Chapter 44. No Anesthesia for the Heart

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the stillness of the room, soft and steady, matching the gentle rise and fall of Ayaka's chest.

Sunlight from the late afternoon filtered through the blinds, casting faint stripes across the sterile walls.

Akihiko hadn't moved from his spot beside her bed, arms crossed over his chest, posture deceptively relaxed.

But his eyes remained fixed on her, sharp and watchful, tracing every flutter of her lashes, every faint shift in her breathing.

The door creaked quietly.

Kei stepped inside first, still in his white coat, his usually calm face betraying a flicker of relief the moment his eyes landed on Ayaka.

Close behind him was Kai, who looked paler than usual, his lips pressed tight as he hovered near the door, almost hesitant.

Akihiko glanced over briefly, giving them a slight nod before turning back to Ayaka.

"She's stable." Akihiko said quietly, voice low but certain. "Vitals normal."

Kei approached the bedside, his eyes softening as he took in his sister's pale face.

He rested a hand gently on the bedrail, his fingers brushing against the edge, as if grounding himself.

Kai lingered near the foot of the bed, shifting his weight anxiously.

"Can we…?" he started, voice rough, but Kei nodded at him reassuringly.

"She'll wake up soon." Kei murmured.

As if on cue, Ayaka's lashes fluttered again.

A faint wrinkle formed between her brows, her head shifting slightly on the pillow.

Her lips parted, her voice coming out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"...Kei…?"

Kei immediately leaned in closer, his hand gently brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I'm here." he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "You're okay, Ayaka. The surgery went well."

Her eyes opened slowly, disoriented, trying to process her surroundings.

Her gaze flickered weakly around the room—first catching Kei's face, then shifting toward Kai.

"Kai…?" she rasped.

Kai swallowed hard, stepping closer. "Yeah, it's me. You scared the hell out of us."

Ayaka's brows knit faintly, the fog slowly clearing in her gaze as her eyes finally landed on Akihiko, still standing quietly by her side, arms still crossed but gaze unwavering.

"A…Akihiko…?"

He didn't say anything at first, just dipped his chin slightly—a subtle acknowledgment—but his blue eyes softened, something unspoken lingering in them.

"You're safe now." he murmured quietly, only loud enough for her to hear.

Kei gave a small smile, his usual composed air softening. "Dr. Nakamura did the surgery himself..." he added gently. "You're in good hands."

Ayaka's eyes shimmered faintly, overwhelmed, but she was too weak to respond much.

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her gaze drifting between her brothers and Akihiko.

Kai cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, though his voice was still tight. "Don't ever pull something like that again, okay?"

Ayaka managed a faint smile, the corners of her lips twitching.

Kei glanced over at Akihiko, giving him a quiet, grateful look. "Thank you again, Dr. Nakamura. And please get some rest... You've done more than enough."

Akihiko gave a small nod, but his eyes stayed fixed on Ayaka for a heartbeat longer, something unreadable flickering in them.

Kei murmured to her gently, brushing his hand against her hair again. "We'll be right here."

Kai nodded firmly beside him, pulling a chair closer to her bedside.

Akihiko lingered for a moment longer, then quietly turned toward the door.

He needed space to process—not just the surgery, but the sight of her so fragile, the flash of fear that had tightened in his chest like a vice.

But as he reached the door, Ayaka's faint voice stopped him.

"Akihiko… thank you."

He paused, his back still to them, shoulders stiff.

For a moment, he said nothing, then replied softly without turning.

"Rest well."

He stepped out, leaving Kei and Kai watching over her—but the ghost of his presence lingered, heavier than words.

------

The front door clicked shut behind him with a hollow sound that echoed faintly through the stillness of his apartment.

Akihiko leaned back against it for a moment, his head tilting back to rest against the cool wood, eyes slipping shut briefly.

The quiet was deafening after the relentless noise of the hospital—the soft beeping of monitors, the rustle of surgical gowns, the sterile murmur of voices.

Now, there was nothing but silence.

His muscles felt heavy, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from him the moment he stepped out of the hospital.

The green scrubs he still wore clung to him uncomfortably, carrying the faint scent of antiseptic, sweat, and something else he couldn't name—something lingering from the hours he spent in that operating room, focused on the fragile life beneath his hands.

Akihiko pushed himself off the door and moved through the dimly lit apartment, each step slow, deliberate.

He didn't bother turning on the lights. Instead, the fading orange glow of the sunset filtered weakly through the curtains, casting long shadows across the minimalist furnishings, painting everything in shades of gold and gray.

