There is no way I will give up

Natsuo wore headphones over his ears as he walked through the crowded street, dodging people as he made his way to his destination. It was a warm and sunny day, but that didn't make him feel better.

It had become a regular route for him after a month - the same turns, the same subway, the same buildings. His blue eyes were distant and his steps were nearly robotic as he listened to a neuroscience lecture.

Almost every hour he spent awake was dedicated to learning about comas and how the human brain can recover from them. He read scientific journals and studied medical books, watched documentaries and listened to online lectures, anything remotely related to comatose patients.

His last hours of the day were spent at the destination he was going - the private hospital for neurological patients.

Natsuo shifted his backpack, which was weighed down by the books he was carrying, as he neared the entrance. He got his visitor badge from the receptionist as on any other day, then took the elevator up to the third floor, and went straight to the room he was so familiar with.

The visitor greeted the nurses he had met over the past few weeks with a polite nod. He stopped behind the door that always made his chest clench, forcing himself to take a deep breath before stepping inside.

Natsuo approached the bed in the middle of the room, looking at the person lying there.

The man was motionless, his eyes closed, and his tattooed hands rested on the white sheets. The only noise in the room was the beeping from the machines that monitored his vital signs.

The visitor stepped closer to the bed and gently squeezed the man's limp hand. He cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"Hi, it's me. I'm here."

Natsuo repeated the same routine every day, holding his breath and hoping the patient responded to his presence. He imagined the man would squeeze his hand back, open his eyes, and speak to him - some kind of sign, showing that there was still hope.

But silence continued, the devices beeped, and the man in the bed remained still.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, steeled himself, and then opened them again, determined to keep a brave face.

"I'm listening to this specialist talking about experimental treatments for those in comas. It might be something we can try," he explained as he carefully stretched the patient's limbs and massaged his muscles to keep his blood flowing.

Natsuo glanced at his face, watching the contrast between his white hair's dark roots and his dull complexion.

Jiro looked relaxed and asleep, almost as if nothing was wrong. Every time the young man gazed at him, memories of the past swamped his mind with pain.

"I... I will look into it. I will let you know tomorrow."

He continued their routine and cleaned the patient's face using a facial wipe. After that, he delicately applied a thin layer of moisturizer to the man's skin and dabbed a balm on his dry lips.

Natsuo stroked his thumb over the man's jaw where he had shaved him the day before, accidentally cutting him since it was a task he hadn't worried too much about mastering.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized quietly.

He took out an ointment from a drawer and spread a small amount on the scar.

The man's persistent peaceful expression caused a sharp pain in his throat.

"We will figure it out together. There is no way I will give up," he said and tried to form a smile with quivering lips.

His hand slipped on the man's chest, feeling its slight rise and fall with each breath. It was one of the only visible signs that the man's body was still alive, fighting against death.

"So, don't give up either, okay? Promise me?"

At the same time, the door opened and a man in a white coat stepped inside the room, so the visitor quickly composed himself. He lowered his headphones and politely bowed to the unfamiliar figure before stepping away and giving the doctor space to do his thing.

Natsuo had become known to staff members during his visits, but that short man was unknown to him. His dark hair had already turned a silvery color and his deep wrinkles revealed he was an elderly man.

"Are you his new doctor?" the eighteen-year-old hesitantly asked.

The doctor remained silent as he examined the patient's pupils, pointing a light into each eye and studying the reaction.

"Are you familiar with the experimental treatment using electrical impulses? The one - " Natsuo asked, but the doctor raised his voice, cutting him off.

"Yes, I invented that."

The blue eyes widened. His focus darted to the man's name tag, recognizing it from his earlier studies.

An ember of hope ignited in his chest. The treatment successfully stimulated neural activity, even those damaged or destroyed by long-term comas - perhaps, just maybe, his companion could also benefit from that.

"This patient is unqualified for that."

His bluntness shot down Natsuo's dreams immediately.

"Why?"

He noticed the specialist's gaze lingering on the yakuza tattoos that decorated Jiro's frail arms. The doctor's expression seemed judgmental, suggesting that the patient's body art disqualified him from a cure.

"Is it because of that?!" Natsuo shouted loudly, bursting with frustration.

"Is that why he can't receive that treatment?! Because of what is on his skin?!"

"It's not something a commoner like you can understand," the doctor replied dismissively and glanced at the faded blue-green hair that framed the young man's face.

The doctor straightened his back and gathered his equipment, preparing to leave without another word, but the teal-haired one stepped forward and blocked his path.

"Please. Don't let his past stop him from getting better. He..."

Natsuo swallowed, lowering his eyes as he searched his mind for the right words to plead for his partner's wellbeing. Though he understood the stigma attached to yakuza tattoos, he wanted to ensure they didn't stand in Jiro's way.

"He isn't a criminal. He is a human being who deserves the same chance of recovery as anyone else."

The doctor cast a glance at the distressed youth before him but didn't answer. He simply walked past the visitor, leaving the room almost as quickly as he had entered.

Natsuo's anger melted away, leaving him with just an ache in his chest. He returned to Jiro and reached out to grasp his companion's hand.

"Don't listen to him, Jiro. We will find another way. I promise."