Chapter Text
If someone were to ask Kiyoomi, “Hey man, what do you think about animals?” he would first tell them to drop the ‘man’ with immediate effect, and then go on to explain that he’s not an animal person, never has been and never will be.
If they were to ask why, he’d tell them it’s because animals are disgusting and annoying. They’re loud and dirty, they slobber and poop and shed fur everywhere. They catch diseases and eat things they’re not meant to. They puke on the floor and piss on your bed, they chew the furniture and lick your face. They’re full of germs and he doesn’t like them one bit.
And while a lot of that is true; animals can be gross and loud and annoying, it’s not the reason he doesn’t consider himself an animal kind-of-guy.
In fact, deep down, he doesn’t dislike them. A lot of animals are actually quite cute – anyone with eyes can see that a puppy is adorable, though he would rather inhale the smell of a large cow pat than admit it. Bright eyes, bushy tails, soft ears, fluffy bellies; cats, dogs and rodents all made his heart squeeze far more than he let on.
Even the mindless gulping of fish, or the curious, unblinking eyes of a lizard could be endearing if he was feeling particularly vulnerable. In fact on one occasion an image of a cow that had been blow-dried almost made his lip wobble which, again, was a fact he’d be taking to the grave.
The problem is that Sakusa Kiyoomi is a very prideful person. He will not beg for friendship, will not put effort into a relationship that is one sided. He knows his worth and he won’t fight for others to see it.
And animals just don’t seem to like him.
Cats seem to sense his hesitation with them and either avoid him, or attack him. Dogs always seem to sense him as a threat and will bark and growl at him. Mice, gerbils, guinea pigs and rabbits have an awful habit of mistaking his precious fingers for carrots or other equally nutritious vegetables. Snakes hiss at him, horses spit at him, insects poop on him.
For some reason, the entirety of the animal kingdom seems to have a vendetta against Sakusa Kiyoomi and so, for all his maturity and growth as a person, he decides that he hates them straight back.
Despite this, he finds himself sharing his lovely, quiet one bedroom apartment with a rather noisy unwanted guest.
Receive! Receive!
Kiyoomi looks at the source of the noise, his nose wrinkling. Of course owing his cousin a bunch of favors would come to bite him in the ass one day.
After much deliberation, Komori had decided to take a sabbatical at work and go traveling with his best friend Suna. They were going to start by touring Europe via the interrail and then move through Asia before returning home to Japan. It all sounded incredibly stressful to Kiyoomi, the idea of spending weeks, or even months, on a train and hostels was probably something akin to a hell created just for him. However, Komori didn’t seem to harbor the same feelings, if the excitement in his eyes every time he mentioned their plans was anything to go by.
There is but one problem. And that problem is now squawking in his living room.
Raijin, Komori’s beloved African Grey Parrot needed somewhere to stay while its owner went jetting off around the world. And unfortunately for Kiyoomi, he had been the first choice for a surrogate parent while Komori was away.
“Look, I know animals aren’t your favorite” Komori had said, “but I promise Raijin is super hygienic and easy to look after. He won’t cause a mess and all you need to do is play with him, feed him and clean his cage a few times a week.”
And because Sakusa Kiyoomi is an idiot with a weakness for his cousin’s sweet talking, he’d said yes. What Kiyoomi had forgotten, and what Komori had neglected to mention, is that parrots could talk.
One touch! One touch!
Trust his cousin to have a parrot that only repeated volleyball terms.
“What do you need?” he grumbles, making his way over to where the bird is perched. Its cage door is open so it can fly out and around the room if it wants to – Komori said that it was important for them to experience as much freedom to exercise as possible.
The bird tilts its head in response to his voice, making soft cawing noises as its clawed feet shuffle up and down the wooden rod hanging in its cage.
He moves closer and tentatively offers his hand up for the bird to rub its face against. It closes one beady black eye as it nudges its cheek against his knuckles, feathers ruffling slightly as it adjusts its wings. So far, Raijin didn’t seem to hate him, so at least that was something.
He watches the bird absently as it rubs its head against his finger. There’s tiny gaps between the feathers where he can see the pink of its skin underneath. Kiyoomi frowns; is it his imagination or do its feathers look more disheveled than normal?
He lets the bird rub against his finger one last time before he walks across the room to where Komori’s All-Things-Raijin list is sitting on the coffee table. Kiyoomi picks it up and sits down, the deep, worn-out cushions all but swallowing him up – note to self: buy a new sofa asap.
Raijin care essentials! By Komori Moyota.
Kiyoomi scans the page until he finds the section around grooming, re-reading the instructions on birds’ cleaning and grooming practices. Sure enough, Kiyoomi has been doing everything written on the list; he’d poured over it at least twenty times before Komori left the bird in his care to ensure that he adequately cared for the pet.