He stopped by the kitchen counter, bracing his hands against the cool surface, shoulders hunched slightly as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

That moment—the moment he first saw Ayaka lying unconscious on the operating table—kept replaying in his mind.

Her face, pale and slack beneath the mask, lashes resting softly against her cheeks.

Her body, still and fragile under the sterile drapes, as if the smallest shift could shatter her completely.

He remembered the sharp jolt in his chest, the way everything inside him had tightened like a vice.

He hadn't even had time to process the fear that threatened to surface—the kind that usually gripped him when he stepped into surgery, haunted by old memories.

Because as soon as he saw her, that fear vanished.

There had been no room for it.

There had only been one singular, blinding focus: save her.

His hands had moved on instinct, precise and steady as ever. But it wasn't just the skill that guided him.

It was her.

Akihiko rubbed a hand across his face, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath his palm.

His body screamed for rest, but his mind was restless, still caught in the echo of everything that had happened.

Eventually, he forced himself to move toward the bedroom, peeling off the scrubs mechanically, letting them fall in a heap before he collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

His silver hair fell forward, shadowing his eyes as he stared blankly at the floor.

The room was quiet—too quiet. No sounds of monitors, no soft murmur of her voice, no messages from her lighting up his phone.

He reached for his phone instinctively, thumbing it open. No new notifications. The last message he had sent her—hours ago—still sat unread.

A hollow feeling settled in his chest.

Lying back against the cool sheets, Akihiko finally let his body relax, limbs heavy, tension bleeding out of his muscles one breath at a time.

The exhaustion was bone-deep, threading through every part of him.

And yet, even as his eyelids grew heavier, his mind wouldn't quite let go.

The image of Ayaka's face lingered behind his eyes—not unconscious this time, but the way she had looked when she finally woke, her voice hoarse but unmistakable, eyes fluttering open and searching for familiar faces.

Searching for him.

"Akihiko… thank you."

The simple words echoed in his ears, soft but heavy, threading through the haze of his thoughts.

His lips twitched faintly, almost a smile but not quite.

The more he thought about it—the operation, her brothers' worry, the sight of her pale hand resting so still against the hospital sheets—the more the tightness in his chest loosened, just slightly.

Before he knew it, the exhaustion finally took over, pulling him under.

Akihiko's breathing slowed, evening out, and the tension in his face softened as sleep claimed him at last.

But even in sleep, the lingering warmth of her voice, her fragile smile, seemed to stay with him, like a faint imprint he couldn't shake.

------

By the time Akihiko stirred awake, the sky outside his window had already settled into an inky darkness. The soft glow of his digital clock blinked 10:03 PM.

For a few moments, he lay there, staring at the ceiling.

His body felt rested enough, but his mind—sharp and restless—refused to sink back into sleep.

He turned onto his side, exhaling heavily, before finally giving in.

There was only one place he wanted to be.

Without wasting another second, Akihiko swung his legs off the bed, moving fluidly despite the lingering heaviness.

The cool floor sent a small jolt through him, fully waking him as he strode towards the bathroom.

The steady rush of the shower echoed through the quiet apartment, steam curling around him as he scrubbed away the exhaustion, letting the water cascade down his neck and shoulders.

His silver hair clung damply to his forehead as he toweled off, pulling on clean clothes with efficient ease.

The moment he slipped his watch onto his wrist, he was out the door, keys in hand.

------

The sterile scent of antiseptic greeted him as he entered the hospital, his shoes tapping softly against the polished floors.

Everything felt quieter at this hour—the usual flurry of activity simmered down to a calm hum.

Making his way to Ayaka's room, he spotted a nurse standing by her bedside, gently checking the monitors and recording her vital signs.

The nurse glanced up, her eyes widening slightly when she noticed him.

"Oh, Dr. Nakamura, you're here." she greeted softly, careful not to wake Ayaka. "I was just checking her vitals—everything looks good. Dr. Yamamoto mentioned she managed to eat a little earlier. She's just sleeping now."

Akihiko felt something ease deep inside him at those words, a subtle breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding releasing slowly.

He gave the nurse a short nod, eyes flicking instinctively toward the other side of the room.

But Kei and Kai's presence was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Dr. Yamamoto? Or Professor Yamamoto?" he asked quietly.

The nurse glanced toward the door. "Dr. Yamamoto has an ongoing surgery right now. Professor Yamamoto stepped out to the cafeteria to grab some coffee. He'll be back shortly."

With that, she excused herself, leaving Akihiko alone in the dimly lit room.

