No. that glance screamed.

REJECTED.

Naruhiko's jaw dropped, his eyes very well nearly filling with tears as he received the, though untold, very clear reply. Oh, the betrayal! What backstabbing! He gasped for air, gazing at Hinata with a look that could have only meant one thing: How could you? I trusted you! He put his trust in her, and she tossed it in the bin, flushed it down the toilet like over-salted soba from two days ago! This wasn't even real! He wasn't surrounded by women - he was surrounded by harpies; no matter how curvy like Hinata, or blessed with long legs like Kinuye they were, they were hellish creatures that clawed at his heart with deadly talons.

The look of horror only grew stronger. Three days? That was impossible! He couldn't stay in these clothes for three full days; he was wearing this for hardly three minutes, and he was already dying to get it off. And Iijima kept staring at him, eyes glimmering with joy that her help was accepted.
One...? No way he was doing this for three whole days. He's had his share of wearing a shirt through high school; he definitely wasn't repeating. This thing - pardon, tie - felt like a noose of a hangman, tightening around his neck.
But he paled, reaching almost the color of the paper he drew onto, when she spoke up. He didn't want to accept this horrible truth, he didn't want to hear it and he didn't want to see it, but... There wasn't a choice...

Hanging his head down, and muttering something that sounded like an 'okay' on his way back, he disappeared in his changing room once more, at a nigh-supersonic speed taking the shirt off and slipping back into his casual clothes. Good lord, what heavenly comfort. For a moment, he sank down onto the chair in the corner, and stared at the lights on the light grey ceiling, shining brightly like little plastic suns. He didn't have an escape route right here, right now. Not really... With Kinuye and Hinata on his back, no. But he could at least disappear for a moment...
Hinata wore high heels. It was difficult to run in high heels. A smirk curled up on his lips.

He bolted out of the changing room, ignoring the surprised - and upset - expressions of the girls, Kinuye's shout-out after him, begging him not to go, he saw just the way through the maze of the clothes aisles and out of the shop. Only shortly before the exit did he slow down, as not to appear suspicious, and though he received odd looks from the employees, he paid no heed to them, and right after setting his foot out of this inferno, he darted away at the highest speed his lanky body allowed him to reach.
He escaped! Oh yeah! He escaped. He managed it!

The coins and a few banknotes clinked on the counter, and he happily gripped his hand around the binding of the magazine, new out of the print; only this week did it come out. Shonen Jump! The one bright ember of hope in these dark times of shopping formal clothes and being trapped between a backstabber and a creep. He smiled happily as he slipped his wallet back into his pants, and was ready to walk out of the book store, when a slight tug at his jacket stopped him.
"Excuse me, but aren't you Izumi-Tsukatani-sama? Who draws Seika Mashita?" a young voice sounded from behind his back. He turned around, to look into the face of a boy of approximately twelve years, and gazed at him with surprise. Somewhere from the entrance, an ominous clicking of heels upon tiles, however, drew his attention away from his young fan.

"Tachibana-san, I knew he was going to be here!" Kinuye exclaimed happily, pointing out Naruhiko's purple ponytail in front of the counter. She knew she'd find him in a bookstore; after all, where else would he go, if not to buy food or manga? She led Hinata towards the mangaka, already petrified from the sight of them two, with a happy smile on her face.
And Naruhiko thought he was going to get a heart attack at the very moment of looking at Kinuye's smile and Hinata's upset face. Sure, she kept the rage in well, but there was no doubt about the fact that she was majorly ****. The magazine fell out of his hands, crashing against the ground, and Naruhiko just stood there, looking pale and terrified, while his eyes widened to an almost inhuman standard.
"H-hey Tachibana-san, Iijima-san..." he muttered, managing to conjure a very forced and very nervous smile. "I just stopped by here... To buy Jump... So I have something to read... While shopping..."

He was a dead man. He was a dead man and he could only hope he would become a spirit to haunt those two for the next five years till they regretted this.

_________________

Victory was hers. Her smirk turned triumphant as Izumi-san dejectedly trudged back into the dressing room, keeping one ear on the stammering Iijima-san. She loved it when she got it her way. Except now she had to gently let down the other girl who looked extremely eager to tag along. Well, she had until Izumi-san to get out to get around to that.