Maybe it's nothing, then. Maybe birds have certain days when they look healthier than others, or it's a routine thing for their feathers to look wilted. Like how biologically female humans have times of the month where their skin is more sensitive due to cyclical hormone changes, or how snakes will shed their skin to accommodate for growth and to get rid of parasites. Komori hadn’t mentioned this, but perhaps it's such a given that he hadn’t thought it needed to be said.
Kiyoomi resigns himself to monitoring the bird closely over the coming days and if worst comes to worst, he'll resort to the internet for a second opinion.
After years of catastrophizing every minor illness into a life-threatening disease with the help of his good friend Google, Kiyoomi should know that looking to the internet for a sensible answer for medical queries is a horrible idea.
But no, he hasn’t learnt, and now he’s convinced that Raijin has bird chlamydia which apparently is very easily transmissible to humans.
Behind the closed door of his bedroom, he can breathe deeply and begin to rationalize what to do about the disease ridden winged terror squawking in his living room.
Okay.
Bird Chlamydia.
Contagious across species.
This is bad. Kiyoomi has never caught any disease, aside from the occasional seasonal virus and that one time in middle school when his throat had felt like it was filled with spiky golf balls and it turned out he had tonsillitis.
He has certainly never caught any sexually transmitted diseases . All his previous partners have been tested prior to intimacy and he has always used protection. He’s sensible and careful, and will never risk contracting a preventable disease just to get his dick wet.
Kiyoomi has spent almost his entire life taking adequate precautions to ensure he doesn’t catch anything if he can avoid it. Hand gel, frequent showers, rigorous cleaning regimes, face masks, social isolation. He’s taken every effort to ensure his continued good health, and he’ll be damned if he catches a disease like chlamydia from a fucking bird.
However, now that he knows the thing is riddled with all sorts of horrible contagious bacteria, he can’t just leave it.
Firstly, because that means he won't be able to enter the main living space of his apartment until the creature is removed from the premises when Komori returns, which isn’t for another ten weeks. Being in the middle of winter, he can’t even open the apartment windows for ventilation without freezing them both to death. Also the bird does still need feeding, cleaning, grooming and entertaining which will prove very difficult if he can’t get within a five meter radius of it.
And secondly because he's also read online that the illness could actually be very dangerous for birds and, if left untreated, could kill them. While he isn't particularly fond of Raijin, he doesn't want it to die. Also, Komori might actually murder him if he comes home to find his beloved feathered baby in a little bird-sized casket.
Kiyoomi resigns himself to tapping the numbers listed on Komori’s Raijin Care Essentials manual into his phone and clicking ‘dial’.
“Good morning, Setter’s Veterinary Clinic. My name’s Yachi, how can I help?” comes a cheerful woman’s voice after just a few rings.
“Hi” he says, before tacking on: “I have a bird.”
The sound of light laughter filters down the line and his brow twitches. There is absolutely nothing funny about his situation.
“Okay. I’m going to need a little more detail than that. Is the bird sick?”
Kiyoomi wants to scream. Is this woman stupid? Of course it’s sick! Why else would he be calling?
“Yes, that’s why I’m calling.” he tries to remember his manners, but this conversation is incredibly stressful. Every wasted moment the chlamydia could be spreading. “It’s my cousin’s bird, it’s in my care and it’s unwell.”
“I see.” Kiyoomi can hear the sound of a mouse clicking. “What makes you think it might be sick?”
“Its feathers don’t look right, and it hasn’t been eating properly.” He pulls the phone closer to his mouth and hisses “I think it has bird chlamydia!”
“Oh no, that doesn’t sound good.” The woman sounds genuinely concerned, which only serves to make Kiyoomi’s own anxiety swell. He was right – of course he was – he didn’t study all of those World Organisation for Animal Health pages for nothing. “Well we can certainly get that checked for you. What’s the bird’s name?”
“Raijin.”
“Brilliant. And do you know who Raijin usually sees when he attends the clinic?”
Kiyoomi squints at the piece of paper in front of him. “Veterinarian Kageyama-sensei?”
“Ah, Doctor Kageyama. Yes, he deals with a lot of our avian patients.” She pauses and he can hear the tip-tap of a keyboard in the background. “I’ve got Raijin’s file here. He’s completely covered with his insurance for emergency check-ups so if you’d like to bring him in tomorrow, Kageyama-sensei can take a look at him.”
Kiyoomi gives his name for the booking before noting down the address and appointment time. Feeling guilty about his lack of manners at the beginning of their conversation, he thanks her for getting Raijin an appointment at such short notice before he hangs up. He knows his mother would be mortified to hear that her son had been rude to a healthcare professional –especially one that was doing him a favor– even if it was only the receptionist.
