It's not that Kamijou likes hospitals but for obvious reasons, he just can't avoid landing into one.

Children screaming, adults sobbing, the scent of penetrated flesh and scattered blood. It was an amalgam of human suffering, both those with physical pain and those dealing with the emotional trauma of bringing and losing loved ones in the last lifeline. It was something he had become all too familiar with even before becoming a police officer for the National Police Agency's main headquarters in Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo. Kamijou Touma just never expected to end up in the Emergency Room himself, at least not for stupid but surprisingly expected reason. All policemen knew they could someday find themselves waking up (or not waking up at all in the sake for police duty) in the hospital. Theirs was a career fraught with risk and danger akin to military personnel or firefighters. However, his road to the ER had not been paved by a hellish fight with the Yakuzas or the crackdown on smuggled goods but instead, it was a certain accident that happened due to the carelessness and stupidity of a certain case he was pursuing. These things could only happen to him.

Sighing, he dropped his head back on the bristly pillow and stared up at the sterile, white ceiling like how he used to pass his time during his old days as a high school student. He was counting the textured tiles, wondering when the hell an actual doctor was going to drag his or her ass in to see him, when the light green curtain cordoning off his bed from the others was roughly jerked back. The metal hooks holding it in place screamed in protest at the violent movement, causing him to twist his head in response to the incoming person.

"Chief Inspector, we have your X-Rays back and you—," the person speaking trailed off as she stepped into the makeshift room and saw Kamijou lying prostrate on the hospital bed. Her eyes widened in recognition behind her stylish, thick-framed rectangular glasses.

Kamijou, though, had been able to identify the slim young woman as soon as he had heard that voice. High-pitched, active, melodic, and brimming with both haughtiness and pride. For the entire three years he had studied at a certain high school, that arrogant and superior voice never failed to make him nearly retreat in instinct whenever they meet up in their classes, which they have become classmates for three straight high school years. It had also somewhat aroused him on more than one occasion, the thought of that formal voice always ready to give him and his two friends back then the sermon. Not that he had ever acted on his feelings or shit because even then, he didn't really wanted to get his face bashed even more and then there was Misaka Mikoto and Index Librorum Prohibitorum and all the stuff that they had done together and, no, he didn't want to think about such bitter things right now.

It was funny that, even after ten years, he still recognized it, as well as the slim woman now staring at him. However, he hadn't expected to ever meet again, and certainly not under these circumstances. That old twinge of ... what attraction? Lust? Irritation? It momentarily knocked at him but he violently squashed it. He really wasn't in any position to think about, let alone act, on such stupid, misdirected feelings.

"Ehh? Fukiyose? You're here in this hospital?" He bolted upright instead, pointing a finger as he let out a confused voice.

The ever-sadistic Fukiyose Seiri pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses with two fingers and sniffed haughtily. "I never expected that the supposed police officer from the National Police Agency was still the imbecile idiot that I had for a high school classmate..."

"And I see you're still the same person who would like to give us an earful," Kamijou bared his teeth in an almost feral grin. Yes, this was actually better for the young man. Their snarling and yapping at each other, much better than old, lost, juvenile emotions of their youths.

"Hmph…" Fukiyose just narrowed her eyes and looked down to consult the chart in her hands. "It says here you were placed by Commissioner General Motoyama Teruo as the head of the National Police Agency's Counter International Terrorism Division of the Security Bureau. I wouldn't have expected you to pick a job where you have to actually make life and death decisions. It seems a little taxing for someone of your low mental … comprehension…"

"Geez, cut me off some clack, will you? If anything, I didn't expect you to become a doctor," Kamijou said pleasantly, waving a hand towards the white coat Fukiyose wore over her light blue scrubbing suit, "If anything, I'd expect you to become a freelancer at Academy City. I can't believe you actually take that stick out of your ass long enough to interact with your patients. Oh and what's with the thick-framed glasses? Can't see any longer?" There was a smile on his lips, but his cyan eyes were smoldering. Fukiyose glared back and sparks were practically flying across the room.