“I’m so glad you’re willing to join us, Iijima-san! I’ve been having a hard time finding clothes for Izumi-san.. mostly he’s just dragging his feet everywhere. Men.” She sighed miserably, inviting the other girl to share in the common pain of trying to get men to go shopping.

“Well..” Iijima-san glanced furtively at the dressing room Izumi-san had walked into, “I think Izumi-san looks nice normally as well.” It was best when he wore his white t-shirts; she didn’t think Izumi-san had realized they were semi-transparent when he stood in front of the window. Her fingers toyed with her phone at the memories.

“Not even school children wear clothing as bad as his.” Hinata countered scornfully. Uniforms were common in Japan and most had the students dressed up rather formally. “And he’s going to an official function. He should at least look presentable then: fitted pants, fitted shirt. It’s not like I’m asking him to wear high fashion.” She sighed in exasperation, unaware that Iijima-san was now imagining Izumi-san on a runway. Male models normally went topless on runways…right?

The silence was broken by the sudden slamming of cloth on wall. Both women turned to see Izumi-san dash past them as if Godzilla was behind him. The two women blinked in incomprehension before Hinata finally looked into the dressing room. Nope, no Godzilla. Only a discarded pair of dress slacks, collared shirt, and a forlorn tie.

“. . . Is he always this dramatic?”

Hinata sighed impatiently, heels clicking as she followed Iijima-san towards a bookstore. After Izumi-san had ditched them, she’d been ready to call it a day. He’d agreed to wear proper clothing for the convention and she had proper clothes for him. She got everything she needed for the day. She even had a convenient excuse as to why she couldn’t clean his apartment; she didn’t have the keys in and he was gone!

Unfortunately, Iijima-san didn’t share her enthusiasm for leaving Izumi-san to his own devices. The younger girl had insisted that they catch up to Izumi-san, just in case. As Hinata had no good excuse to leave, she’d been dragged along and as Iijima-san had foretold, a familiar purple-haired man showed up.

Izumi-san’s face seemed to match her own: neither were happy to see the other.

The pink-haired woman cast a glance at the now hesitant looking preteen. The boy was gripping some cartoon magazine in his hand. Ugh, such filth. However, appearances needed to be maintained and even though she despised manga, it was her job to help her charge. Why did this job increasingly feel like a deal with the devil?

“Hello! What’s that in your hand?” She asked the child cheerfully, polite smile in place. The boy blushed and thrust the book out in her direction: Shounen Jump. Great. “Would you like Izumi-san to sign it for you?” The boy nodded jerkily so she delicately took the book as if it was contaminated and deposited it into Izumi-san’s still frozen hands. “Izumi-san..” She prompted, finally getting him to react. By the time the book was signed, a picture taken (and she cringed at the thought of his messy appearance caught on film), the grumbling of Izumi-san’s stomach could be heard.

“Iijima-san, could you be a dear and go grab some lunch for Izumi-san?” Hinata asked, finally spotting a chance to get rid of the other girl. It was hard to threaten Izumi-san with Iijima-san if the girl was standing right next to them. “Since you know him so well, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick out something he enjoys eating.”

The compliment was enough to send the blushing girl scurrying off and give Hinata the time needed to drag her wayward charge into a less populated area where she could drop the polite façade. “Listen.” She cut in before Izumi-san could start making any more excuses. “I don’t care. Don’t even waste my time with your insincere excuses. Your options are either we are going to keep shopping together without you running off or I’m going shopping and buying your clothes for you.” Seeing the rising hope in Izumi-san’s eyes, Hinata quickly clarified, “but if so, you’re wearing exactly what I buy you, even if it’s a three piece suit.” That was a lie—there was no way she was letting him show up in a tuxedo to an anime convention—but he didn’t need to know that.