-----

The faint beeping of the heart monitor, the soft sound of Ayaka's even breaths—it was all he could hear as he crossed the room, stopping just at her bedside.

She looked peaceful.

Pale but calm, her features softened in sleep.

Her dark hair spilled over the pillow, a few strands framing her face, and her lips were slightly parted.

Akihiko stood there for a long while, simply watching her, drinking in every delicate line of her face as though memorizing it.

Without the chaos of surgery, without the pressure of others around, it was just them now.

Just him and her.

His hand lifted, almost hesitant, before brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

His thumb lightly traced the curve of her temple.

Something in him cracked quietly.

With a breath caught between restraint and something deeper, Akihiko leaned in, closing the distance.

His lips found hers—soft, feather-light, as though he was afraid she'd break under the weight of it. It wasn't rushed or desperate. It was reverent.

A silent promise whispered against her mouth.

He stayed there, unmoving for a bit longer, eyes fluttering shut.

But then—

The faintest creak broke the silence.

Akihiko stilled, pulling back subtly. His sharp blue eyes flicked toward the door, instantly alert.

There, standing frozen in the doorway, was Kai.

A takeaway coffee cup dangled forgotten in his hand, his eyes wide in shock, fixed squarely on the scene he had just walked in on.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence stretching taut.

Kai's lips parted slightly, as if unsure what to say, caught somewhere between confusion, disbelief, and something unreadable.

Akihiko straightened slowly, but his gaze didn't waver. Calm, controlled—yet there was a certain intensity lingering behind his eyes, unapologetic and steady.

Kai blinked, gripping the coffee cup tighter, still not entirely processing what he had just witnessed.

-----

Kai remained standing there for a moment longer, shoulders tense, eyes still flicking between Akihiko and Ayaka's sleeping form.

The coffee cup in his hand had gone cold, completely forgotten.

Finally, as if regaining himself, Kai cleared his throat softly.

"…Dr. Nakamura?" he said quietly, voice low but firm, careful not to disturb Ayaka. "Could we… talk outside?"

Akihiko's expression remained unreadable, his blue eyes calm, but there was something steady and resolute in the way he regarded Kai.

Without a word, he gave a slight nod.

Kai turned first, leading the way out of the room and into the quiet corridor.

The hum of hospital machinery and the distant echo of footsteps filled the empty space around them, but between the two men, there was nothing but a thick, almost palpable silence.

They stopped a few feet away from the room, far enough not to be overheard. The tension lingered between them, heavy but unspoken.

Kai stood rigid, trying to find the right words, clearly battling between what he'd just witnessed and the protective instinct burning inside him as Ayaka's brother.

But before Kai could even open his mouth, Akihiko spoke first.

His voice was low but unwavering.

"I know what you want to ask." Akihiko began, meeting Kai's gaze directly. His eyes, usually sharp and detached, held something unmistakably earnest beneath them. "I won't hide it. I have feelings for Ayaka."

Kai's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting—but Akihiko didn't falter, continuing.

"I didn't plan for it. It wasn't supposed to happen like this." Akihiko went on, voice smooth but serious, almost like he was laying bare something he'd kept locked away. "But it did. And I'm not the kind of man who'll pretend otherwise."

Kai remained quiet, fists tightening slightly at his sides, his jaw ticking faintly.

Akihiko's calm, matter-of-fact tone wasn't what he expected—but there was no trace of hesitation in it.

Akihiko took a breath, his gaze never once leaving Kai's.

"I didn't intend for you to find out like this." he admitted, voice quieter now. "But since you did… I want you to know something clearly."

His hand flexed slightly at his side, controlled but purposeful.

"When Ayaka's next book is finally published..." Akihiko said, tone steady, "I'm planning to confess to her. Properly. No conditions, no pretenses. Just how I really feel."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and certain.

Kai blinked, the weight of what Akihiko said settling over him slowly. His grip on the coffee cup slackened, fingers loosening.

There was a flicker of something unreadable in Kai's expression—protectiveness, caution, maybe even surprise—but what struck him most wasn't just what Akihiko had said.

It was how sincere he looked saying it.

There was no trace of the cold, aloof doctor people whispered about in the hospital.

No mask.

Just a man who had made up his mind.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sound of an announcement over the hospital speakers echoed faintly, filling the quiet.

Finally, Kai let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though his eyes still held the weight of his role as Ayaka's brother.

"…I'll hold you to that..." he said quietly, voice even. "I won't stop you. But don't hurt her, Dr. Nakamura."

Akihiko's lips twitched—almost, but not quite, a smile.

"I won't." he promised simply.