Finally, Fukiyose heaved a sigh and shook her head. "I don't have time to get sucked into a childish war of words, and neither do you, Mister Police Officer…" She spat bitterly as she closed the curtain, walked over to the view box, and slapped the X-Ray she had been holding onto it. A flip of the switch and both of them had a close, up and personal view of the inside of Kamijou's thigh and torso. "Your leg is partially broken," Fukiyose continued brusquely, "And you have violet bruises in both legs…"

"Well, no shit," Kamijou responded dully, "I sort of figured that out when I saw the bone sticking out of my thigh. They teach you to state the obvious in medical school at Academy City, huh?" Just thinking about it though brought a resurgence of nausea, seeing that white object pushing through muscle and skin, bright red blood spurting out in pulses that echoed the too-rapid beat of his heart. Thank Kami-sama, Buddha, his fellow officer in Toyama Kinshiro and another officer in Aoki Shinobu, he was immediately rushed to the hospital before further damage can spread.

"Yes…well…to be precise…" Fukiyose went on, only a slight frown indicating she didn't approve of Kamijou's language, "…You have suffered an open compound fracture of your upper femoral shaft and your ligaments have to be stitched back. We are going to have to put a pin in the marrow canal to hold the bone in position as it heals. On a positive note, that means you won't be in a cast or have to use a wheelchair that long."

She displayed about as much emotion as someone reading the schedule of the opening of the library as she broke the news. Kamijou could feel himself paling as he sagged back into the bed. In all of his past battles, this was one injury he never had before. His mouth was as dry as saw dust and a huge knot of anxiety formed in his belly. He swallowed hard, urging himself not throw up.

"How…" His voice wobbled and he winced, cursing himself for the weak sound. Kamijou coughed to clear throat and tried again. "How long will the surgery take?"

Some of the stringency eased out of Fukiyose's back at Kamijou's genuine distress. "About six hours, barring any complications."

"Just had to tack the last part on didn't you?" Kamijou muttered.

"I would be negligent if I didn't." Fukiyose met his eyes steadily.

"Fine," Kamijou frowned, "What else do I need to know?"

Several minutes later, the young man regretted opening his big fat mouth.

His brain was already draining fast with a bunch of medical jargon and details he felt sure he would have been better off not knowing. In the midst of Fukiyose's high-level, medical babble, Kamijou was able to pull out a couple of important things. First, he could be in the hospital for as long as two weeks because of the open compound fracture itself and this "intramedullary nailing" (the technical term Fukiyose used for his surgery) as well as the ligaments, which were supposed to be much easier to work on. Second, it could take months for him to fully heal and recover. A protracted cycle of therapy awaited him in the future.

"I don't know what Chief Motoyama will say on this. Such misfortune," He let out his famous cataphrase, earning another disapproving look from his former classmate. Kamijou just ignored it, wallowing in his own misery, until an uneasy thought crossed his mind. "Ah, you aren't my surgeon, are you?" He wasn't sure if he could even handle that; just the thought of Fukiyose's long and talented but tough fingers working on him sent him into a tailspin of unease and unwelcome desire.

"No, you idiot. Not even in my dreams," The immediate answer had him releasing a heavy breath in relief.

He celebrated rather too soon.

Fukiyose held up her chart with a scowl, "I'm going to be your attending physician after the surgery's done for your entire stay in the hospital, though so better behave, idiot Police Officer…"

"This day just keeps getting better and better," he groaned, wanting nothing more than to turn over and scream bloody murder into his scratchy pillow. When they had first whisked him into the ER, they had fitted him with some kind of contraption to keep his leg steady. It was a system of wires and pulleys, all designed to secure and suspend his leg in the air. It totally sucked for a policeman like him.

"I'm not any happier about this than you are, Kamijou," Fukiyose growled rigidly. "If only I hadn't let Higuchi-san talk me into switching ER rotations with him, then I would have never seen you at all. I can't believe it. From what I'm seeing, you're still the same idiot back from our high school days. I might need to calm again the monster in you with my health products…"

"Yeah, well, I don't want to see your now-megane face either!" Kamijou felt his fists clenched, "And I can't believe you still follow that stupid phony products crap and use them at your age and in a medicinal area, of all things!" The spiky haired young man raged, and in his nervousness, fear, and anger at himself for his wrong, inappropriate desires, anger at the situation, he was much more insulting than what was necessary.

Fukiyose's expression closed down, her eyes went blank, but not before something unidentifiable flashed through her brown orbs behind the glasses. Kamijou suddenly felt guilty. It wasn't the Iron Wall Girl's fault he was in this mess but wasn't the doctor's fault his schoolboy emotions, which he had buried deep inside his heart even years back, had come roaring back with a vengeance, even with his leg broken and painkillers dulling his senses? In his mixed up mental state, he tried to move, momentarily forgetting the traction and his jacked up leg and everything. Agony, hot and white, shot up his thigh.