_________________

Despite grinning widely for the picture with the kid, that, in return, flashed an even wider smile of his own, showing off the magazine, Naruhiko was pale on the photo, and his smile fell of like a badly-fitted carnival mask the exact moment she dragged him off. At least Kinuye got sent off - that was the one good thing about it. However, it could in no way ever outweigh the bad things. His eyes only grew white, revealing the sclerae around his irises, when she started talking. “I don’t care. Don’t even waste my time with your insincere excuses. Your options are either we are going to keep shopping together without you running off or I’m going shopping and buying your clothes for you.” For a moment, a pang of relief and hope kicked in, just...
“But if so, you’re wearing exactly what I buy you, even if it’s a three piece suit.”
...To be replaced with more desperation. Awful. He was condemned to shopping with her and wearing those horrible clothes for a whole of three days. He was hungry, bored, and in the company of two nightmares. They were almost as bad as the titans... Well, at least they weren't trying to eat him - point taken - but the terror they inflicted on him was all the same.
He let out a whimper, hanging his head down, to let his long bangs fall into his face, casting deep shadows onto it. "Okay, I'm shopping with you, but I'm not wearing a three-piece suit... You're just like my father." he sighed, crossing his arms on his chest. She was just like him - 'do it how I want!'.

She made him walk through more shops than what he went through for the past half a year. He was beginning to feel like a woman by the end of the day; and the fact that Kinuye knew the exact type of salad that he liked was somewhere on the verge between a lucky coincidence, and creepily extensive knowledge of his self.
By the end of the day, he was carrying dozens of bags, full of shirts - at least he had convinced her not to force him into shirts of colors other than monochrome - ties, slacks, a few jackets, and even a new pair of shoes, which he hated, but Hinata seemed to like much more than his worn sneakers. And they weren't as uncomfortable as he originally thought, but they were nowhere near something he'd pick himself. It was almost darkening already when they got out of the shops, fortunately leaving Kinuye behind. Tachibana-san was happy with getting things her way, and him finally looking 'sophisticated', 'official', and 'appropriate', that much he could see. Especially since she got to carry no bags, they all went to him.
And he was hungry again.

Standing on the edge of the pavement, he gazed upwards, then pulled his phone out of his pocked, haphazardly pushing all of the bags, paper and plastic next to each other, onto his left forearm. Yep. Definitely late. Time to go home... He dialed the infamous daredevil friend of his, the number of whom was saved as 'Oni Taxi'.
"Ay, Childhood-prodigy-mangaka-san there?" Tanaka chuckled into the phone. The sound of a car horn could be heard from the distance behind his voice.
"Yeah, and not only there, but also in the desperate need of a lift for two and a big trunk. I got forced to shop." he exclaimed, bending to the right to balance the weight of the bags.
"And isn't remembering to tell the location if in need of a lift, too." Shihei remarked.
Naruhiko shot a quick glance over his shoulder, proceeding to blurt the address into the phone just a moment after, to be assured by Tanaka that he'll make it in ten minutes, no less.

Finally, he was able to slip a few bags over to his right hand, too. "Ten minutes. I got us a taxi, and I don't even have to pay for it... He just gets free manga from me, that works for him instead of travel fare." he smiled at Tachibana with as much enthusiasm as was left in him, but his attempt to joke was rejected... Guess she didn't really consider manga worth as much as petrol and human effort.

Just stepping into the side a bit after the 'ten minutes' passed, to gaze in both directions, checking whether Shihei was coming already, when the sound of tires should have warned him of a car, making its way towards him.
It didn't. Right before Naruhiko managed to turn around, like a deer in the headlights blankly staring at the taxi, braking as heavily as it could, the front of the car barged straight into his side, knocking him over onto the ground, and scattering the clothes bags. Tanaka quickly switched to reverse, backing a few feet up, and hurrying out of the car.

Naruhiko didn't really know what hit him. Only that at one moment, he was standing on the side of the pavement, and then he was staring into the headlights of a car blankly, half-laying, half-sitting on the road. He wasn't in pain, he wasn't in agony, he wasn't saying a word - just staring as Shihei threw the car door open and rushed to him.
"Izumi, you're such an idiot! For God's sake, are you insane, standing on the road? You f**king scared me! Are you alright, even?" he burst out at him, offering him a firm hand, a frown furrowing his brow.
"Y-yeah... I'm fine... Didn't see you..." Naruhiko muttered, taking the hand offered to him, and letting Shihei pull him up, still obviously shaken even as he collected the bags.
"Don't do this to me. You don't wanna be run over." Tanaka growled.
Maybe he was right... The idea of a traffic accident caused Naruhiko's insides to tighten and he paled, his skin gaining an even more deathly shade than before.
"Tachibana-san... You can go sit inside... I'll just deal with the bags." Though he didn't sound very convincing, the fact that he was standing and moving like usual should be enough of a proof that he was still alive, breathing, and capable of everyday activities.

