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Kimura Kiyoshi was tired. And not just any kind of tired, he was the special kind of tired that came from the ridiculous hours that any and all hospital staff ended up working. It seemed ironic that a place which was supposed to cure health issues had an entire staff who were barely functioning due to sleep deprivation. But that was all behind him, he was almost out. A few more minutes and he’d be out of the hospital, another few and he’d be back at the flat he lived in nearby, where he could finally get some sle-
“Kimura-san” No, he thought desperately. Please no. Kiyoshi knew all too well what that tone of voice meant. So well, in fact, that he was tempted to pretend he hadn’t heard it. But it was too late now, he’d turned to face the voice.
“Yes?” he asked, trying his best to look collected and professional.
And that was the conversation that had landed him sat in a room with Heiwajima Shizuo (yes, the Heiwajima Shizuo, as in I-could-break-all-of-your-bones-with-just-my-little-finger Heiwajima Shizuo). Admittedly the guy was unconscious, but that only made the situation slightly less terrifying – mostly because Kiyoshi was relatively sure the other man in the room was the blond’s infamous fighting partner. But due to the way that he clutched onto Shizuo’s hand and whispered to him desperately, the hospital worker was starting to doubt himself.
Hours later a doctor came in to announce that it wouldn’t be too long until Shizuo awoke and Kiyoshi nodded sleepily, vaguely wondering how he was still alive, never mind awake. He turned back to the room to find that the Shizuo’s guest had disappeared but quite honestly could not bring himself to care that much. He felt his eyes drifting shut and fought to stop them, he’d almost given up when he heard a groan and turned to find that his charge was now awake.
“Who are you?” Shizuo asked and Kiyoshi looked at him sheepishly.
“I’m your guard, you’re under 24 hour surveillance,” he started, pausing to wonder how the next bit of information would go down – but he couldn’t exactly keep it from him. “Suicide watch,” he finished, slightly relieved that the blond just looked confused rather than angry.
“What?” he asked and Kiyoshi launched into a vague explanation of the events, taking him from the window fall to the man who’d been next to his bed till not long ago. He watched on for a while as Shizuo appeared to have some kind of mental crisis. It went on for a while and the guard decided that he was probably best turning away a little to let the blond have his moment in relative privacy. His eyelids began to weigh down once more. There was distance shuffling going on, like the moving on fabric – it was weirdly comforting. Heavy footfalls left him blinking and looking up just in time to see Heiwajima Shizuo climb out the window.
Well fuck. Kiyoshi was relatively sure his heart was going into overdrive. He’d just let his charge jump out a window, again. He stood up, cold horror pooling in his stomach as he went to the window – bracing himself for the broken body that would be lying on the concrete below him. The guy had survived one drop, surely he could survive two? He gripped the window frame, not able to bring himself to look out of it. Did this make him a murderer? Or an accessory to the crime?
Kiyoshi steeled himself, wiping his slightly sweaty palms on his trousers and leaning forward to see…nothing.
Well, not nothing. There was pavement, people, potholes, an empty packet of crisps. But no body.
Kiyoshi felt his heart lighten. No body, he repeated to himself mentally, staggering backwards a little from sheer exhaustion.
No body. He was even laughing now. His legs hit against the bed behind him causing him to fall onto it.
“No body,” he whispered the words out loud, his tiredness making him more than a little delirious as he drifted off to sleep on the bed, his utter relief depriving him of the most important question:
Where exactly was the body?