[ES21] S.h.a.t.t.e.r
S.h.a.t.t.e.r
Author: Ranier
Series: Eyeshield 21
Rating: G (I never thought I would write an ES21 fanfic without him--this rating hurts in a lot of ways)
Summary: [Spoiler chp. 258] Facing monster made of human flesh and the hereafter. [Hiruma x Mamori]
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situation created and owned by Inagaki Riichiro and Murata Yuusuke, and various publishers including but not limited to Shonen Jump and TV Tokyo. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Yet.
- - -
It was a clean break, the doctor told the girl. A straight-out-of-the-textbook kind of fracture medical students would appreciate. No annoying fragments, no nasty surprises, straightforward in every aspect. Of course it doesn’t mean the injury is less painful-he quickly added-just easier to manage. And he was an athlete, wasn’t he, the doctor murmured. Is, she corrected him. The doctor looked at her with pity and brought up rehabilitation. Bones can be mended, spirits aren’t always so predictable, he said. She thought that his vagueness was slightly insulting, but didn’t say a thing.
They stood apart from a group of high-school students in American Football get-ups. Some of them were in need of treatment as well, by the look of it, but none said a thing even when angry bruises the size of saucers had started appearing on their skins. The doctor winced when a particularly skinny boy, who looked like he had no business playing the big boys’ game, inserted two fingers into the cavity of his mouth and removed a tooth. The action was as natural as taking a chewed gum out. The boy disposed of the tooth in the hospital’s dustbin.
The young doctor turned his eyes back to the girl. She had a particular shade of hair that most mixed-parentage children were naturally endowed with and those of less colorful genetics wished for. Pretty. And those blue irises-he could see them shining under the halogen lights-felt like another country, another face, another lifetime. So pretty and worried and young. Another thought slipped into the space between his ears. Not to mention illegal.
He cleared his throat and managed to deliver the rest of the information with stray thoughts perfectly reigned. The humerus broke in four places through and through, he began, but the muscles surrounding it absorbed some of the damage, so it could be worse-if it weren’t for the mass of tissues, the bone would definitely be in little pieces by now. It wouldn’t even have a form. Ah, she mouthed, eyes wide, understanding dawned upon her. Instinctively her left hand went to the right arm, squeezing. Then she quietly inquired, how long?
He paused for a bit then held up two fingers, making a mock victory sign that was absurd and brutal in the face of what she had just gone through. Two months.
She gasped, though it came out only as a slight hitch in her breathing, and her eyes wondered to the door of the patient’s private room. Her hands made two fists, clamped together in front of her chest and he wondered how much self-restraint she exercised in order not to fling that door open right now. Lesser adults had been reduced to tears at the mention of broken bones-even one as simple as a broken arm-and from the look and the feel of it, this humerus carried more than just one body’s burden.
He silently thanked her for not going into hysterics and repeated a comforting line he’d used over and over again. It will be okay. Young bones, speedy recovery. Excellent physical condition, even better. She nodded and found it within her to say thank you. He left her to the barrage of questions fired by the boys in uniform and went to the cafeteria in search of a coffee strong enough to erase the taste of bile in his mouth.
Whoever, or whatever, caused the break was a monster.
Of course he couldn’t say it out loud, but somehow he knew that it wasn’t necessary. She knew, the boys knew, the patient knew. He heard what had happened. An arm tackle.
The doctor gulped the coffee in one go and crumpled the cup. How grotesquely unfair, the situation was. There was always that one mutation in the DNA that made it possible for extremes to happen, to exist. He just indirectly witnessed the presence of one.
The taste of the hospital coffee lingered, but on the tip of his tongue hung another thing he had conveniently forgotten to say to the girl.
It was a clean break (that meant the force had to be strong enough to do that in one blow). The muscles absorbed some of the damage (but were left in frays and ribbons)--so it could be worse (and still the tackle managed to finish the job).
That didn’t feel like a victory at all.
And still she thanked him.
He had talked to no one else because she had been the one whose eyes instantly screamed tell me, please, and because she was the one whose fingers entangled with the patient’s when they had first brought him through the ER automatic double doors. This kind of things the doctor knew immediately-it was always easy to tell which one cared the most and which one could handle the truth. In her he saw both, so he didn’t hesitate.
How old are they? Can’t be more than eighteen, he answered his own question. High-school students, though they looked like the world had rained on them.
Well.
Maybe it had.
High-school, after all, is the age where dreams are made and crushed.
- - -
A/N: I wrote this in about two hours so there will be some errors (language-wise and content-wise), which I'll apologize for now. If you find one, alert me to prompt speedy correction. Why was I in such a hurry? Well, because I wanted to capture that mix of emotions I felt after reading chp. 258 while it was still piping hot, fresh, and raw. That chapter was so shocking it sent me running to MSWord for fear that what I felt inside might spill out in form of real tears. This is the result.