And he'd be damned if she was angry at him because of this too... Or caused a scene. Oh my, just don't cause a scene, just don't cause a scene! She couldn't ask of him to go see a doctor or something, that was simply illogical, but... Yeah, but... What if? That fear, too, eating away on him in the back of his mind, suddenly awoke in his conscience.
Could this day get any worse, really?

Finally, he threw himself onto the seats, right next to his assistant, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Please, drive slower." he begged of Shihei at the very moment he felt the buckle of the seatbelt click in. "I don't think I can handle any more speedy experiences today."
"Fine then." Tanaka was still frowning at him, the grim expression of the young blue-haired man visible in the mirror. "I apologize for driving into him, Miss." he added after a while, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Hinata and stomping the gas pedal down much more gently than what was usual for him.
And Naruhiko was thanking all gods and spirits that he was still alive.

_________________

when r u coming back?
soon. I need to catch the next train.
well, hurrryyy and ssaaaavveeee meee!!
from?
Rei came home. :vomit:
Hinata paused in her reply, fingers tightening around her phone. Rei. Great. A look of distaste, the same one that had followed her throughout the day as she dealt with Izumi-san, re-appeared on her face. Her desire to just get home took an abrupt nosedive. Maybe she could stay out a bit longer.. but she wouldn’t want Rei thinking she was avoiding her or anything. No, Hinata most definitely was not avoiding the other woman. She was just..

The pink-haired woman was jolted from her reverie at the sound of screeching car wheels. She turned to look at the incoming car, its headlights bright and panicked as they tried not to collide with—she took an aborted step forward when she realized that was her idiot of an employer who was cheerfully waving—

Bags, limbs, clothes, and hair went flying everywhere in a tangle of objects before everything fell silent in disbelief. Izumi-san was sprawled on the ground, hair in a disarray, and the fruits of this afternoon’s toil scattered around him. Hinata just stared at the scene wordlessly: was she in an anime or something..? Who actually stood in the middle of the road and got hit?!
“Izumi, you’re such an idiot! For God’s sake..”
A sigh escaped her mouth as she finally started forward again, stooping down to pick up some of the bags. It looked like Izumi-san was being taken care of by the flustered taxi driver. When everything had been collected, she placed them into the boot and then slid into the car, followed shortly by her employer.

“We should probably go see a doctor,” Hazel eyes examined the purple-haired man who had one hand resting on his side. “especially if you’re holding your side like that. You might have injured something when—” Her words were cut off when she was suddenly shot forward, her seatbelt the only thing keeping her from slamming into the seat in front of her. Hinata gasped for breath in the abruptly still car. “What the hell are you doing?!” She burst out, anger finally overcoming her shock. She turned furious eyes on the wide-eyed taxi-driver who had twisted to look back at them. Behind them, there was an angry honk of a horn before another car wheeled around them.

“Uh.. doctor..?”

“Yes! A doctor! A medical practitioner who’s gone through eight years of study and passed the Kokushi?!” She spat out, “No doubt someone you’re well acquainted to sending your passengers to?!” But the taxi-driver wasn’t paying attention to her, his attention on the person beside her.

_________________

"Uh, doctor?" Shihei's voice was full of disbelief as he glanced at Naruhiko; there was even a slight scoff to be heard at the end of the sentence. To get Naruhiko to the doctor was like to make a five-years-old that had just drank an espresso and was promised a puppy sit still for an hour. The mangaka had a surprising amount of strength and speed in that lanky body of his when threatened with a white-coated expert, that much was for certain, and Tanaka was the last person to try to force him to enter a hospital.
Naruhiko's own eyes widened into inhuman standards once more. He laughed nervously, and there was no humor in the sound. It was an extremely dry and extremely distressed sound - he was as pale as death and the laughter was more akin to the crunching of dry branches.
"I don't need to see a doctor... I'm perfectly fine... I have all my bones together... Just drive Tachibana-san home, wherever she lives, then drop me off at my place..." he assured Shihei, instinctively shrinking into the corner between the window and the seat.

He didn't need to see a doctor. At the very worst, he would have gotten a few bruises, but definitely nothing more, no damage to his internal organs, no broken ribs or damaged liver and kidney tissue. He was quite certain that would hurt more... It wasn't as if he had never broken a bone. He was quite certain that he'd... Feel that...