While putting the appointment in his phone’s calendar, Kiyoomi realizes that he’s meant to be in a team meeting tomorrow at the same time. He texts his boss to inform him that he won’t be able to attend due to a last minute medical appointment; he omits the specific details. His boss does not need to know that it’s for someone with feathers and a beak.
Finally, he books himself in for a full screening at his local sexual health clinic for the weekend. Arguably he’s overdue for that anyway – the locker room of his amateur volleyball club is hideously unsanitary, and he doesn’t trust a single one of his teammates not to be harboring some dreadful infection that spreads through the sweaty boxers and socks they leave strewn all over the benches. Add a disease-ridden bird into the mix and Kiyoomi feels almost guaranteed to test positive for something.
He shivers at the thought. The sooner he can see this nice Vet Kageyama and get Raijin sorted, the better.
Setter’s Veterinary Clinic is a pleasant looking building. Kiyoomi should’ve expected as much – Komori isn’t the type to cheap out on things like healthcare, even for a bird. Actually, Komori isn’t the type to cheap out on anything.
It’s a modern building, with patent wooden slats adorning the wide western wall to give it a chic, urban look. The black roof and dark accents to the windows adds to the aura of this being somewhere that costs a lot of money to attend.
He pushes open the glass door and steps inside, taking in the high ceilings and pleasant off-white walls. It feels far more sleek and pleasant than the majority of human medical practices Kiyoomi has set foot in. For a place that deals with sick animals, it feels surprisingly sanitary, though he supposes the same goes for the high cleanliness of human hospitals. Regardless, he adjusts his mask to ensure it’s snug to his nose bridge.
A wide desk with leaflets and pamphlets stacked at the sides drew his attention and he makes his way over, taking care not to jostle the disgruntled sounding bird on his back.
When Kiyoomi had gone round to Komori’s flat to water his plants and root for Raijin’s travel case, he expected to find some sort of bulky cage that you lug around by hand. He should’ve known better. Komori had, of course, purchased a rather sci-fi looking bird-travel-backpack instead. It had a sealed, glasstic panel on the front and tiny air holes dotted round the edges and made Raijin look like he was about to join Laika aboard the Sputnik 2.
Despite the fact that the bright blue space-container-with-a-bird-in did not fit his usual office casual style, Kiyoomi appreciates that it means the infectious creature is on his back and away from his face, where he might breathe in some of those horrible chlamydia-causing bacteria.
Moving up to the counter, he's greeted with a warm smile on a mousey but pretty face.
“Hello there.” the receptionist says pleasantly, and Kiyoomi recognises the voice as the same woman he spoke to on the phone the day before.
'Yachi Hitoka' he reads on her name badge.
Kiyoomi bows his head and feels Raijin jostle on his back.
Nice receive! Nice receive!
Raijin’s call sounds a little more broken than the previous days, wheezier somehow, but still clear enough that it carries through the waiting area.
Yachi’s face breaks into a wide smile as Kiyoomi feels his own turn what he’s sure is a hideous shade of ruby – he’s thankful his mask will cover the majority of it. He considers whether it would be an overreaction to decapitate his cousin for making him go out in public with a bird who shouts volleyball terminology.
“Who’s the talkative fellow on your back?” Yachi asks, leaning to her left to get a better view of the travel pack.
Kiyoomi wills away the urge to dump the bird on the counter and run away.
“Raijin, my cousin’s bird.” he says flatly.
Recognition crosses Yachi’s eyes and her eyebrows rise slightly. “Ah, Sakusa-san! We spoke yesterday, didn’t we?” He nods and Yachi turns her attention to the computer in front of her. She’s quiet as she pulls up the files she needs, the low whirring of the air conditioning and the tapping of her neatly manicured nails fills the silence.
“The appointment is at 1:15pm for Raijin with Doctor Kageyama-sensei.” Kiyoomi prompts, hoping to cut out any unnecessary time and be seen as soon as possible.
He knows it’s clean here. There’s no smell to the air, no dirt on the floor or the surfaces. There’s a few people sitting in the waiting area, one with a rat in a little clear carry space and another with a wooden box with air holes in, but they’re quiet and both are wearing face-masks. He knows it’s clean, but it doesn’t stop his anxiety tweaking at the idea of how many sick creatures must pass through the doors each day. Maybe chlamydia is the least of his worries right now – if he catches rabies he’s read that he’s almost guaranteed to die a horrible death.
Yachi’s eyes flick over the screen and she starts to bite at her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “Oh no.” Kiyoomi’s heart plummets at the concern in her voice. “Kageyama-sensei called in sick this morning, something about cat scratch disease.” Her tone is getting gradually higher, as if she’s nervous to break the news. “W-we were meant to have notified you, I’m so sorry!”