Author: Ranier
Series: Eyeshield 21
Rating: G (I never thought I would write an ES21 fanfic without him--this rating hurts in a lot of ways)
Summary: [Spoiler chp. 258] Facing monster made of human flesh and the hereafter. [Hiruma x Mamori]
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situation created and owned by Inagaki Riichiro and Murata Yuusuke, and various publishers including but not limited to Shonen Jump and TV Tokyo. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Yet.
- - -
It was a clean break, the doctor told the girl. A straight-out-of-the-textbook kind of fracture medical students would appreciate. No annoying fragments, no nasty surprises, straightforward in every aspect. Of course it doesn’t mean the injury is less painful-he quickly added-just easier to manage. And he was an athlete, wasn’t he, the doctor murmured. Is, she corrected him. The doctor looked at her with pity and brought up rehabilitation. Bones can be mended, spirits aren’t always so predictable, he said. She thought that his vagueness was slightly insulting, but didn’t say a thing.
They stood apart from a group of high-school students in American Football get-ups. Some of them were in need of treatment as well, by the look of it, but none said a thing even when angry bruises the size of saucers had started appearing on their skins. The doctor winced when a particularly skinny boy, who looked like he had no business playing the big boys’ game, inserted two fingers into the cavity of his mouth and removed a tooth. The action was as natural as taking a chewed gum out. The boy disposed of the tooth in the hospital’s dustbin.
The young doctor turned his eyes back to the girl. She had a particular shade of hair that most mixed-parentage children were naturally endowed with and those of less colorful genetics wished for. Pretty. And those blue irises-he could see them shining under the halogen lights-felt like another country, another face, another lifetime. So pretty and worried and young. Another thought slipped into the space between his ears. Not to mention illegal.
He cleared his throat and managed to deliver the rest of the information with stray thoughts perfectly reigned. The humerus broke in four places through and through, he began, but the muscles surrounding it absorbed some of the damage, so it could be worse-if it weren’t for the mass of tissues, the bone would definitely be in little pieces by now. It wouldn’t even have a form. Ah, she mouthed, eyes wide, understanding dawned upon her. Instinctively her left hand went to the right arm, squeezing. Then she quietly inquired, how long?
He paused for a bit then held up two fingers, making a mock victory sign that was absurd and brutal in the face of what she had just gone through. Two months.
She gasped, though it came out only as a slight hitch in her breathing, and her eyes wondered to the door of the patient’s private room. Her hands made two fists, clamped together in front of her chest and he wondered how much self-restraint she exercised in order not to fling that door open right now. Lesser adults had been reduced to tears at the mention of broken bones-even one as simple as a broken arm-and from the look and the feel of it, this humerus carried more than just one body’s burden.
He silently thanked her for not going into hysterics and repeated a comforting line he’d used over and over again. It will be okay. Young bones, speedy recovery. Excellent physical condition, even better. She nodded and found it within her to say thank you. He left her to the barrage of questions fired by the boys in uniform and went to the cafeteria in search of a coffee strong enough to erase the taste of bile in his mouth.
Whoever, or whatever, caused the break was a monster.
Of course he couldn’t say it out loud, but somehow he knew that it wasn’t necessary. She knew, the boys knew, the patient knew. He heard what had happened. An arm tackle.
The doctor gulped the coffee in one go and crumpled the cup. How grotesquely unfair, the situation was. There was always that one mutation in the DNA that made it possible for extremes to happen, to exist. He just indirectly witnessed the presence of one.
The taste of the hospital coffee lingered, but on the tip of his tongue hung another thing he had conveniently forgotten to say to the girl.
It was a clean break (that meant the force had to be strong enough to do that in one blow). The muscles absorbed some of the damage (but were left in frays and ribbons)--so it could be worse (and still the tackle managed to finish the job).
That didn’t feel like a victory at all.
And still she thanked him.
He had talked to no one else because she had been the one whose eyes instantly screamed tell me, please, and because she was the one whose fingers entangled with the patient’s when they had first brought him through the ER automatic double doors. This kind of things the doctor knew immediately-it was always easy to tell which one cared the most and which one could handle the truth. In her he saw both, so he didn’t hesitate.
How old are they? Can’t be more than eighteen, he answered his own question. High-school students, though they looked like the world had rained on them.
Well.
Maybe it had.
High-school, after all, is the age where dreams are made and crushed.
- - -
A/N: I wrote this in about two hours so there will be some errors (language-wise and content-wise), which I'll apologize for now. If you find one, alert me to prompt speedy correction. Why was I in such a hurry? Well, because I wanted to capture that mix of emotions I felt after reading chp. 258 while it was still piping hot, fresh, and raw. That chapter was so shocking it sent me running to MSWord for fear that what I felt inside might spill out in form of real tears. This is the result.