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Shiho had always practiced for several hours at a time, running their fingers raw against the strings as they fixed their technique and improved upon their faults. Sometimes they would play until their hands were bleeding, though most of the time they did try to avoid that for practical reasons; it was simply easier to practice the next day if the pads of their fingers weren't already cut up. Never had they sustained any injury that was serious enough to prevent them from practicing; their mother just had to buy bandages a little more frequently but that was fine. Shiho could deal with the slight pain and the irritation that would arise when they tried to write if it meant they were improving; it wasn't as if they had anything else worth the time anymore. Schoolwork maybe but they found it rather boring and so they played.
They practiced to improve, yes, but they also did it to push away all their thoughts of loneliness. They didn't mind being alone all the time, but they did sometimes feel as if their life was a little too monotone. That they'd been in the wrong for abandoning their friends and they knew they were but wasn't that what was best? Honami and Ichika would get bullied for associating with them and they both deserved better. Shiho loved them, but their happiness was also important, and they would push them both away if it meant they had a chance at being happier without them.
About halfway through their practice session, one of their strings snapped rather violently. Shiho had had such a thing happen before, albeit with a little less force, so they knew what to do. Simply remove the broken string from the instrument with a considerable amount of care, and then restring it with one of their spares, retune it, and continue playing. The path was simple, and so they tried to follow it.
There was a weird red puddle beginning to form on their floor, though, which hadn't happened before. And given how it seemed to be soaking through, their parents might need to replace the section they were currently on altogether. Drip, drip, drip it went, and Shiho realized several seconds too late that the liquid was their blood. They looked at their left hand and saw a freshly opened wound running from their wrist to the base of their ring finger. It wasn't that wide, but it was bleeding profusely, and Shiho sincerely hoped they hadn't hit an important blood vessel. They set their bass aside to keep it away from their bleeding hand.
It took them ten seconds to get up and another five to get to their door. Their blood trickled down their arm, staining their nice white hoodie. They'd likely be unable to wear it again even if the colour vanished from the fabric. Shiho did their best to avoid dripping blood all over the hallway as they made their way to the bathroom, opening the door with their left hand-
"Fuck," they hissed as they jerked their hand back and switched to using their right. On their second try they got the door open. They threw open the medicine cabinet door and grabbed a roll of bandages. Shiho fought the box for thirty seconds before they were able to begin wrapping their hand. Once they'd gotten a superficial layer over their hand, they taped it in place with two smaller bandages and cut the bandage. That should do it, they figured. It was rudimentary, but they could probably get back to practice now. Or at least just re-string their bass.
Shiho put everything back where it had been, careful to only use their right hand, and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be fine.
They stepped out of the bathroom, came face-to-face with their sister, and bit their tongue. "Shii-chan, you're bleeding," she pointed out. Shiho looked at the bandage.
Soaked through.
That wasn't good. They must've been making a telling look on their face.
"I'm calling an ambulance," Shizuku said. "Shii-chan, please go get your card."
Shiho grabbed their wallet from their room as Shizuku began to speak with a dispatcher, telling them where they lived and what the situation was. Apparently the bleeding was significant enough to warrant an ambulance, though Shiho didn't think it was-
Their sleeve felt way too soaked. They hadn't even turned the tap on.
... yeah, okay, maybe this was bad enough to call an ambulance. Shizuku made them sit down at the table, then continued to speak with the dispatcher, who seemed to be comforting her more now than anything. She then grabbed a nearby jacket which Shiho swore was their father's and put a lot of pressure on their wrist. It hurt, but Shiho understood what she was doing, and she continued to push down on it until the paramedics arrived.
They didn't know how long it had been since Shizuku had first started putting pressure on their wound, they knew it couldn't've been that long because ambulances were incredibly punctual but it had felt like an hour. Someone was calling out instructions, telling them to keep their eyes open, and a paramedic took over Shizuku's role with some sort of specialized cloth. Probably to help staunch the blood, Shiho noted. The other paramedic was helping get them onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance; Shizuku was allowed to go with them, presumably for moral support more than anything. She had their wallet and her phone in her hand; she probably hadn't had any time to get anything else.
