair stopped outside a bright, airy room labeled "Physiotherapy." Shiraishi wheeled him in. The room was mostly bare, featuring a long set of parallel bars bolted to the floor, flanked by full-length mirrors and windows that let in ample light.
Shiraishi pressed her foot against the wheel brake until it clicked firmly into place. Her hands rested briefly on the chair handles as she faced him.
"We start here."
Jun's throat tightened. His gaze dropped to his knees, air catching slightly in his chest.
"Yes…"
Shiraishi helped him rise from the chair, supporting his entire weight as she guided him between the parallel bars. She positioned him carefully, placing his hands on the smooth, cool metal of the rails.
Her voice reached him in a steady, even tone, each word placed with care.
"Good. Now, you hold the rails. I will stand behind you. You have my full support. This is to retrain the connection between your brain and your muscles." She instructed.
Jun looked down at his feet. His legs, underneath his pants, felt thin and insubstantial. He tried to lock his elbows, bracing himself.
Shiraishi shifted her weight slightly, the sound of her shoes soft against the floor as she moved closer to his side. Her hand hovered near his elbow, close enough to catch him if he listed.
Her voice stayed low and even, matching the slow rhythm of his breathing.
"Your first goal is to stand for thirty seconds without leaning too heavily on the rails."
Jun's grip tightened a fraction, the metal warming beneath his palms as he prepared himself. The muscles in his lower back and along his spine began to erupt in protest almost immediately. They were burning, unused, and weak.
His thighs started juddering, a rapid, uncontrollable vibration that traveled up through his hips. Fifteen seconds passed.
Her voice came quietly, each instruction measured and clear.
"Now, we will try one step. Lift your right foot. Just an inch. Then place it forward, directly in front of the left. Slow. Gentle."
Jun's toes curled inside the thin hospital socks. His breath hitched as he tightened his grip on the rails, preparing to move. His leg felt heavy, a dormant mass connected by brittle joints.
He managed to lift the foot barely off the floor. The moment the weight shifted to his left leg, the left thigh muscle clenched rigidly.
He let out a short breath, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the rails, his entire body pitching forward.
Shiraishi's hands immediately locked onto his hips, stabilizing him. "Control the shift, Jun. Don't force it. The stiffness is normal."
He reset his balance, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The muscles were defying every command, tight bands of atrophy resisting movement. He tried the right step again.
This time, he pushed off the rail slightly, diverting some weight into his arms. He succeeded in placing his right foot a full six inches ahead of the left.
The simple act of bearing weight on the front foot was agonizing. The Achilles tendon felt taut and fixed. The sole of his foot screamed under the pressure.
"Hold it," Shiraishi commanded. "Feel the weight change."
He stayed for three seconds, his breath ragged. Then, he tried to bring his left foot forward to match the right. The trailing leg felt adhered to the floor.
When he finally hauled it forward, shuffling his heel, the resulting movement was clumsy and unbalanced.
He was now standing with his feet together, two small steps from where he started. His muscles were depleted, aching from his neck down to his calves. The pain was dull, pervasive, and completely real.
"That's enough," Shiraishi announced, her voice calm. "We achieved two steps. I will return you to the wheelchair now."