"Shihei-san, please go slow." he instructed him, turning over a little bit, so that he could wedge his shoulder between the seat and the car door, and rest in the corner with his head leaning onto the glass of the window. By then, Tanaka already looked worried. Naruhiko was pale as a ghost and stared blankly; not like that was an unusual occurrence, it happened rather often, but now, he somehow assigned it to the crash; that worried him. He knew that Izumi disliked even looking on car crashes and thinking of doctors... Hopefully that was the sole reason for this.
In truth, Naruhiko wasn't too sure of that himself. The sight of the headlights before him, the feeling of the car hitting him, the screeching of tires and stench of engine, all of that made him sick. Very sick. It brought up memories he'd much rather keep subdued somewhere deep down, and that feeling, the sudden shock, the inability to move and being utterly horror-struck, was torturous. He wanted to curl up and cry out of everyone's sight, and not remember a thing, just be gone; yet, he was sure that he would get nothing but disapproval for that, and his father wouldn't like the prospect of him crying after an already big mess-up in the slightest. He wasn't angry at Shihei or Hinata; heck, he was too confused and stressed out by the thoughts, racing through his head, to be even angry at himself.

"Izumi? You okay back there?" It was Tanaka once again that pulled him from his thoughts - Naruhiko perked up at the sound of his voice weakly, raising his head and glancing into the back mirror. Beneath the shadow of Shihei's dark blue hair, there was a worried look in those equally dark eyes. For once, the Oni Taxi was actually serious.
"Ye-yeah, I'm fine. Just tired..." he assured him, nodding silently, and avoiding Tanaka's piercing gaze.
"Well, you don't look like you're feeling okay. Does it still hurt?" It appeared he won't get rid of him that easily. For all that Shihei was a sarcastic, care-free idiot, he was also pretty down-to-earth and not wholly stupid.
Naruhiko shook his head. "It never did much. I said I'm fine. Wait..." he looked out the window once more... This wasn't the way home. Was he actually being taken to a doctor? Oh, lord, hope not... "This isn't the way to Ikebukuro. I told you to just take me home, Shihei... I'll get you the tickets to whatever con you want to go to, just don't-"
"Don't be an idiot." Tanaka cut him short, nodding at Hinata. "She's right, you look like a freaking ghost in a kabuki show. I'm not going to drive you home and see you getting taken back out by the ambulance the next morning, just think for once." The tone did not allow for any more arguing.

With a deep sigh, Naruhiko seemed to shrink even more between the seat and car door; if he could have made himself invisible, he most certainly would have. Pressing a forearm across his stomach, he closed his eyes tightly and hoped that some sort of miracle will happen, and he will avoid visiting the hospital... He was too tired for that...

No miracle happened - the building before which Shihei rather abruptly and quickly parked was most definitely one that, beside other things, housed a doctor. It was clear enough, and at the sight, Naruhiko's eyes widened... He pushed himself deeper into the corner, even avoiding being thrown forth at the abrupt stop, and tried to disappear as Shihei got out of the car and opened a door for Hinata.
"To actually get him to a doctor is... Difficult ain't the right word. More like impossible. I might need to use some force..." the taxi driver murmured to the pink-haired assistant as he stood by, waiting for her to exit. Only then would he release a deep sigh and walk over to Naruhiko's door; as he flung it open, the mangaka almost fell out, only keeping there by holding onto the interior with an almost iron grip.
"C'mon. It's not like a doctor will butcher you, Izumi." Shihei proclaimed.
Naruhiko had no words for that; he would most certainly be butchered by a doctor, or so he felt. But he remained quiet, blankly staring forth with his eyes set onto the seat before him.

Shihei smacked his head into his palm; he wasn't getting Naruhiko out with logic... And thus, he'd have to use force.
He bent over to undo the seatbelt, and clenched one hand around Naruhiko's upper arm.
He clenched the other one around it as soon as the seatbelt was out of the way.
He pulled at his friend, and dragged him out of the car.

Naruhiko wanted to cry like a little child and be gone on the other end of the earth. He wanted to disappear, completely, never to have left his apartment this morning, and his face was an expression of utter, unfeigned despair as he struggled against Shihei's grip, trying to get him into the doctor's office.

