The Mysterious, Adorable Psychiatrist
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
“Welcome back,” said a young voice. “It’s been two days since your last appointment.”
Kuroe was sitting behind the desk, with her knees crossed and looking up at him over them from a few centimeters away. The mysterious doctor wore white-rimmed glasses, but they weren’t just for effect… His eyes had no pupils or irises—just black pits in their centers that went on forever as far as he could see.
It seemed like if you stared into those holes long enough, time would stop around your own point of view. There were small pearls embedded behind each lens; one by the left pupil, and another opposite it.
Tatsuya hadn’t known there actually existed people who lacked eyelids altogether, but here she was anyway. Her hair fell down to about halfway across his chest (about 1.8 meters).
At this point, even Kuroe herself probably didn’t know why she looked so scary under her “masculine” outfit. As someone whose gaze made everyone fall silent out of fear when he smiled, maybe having no eyes wasn’t all that much worse?
But Tatsuya couldn’t exactly tell her to wear makeup to cover up the eyebags. She really should be glad not many students came visiting in a place where she worked every day.
“…Hm?” He asked hesitantly after staring at the face in front of him. She turned her head only slightly toward him, then nodded.
Her clothes might have been rather simple for a woman, but her hair color wasn’t. Though still straight, it was dyed pale pink at the roots. Not just normal hair dye, though: If you concentrated on one spot, you could make it look like there was something flowing through there.
At first glance, it was only some sort of semi-transparent silk, but closer inspection revealed that it truly was an artificial structure that supported her body. All the necessary fibers to create such a thing were probably floating near her skin.
But without any windows, you wouldn’t ever notice its presence unless she moved—and she never did anything beyond asking a question or answering one. Though sometimes she’d offer advice during the appointments, most of these meetings simply focused on Tatsuya talking to himself. Even in her office, she never let loose the slightest hint of emotion.
This wasn’t going to work anymore, he thought as his thoughts raced. No matter how he tried pushing her buttons, this girl kept acting calm and collected. The best option was to make sure she and Mikihiko couldn’t talk about things in private later, and then try some new tactics to get through.
I’ll ask her straight whether what we heard is true, then explain about that person’s ability, and…and…if she says yes, well…maybe she can help me figure out what my sister has to do, too…?
He wondered for a moment if his thoughts would betray him somehow, but decided not to worry and started off down the hallway of the hospital. He got to the door leading to her office but hesitated there before knocking on it. That’s strange.
This must be the first time I’ve ever knocked on someone else’s apartment door, other than our family home. Still, he knew this was about more than etiquette…
There was a clear response from inside right after the second knock sounded. “Come in!”
Had she felt unsure about letting visitors in? It was a bit of a relief. Now he’d come prepared.
Tatsuya walked through the doorway and gave her a brief smile. She returned it politely with an equally faint nod of her head—almost as though saying, Yes, that’s me. But now he saw the problem.
In place of her mouth, her lips were actually part of some kind of medical device that was connected directly to her nerves. And because the gap between them wasn’t big enough for words, her face only had facial muscles for smiling.
The result was not unlike someone being unable to speak due to a missing tongue, despite there still being plenty of tissue where the throat should be. You could say her face expressed nothing besides the fact that she smiled.
Of course, considering how blank and expressionless her face often appeared, maybe not. Of course, given what little was usually visible of her upper half, maybe that was more a reflection of her personality than her looks. Then again, compared to Mikihiko’s usual state, this version was a bit less boring.
In either case, though, Tatsuya didn’t feel inclined to think deeply about her appearance. “You don’t seem very busy today…”
“That’s unfortunate news for anyone trying to sneak in, but I’m happy you’re thinking that way instead of being worried,” she replied smoothly. “Though I doubt I can afford to turn away patients if they keep showing up.”
Tatsuya tilted his head, confused. Her job at the hospital was receptionist duty. Without any actual need for healing services, her primary function was to deal with people’s problems during their interactions.
While she answered phones, spoke to callers over the intercom, and accepted visitors into the lobby, there wasn’t any real reason for her to stay behind the counter. So he wondered if she was pretending she didn’t want to go anywhere. What made her hesitate when he came?
Was he really so transparent that even a doctor of her caliber could read him right away? He laughed silently at himself.
Oh. She probably knows about Mio’s injury now. He remembered the conversation he’d overheard. In reality, he hadn’t wanted to bring it up yet; he’d known exactly who the source of that information must be, and he doubted he’d learn much by prying.
However, while Mikihiko may not have been aware of it, Mami’s eyes were as sharp as a scalpel’s blade. If someone like her put two and two together, chances were good that Mio hadn’t managed to conceal the whole truth.
So Tatsuya went ahead anyway. “It seems like my sister isn’t coming back anytime soon. Is there no way she could just come see you here?”
The doc seemed surprised by what he said. With the medical devices hidden under her cheeks, the movements of her eyes were extremely subtle, but she definitely showed some surprise. “I understand your concern,” she began. “…However, I will only accept you both if the sister agrees to come along. Only she can tell me what needs to be done to heal her.”
At that, Tatsuya stopped laughing.
If a daughter doesn’t agree to go with a mother, would she simply not receive treatment at all…? Is it possible, even against Mio’s wishes? To not be able to undergo surgery…that was far beyond any mental barrier Tatsuya could imagine.
It almost made him sick to his stomach. No one would accept treatment unless they believed it would benefit themselves or those around them. Not knowing that left a person hopeless.
