damned_institute | Dayshift 43: Waiting Room / Lobby 2 [4th Shift]

"Now you just have a seat and wait for your visitor like everyone else."

As the nurse went away from him, Kurogane huffed out some agitation but refused to have a seat. Hearing that he had a visitor had been one of the last things he'd expected. It was always the magician who got one, not him. And who the hell would want to visit him anyway?

During his first protests, the nurse had been telling him to behave since it wasn't nice to be sour to girls, so he knew it had to be a girl that was visiting. There were a few of those Kurogane knew could show up as a "visitor" for him, all of which were annoying. Some were worse than others too. He could probably handle if Sohma showed up, and maybe Amaterasu, but when it came to Tomoyo-hime... she was already hard to handle normally, no matter what world she came from. The Piffle version had been pretty much the same, just raised differently. If he saw her, even a fake her, she would probably be just the same and he'd have to at put up with it no matter what.

Eventually he chose to take a seat, knowing that he would not be leaving any time soon. Of course, he picked the one that was furthest into the corner to avoid unwanted conversations. He would already have to deal with a visitor; he shouldn't have to deal with anything more.

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A genuine smile crossed her father's face and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to better see the pictures. For all his noisy declarations and other strange habits, Bobby'd had a good idea in bringing the photos by for his daughter. True, she seemed on the verge of tears, but she was also making progress, remembering things as they ought to be.

He reached forward to give her a reassuring muss to her hair. He'd have given her one of his awkward sort of hugs if they hadn't been sitting, but it was enough to get the message across. She would always be his daughter and he would always be proud of her.

"Missed you too little girl," he told her, letting out a slow sigh. Emotional things weren't really his specialty, but he tried.

She didn’t know why… why she was the one here, in the circumstances she was in, facing the seemingly impenetrable fog that was Landel’s Institute’s mysteries, why she was being visited by these perfect images of her parents, or why she couldn’t name them true or false.

Maybe there were no answers. Maybe there was no way of telling.

But Tsubaki was there, and the touch of a hand on her hair had her bowing her head into it ever so slightly. The pain she was carrying around within her had turned a little bit sweeter, despite everything. That was real.

For a moment, it--the surprise, the confusion, the qualms, the sadness--all boiled down to that.

A long exhale left her in turn; her eyelashes lowered. “Are you…” So many questions to ask. So many she wanted to ask. Couldn’t ask. “Are you troubled?” she finally finished, opening her eyes again to focus on them. Perhaps a strange and frivolous choice, given what was going unsaid and what her role was supposed to be, but the words felt the most right on her tongue. The most truthful, even if the answer would be less so, in that regard.

Troubled? Her father rarely showed much emotion. And it would hardly be fitting for them to place the worry and blame all on Miyu. They were her parents, after all. The doctors had explained that it was no one's fault, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. A parent would always wonder if there was something more they could've done to prevent their child's pain.

But her concern for them was touching. "We miss you," was all her father said. Her mother shook her head slowly, though she let some of the worry show in her eyes. "You don't have to fret about us Miyu. Your father and I are fine. We've just hit a rough spot lately, you know? But we'll get through it together."

Levelling them both with a look, she turned over their words. We miss you.

She believed them, she did. The sentiment rang as clear as a bell in her heart, and received an echoing response. They… were worried, and full of love. Mistaken identity or not, it was there, directed at her.

… From ‘her’ family.

“Mm,” was Tsubaki’s eventual response. She nodded. “We will.” If there was any way to make that true, she’d like to make it a reality… whatever the case was, whatever the truth she couldn’t yet see was. Still… “I’m sorry you can’t have your daughter back now, but I’m trying my best. So don’t worry.” She was sorry about a lot of things, but this kind of simple comfort was something Tsubaki could give, despite everything had happened in the last past week… in the last twenty four hours.

It didn’t hurt as much as so many other things had.

She smiled for them again.

The nurses seemed to be motioning some of the other patients to finish up with their visitors. It was too bad their meeting had to be so short. Her father glanced over and then back to his daughter, giving a sigh as he rose from his seat. Goodbyes were the hardest, especially when they'd waited so long to be able to see her again.

"We'll come again real soon," he promised, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.

Miyu's mother left the book with her daughter, offering a sad sort of smile before returning to her husband's side.

Her father hesitated a moment, as if unsure if he should continue. "I know you've had some rough spots in the past, but your brother said he'd really like to see you soon too."

He patted her shoulder once and squeezed it gently before letting go. "Think about it, alright? Take care sweetheart."

And just as quickly as they'd come, her father and mother turned to leave, her mother casting a worried look behind her as her father led them out the door.

There was nothing simple about this--these people, her parents, the looks in their eyes--but despite it all, Tsubaki rose from her seat with the photo album in her arms without missing a beat. She could do this without letting her pounding heart escape her. She wanted to see them off with a smile.

Even so, it twitched slightly as the figure she knew as her father, the man who’d raised her, played with her, trained her, loved her touched her in such a gentle fashion. But it still stayed. This is… When he spoke next, however, the smile dropped like a stone. She hadn’t expected that at all. Her eyes went wide. She hadn’t misheard, had she? No, but--He’d said--

… My brother. Nii-san. That can’t be. That can’t be.

Illusion or not, fake or not, surely they of all people should know that nii-san was dead.

Tsubaki was struck numb, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She couldn’t do anything but watch them go, album held limply, lips parted. She couldn’t say anything at her mother’s last look. Surely they should know. Else they couldn’t say that so easily, like he were just waiting on the other side of that door, alive, healthy, part of the family.

Surely.

Dayshift 43: Waiting Room / Lobby 2 [4th Shift]

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