Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Compromised	By : Dementian Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kurama/Kuwabara Views: 2033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho and make absolutely no money off of it.

Chapter List
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   When Kazuma had been a child, he’d heard his mother say “nothing good ever happens after midnight”; so far, he was yet to find an exception to the rule.
   “Did you come in with Shuichi Minamino?” the doctor asked.
   “Yeah, I did.” Kazuma sat up a little straighter on the sofa, praying to god for good news. Yusuke stirred on his lap, sitting up and blinking about blearily; when he caught sight of the doctor he did a double take and immediately rubbed his eyes to focus. Kazuma heard Yusuke mumbling to Keiko to get up, so that suddenly all three of them were now in a conversation with this haggard man who looked like he could use with a ten hour nap.
   “I’m Doctor Kotsura.” Kotsura shook Kazuma’s hand.

   “Kuwabara Kazuma.”
   “Who are you in relation to Minamino?” Kotsura asked.
   “I’m-“ Kazuma could not help but blush even as he said it; it was rare that people outside their circle understood his role in Kurama’s life. “His partner.”
   “We need a family member.” Kotsura grimaced, but their saving grace was found in Hatanaka who looked up from the floor; Kazuma had thought him sleeping but he’d been wrong. Hatanaka was awake, and though he looked ready to keel over and die he still nodded to the doctor in greeting.
   “I’m here,” Hatanaka said.
   Doctor Kotsura looked a little more at ease as he turned back to Kazuma; Shizuru was still asleep on the couch. For the moment, Kazuma did not wake her. God only knows she’d come straight from work and was probably dead; she hadn’t even changed out of her policeman’s uniform.
   “So this was an attempted suicide, is what I’m gathering,” Kotsura said.
   “Yes.” Kazuma immediately reached for his breast pocket to hand over the empty bottle of lye to the doctor. He took it, examined it (after slipping on a pair of glasses) and nodded in thanks as he stuck it in his own pocket.
   “Thank you. I’ll be keeping this.”
   “Can I see him?” Kazuma begged.
   “No.” Kotsura shook his head, and suddenly Kazuma could see what awful strain the man was under. He looked like as broken as a war vet in his scrubs and mask, “No... he’s not doing well.”
   “Oh god!”
   It had been what he’d feared; that Kurama would die, and suddenly his eyes were burning and his throat was closing up. He turned, hiding his face from the doctor; yet where Kazuma turned to grief, Yusuke turned to anger. He rose up off the couch, hands on his hips and a murderous look in his eye.
   “If he’s not doing well then shouldn’t we be back there, dammit!?” Yusuke demanded. Kotsura bristled but held his ground, “We're like family to him! Shit, Kuwabara’s fucking in love with him! If something happens-“
   “His physical condition is stabilizing,” Kotsura corrected Yusuke tersely, and Kazuma let out an audible breath as he sagged with exhaustion.
   Kurama was not dying. He could breathe.
   “…but his emotional and mental conditions are rapidly deteriorating. He’s broken through the straps of his bed twice and has attempted suicide again. Somehow, I don’t know how, he managed to find a vine and wrapped it around his neck-? Even though there was absolutely no plant life in the room when I left twenty minutes prior to pick up his chest x-rays. I don’t know he did it.”
   Yusuke whipped around, and Kazuma looked up to meet his eye. The pair of them stared at each other, knowing damn well how Kurama had managed such a feat. Multiple suicide attempts, broken restraints-? This hardly sounded like the Kurama that Kazuma loved. Surely it was just an exaggeration. This man was probably exhausted.
   “We caught him, but just barely, and we’ve had to restrain him again. He’s hostile and heavily drugged. He would attack his own mother and not feel regret,” Kotsura concluded.
   “I highly doubt that,” Yusuke grumbled under his breath, but the doctor was turning away and towards Hatanaka who rose up from his seat (though his posture was slouched and sagged) to wearily shake Kotsura’s hand.
   “You’re family, correct?”
   “Yes. I’m his step-father.”
   “Where is his mother?”