"Ouch!" He cried out, throwing his head back. The veins in his neck bulged as the pain reverberated throughout his body. Even pain pills couldn't protect him from his own stupidity. Not even being trained for counterterrorist activities could stop pain.

Rushing to his side, Fukiyose threw the clipboard in her hand on a nearby tray and reached for Kamijou's blanket. The young man grabbed her fingers, preventing her from even yanking off the sheets.

"D-don't, Fukiyose," He gritted through his teeth, the burning fire in his thigh actually bringing a sheen of sweat to his brow.

"I have to see if you made the wound bleed again, you idiot," Fukiyose barked at him, trying user her old high school tactics to free her hand.

To her surprise, it was no use this time.

Fukiyose might be more agile that hadn't changed in ten years but Kamijou was stronger. Even in his weakened state, his police instincts prevailed as he easily held Forehead Deluxe's hand down. The muscular, athletic body he had built over the years fighting magicians and, this time, criminals in the streets and ports, was broader than the one he had sported in high school and his six-packed abs wasn't for show. In short, he wasn't the same lanky high school student that Fukiyose used to easily beat whenever she disciplines the Idiot Trio.

"No…" He was panting a little now, "They … they took my Naruto underwear when they shoved me into this stupid gown." He could feel the draft on his rump even now while he still sensed the grief in losing one of his personal favorite garments. Either way, it wasn't a pleasant sensation.

Fukiyose shot him an incredulous look, "You won't let me look at your wound because you're afraid I'll see your large package?" It was clear from her tone that she thought Kamijou was insane. Well, maybe he was, but he just couldn't let a former high school classmate and friend(?) see you in all his naked glory when they weren't even on good terms in the past and arguably, up until now. His manly pride was on the line.

"My dick or my huge ass…" He smiled wanly, lines of pain now etching themselves deeply into the corners of his mouth. "You have to go and beat me first in Russian roulette before I let you get that far."

Or not. Was the true thought of the young man as he remembered Toyama shooting a cat's head when they tried the game. Right now, he'd been in the megane Fukiyose's presence less than an hour and he already wanted to jump to her bones, fractured leg or no. No. the universe was definitely playing a joke on me. Kamijou berated himself for not listening closer to Himegami during all those high school days where she went on and on about "Seiri-chan." If he had, he would have known the one-time bane of her existence worked here and he could have asked Toyama to bring him to another hospital or to one of the police agency's closer medicinal units.

In the world outside of his scrambled thoughts, Fukiyose apparently didn't find his Russian roulette remark amusing. Are his fellow policemen really like him? Leaning in so close that Kamijou could almost count every sinfully long lash surrounding her brown, furious eyes, she snapped, "I'm a trained physician, Kamijou baka! I can assure you that you don't have a single thing there in your body that I haven't seen before."

While Kamijou tried to unravel that slightly confusing sentence coming from her mouth, his grip on Fukiyose's hand lessened. The female doctor took advantage of this lapse to pull her hand away and gently ease the blanket aside. As Kamijou had feared, completely useless hospital gown had ridden up and the bottom part of his groin was exposed. The cool air drifting around his hidden parts made him somewhat tremor but it didn't stop the surge of heat that crawled up his neck and onto his face.

He wanted to just go and die or plainly disappear. Currently feeling smaller in front of the shorter Fukiyose as he felt his skin reacting violently against the breeze, Kamijou had never felt more wretched or embarrassed in his life. He had a broken bone, a hole in his thigh, torn ligaments, and now, he was flashing his birdie at a young woman he hadn't seen for almost seven years since they graduated high school. A girl he used to imagine that he was torturing since in their younger selves, Fukiyose had made his life somewhat life hell in high school. Life was fucking grand at the moment when he always fantasized about tying her up and watching the Forehead Deluxe beg with all of her cuteness. He only hoped he could keep his mind out of the gutter, because all he needed was to suddenly start sporting a boner right in Fukiyose's face. That would have been nice on girls like Misaka if she wasn't violent or Othinus if she was taller.

Fukiyose either didn't see or was just plainly ignoring Kamijou's blushing meltdown. She somehow calmly and efficiently checked the bandages around the wound for signs of fresh blood although anyone with sharp eyes can tell her mouth seemed to drool as her hands were shaking, as if it was tempted to hold something sensitive. When she was satisfied that the injury hadn't started bleeding again, he casually tugged Kamijou's gown down while she said, "Good, you didn't cause any more damage, Kamijou. But I order you don't thrash around like that again. Otherwise, I'll have someone come strap you to the bed."