_________________

Hinata turned her attention to the person beside her at the dry laugh. “I don’t need to see a doctor… I’m perfectly fine…” Izumi-san reassured despite the way he was folding in on himself as if he could shrink himself so small, the other passengers in the car would forget about him. “just drive Tachibana-san home.” Said pink-haired woman arched an eyebrow, crossed her arms, but said nothing more, opting to glower at the taxi driver instead. He’d been the one to drive into Izumi-san; surely he wasn’t so stupid as to let a man who’d just been hit by a car laugh off the experience, especially given how Izumi-san had been sent flying to the ground. Worried eyes caught hers through the rearview mirror before glancing towards Izumi-san and then back to her. She looked over as well; the purple-haired man was nearly ghost-white, eyes staring vacantly forwards. Leaning forwards, she could see a dampness on his forehead. Izumi-san was still too dazed to notice her movements. Catching the driver’s eyes once more, she shook her head even as her lips formed a silent word: hospital.

They came to a jerking halt in front of the hospital, prompting another irritated glare for the taxi driver. “He’s injured; park softer next time.” She hissed to the man even as she got out of the car, trailing him to the other side. “C’mon. It’s not like a doctor will butcher you, Izumi,” the taxi driver cajoled to no avail. Hinata didn’t even bother trying. When there was no response, the man undid Izumi-san’s seatbelt and started dragging the purple-haired man out of the car. Izumi-san, of course, wanted no such thing and clung to any purchase he could find on the car, his face a mix of anguish, desperation, and sheer terror despite his silence.

Hinata said nothing as the game of tug-of-war continued: the taxi driver trying to pry Izumi-san out and Izumi-san desperately holding onto anything to keep himself from moving. She pressed her lips together, for once not enjoying the ridiculousness of the scene. It was similar to one someone might find in a comedy but she found no humor in the situation. She’d seen too many similarly frightened faces to be amused. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had taken a step forward and laid a hand on the taxi driver’s arm.

“Yes?”

She startled back into the present, hazel eyes focusing on the dark-haired man. She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to know. “Why is he so afraid of hospitals?”

“ Never told me for real,” He shrugged, “but I suppose it's cause of his little brother... He died in a car crash, that's how Izumi explained it to me, that he doesn't…”

The taxi driver was still speaking but everything had faded beyond the words echoing in her ears: little brother… he died in a car crash. Little brother. Died. Little.

“Leave him alone.” She turned away before either could see her expression, instead reaching into her purse to pluck out her phone with cold fingers.

where r u???
save me from rei!! ~><~

Hinata ignored Mimi’s texts, instead hitting a familiar speeddial. The phone rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice answered: “’Sup?”
“Shirou.”
“Hinana.”
Her nose wrinkled instinctively at that terrible nickname but she said nothing about it. (She’d already said many things many times about it to no avail.) “Is Amiboshi-san available?”
“Ohhhh?” The word was elongated with interest and she didn’t have to see him to know her ‘brother’s’ face had taken on a mischievous look. “I’m sure he could become available if you needed him.”
“And then have to deal with Yui-san? I think not,” She deadpanned. “No, I actually need a doctor. For a friend” She added irritably when she suddenly felt Shirou’s attention go from teasing to serious. “My… ‘friend’ got hit by a car,” She ignored the startled ‘what?!’ and continued as if uninterrupted, irritation making her curt, “and he doesn’t want to go to a hospital. I know Amiboshi-san’s just in training, but can he look my friend over?” Despite the words, it sounded more like an order than a request.
“If your friend got hit by a car, I think a hospital would be more appropriate than a med student.” Her brother retorted drily.
She sighed in response. “He doesn’t want to go to a hospital. Bad memories.”

There was a solemn silence as her brother picked up on her mood before he responded with an affirmative. Amiboshi was in fact home and Shirou was sure he could get the other man to help out. After hanging up, Hinata turned back around to face the two men. The taxi driver was looking at her in confusion and Izumi-san was as unresponsive as ever. Hazel eyes glanced between the two before sharpening, “Buckle him back up. We’re going somewhere else.” She ordered, all prickly and bossy once more. “I have a friend” of my brother’s “who’s willing to look him over. From there we can determine if a hospital is necessary.”

Explanation grudgingly given, Hinata stomped back to her side of the cab, gave the driver the address, glared at him for good measure, and then settled back, arms crossed, to look out the window.