Shiho vaguely registered that Shizuku was speaking to them for the length of the trip. They didn't say much, only nodding or shaking their head a few times when they found something to be pertinent. The paramedic was encouraging this, though, so Shiho didn't try to find the energy to complain about it. Towards the end of the ride they were able to say the word no, but besides that they felt so awfully lightheaded they didn't think they could say much else.
When they arrived at the hospital, they were rushed to a room, Shizuku running alongside them, seemingly no cares in the world for the perfect idol image her group had been forcing upon her. Shiho noted the IV bags filled with blood and the slight jolt of pain they received when the line was inserted into their right arm.
Shizuku held their right hand so tightly it was almost as if she was scared to let go. The doctors let her stay for a while and Shiho was grateful for that as everyone bustled around them, getting their cut to continue to not bleed. (When had it stopped bleeding?)
They still felt dizzy. A nurse brought them some food, which they couldn't exactly eat given the state of their hands, so Shizuku used her free hand to assist them with it. Saki turned out to have been extremely right about hospital food; if Shiho had the choice, they'd rather eat their parents' cooking, but they didn't, and the calories were needed to help their wrist heal. Then they realized their left hand had had something done to it while they hadn't been paying much attention. There was a strange contraption on it, and it felt as if someone had put something in their hand.
Shiho closed their eyes. They were tired, and they really wanted to just sleep for a bit. They were hooked up to a bunch of vital-monitoring machines anyway. (When had THAT happened?)
Thankfully, rest found them almost immediately, so they didn't have to think about anything that had happened. They simply were awake one second and asleep the next.
"Shii-chan, it's good you're awake." Shizuku was still at their bedside. "Mom and Dad said they'd get the next train back from Kyoto." She looked as if she was going to be sick. "What happened to you?" Please tell me she doesn't think I did this on purpose.
"My string snapped," they muttered. "In exactly the wrong way."
Shizuku made an interesting expression. "That's good- well, it's not good, but it's better than the alternative."
Shiho sat up a little. "What did they do to my arm?" They nodded in the direction of their wrist.
"It's to fix the damage," Shizuku explained. "I don't know what it does." She glanced at it warily. "Airi-chan says I'm bad with technology, so I'm not going to mess with it."
They fought back a laugh. "Okay."
There was silence.
"... thank you," they said. "For making me come here. I would've just gone back to practice."
Shizuku looked up at them and gave them a sad smile. "I'm supposed to look after you, Shiho."
She never called them by their name like that. "Sorry I messed up whatever plans you had," they mumbled. Shizuku had probably had practice, or some kind of fan meeting, or even a concert of some kind that she was now unable to attend because she was here. Sitting in the hospital, Shiho's blood on her clothing because of course it was, she'd done so much to help them and they'd just been enough of an idiot to get injured like that.
"I'm not going to go stand in front of my groupmates and pretend I'm not worried about you," Shizuku said. "Don't be silly." She moved her chair a little closer. Shiho let her gently push their head down towards the pillow and pull the blanket up over them a little more. "The nurse said you're getting more food soon."
"Okay," they said. They wanted to tell her they'd be fine, that she could just leave them alone, but Shiho could be awfully selfish, too. They let Shizuku mess with their hair and clean their right hand (it had blood on it, too, much like everything now) and didn't complain when she insisted on helping them eat when their next meal came.
Shiho looked at Shizuku and back at the ceiling. They wanted to cry. They were generally not the nicest to her, they weren't mean all the time per se but they still weren't nice, and here she was, skipping work and insisting it didn't matter nearly as much as this did despite how Shiho had treated her. She had every right to at least make them eat on their own or let them sit with their bloodied right hand, and yet she didn't. Shiho needed to follow her example more often, they thought. Still, they had a bit of a selfish request, because the food they'd been served wasn't their favourite and they were pretty sure there were vending machines nearby. "Onee-chan, can you get me a drink?" they asked.