Kiyoomi feels his brow twitch as his temper flares and he exhales harshly, the hot air trapped under his mask only adding to his irritation. When he doesn’t say anything, Yachi takes his silence as a complaint. Her face flushes and her eyebrows climb up her forehead.
“We usually t-text our clients on these occasions!” she squeaks. “W-we must have missed you, since your number isn’t on our s-system!”
Kiyoomi just stares at her, his nose wrinkling under his mask.
“What do you suggest I do then?” he asks, his tone clipped. “I took time out of work to come here, I can’t reschedule. I assumed somewhere like this would provide a higher caliber of service.”
“Ah, w-well, um.” she stutters, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Let me see if I–”
“I’ve got this one, Hitoka-chan.”
Kiyoomi turns to locate the source of the voice and gets an eyeful of terrible bleach blond hair and the most ridiculously handsome face he’s seen in his entire life. Their eyes meet and for a moment Kiyoomi swears he sees them widen, something like recognition flashing briefly across.
“Miya-sensei!” Yachi exclaims, recapturing Kiyoomi’s attention. “Are you sure you have the time?”
The man – Miya, Kiyoomi’s mind supplies – flashes Yachi a wide grin that shows off a row of teeth so white and shiny you could check your reflection in them.
Good oral hygiene? Check.
“Sure. I’ve got nothin’ until 3pm since old lady Anzu canceled her appointment again.”
Absolutely God-awful accent? Also check.
Yachi exhales a sigh of relief and Kiyoomi grits his teeth. The man might be obscenely good looking – a jawline like that should be illegal, surely – but he speaks like he belongs in the rice paddies of Shimo Akasaka, not in a medical practice.
“You told me on the phone that Kageyama-sensei was an expert with birds. Is this–” he gestures at ‘Miya' who frowns at him in return “–man going to do a satisfactory job?”
Yachi opens her mouth to reply but the newcomer beats her to it.
“First of all, I can do more than a satisfactory job, thank ya very much.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his weight onto one leg. “Secondly, Kageyama ain’t in today so ya can either suck it up and be seen by me, or ya can find somewhere else.”
The man’s words could almost be seen as jovial, but his underlying tone suggests he’s being completely serious. Kiyoomi bristles at the notion of being scolded by someone who probably owns a sugegasa.
“And lastly, I’m not doin’ anythin’ for yer little feathered friend today unless ya stop bein’ rude and apologize to our lovely receptionist.”
Kiyoomi tries to recall the last time anyone, let alone a complete stranger, had spoken to him like this. Years, it must be? Even Komori, with his teasing and mothering, never speaks to him in such a direct, bordering on rude, manner.
He considers the way he’s been talking to the receptionist and has the fleeting thought that perhaps this is what it’s like to speak to himself, minus the distasteful regional twang.
His mother’s sharp, reprimanding voice rings in his ears. Apologies have never been a strong suit, but his upbringing claws its way higher than his stubbornness. With two parents in the medical field, he was taught that doctors are the backbone of a healthy, thriving society and consequently must be treated with the utmost respect. That same respect should be extended to any member of staff in a healthcare institution, as they keep the wheels in motion for the experts who are saving lives.
He takes a deep breath in and bows, just slightly, to the receptionist. “I apologize for my manners earlier. I would appreciate it if I could take this appointment.” he forces out, his throat trying to close round the words before they’ve escaped his mouth.
Although this isn’t a human hospital, each person here plays an important role in maintaining the health of the animals they share the planet with and ensuring that their nasty diseases don’t spread into the wider population. His mother would be chasing him round the kitchen with her kirameki pan if she’d witnessed his lack of manners.
Yachi seems to breathe a sigh of relief and the tension dissipates slightly.
“N-not at all, Sakusa-san. I apologize again for not notifying you of Kageyama-sensei's absence. Please go right ahead and follow Miya-sensei." she indicates to follow the blond man who has already turned to start walking down the corridor ahead of them.
“C’mon!” Miya calls after him, beckoning with his hand without looking back. “Let’s get ya birdie sorted out.”
Kiyoomi bows at Yachi again before he turns to follow the Vet, in the hopes that she will forgive his temper, lest his mother disown him for bringing shame to their family and remove him from the will.
When he catches up with Miya, he’s letting himself into a room at the far end where a plaque hangs on the door, the words ‘DR. MIYA ATSUMU, VETERINARY SURGEON’ engraved into the dark wood.
Once inside, it’s clear the room belongs to the man in front of him. It’s nowhere near as modern and sparse as the reception; various animal posters are tacked to the walls along with knick knacks on the shelves, out of reach, and some colorful blinds fitted over the large window on the far wall. It feels less clinical and more comforting, which Kiyoomi supposes is a good thing if you’re breaking the news to people that their beloved pet is harboring a horrible disease that will inevitably kill them.