They ended up in front of an apartment building in Koto. The outside was well kept but clearly not new. The taxi eased into the one parking spot before being turned off. Two people spilled out from opposite sides of the car: a dark blue haired man and a pink haired woman. The former opened the other backseat door to reveal a third occupant.

“Izumi-san. Izumi-san!” A sudden clap seemed to break the last passenger from his reverie and bright blue eyes stared around him wildly. “Look.” A pale hand jabbed towards the apartment building in front of them, “Not a hospital.” She waited for the slow nod of acknowledgement before continuing, “We’re going in and my friend, who is not a doctor” yet “is going to examine your side and make sure it’s okay, alright?”

Hinata backed away from the door to give the taxi driver space to help Izumi-san out of the car. Thankfully, he seemed more responsive now they were no longer in front of a medical facility. She led the two men past the front guard and up the elevators, stopping at floor fifteen. The door swung open at her knock, a familiar green-haired man waiting on the other side.

“Welcome,” The two siblings exchanged a quick one-armed hug before Shirou was backing into the apartment. “Leave your shoes there; we can tidy after. So this is your friend?” The quartet retreated into what appeared to be the apartment’s living room where another two males—both sandy blonds—waited with a first aid kit and a stethoscope.

“Hello, I’m Ueda Amiboshi. My brother, Suboshi. If you can just stand here?” One of the strangers stood up, guiding Izumi-san to a position in front of where he’d been sitting. “I’ll just start checking, if you don’t mind?” He didn’t even wait for a response before he placed his flat on Izumi-san’s torso. “Take a breath in for me please?”

“So how’d you meet Tachibana-san?” Suboshi cut in as well, brown eyes boring into Izumi-san.

_________________

All of a sudden, and completely without warning, Shihei stopped struggling to force Naruhiko out. The mangaka's eyes widened with surprise as his friend simply pushed him back in, buckling the seatbelt without a hint of hesitation, and himself slid back onto the driver's seat. "No panic, Izumi. I'm not taking you to a doctor, so chill, mmkay?" he assured him, stomping down the acceleration pedal. The address that Hinata had given him wasn't unknown to him; he didn't even need to type it into the navigation system. Izumi eased up at least a little at the mention; at least, he knew that he wouldn't be butchered by a medic in a white coat, that he wouldn't be cut open, that he wouldn't... Experience loneliness and despair... Ever again.
Nodding, he took a deep breath in, and let Tanaka drive him to wherever Hinata had told him to drive.

----

Relieved to find the car coming to a stop before an apartment building, Naruhiko was, by the time they arrived, well tired from the crazy weave through the streets, and found himself quite happy that they had reached the destination already. Tanaka even opened the door on his side, to allow the still dazed young man get out, but it was Hinata that stepped into the open hole and spoke to him.
“Izumi-san. Izumi-san!” her voice called out to him. “Look. Not a hospital.” He nodded. It certainly wasn't one. “We’re going in and my friend, who is not a doctor is going to examine your side and make sure it’s okay, alright?” That sounded... Safe enough. Nodding once more, Naruhiko undid the seatbelt, and with Shihei's help got himself out of the car.
"Not a doctor. Yeah. Good. All's good. Shihei-san, you don't have to-" he assured the taxi-driver with a nervous smile, forcing his hand off him. "I can still walk around by myself." Hesitantly, Tanaka drew his hand off, but he remained close to Naruhiko's back all the way, even in the elevator.

He gave the man that showed up on the other side a warm smile, perhaps not exactly the sort you'd expect of someone that got hit by a car, and was pretending to be fine by a hundred per cent. "I-it's nice to meet you, Ueda-san. I'm Izumi-Tsukatani Naruhiko, but feel free to call me Izumi." he bowed softly - in truth, it was just bending forwards a little, and letting his hair slide into his face - and gave the man before himself a nervous smile as he kicked his sneakers off, almost immediately being guided in and led to somewhere to stand. Looking behind at Tanaka, who just shrugged, taking his own shoes off, and with a frown on his face stepped in, he nodded to the man's request, and drew a deep breath in.
The lack of medical appearance of this place eased him up, but he was still nervous about the whole ordeal. He did indeed slide the Survey Corps jacket off, as he was instructed to, and let the paramedics roll his T-shirt up, revealing blackening blue-and-purple bruises on his side, but he did his best to remain calm.

