SAKURA’S ROUTE

CHAPTER 10

Time crawled by, each moment stretching painfully thin. The steady drumming of rain on the gazebo's glass roof lulled Ethan into a haze. Though the air bit with cold, his warm clothes kept him from shivering—at least for now. A lightning strike flared in the distance, briefly igniting the park beyond the bridge. That's when he saw her: a girl's silhouette, unnoticed until now, standing fifty meters away in the open, lashed by the downpour. She wore only a thin lavender dress.

Startled—ghost or human?—Ethan stepped from the gazebo. He snapped open his umbrella and trudged toward her, boots splashing through puddles. Up close, she was more than strange. Her hair was purple—not the artificial shade of cosplayers, but a natural hue. Wet strands plastered her shoulders and draped over her eyes, hiding them. Her frail frame trembled faintly in the rain's chill, though the deluge had softened.

Something stopped Ethan from speaking. She seemed too fragile, too unhinged—like a wrong word might set her off. So he acted instead, holding his small umbrella over her. It barely covered her, leaving him exposed. Rain streamed down his hair, his face, his eyes, as if he were the one weeping.

She didn't acknowledge him at first—or chose not to. Emboldened, Ethan slipped off his jacket and laid it over her shoulders. Shorter than him, she tilted her head up as she felt the fabric, brushing aside her bangs. Ethan froze. Her eyes matched her hair—deep, dark purple, like twin wells of acid that could melt him away. Yet they glistened with tears. The rain had cloaked it before, but now it was unmistakable: she'd been crying.

She stared at him, umbrella overhead, her expression blank at first. Then, noticing the jacket, a flicker of surprise crossed her face. She murmured something in Japanese. Ethan smiled faintly and repeated his go-to line of the day: "I don't understand Japanese"—"Nihongo ga wakarimasen."

Her tearful eyes shut. Ethan lingered, uncertain. She probably wanted him gone, he guessed. Good thing I don't speak the language, he thought wryly. Can't be faulted for ignoring a girl hell-bent on pneumonia.

"Sakura!"

The shout—sharp, desperate—jolted Ethan. He turned. A young man in a soaked white-and-brown jacket barreled down the bridge steps into the park, hair wild from the rain.

Here comes the groom, Ethan quipped in his native tongue. Someone else can play umbrella duty. I've got my own mess to wade through. Without a word, he handed the umbrella to the young man, gesturing toward the girl, then retreated to the gazebo. The newcomer, dazed by Ethan's abrupt exit, took it automatically, his focus locked on her.

From the shelter, Ethan caught snatches of their voices. She knew him—her tone surged with emotion as they argued. Even without the words, the tension was palpable. They clashed for ten or fifteen minutes before their voices either faded or dropped too low to hear. When Ethan glanced out again, they were gone.

"Well, thanks," he muttered. "Could've at least left my jacket. The umbrella's theirs, but that was mine—European!" 

The rain eased, but Ethan stayed put until it stopped entirely. He had no idea where to head next. I'll roam till dawn, he decided, hugging his knees for warmth, slipping into a numb daze---

Ethan set the pages down. The opening had hooked him, but the purple-haired girl twisted his curiosity into irritation—then outrage. Slamming the orange folder shut, he stormed to the duty officer at the corridor's end.

"I need to call Doctor Elliot. Now," he demanded. 

The nurse at the desk chuckled. His colleague, propped against the counter, didn't. 

"Why?" the second asked. 

"I need to talk. If you don't let me, I'll make trouble." 

The nurse studied him, chewing his lip. "You can call Doc. Rules allow it. But he's been fired. Talking to outsiders—" 

"He's not fired yet," the colleague cut in. "He's got leave stacked up. Still on the books for a couple months." 

The first nurse hesitated, then shrugged. "Fine. Call him. Patients can reach their doctor anytime." 

Ethan exhaled, surprised it was that simple. Calling Doc at home must be routine here. 

Doctor Elliot picked up instantly. "Hello?" 

"Why'd you throw me into Sakura's route?" Ethan snapped, skipping pleasantries. 

A beat passed. Recognizing the voice—and the question—Doc burst into laughter, chuckling for a solid ten seconds. "Hello, Ethan. You got to me fast…"