Miya points to the large metal table in the middle of the room and tells him to place the carrier there while he gloves up. Kiyoomi watches with scrutinizing eyes as Miya stands at the big, silver basin in the corner and lathers up his hands, scrubbing in between each finger and knuckles, across the front and back of his palms, up across his wrists and strong looking forearms.
He thinks about a rather lewd video he’d watched on a lonely, desperate night some months ago, where a handsome medical expert had engaged in something wholly unprofessional with one of his patients right on the examining table. Kiyoomi forcibly pulls his mind from the gutter and scolds himself for not getting laid often enough.
He almost misses the years of his teens where he'd convinced himself he was above the basic primal desires of other men. When his peers talked about their crushes or who they thought was hot, he’d turn his nose up in disdain. The idea of allowing your body to dictate how you acted – even going so far as to let someone into your personal space? It revolted him. They weren’t animals; there were far more important things to focus on than which classmate had the nicest ass or who could get to third base first.
It wasn’t long after he started university that Kiyoomi realized his head was so far up his own ass, he was missing out on the pleasures of having someone else up there instead.
But with the way his eyes linger on Miya’s biceps, the vein that stretches across the bulging muscle, the dusting of light hair that covers his forearm and leads to strong, thick hands, Kiyoomi curses himself for ever giving in to the pull of his sexual desires. If he’d followed the path of chastity and become a kannushi, he’d be up in the mountains performing misogi rather than ogling the sinfully toned arms of his veterinarian.
When Miya finishes washing his hands, he dries off before quickly slipping on a pair of black, shiny disposable gloves that don’t help Kiyoomi’s predicament at all.
Stupid sexy veterinarians and their latex-looking gloves.
Kiyoomi takes a step back from the table as Miya begins to unzip the carrier, pulling the plastic front portion away so Raijin is able to get out. However, said bird does not move. It cocks its head to the side and warbles quietly.
“So, what’s this handsome boy's name?” Miya asks, a sly grin forming on his lips. “I’m not talkin’ about the bird, by the way.”
Kiyoomi’s mouth falls open slightly, concealed by his mask. Has he finally lost it? Has his unreasonably horny and intimacy-deprived brain gotten to the point where he’s imagining that his cousin’s bird’s sexy veterinarian is flirting with him?
His eyes dart between the contagious creature on the metal table and the unreasonably good-looking vet preening over it. Miya hadn’t seemed too impressed with his behavior at the reception. Maybe he’d clued into Kiyoomi’s lustful staring and was trying to fuck with him?
“Risky game you’re playing, flirting with a client, isn’t it?” he accuses, eyes narrowed. “Not very professional – you could get yourself in trouble.”
Miya stiffens slightly and he lets out a laugh that sounds a little fake. “Woah there big guy, I’m only jokin’ around.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m simply tryin’ to lighten the mood after yer performance at reception.”
Kiyoomi opens his mouth to retort there would’ve been no such performance if he’d been adequately informed but Miya cuts him off before he can begin.
“Animals are more comfortable around me if the atmosphere is good. It’ll make everythin’ easier if they’re not on guard while I’m tryin to examine them, so lighten up a little.” Miya says it like a challenge and Kiyoomi bristles.
“Fine.” he concedes, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Miya get a number of medical tools out of the drawers near his desk. He’s not entirely sure where Miya gets off labeling flirting as animal relaxation but then again, if Miya isn’t trying to make a fool out of him, Kiyoomi doesn’t mind attention from a good-looking guy in scrubs that are sinfully tight round his rear end.
God, he needs to stop staring.
“Good.” Miya nods, shoulder’s relaxing slightly. “In all seriousness, we should probably get reintroduced.” he continues. “I’m sure ya were stressin’ out earlier so I’ll forgive ya for the crappy first impression.”
He stands up straight and turns to face Kiyoomi. “Miya Atsumu, Veterinary Surgeon. I specialize in canines and felines, but I’m pretty good with anythin’ if we’re bein’ honest.” He grins. “Animals love me.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at the boasting but indulges Miya all the same. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, Marketing Strategist.” He thinks for a moment and then tacks on the end. “Animals don’t tend to like me much.” It feels safe to confess that to someone who works with them.
“Don’t say that!” Miya exclaims. “Animals will love anyone, they just need to feel that ya love them back! They got this sixth sense that humans don’t, and ya gotta be aware of that.” Miya explains as he moves to the table, turning the stupid spaceship-looking pet carrier towards himself. “If they think yer nervous or scared of them, they’ll act badly around ya.”
Kiyoomi hums in response. He’s not sure how true that is, though he can’t deny that being around a potentially contagious flying animal is not exactly what he’d describe as relaxing or comfortable.