"You'd still do it, wouldn't you?" Kamijou murmured, trying to wash away the color now staining his whole body. He couldn't believe how nonchalantly Fukiyose covered up his penis. This really was the most horrible day ever, even worse than his times in chasing Yakuza gangs armed with Uzi submachine guns. Damn that Toyama. Why do you have to bring me here?!

"I would and I won't hesitate," Fukiyose acknowledged without even thinking twice, "Sometimes, the only thing idiots like you, Tsuchimikado, and Aogami understand is physical brute force."

"Dammit, didn't you have enough of calling me that in high school, Fukiyose?"

Shrugging, Fukiyose pushed up her glasses before she lifted the blanket over him once more. "Once an idiot, always an idiot."

"Well, once an obsessed health product fan, always an obsessed health product fan," Kamijou snarled, his normally deep voice was now a crackling mixture of embarrassment and pain.

Looking down his nose, Fukiyose was flustered as she puts her hands in her hips, "Who are you even calling obsessed?"

"Obviously you, Fukiyose," The words lacked any real teeth as Kamijou was feeling too horrible to continue the rude back and forth.

"Hmph…" There was that harrumph again. Fukiyose was a master at it, if one is to ask the spiky haired young man. He closed his eyes and waited for the next insult. When it didn't come, he cracked them open to find Fukiyose watching him intently, with an expression that he can't read. It actually creeped him out.

"What?" He grumbled.

"I can't…give you anything else for the pain," The young woman surprised him by saying, "Not when you are about to go into surgery."

"It's okay," He dismissed with a tired wave of his hand, "Pain and I are old friends by now. In fact, we always go side by side every day in my job with both the elite bureaucrats in the higher ups and the street gangs in the ports." No! No! No! I don't need Fukiyose showing me any kindness, not right now at this situation. He might just dissolve into a sobbing, pathetic mess and throw himself at the unsuspecting physican, who might end up slugging him in the face.

His statement seemed to give Fukiyose pause. "You get hurt often then, fighting criminals as well as your superiors in the National Police Agency?" If Kamijou wasn't hallucinating due to the drugs and the pain, the woman actually sounded curious. A spark of happiness he didn't want bloomed in his chest just appeared.

"It's the sacrifice of being a law enforcer," Kamijou admitted as he looked far ahead in the window, "Unlike Tsuchimikado, who set up an online buy-and-sell business with Maika at Academy City, and Aogami, who immediately thought and became a baker eventually, my job guarantees that half of my body is already buried six feet deep."

"By the way, what happened with Sister-san?" Fukiyose can't help but ask in pure curiosity.

"She had to go back to England for the moment as her status as nun-in-training was lifted by the English Church there and she would have to undergo the proper rites and investitures to become a full-pledged nun," Kamijou explained.

"And that Level Five Railgun?"

"It's simple. She doesn't actually know what kind of job I had taken although we still exchange messages regularly," Kamijou felt regretful not telling a certain Railgun about his job but it was due to circumstances he'd rather not share, "She should be graduation in college now, though…"

"I see…so this…" It was Fukiyose's turn to flap her hand as she indicated Kamijou's leg, "Was due to an armed encounter? Injuries like this usually occur from a fall or a hard, sudden impact with a fast moving object like a car or motorcycle."

Kamijou froze. He had been dreading this question, not specifically from the Iron Wall Girl but from anyone. With every fiber of his being, he so did not want to answer it but if Fukiyose was going to be his attending physician, he knew there is no escaping the interrogation of his former classmate.

"I fell in the port where we're about to conduct a raid." The reply was brief and terse. Kamijou hoped Fukiyose would leave it there.

He should have known better. Fukiyose was known to be a mother-figure when it comes to her classmates.

"That makes sense, from the angle of the protrusion and location of the break," The female doctor nodded. "Were you climbing inside a building, trying to peek every nook and cranny maybe? Fall off a ladder?"

"It was a … supposed to be a stealth approach..." Please oh please oh please oh please be satisfied with that! Kamijou silently begged.

His unspoken pleas were in vain, too.

Fukiyose seemed somewhat impressed by his answer. "I guess even a clumsy oaf like you is good for something. Was it some contraband drugs or smuggled clothing items? Did you catch any Yakuza gang member? I didn't see anything on the news about it."

Kamijou couldn't even rouse himself to take offense at the "clumsy oaf" remark. "Yes…" All he gave was that one word, thinking Fukiyose would finally get the hint that he didn't freaking want to talk about it anymore. Apparently, Fukiyose didn't understand the man code that he shared with Toyama and his fellow police operatives.