   Hatanaka bristled, looking away momentarily. Kazuma could see the pain in his face, yet still he kept talking, attempting to make some headway after twelve hours of nothing but silence from the back. “Dead. We spread her ashes earlier today.”
   Kotsura winced, but still carried on. “My deepest apologies,” he said, and he did not sound insincere. “Does he have any biological family, anyone who I can contact as a stand-in care-taker-?”
   “He’s an adult, why should he need that?” Hatanaka grumbled.
   At this, Kotsura looked behind him towards Yusuke who was still glaring and Kazuma who was close to weeping again from the sheer exhaustion and stress. Keiko was likewise beat beside him, merely holding onto his knee in quiet support.
   “... We’re going to have to move him to a psychiatric unit for further evaluation. Depending upon his mental condition, they may choose to keep him for an extended period of time-“
   At once, the room erupted in voices.
   “No, no it can’t be that bad, surely-!” Hatanaka demanded.
   “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think we’re gonna send Kurama to some nut house-!” Yusuke snarled, slipping up and saying Kurama’s real name. Yet it was Kazuma now who was on his feet, Kazuma who was in the doctor’s face, Kazuma who felt uncontrollable rage pounding through his veins in light of exhaustion and fear. Kotsura was overwhelmed, bristling left and right, but he still held his guard even as Kazuma shouted in his face.
   “He’s not crazy!” Kazuma snapped, “He’s just upset-“
   “I don’t think any of you fully understand the gravity of this situation!” Kotsura snapped back, perhaps a little tired of being ganged on at two in the morning. He eyed them all warily as he spoke, “Your step son-“ he said to Hatanaka, “Your partner-“ he said to Kazuma, “has just attempted to end his life. Twice. He has broken through several sets of restraints, and is completely out of touch with reality. He cannot be reached verbally, emotionally, or mentally. He has become so aggressive that we have had to put a guard in his room to keep him from hurting nurses and technicians. This is standard hospital procedure to protect not only the patient, but the staff and other patients. Do you understand?”
   No. No, Kazuma did not understand. He did not understand how such words as ‘aggressive’ could be used to describe the man in his memory; sweet and loving Kurama who had kissed his nose and sat with his legs in Kazuma’s lap, shirtless and sipping coffee in the bubble of their afterglow. Kind and gentle Kurama who had moved to sit in his lap and simply stayed there for an hour, his head upon Kazuma’s shoulder and his fingers stroking Kazuma’s collar bone as Kazuma read the Sunday paper.
   Hatanaka was thinking fast, his hands upon his lips as his black eyes roved back and forth across the sterile tile floor. It was incredible that with his wife newly buried and his step son on the verge of a mental collapse at two in the morning he was still able to think.
   “... You don’t know if it’ll be permanent?” Hatanaka asked. Kotsura shook his head.
   “I cannot say. That is based on their own evaluations.”
   “And I can speak with them directly during the process?”
   “Absolutely,” Kotsura assured him.
   “...He...” Hatanaka swallowed, looking away from the doctor to stare out at the opening of the waiting room; no one passed by. “He can’t be committed without my signature?”
   “No. We must have a stand-in care-taker,” Kotsura said. “Someone to assume liability for his actions.”
   “Do they have to be related to him-“
   “That is optimal, but-“
   “Then it should be Kazuma,” Hatanaka urged. Kotsura turned around, looking at Kazuma expectantly, but Kazuma was speechless! How could Hatanaka think that he would give any such signature-!?
   “I’m not committing him!” Kazuma shouted. He was furious! “I’m not putting him in some fucking loony bin! He’s not crazy, he doesn’t belong there!”
   “No one is using the word ‘crazy’ but you!” Kotsura snarled, finally losing his patience, “He’s not crazy, I completely agree. He’s upset. He’s very upset, and we cannot help him here. It doesn’t matter how much we care for his physical condition if he’s only going to try and kill himself again-!”
   “He wouldn’t-!” but Kazuma’s words were weak and useless in his mouth as Kotsura and Hatanaka both glared at him. He realized now how feeble and foolish the phrase ‘he wouldn’t’ was in light of this terrible situation.
   He would... and all three men knew it.
   “Who do I need to speak to?” Hatanaka asked, turning his dark gaze to Kotsura who seemed just as foul tempered in that moment.
   “I have a technician down the hall,” Kotsura said. “Come with me.”
   Hatanaka reached down into his shirt pocket to put on his glasses, rubbing his eyes as Kotsura left for the door; before he followed, he gave Kazuma warning.
   “Stay here,” Hatanaka said. “Let me speak with them, and ... assess the situation.” he did not sound hopeful, “I suggest you call your family for your own support. We need to take care of one another.”
   He turned and left, following Doctor Kotsura out into the hallway and around the corner where they vanished from sight.
   Kazuma crashed back into his seat. The jump was enough to wake Shizuru, who looked around alarmed to see Kazuma hunched over, pale faced and frightened. Yusuke was still on his feet, agape at the sudden turn of events.
   It seemed he had no idea what to do; their leader was leaderless.
   “They’re gonna commit him!” Kazuma sobbed, throwing his hands up over his eyes lest Keiko see him weeping; there was no point in hiding but still he tried.
   “No!” Keiko put her hands upon him, trying to sooth him despite how useless it was. Kazuma could feel Shizuru’s eyes upon him and shame flooded his face; she must think him so weak. “No, they’re just going to talk to him for a little bit, make him feel better- I swear it’s not as frightening as it sounds! If Kurama gets help, he’ll be able to pull through this faster-“
   Kazuma had no more words. He could not tell if Keiko was lying to make him feel better, or telling the truth. All he knew was that he felt powerless and small. He felt like Kurama was behind twenty brick walls and he couldn’t break through to save him. All he could do was beat on the cement and scream.
   “I’m calling dad-“