To most, a child’s life might trump even a parent’s pride. Even if they thought they could get out of paying the bill later, they’d refuse treatment for their own sake if necessary. A daughter’s health ranked higher among considerations than anything else.
Even parents’ stubbornness couldn’t stand up to that. Yet with Mio…and after seeing how sad she’d looked during the battle…Wouldn’t a lack of hope be worse than going ahead and doing something to save her?
Then why hasn’t she agreed to see the doctor already? Tatsuya scratched his chin. According to Yui, Mio said she didn’t mind if everyone learned about her condition, so she must have meant it literally. Which means:
Mia won’t allow herself to accept help until it’s absolutely necessary, even if she wants it desperately…Or perhaps the simple explanation is best, he mused inwardly. She simply has a lot on her mind. Either way, he would find out sooner or later—he had to.
After spending some time puzzling over the situation in silence, the door of the clinic opened.
As he took in the visitor with surprise, a smile flashed across his face. “Kyouya!” he exclaimed.
It was Kyouya Kirasaka, leader of the Public Morals committee and member of the student council.
What can I say? His father’s got a knack for finding me where I hide out! Tatsuya imagined that this guy had heard about his little experiment and tracked him down through Mikihiko since he arrived without an appointment. Having no place to hide anymore, he sighed theatrically at how unfortunate that was.
But the moment he started to leave, Kirasaka called to him from inside. “Wait…Sir Kamiya.” He hung open the glass entranceway and closed it before calling again. “Please wait a minute.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Tatsuya asked brusquely.
He seemed startled by Tatsuya’s rudeness, but he recovered quickly, replying, “No, not at all. That is precisely the reason I wish to speak to you.”
His tone sounded cordial enough, but Tatsuya still didn’t trust it. After all, the chairman of the board was supposed to make everything smooth, so there should’ve never been a need for him to send in members who needed permission. From his perspective, it seemed pretty obvious that he just wanted to talk in private. Still, he decided to stay quiet and see what happened next.
A few seconds passed, then a window came sliding into existence between Tatsuya and Kirasaka. The former quietly watched the other man while he spoke.
“…You look different today,” Kirasaka murmured. “Have things calmed down?”
“They’re a bit calmer, yes,” Tatsuya answered casually.
Despite his casual demeanor, Tatsuya knew better. This wasn’t a conversation meant for others. There wouldn’t be anyone as skilled and experienced as a third-year club member to talk to him like this unless he had information on him worth considering.
With a slight shake of his head, Kirasaka gave his answer. “Sorry for asking such a personal question; however, I hope you don’t feel the same way…”
Tatsuya laughed hollowly. “…Well, I guess having someone see me naked would also count as ‘things calming down.'”
This time, it was the elder Kirasaka who turned red. As soon as he realized how stupid his remark was, he swallowed hard and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. What I mean is—” he began carefully.
Without being summoned to do so, Kirasaka had stepped outside into a hallway connected to the waiting room. However, the heavy tension didn’t waver from Tatsuya, who wore himself out trying to act normal. At least, he thought he did, but he was probably just imagining it since his heartfelt relief anyway.
Now they’ll tell us when it’s safe to come out, right? Right…?
Tatsuya kept this self-deception and waited another few moments, half hoping that the wall behind him would crack open any second now. No such luck. Then—in fact—the man returned.
Seeing him coming toward them, both Tatsuya and Kirasaka straightened their shoulders. Neither showed too much emotion, though, and the young boy walked slowly and carefully forward. Eventually, he stopped in front of the table, facing Tatsuya. When they exchanged glances, the older man could sense fear in his own eyes.
Kirasawa looked a little worried, too. “So then…how long will you continue this strange practice of yours?” he finally asked.
The topic was unrelated to his original business, and it was the last thing Tatsuya had expected to hear after the unexpected reunion. Now he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“Is something wrong?”
Still holding his composure well enough to seem natural, Tatsuya didn’t let the nervousness creep into his voice. So far he’d successfully covered up whatever emotions he really had from his teacher, and his actions hadn’t wavered because of anything else.
However, his teacher’s reply threw all that off. His expression became strained.
“Yes, sir. I believe you said it best just now: Is there truly nothing wrong with my behavior?”
Surprised, Kirasawa repeated Tatsuya’s words back to him, staring at him in disbelief. He held up a hand as if stopping an argument, although he couldn’t deny saying those exact same words at all. Tatsuya left out the last word, which implied that there might be something wrong, but made it clear that there should definitely not be.
For a moment, Kirasawa considered pushing further and explaining why he found fault with the phrase, but apparently, even he saw that Tatsuya meant exactly what he was implying.
“…It may take some time to decide. My circumstances are quite complex and difficult for me to explain fully here. But…to put it simply, I have a request.”
At the very end of the sentence, Tatsuya’s voice grew weaker. It seemed less like he intended to leave more to Kirasaka’s imagination and more like he couldn’t bear to force out the rest.
The first part was relatively simple, and the latter wasn’t completely impossible. Tatsuya understood that. As long as the person was willing to consider his situation, they didn’t have to find ways around it. What Tatsuya couldn’t understand was why Kirasaka still took offense to the entire discussion.
In a lot of cases, only accepting the reality before one was ready could lead to grief later on. Or maybe it was too late for him to realize that, no matter how good an instructor he might be.
Kirasawa pressed forward, brows furrowed. “As I’ve told you already, Mr. Izumi, we cannot help you—”
“Then please stop using my brother’s name! That was a family issue!”
No one spoke for a single breath after Tatsuya said that.
The End