“So, what’s his name then? The bird this time, for real.”
“Raijin.” Kiyoomi supplies.
“Hello there Raijin.” Miya coos, taking a step back and holding his hand in the air, two fingers extended from the others. “Come ‘ere and let me take a look atcha.”
There is a brief moment where he thinks that Raijin is going to miraculously obey the command of a stranger it has never met before, despite Kiyoomi himself spending hours over the last week seeing if he could train the bird to come when called. He’d read words, made sounds, stood at various spots in the room and called its name to see if the bird would fly to him. None of these endeavors were successful, and Kiyoomi resigned himself to the standard caring duties.
The creature cocks its head, places one scaly foot outside of the carrier and ruffles its disheveled wings slightly while it observes Miya. Unfortunately, it is at this exact moment that a fiber from the inside of Kiyoomi’s mask decides to tickle its way into his nose, causing him to let out a loud sneeze.
Raijin lets out a disgruntled CAW! and jumps into the air, wings flapping rapidly. It flies straight over Miya’s outstretched arm and onto the display cabinet on the other side of the room, knocking off a huge pile of papers in the process.
From here, things descend into chaos.
Miya lets out a panicked yelp as he scrambles toward the other side of the room, desperately trying to catch the falling papers before they land in the sink.
Kiyoomi plasters himself against the door, his pulse hammering as the contagious beast continues to flap and squawk around the room, spreading horrible infectious chlamydia particles all over the room.
“Get it back in the carrier!” he yells at Miya, who is still dashing around the room trying to catch items as they fall.
Miya throws him a look of disbelief as he lunges to catch a picture frame that was previously balanced on a floating shelf alongside a small potted plant which is now precariously balancing on the edge.
“A little help might be nice!” Miya shouts back at him, shoving the armful of objects onto a stool in the corner of the room. “Ya could at least pick up the things he’s knocked off rather than cowerin’ in the corner!”
Kiyoomi’s brow twitches in annoyance and he grumbles as he drags himself away from the perceived safety of the walls. He keeps his head low, edging round the room to pick up a wireless computer mouse, a plastic pipette and a booklet on invasive worm species that have been knocked from their places.
While he’s staying as far away from Raijin as possible, Miya appears to be trying to lure the bird down from a light fitting it’s decided is a good perch. The vet is making soft noises at the bird, clicking his tongue and making little kissy sounds with his hand outstretched.
“It’s not a cat.” Kiyoomi scoffs, placing the objects onto a small surface in the corner of the room. “I don’t think you’re going t–”
The words die in his throat as Raijin warbles a curious noise and throws itself off the light shade, flapping its gray wings just a few times before it comes to land on Miya’s outstretched arm. It wraps its claws around the fingers he’s extended as if it’s a makeshift perch and caws happily.
Miya smiles at Raijin and uses his other hand to pet the top of its head. “There we go, no need to panic little guy.”
Kiyoomi gawks at him. “How did you do that?” He asks in disbelief.
“I told ya didn’t I?” He says smugly, flashing Kiyoomi a grin that might make an old ladies’ heart stop. “Animals love me, Omi-san.”
Part of Kiyoomi wants to evaporate Miya with laser-eyes for bestowing such a tasteless nickname onto someone he’s only just met. The other half sees the way Miya’s lips frame his perfect teeth, how his eyes twinkle with just the slightest hint of crows feet in the corners and wants to tear his clothes off and hear him moan the dreadful pet-name directly into his ear.
He settles on scolding him instead. “I don’t do nicknames, Miya-sensei.” He emphasizes the other’s appropriate title.
Unfortunately it seems to have little effect.
“Lemme give ya a lil’ animal trainin' 101, Omi-san.” Miya says, pushing imaginary glasses up his nose in what Kiyoomi can only assume is a poor impression of the megane in an anime.
“As I said before, the best way to keep the animal happy and well-behaved in veterinary appointments is to create a familiar, comfortable environment.” he explains, leaning close to Raijin as he pets its head. “If Raijin isn’t reacting positively to ya, it’s because he can sense yer not at ease. I’m just tryin’ to make an air of familiarity so he isn’t nervous around either of us durin’ these appointments. We don’t want a repeat of earlier, do we?”
Miya turns to his head and shoots him a look. “And ya should stop bein’ so prickly, jeez. Ya can drop the whole 'sensei’ thing, it makes me feel old as hell. We must be about the same age, and yer probably gonna have to come in and see me a couple of times before this little fella is good as new. So call me Atsumu and I’ll call ya Omi. Isn’t that just so much nicer?”.