   “No!” Kazuma snarled, glaring up at Shizuru even as she pulled out her cellphone. It was two in the damn morning, if Jiro got a call now, he’d know something was wrong.
   “Kazuma!” Shizuru’s voice was angry and commanding, authoritative to the bone... a policeman’s tone. They all looked at her, suddenly remembering that she was older than them and more experience. “I’m calling dad.”
   And so she did.
   “It’s going to be okay,” Keiko whispered, rubbing Kazuma’s arms, “It’s going to be okay.”
   Kazuma buried his face in his hands again, and wept, ashamed.

   Kazuma could not bear to sit around and wait for his father to show like a child in need of comfort or guidance. He wanted to make changes happen, he wanted to free Kurama from these doctors and their demands, and so he and Yusuke left the waiting room to travel down the hall where they found Hatanaka sitting on a small bench outside of an ICU room. He had papers in his hands, and was looking them over with bleary tired eyes. He blinked repeatedly, wiping moisture from them, only to hunch over and start reading again.
   Kazuma and Yusuke leaned against the opposite wall, unsure of what to do; Hatanaka did not speak to them. He was too busy reading, and so tired that it seemed he might fall asleep at any moment.
   Suddenly, there was a rush.
   Doctor Kotsura came running down the hall, two muscular medical aids and two nurses right behind him. He punched a code hurriedly into a metal panel by the sliding glass door of ICU room. Hatanaka leapt up from the bench, still holding the papers but clutching them tight to his chest as all five of them ran into the room. Before anyone could follow, one of the nurses turned and slammed the glass door back; it locked with a resounding metal sound.
   Kazuma looked at Hatanaka; Hatanaka looked at Kazuma.
   They waited.
   About twenty minutes later, Doctor Kotsura appeared again. A sliding sheet divided the ICU ward behind the bolted glass door. As he stepped around it, he was wiping sweat from his brow and was holding a vine in his hands. He looked down at the vegetation, completely baffled, and stepped back out into the hall.
   “...Well...” Kotsura said, feeble voice as he held up the vine for them to see; it was long and spiky, full of jagged thorns. It looked unnervingly like Kurama’s rose whip. “I don’t know how he did it-“