"Well, we didn't really meet like that, I'm her employer. Sort of. She's my personal assistant, I'm a mangaka, and she was assigned to me by my manager and editor, who decided it would be better if she helped me out, so... Yeah... It was something like that, we met in the office." laughing nervously, he explained how the whole situation was between him and Hinata; that, in fact, they weren't exactly friends. But the fact that she sometimes bossed him around, or so he considered it, he rather left out.

_________________

“So who is he really? I’ve never seen him before.” The two siblings had retreated to the kitchen, both to get out of the way and to find refreshments. At least Hinata had come for drinks and snacks; Shirou had been waiting for a chance to grill his sister about the mysterious male she’d brought home.

The pink-haired woman groaned in response, pushing her brother out of the way in search of the cups. If she remembered correctly.. yep. She withdrew six glasses, placing them on a tray she’d pulled out from beside the microwave. “I’d hope you’d never seen him before. He’s my boss, Shirou.” She shot him a long-suffering look even as he recoiled in surprise, craning his head to get a better view of the long-haired stranger.

“I never thought you were the type to get your boss naked, Hinana!” A foot impacted violently with his calf, but he only crowed triumphantly, “Hah! You’re not wearing your heels, Hinana! It doesn’t hurt as much! Ow!” His victory was short lived when he suddenly got smacked on the head.

“Stop being useless and bring these out!” Hinata snapped in response, waving her knife at the tray of drinks.

“You’re just going to send me back out when you finish cutting the pears..” Nonetheless, Shirou turned to pull out a bag of crackers, arranging them on a plate in an attempt at being useful. “But, uh, hit by a car? How does that even happen? Run into the road to save a kid like in those animes?” There was another long-suffering groan in response. “Wait, what?! Really?!”

“If only!” Her hand lashed out in a wordless expression of anger, made all the more dangerous for the knife she’d forgotten was in her hand. “At least that would make sense! No! He was standing in the road waving at the car!” The taxi driver had informed her of what had happened when she was texting Mimi during the ride to the apartment building. “The one that came and hit him! Good god, save me from..” The rest of her tirade petered out into insensible muttering, punctuated by vicious chops of her knife. With a bewildered look at his fuming sister, Shirou decided it best not to ask any more. Maybe one of the others could explain better, and less dangerously.

When they exited the kitchen, Amiboshi was wrapping bandages around Naruhiko’s torso and Suboshi was snickering at the manga-ka. “Personal assistant huh? That means you get to boss her around, right?” His animosity at the stranger had vanished once he’d learned the dark-haired man wasn’t a love rival with his brother. “Make her clean our apartment for us!” If the kick to his calf was any indicator, Hinata didn’t seem fond of that idea. “Hey! I need that for practice!”

“Sorry,” She deadpanned, “Instinctive reaction to stupidity.”

“How is that stupid? You’re a girl, girls—”

“Well, he looks okay to me.” Amiboshi cut in, raising his voice to drown out his younger brother. “From his reactions, I’m guessing he bruised his ribs. I can’t feel anything wrong, but of course it’d be better to get an X-Ray done to be sure. Would you be able to go?” An awkward silence answered his inquiry so the sandy haired man correctly assumed it was a no. “Well then, just watch it for the next few days. It’ll get worse tomorrow but if it’s not improving in three days’ time, you really should get it X-rayed and looked at.”

Somehow Hinata had the feeling that come hell or high water, Izumi-san would look like roses the next few days. It was clear Shirou hadn’t mentioned her boss’s fear of hospitals to the other two, which was the polite thing to do except for when she was obligated to make sure the nosocomephobic didn’t die.

“Well, here, just drink this, Izumi-san. We’ll worry about that when we get to it.” She handed him one of the glasses, passing a second to Amiboshi and keeping one for herself. “Should he take any painkillers? Ice the wound or anything?”

Any response Amiboshi might have given was cut off by sudden hysterical laughter and the sound of glass breaking. “Is it true, Izumi-san? You were just waving at the car when you got hit?” Suboshi was clutching his chair for support, cackling so madly he seemed at risk of falling off. His sweetened oolong tea was a puddle of liquid and glass at his feet, no doubt having fallen from his hands while he laughed. Glass shards covered the ground, twinkling like new frost on the wooden floo

_________________