"I see. So did he got hurt as well? Were they brought to our hospital with you?"

Kamijou gave up. "No, he wasn't brought here. I think you even don't treat criminals of his kind, whatever reason they have to do such illegal activity..."

That put some spit in Fukiyose's eyes. "I beg your pardon!" She took a step back, clearly affronted. "We do not discriminate against anyone at this hospital. Every human—regardless of race, social status, criminal records, sexual orientation, anything—is treated here!"

"Yeah, well, Tora-neko-chan isn't human, so I don't think your esteemed doctors will be giving him medical attention any time soon"

The words hung on the air for a few moments. Fukiyose was clearly dumbfounded. "Tora-neko-chan?" She repeated almost as if she couldn't believe the name that was rolling of her tongue.

Kamijou couldn't either. Hearing the arrogant, stern Fukiyose Seiri even utter "Tora-neko-chan" was a once in a lifetime, comedic jewel. So cute! He just wished he could properly appreciate it. But, no, his face was flustering again, thanks to his manly needs and of course there was the fact his leg was broken and needed emergency surgery and had just run into his old high school masturbation material after onee-sans.

"Yes, Tora-neko-chan. He's that stupid cat that lives in the port where we conducted our raid and she might be even worse than Sphynx. I named her after that stupid cat in Naruto that was owned by the wife of the Fire Daimyo and loves running away from her master." The words started pouring out in a rush. The sooner who told the story, the sooner he could get the whole ordeal (and Fukiyose's reaction to it) behind him. "That damn cat just shocked the wits out of me when I was busy searching the ten whole crates of smuggled AK-47s, meth, party drugs, ecstasy and even worse, pornographic materials complete with matching adult objects! They were all stacked up on top of the second floor of an unfinished building. Then when this cat, which I mistaken for a Yakuza, scared me, I slipped and ended up falling from the second floor and landing on a garbage can filled with rusting iron. Luckily or unluckily, Toyama came to my rescue."

He had to suck in a deep breath when he was finished. Suddenly, a strangled, gargling noise came from Fukiyose's direction. Kamijou's gaze jumped to her face. His expression gave nothing away and the angle of her head now caused the fluorescent lights to glare off her glasses, obscuring her brown eyes from view.

Kamijou though wasn't fooled.

"You're laughing at poor Kamijou-san's misfortune, aren't you?"

"I assure you…I have no idea…what you are talking about…" Fukiyose answered nonchalantly, but the interspersed sounds of amusement that kept escaping him betrayed the very words she was saying.

Groaning, Kamijou thrust his hands into his hair and pulled at the ends. "I hate my life now! If even a stone-faced woman with no sense of humor like you finds this funny, Toyama and the other guys at the National Police Agency headquarters are going to have a field day ribbing me about it. I'm never going to hear the end it. That damn cat. I'm going to run it over with our patrol car the next time I see it."

"Maybe this stone-faced woman should prescribe a turpentine enema before your surgery? Wouldn't want any accidents during the operation, would we?" Fukiyose's hand hovered threateningly over the clipboard that contained her chart, her face showing off a sadistic smile that promised lots of pain.

Growing pale, Kamijou lifted his hands in supplication. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, alright, Fukiyose-sama? Sheesh, you are just as uptight as ever. "

"And you are just as annoying, but that won't stop me from seeing to your care." Fukiyose, for the first time since she entered his place, smiled warmly, "How can I call myself a good doctor if I even can't take care of police officer like you—guys who would always sacrifice their lives to make sure Japan sleeps well at night…"

Anything else Fukiyose might have said would have to wait. Two nurses came in and informed them that it was time to escort Chief Inspector Kamijou Touma down to the Operating Room. Because his leg was in traction, they were just going to take him on the bed itself. Luckily, it had rollers.

Right as they were about to roll him away, Fukiyose actually put a hand on his shoulder and brushed it. "I will see you tonight when I make my rounds. Try not to get into trouble before then."

Kamijou mustered up a lopsided grin, the fear he had experienced when had first heard about the surgery now exploding into full-blown terror. "Yes, yes, I'll be a good boy, Fukiyose-sama. Can Toyama see me tonight as well?"

"It will be fine," Fukiyose tightened her right hand, and maybe he meant it to be a comforting squeeze. Kamijou didn't know whatsoever. He just nodded past the lump in his throat and then the nurses wheeled him away.