   “God,” Hatanaka breathed, taking the vine from Kotsura’s shaking hands.
   “He managed to break out of two different sets of cuffs…“ Kotsura barely seemed to believe his own words. “I had already given him a dosage of benzodiazepine, yet somehow he was still moving?” This seemed to be more disturbing to Kotsura than the vine in Hatanaka’s hands. “I had to give him another one! Two, total! I’ve never had to do that to anyone in my entire career, and I’ve been a doctor for over thirty years.”
   “What did you give him?” Kazuma demanded. He’d heard the name but still couldn’t fully process what it was.
   “Benzodiazepine,” Kotsura repeated, his tone shaking. He looked like he need a smoke, or three. “It’s a high grade anti-anxiety medicine. I’ve seen it take men three times the size of you to the ground in under a minute; we use it for high-risk patients... but somehow, Minamino, one hundred forty two pounds and all, managed to keep moving?”
   Kotsura made a noise, running a hand through his gray and thinning hair. “He’s... still, now.”
   “So can we see him?” Kazuma demanded, now certain that Kurama was behind that glass door. He would do anything to get through, but he knew that a four digit code was required, after all he’d see Doctor Katsura stop to punch one in amid a chaotic rush. He’d need it if he wanted to get through.
   Kotsura suddenly looked slightly guilty, and stared down at the floor before answering.
   “We had to take... certain precautions.”
   “Like what?” Kazuma said. He didn’t like the tone in Kotsura’s voice.
   “Well, he’s tied to the bed, to keep him from harming himself or others-“ Kotsura said, but Kazuma could tell this was not what was troubling Kotsura. “But... we also had to cut off his hair.”
   Kazuma was stunned.
   Kurama’s lovely, beautiful, dark red hair... so thick and fragrant, draping down his back like a waterfall or hanging in soft tresses upon his chest- those locks that Kazuma had so lovingly wrapped his fingers around, had tousled with when they showered together, watching the soap and water turn that dark red to black with moisture – gone?
   “... Why?” Kazuma whispered. He felt the words slip through his lips without being able to stop them.
   “You have to understand…“ Kotsura was regaining his nerve with the news now spilt, but everyone was staring at him with such shock and horror that it was starting to make him sweat again. “He somehow managed to hide a vine in it and attempted to strangle himself! We tried to keep his hair out of his face and in a bun, but it didn’t help... I don’t like doing cosmetic reparations but I had no choice!” He truly sounded helpless. Had it been anyone but Kurama that he cared for, Kazuma might have felt sorry for the man. “I had to issue the order. You may not want to see him-“
   Kazuma took a step forward, then another, and though he knew it was dangerous and wrong he could feel his spirit energy beginning to rise up inside him, threatening to burst out.
   A lightbulb overhead flickered, its electric wiring starting to feel the effects; Kazuma could not deny the heat on his skin or the fire in his eyes. “Put me back there,” he said. “Now.”
   He didn’t know why Kurama having his hair cut off made him so angry, but it did.
   “I cannot have you in there if you are going to frighten or confuse him with your own anger,” Kotsura warned; Kazuma had to marvel that though this man must be feeling some kind of effect from Kazuma’s energy he still managed to hold his ground, to keep his authority. Then again, he'd been an ICU doctor for thirty years. Perhaps he’d dealt with this before.