Kiyoomi opens his mouth to inform Miya that he will absolutely, under no circumstances, be calling him ‘Atsumu’ (unless he’s pounding him to within an inch of his life, though that bit is probably best left out of the conversation he thinks) when he realizes how close the vet’s face has gotten to his contagious bird. With the absolute chaos of an escaped animal and an almost inappropriately flirty veterinarian, Kiyoomi had almost forgotten why he was here in the first place.
“Don’t get that close!”
Raijin squawks at the sudden loud noise, his feathers rustling. Miya doesn’t react outwardly; his head is still less than a meter from Raijin and he smoothes the disturbed feathers down with his free hand, cooing quietly at him.
Kiyoomi cringes, pressing the top of his face-mask further against his nose.
“Would ya please refrain from makin’ any more loud noises?” Miya chides, looking at Kiyoomi out of the corner of his eye. “And why can’t I get close?” he asks, skepticism lacing his voice. He shushes the bird with comforting murmurs.
“It’s contagious.” Kiyoomi exclaims, his skin crawling as Miya continues to stroke at the disheveled feathers around the bird’s neck. “I think it’s got bird chlamydia.”
He expects Miya to take a step back, to place Raijin back in his cage and then sue Kiyoomi for bringing such a vile, contagious beast in without warning him. It would be fair – Kiyoomi would certainly have the same reaction.
No such thing happens.
Miya breaks into soft laughter, his arm shaking slightly from the effort of staying upright to hold Raijin while his torso bends in half. His spare hand grips the edge of the metal table to keep himself from doubling over completely.
When he’s recovered from his laughing fit, he wipes his eyes on the exposed upper portion of his forearm.
“Oh man, ya really got me there, Omi-san.” he chuckles. “Funny and pretty, what a killer combo.”
Kiyoomi is caught half way between celebrating the surprisingly genuine sounding compliment and the implications that come with it, and bristling at the clear lack of concern over catching STDs. Maybe Miya is already riddled with them? That’s certainly not an attractive thought.
“I’m not joking.” he snaps, gesturing at the bird. “I did my research, it’s got bird chlamydia.”
Miya breaks into another fit of laughter which only serves to add fuel to the fire sizzling away in Kiyoomi’s chest. “Okay, okay, don’t get ya panties in a twist. Let’s break this down, shall we? When ya say ‘research’, what exactly did ya do?”
Kiyoomi opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Finally, he mumbles “Google.”
“What was that? I didn’t hear ya.”
“Google.” he says louder, directing his gaze away from Miya’s shit-eating grin and towards the cute kitten poster on the western wall.
“Okay well, Omi-san. You seem like a smart guy, so I don’t mean to patronize ya–”
“And yet here we are.” Kiyoomi interjects.
“–and yet here we are, yeah. Cause yer gonna tell me, who do ya think knows animal health better: Google, or a fully qualified Doctor of Veterinary Medicine with over six years training and experience?”
Kiyoomi refuses him an answer and Miya laughs.
“Thought so. Now, I get that yer antsy about this little guy bein’ unwell, but if ya let me do my job properly, this will go a lot smoother.” His voice drops a little and he looks up at Kiyoomi through thick lashes. “Do ya trust that I know how to do my job, Omi-san?”
Kiyoomi can’t place it, but something about this man gets under his skin. Maybe it’s the brashness, the confidence, the forced familiarity. It’s both grating and refreshing, irritating and intriguing. Worst of all, it’s horribly sexy. He’s doomed.
“Yes.” he admits begrudgingly, crossing his arms across his chest.
Miya smiles at him. “Great. Now, let me assure ya first of all – Raijin here does not have Avian Chlamydiosis.”
“How do you know? Don’t you need to take tests? Check its blood, stool, urine?”
Miya raises an eyebrow. “I thought ya agreed to trust that I could do my job.”
Kiyoomi huffs and Miya doesn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal.
“I will, of course, run further tests to ensure we get exactly the right diagnosis for ya feathered friend. But he’s not got Chlamydiosis, I can tell that just from lookin’ at him.”
“How?”
“First, he’s got no symptoms that indicate he’s got Parrot Fever.”
“But it’s not been eating!”
Miya tuts. “Not eatin’ is a symptom of almost all illnesses in almost all animals, humans included. He’s not got any nasty pus around his lil’ eyes or ears, there’s no difficulty for him to fly or move. Have his droppings been a normal color?”
“Its droppings?”
“Yeah, his droppings. His poop, his crap, his shi–”
“Okay, okay.” Kiyoomi interrupts, nose wrinkling under his mask. “I didn’t notice anything unusual when I cleaned his cage.”
Miya nods. “Exactly! If he was sick with Parrot Fever his poop might be green or super runny. Or both!”
Kiyoomi holds back the urge to gag. “Delightful.”
“It’s pretty gross, yeah.” Miya laughs. “But this little dude seems to be poopin’ just fine.”