Shizuku gave them a look, then made a point of leaving their wallet on the seat when she left the room. Shiho gave the wallet a death glare when the door closed behind her. It was fine if it was their money; they were the one who'd asked and they would've used it had they been allowed to get out of bed. Shizuku was being too nice to them; that seemed to be today's theme.
For the next couple of minutes, Shiho looked at the IV drip and let the passage of someone else's blood into their body occupy their mind. They glanced up at the ceiling but it was the same sterile white as always so they looked back to the red. It didn't gross them out as much as they would've thought. The machines they'd been hooked up to were a lot more intimidating. Shiho couldn't tell what each thing did, though one was probably for their heart rate and another for their blood pressure or something. They seemed relatively new, but that didn't make it any better.
"The vending machine and I had an argument," Shizuku said. She handed them a can of what appeared to be a sports drink, though it had a strange (maybe it was just new) mascot on it. In her other hand she held her phone and a can of miso soup. Classic. Shiho didn't roll their eyes, thinking it would seem a little too rude.
"Thank you," Shiho said. "I could've paid so it would've been easier."
"Don't be silly, Shii-chan," she insisted. "You're injured." She opened the drink for them, which ought to have stung but didn't. "I wanted to help you."
They nodded and raised it to their lips. It tasted familiar, like a summer's day from their childhood. At least it wasn't the blue flavour; Shiho wouldn't say they hated it, but it certainly wasn't their cup of tea (or in this case, miso soup). They wanted to cry for a multitude of reasons, but they made themself drink a little first and put the cap back on before they would even allow themself to consider being so vulnerable.
A stray tear traced their cheek as they set their drink down. Shizuku did the same with her own, making sure she set it out of her reach so it wouldn't get knocked over (this had happened too many times to count). Then she stood up and, despite the IV and the monitors and everything holding Shiho's left hand together, she gave them a hug. Shiho let her; their tears were verging on uncontrollable now and they wanted to return it but they didn't know what that would do to their hands so they just moved their head onto Shizuku's shoulder and let her comfort them like she had when they were little.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered. And Shiho believed her. "We're going to be okay."
They stayed like that for a while. Shiho didn't mind it as much as they thought they would; they usually weren't a hug person but this time it felt almost necessary. "Thank you," they muttered as Shizuku stepped back and a nurse and doctor entered the room.
About half an hour later, the doctor had finished deconstructing what had happened and Shiho felt extremely done with this day. At least they'd been left alone again, though they weren't sure what there was to do besides maybe ask Shizuku to go buy them snacks and sleep. Talk, maybe, but they were tired.
Shizuku, in an attempt to fill the silence, began to speak about something; Shiho was too tired to understand what it was, but they listened even as they felt their eyes closing and their mind slowly slipping into darkness.
The last coherent thought they had was This has got to be the worst way to realize you need to be nicer to your sister.
"Shiho-chan, where'd you get this scar?" Honami asked. She was gently brushing her hand against Shiho's palm, and it was a little distracting. Welcome, but distracting. Shiho let her continue.
"My string snapped," they explained. "It wasn't that bad." Extended hospital stay aside, it hadn't been that awful, except that it had and they just didn't want to burden anyone else with that information. Shizuku had already done so much to help them during that time and afterwards, and Shiho was extremely grateful for it.
Honami winced in sympathy. "Sorry," she said.
"It wasn't your fault. Don't apologize." They looked up at the trees in the courtyard. Honami was still tracing the scar, maybe trying to commit it to memory; Shiho wasn't sure. They let themself focus on just her hand in theirs for a moment. It was nice.
Then Saki ran up to them, tackled them in a hug, and began to talk about how well her presentation went in class that day, Ichika looking a little out of place holding a large poster board behind her, and the moment was over. The joys (and chaos) of friendship had returned.