   “I know you are upset, I understand and I sympathize,” Kotsura urged, but Kazuma doubted either was true, “but Minamino is my top priority tonight, and until he is taken to Matsuzawa in-“ Kotsura glanced down at his watch, “forty five minutes, it is my job to ensure that he does not undergo anymore mental exhaustion or strain. Am I clear?”
   “Crystal.” Yusuke glowered, a step behind Kazuma. Yusuke hated authority and no doubt wanted to punch Kotsura’s lights out. Still, he somehow managed to refrain. Kudos to him, thought Kazuma bitterly, for he was closer to losing his temper than Yusuke was.
   “Can we follow him to Matsuzawa?” Hatanaka asked.
   “No.” Doctor Kotsura shook his head. “Matsuzawa is not an open hospital; it’s a psych ward and is only open to visitors during set hours.”
   “But-” Kazuma cried out, looking at the papers in Hatanaka’s hands. Had Kurama actually been committed?! Were they going to take him away?! Kazuma would not let it happen!
   “When are their hours?” Hatanaka asked.
   “I’m unsure of the specifics,” Kotsura said. “They’ll have a representative here to sign the paperwork, you can ask them as many questions as you like.”
   Hatanaka seemed satisfied, but Kazuma was not. He seethed, words failing to come; Kotsura gave him a sympathetic look, glancing at his watch again.
   “Look, give me ten minutes and I will let you back. Just you two-“ he gestured to Kazuma and Hatanaka. “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to wait here,” he said to Yusuke. With that, he walked back over to the panel, punched in the code, slipped through the door, and was gone again behind the curtain.
   Kazuma turned on Hatanaka.
   “How could you?” Kazuma whispered. “How could you fucking do it?”
   “How could I what?” Hatanaka demanded angrily. “What is right and responsible?!”
   “Sign him away like he’s a nutcase, like he isn’t your stepson! We should be the ones to care for him not-“

   “You cannot care for him in this condition, neither of us can!” Hatanaka had lost his temper now, glaring at Kazuma as he clutched the damning papers to his chest protectively, “You have to trust the doctors at Matsuzawa, you have to trust their staff-“
   “Well, I don’t!” Kazuma snarled. “I don’t trust anyone with him! Anyone!”
   “You have no choice!” Hatanaka said, and there was a strange fluctuation in tone that caught Kazuma’s attention. Suddenly Hatanaka was sombre, looking away, unable to meet his eyes. “Believe me when I say that I am afraid, too-“
   “Really? Because I don’t see that-“
   “He is my son just as much as he is Shiori’s!” Her name was an ugly gunshot in the air that sent everyone flinching.
   “...Was,” Hatanaka corrected himself. He suddenly looked like he might be ill.
   Their argument might have continued, might have become heated again with Shiori’s name still thick in the air and their memories, but Kotsura appeared behind the curtain and opened the glass door again to step back out into the hall.
   Hatanaka and Kazuma shared a glance; they would hide their argument for now, say nothing lest neither of them be allowed to see Kurama.
   Kotsura looked at them.
   “Are we ready?”
   Yusuke leaned against the wall of the ICU, declining comment as he nodded to Kazuma. Kazuma now understood that in that room, he represented not only himself but also Yusuke; he represented everyone who wanted Kurama out of a psych ward and not in one.
   Hatanaka and Kazuma both stepped forward; Kotsura punched pressed a sequence of numbers into a little electronic keypad on the door. The latch clicked, and the three of them stepped inside.
   The room was cold and dark, with low lighting and a curtain still dividing them to all that lay beyond. As Kotsura slid the door back and allowed it to lock, he held out a hand to keep Kurama and Hatanaka from going behind the curtain just yet.
   “Standard psychiatric patient procedure,” Kotsura warned. “Do not engage the patient beyond simple conversation and interaction; he’s very confused - now is not the time for deep discussions.”
   “We understand,” Hatanaka spoke for both of them.
   Kotsura took the curtain divider in hand and pulled it back.
   Kazuma saw what lay beyond and immediately had to look away.