“Its feathers though?” Kiyoomi questions, taking a step forward so he can see the gaps clearer – pink skin poking through the mass of gray feathers.
Miya gently runs his fingers over the patches where the feathers seem to mat slightly, not as shiny or clean looking as they should be. “Yeah, they’re not lookin’ too great. But that could be any number of things.”
He holds Raijin up in front of his face, eyes tracking all over the bird's body. “Can ya see the way his tail is bobbin’ even though he’s not movin’?” he asks.
Kiyoomi moves closer again, feeling more comfortable now that Miya has assured him the bird isn’t going to give him his first STD.
He watches Raijin closely and sees that its tail is bouncing up and down rapidly, despite the fact that it isn’t walking or moving his wings.
He frowns. “Why is it doing that?”
Miya runs his hand along Raijin’s back, lifting off just before the tail feathers. “Poor little guy is havin’ a rough time breathin’. His tail feathers are movin’ like that cause he’s havin’ to really gasp for breath.”
Kiyoomi’s brow furrows. “So its not contagious?”
“I doubt it, at least not to humans, so ya can stop crappin’ yer pants about catchin’ the clam off him.” he smirks. “I’ll need to run a couple of tests to make sure it’s not been caused by somethin’ more serious, but I think he’s just got a nasty respiratory infection.”
Kiyoomi takes what feels like his first real breath since Miya let the bird out of its carrier. Not contagious. No chlamydia. Thank God.
“So, what do we do now?”
Miya tells him to take a seat in the corner while he takes a blood sample and checks Raijin’s beak, lungs and weight. He watches silently as Miya places the bird back on the table to retrieve his equipment, moving quickly and efficiently in a manner that is clearly well practiced.
He talks to Raijin the whole time, his Kansai drawl seeming to keep the bird calm as he goes about putting on a new pair of gloves, sterilizing the needle and work surface. Miya gently lifts one of Raijin’s wings and cleans the skin with a wipe before inserting the needle between its feathers at the point where the underside of the wing meets the body. He soothes Raijin with gentle murmurs when it squawks at the prick and as soon as the vial is full he removes the needle and coos at the bird about how much of a good boy it is.
Kiyoomi says a silent prayer (and apology) to any God who oversees his application to the afterlife for how his brain reacted to that one.
“I’m gonna check his breathing now.” Miya announces after labeling the blood sample and sitting in it a little stand on the side.
Kiyoomi just nods and continues to observe. It’s interesting, watching him work – like a well oiled machine, no movements are wasted and no time is spent on anything other than ensuring he’s keeping the animal calm and under control while he performs the necessary duties.
He knew from the minute he saw the sign on the door that Miya was well qualified yet something about the man’s general manner makes it surprising to see him in action.
Maybe it’s how different Miya is from Kiyoomi’s own doctor – a stoic man in his mid-sixties who speaks like he’s reading the news and affords no time for pleasantries. Or maybe it’s that Miya is around Kiyoomi’s own age, with tanned skin that clearly sees a lot of sun and hair so fried it probably feels like hay. Maybe it’s even his regional accent, more common to hear in Osaka’s comedy clubs than in a private medical unit.
Regardless, it’s fascinating, the way he can oscillate from jovial teasing and flirtation, to complete professionalism – focused on his patient and ensuring proficiency and comfort come simultaneously. It’s attractive, not that Kiyoomi would tell him that. Miya doesn’t need smoke blowing up his ass; his ego seems plenty big enough as it is.
There’s other things Kiyoomi could put up his ass instead, but that’s a train of thought for another, more private time.
While Miya uses a stethoscope to listen to Raijin’s lungs, Kiyoomi takes a moment to pull out his phone and check his work emails. Already, in the time he’s been at the appointment, he’s been booked in for a new client consultation tomorrow, as well as a team session later in the week. There are three emails from existing clients which will need to be picked up before the work day is over, and a text from his closest colleague, Akaashi, about going for drinks in Shinjuku on Friday evening.
He sighs a little too loudly and Miya glances over at him.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
Kiyoomi pockets his phone. “Nothing.”
Miya stares at him for a moment longer and then shrugs. “If ya say so.”
After finishing up his tests, Miya confirms that Raijin has a respiratory infection, but that until the blood tests come back they won’t know what exactly it is or what caused it.
“We’re usually pretty quick, so ya should hear from me in the next few days.”
Kiyoomi simply nods and allows him to ease Raijin back into the travel carrier. He takes Miya’s number, scribbled down on a Setter’s Clinic business card – in case Kiyoomi has any further questions, of course – and bids him farewell.
As he walks back to his car, he wonders why the prospect of another trip to the clinic doesn’t feel like half as much of a chore as it did a few hours ago.