   Upon a lone bed, tethered at the ankles, wrists... strapped about the legs and arms, barely able to breathe under his constrictions... A guard sitting next to him in a plush chair, regarding them silently.

   This could not be Kurama. But it was.
   His hair had been erratically chopped off, leaving him looking a bit like Yusuke with a wild flare; his beautiful face was sunken in, his eyes dead even though they were open. Despite Kazuma and Hatanaka’s appearance, Kurama did nothing to engage either of them. He was listless, as devoid of life as a rag doll; the only hint of reaction came from the slight twitch of his fingers... but they were small glimmers that barely lasted a second at most.

   It was inhumane. It was horrific. It was beyond comprehension and Kazuma had no words.
   His Kurama, his beautiful, loving, gentle, talented, ingenious Kurama... brought so low. Brought so far beneath what Kazuma knew him to be.
   He suddenly hated Katsura; hated him more than he’d hated any other man in his life... even though he knew that it was not Katsura’s fault, and that it was wrong to hate a doctor who was only doing his job. The madness within Kurama was now reflected on the outside, and Kazuma could no longer ignore it.
   Kazuma shook his head, looking away again. He made no sound, but he could feel tears running down his cheeks as he pressed his head into the wall and leaned there, exhausted. The guard got up from the chair, standing beside it instead.
   “Do you need to stand outside-?” Katsura asked. Kazuma felt a hand upon his shoulder and brushed it off angrily.
   “No,” he spat.
   He would not be denied Kurama any longer.
   He left the wall, coming to Kurama’s side and dropping down in the chair the guard had abandoned.
   He suddenly saw a lock of red hair that had fallen beneath Kurama’s arm; he reached out with trembling fingers and picked it up, feeling the smooth, chopped strands beneath his fingers.
   Before anyone could stop him, he pocketed the lock of hair; he did not know why. The guard said nothing though he witnessed the whole scene.
   He touched his mouth and nose with a shaking hand, reaching out timidly as he made to take Kurama’s hand in his own.
   “Baby...” Kazuma whispered, barely a breath upon the air. “Baby, can you hear me?”
   Kurama said nothing.
   Kazuma could not bear it; he leaned over the bed and before anyone could stop him or say otherwise he placed a small, dry kiss upon Kurama’s forehead. He did not care who saw, and he did not care what they said.
   His gut said that Kurama needed him, and his gut had never been wrong before.
   “Don’t,” Kotsura warned. He felt hands upon his shoulder, pulling him back from Kurama - the guard had finally intervened. Kazuma brushed him off angrily, letting go of Kurama’s hand and whirling around to confront them all. What did they think he was? A weak pushover? Did they imagine he would so easily step aside and allow them to treat Kurama any way that they pleased? To fill him up with drugs and leave him tethered to a bed?
   “Are you insane?” Kazuma whispered, though he did not know why; it wasn’t as if Kurama was sleeping. “Look at him, he’s practically dying and you won’t let me hold him?!”
   “I’m sorry, but that’s procedure.” Kotsura was growing defensive again; Hatanaka said nothing at his side. He wasn’t even looking at Kurama, instead holding the committal papers to his chest and staring at the door. It was as if he was ashamed. “He’s very dangerous--“
   “He's not dangerous!” Kazuma shouted; his whisper was gone, eradicated by the word. “He’s just upset! He'd never hurt me!”
   Kotsura pointed a finger, his jaw locked tight in sudden nervous fear.

   Kazuma looked down; Kurama’s entire hand had twitched.
   Shocked, Kazuma reached down and held his hand again; had Kurama twitched his hand because he wanted Kazuma to hold him? Kazuma certainly liked to think so.
   He did so, squeezing Kurama’s pale, cold, fingers. Silently, internally, he forswore that he would not leave Kurama’s side. They would have to drag him away.

   “Either you’re going to control yourself, control your voice and tone, or I’m going to make you leave,” Kotsura said. He glanced down at his watch. Kazuma set his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his heart began to pound.
   “I’d like to see you try,” Kazuma growled. “I’m not leaving his side.”
   “Do not threaten me,” Kotsura warned, “or I will have you removed from this hospital entirely.”
   “You couldn’t keep me from him. Even if you did, I’d find a way back. I’d find a way to his side. You couldn’t stop me.” Kazuma squeezed Kurama’s fingers hard.
   Kotsura’s eyes gleamed, “Step back now, or I will call security... and that will be the end of it-“
   “Call the cops, I don’t give a fuck,” Kazuma interrupted. “He needs me. He may not be able to tell me so himself, but he needs me, and I won’t leave him here alone like this-“
   Kotsura emitted a deep sigh. He gestured silently to the guard behind Kazuma.
   Kazuma turned, looked, and saw the guard begrudgingly pushing upon his walkie talkie- Kazuma’s heart leapt in his chest.
   “Code white, ICU room 4,” the guard said.
   “Copy that, code white ICU R 4,” came the response.
   Code white? What the hell was code white?
   Kazuma braced himself, holding tight to Kurama’s hand.
   “I’m sorry but you leave me with no choice,” Kotsura said. “I have to protect my patient.”
   “Protect him from me?!” Kazuma demanded. He did not care if he shouted now; what difference did it make? If men were coming to fight him, to pull him away from Kurama, then he would shout all he liked. “Are you fucking kidding me? I love him!” he screamed.
   Hatanaka flinched but Kazuma did not care, he carried on anyway. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened in my life! We’ve made a home together! We belong together! I won’t let you do this to him! I won’t let you take him from me-!”
   He heard the door open; it was all the warning he was given before six security guards came into the room and made a bee line for him. Kazuma had to let go of Kurama’s hand, bringing a fist up for a swing-!
   “No!” Kazuma snarled, “I won’t leave him!"
   But he had no choice.
   Six pairs of hands were grabbing at him, pulling him in several different directions, and the combined strength was too much for Kazuma to take in his weakened, exhausted state. He punched and kicked, shoved and manhandled, but he was being forcibly drug back by each of the security officers who wore determined looks upon their faces; they drug him hard towards the glass door.
   “God dammit!“ Kazuma snarled, struggling against them even as his own feet betrayed him. “Kurama-!” Kazuma shouted over the heads of the officers, “Kurama, listen to me! I’m going to get you out of here! Don’t be afraid, I’m going to get you home! If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get- you- home!-“
   But it was too late.
   He was hauled from the room, cursing and screaming all the while.

   In the silence that followed as the glass door closed, Kotsura rubbed his brow and gave Hatanaka a sullen, dark look. Hatanaka did not return it.

   “I apologize for his behavior,” Hatanaka whispered.
   “Don’t,” Kotsura cut him off. “I’ve seen worse done in the name of love. That is not the first time I’ve been threatened.”
   A silence crept between them, stretching on. Kotsura checked his watch again.
   “I’ll page you when the men from Matsuzawa are here,” Doctor Kotsura said to the guard. “Make sure he remains secure.”
   “Yes, sir," the guard replied; for emphasis, he reached over and touched the strap Kazuma had been closest to. It was still securely fastened.
   The guard nodded to Kotsura.

   Kotsura gestured silently to Hatanaka, and as he left, Hatanaka followed behind.
   Suddenly the guard was alone with Kurama again, and as he resumed his seat in the chair beside Kurama’s bed he picked up the Sudoku book he’d been working through. For a moment, there was only silence save for the faint scratches of pencil upon paper, but it was broken by the muted whimpers of Kurama.
   His face strained with agony, his hands and forehead strapped down tight to the bed. As he wept openly, the guard could not help but reach out to take Kurama’s hand in his own and give it a comforting squeeze.
   “You won’t be coming back here,” the guard murmured softly. “And if you do, it’ll be on your own terms... you won’t be on a bed.”
   Still, Kurama wept.
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