#writingboogie

[spiderboogie]

eleven pm.

kenji sato. (+ female reader)

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watched ultraman: rising and now I'm here (help).

p.s. this is unedited and unserious. also, this isn't, like, an intense romance story? (oops). it's kind of a slowburn? any feedback is appreciated!

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“Hold still.”

It’s eleven in the evening and, unfortunately, you’re still on the job. Since the season’s just kicked off, you’re in for a ride. Practices to monitor as early as five in the morning, check-ins to do with each player in the afternoon, paperwork to fill out, coaches and doctors to meet with, and now, apparently, on-call work. How many hours has it been since you had a cup of coffee? Or even a real meal? Regardless, the caffeine’s definitely worn off now. 

You sigh as you rummage through your backpack of supplies. As your tired eyes search for what you need, another pair follows your every move. Your patient sits in front of you on his large couch as you examine his injured shoulder. In pain and restricted to sitting still, his only option is to watch you work. 

He didn’t mean to call you here, especially so late. After the Kaiju attack, as Mina diagnosed, his rotator cuff was in bad shape. Although he insisted he was okay, Mina was quick to suggest calling for help. You have a game tomorrow, Ken. Although I can diagnose you, my robotic arms can only do so much. I’ll call the physical therapist. Ken protested to no end, and continued to, until you arrived, standing on his doorstep, ready to help. 

As he opened his door, he prepared himself to politely refuse your help. It’s a mistake, he’d said. One of my buddies was just playing a prank, he nervously laughed. As if. After hearing his obvious lies, you gave him a curt bow and agreed to assist him as quickly as possible before asking him to lead the way. Out of options, Kenji opened his door and led you to his living room. 

Now, you’re here. After finding what you need, you carefully apply ointment to his shoulder. Your touch is soft, cautious. Not rough, not inappropriate. Careful. Caring. He almost falls asleep right there. Unlike Mina, you’re warm to the touch. It’s weird. 

You feel his eyes on you as you spread the ointment on his shoulder. It’s a little pressuring. Ken Sato, the newest member of the Giants team, a world renowned baseball prodigy, in all of his glory, sits still, quiet, under your hands. It’s different from how he was when you first met--a flashy smile and a confident laugh. He was a talented, self-assured man. He never bothered himself with others, not even his teammates. You’ve never spoken to him properly, despite being his physical therapist, up until this point. Even if you were called here, you don’t think he really remembers your name. 

His house is quiet. All you can hear is his slow breathing and your concentrated breaths. The lights in his living room remain low, and you can see the moonlight reflecting off of the floor. It’s quiet, it’s intimidating, it’s oddly…intimate.

You finish applying the ointment over the injured area, and move to work on bandaging it up. As you begin to wrap his shoulder, you see his brows furrow in pain before he moves to hang his head to the side. 

“...Sorry. It’ll be a minute,” you mumble, wincing internally at the sight of his pain.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says,”I’m good.” He whispers the last part, a little strained. 

You continue to wrap his shoulder with the bandage, tight enough to be secure, but not enough to be uncomfortable. When you’re finished, you feel him let out a breath. Without thinking, you pat the bandaged area softly,”All done. I’ll get your compression sleeve on and then you can rest.”

At that, Kenji lifts his head to look at you.

For the first time, you look at each other properly. Your eyes widen slightly at the sudden eye contact, but Kenji doesn’t waver. His eyes, lidded and tired, stare up into yours with odd intensity. You’re still holding onto his shoulder when you realize that you’re almost nose to nose with him. You pull back slightly, slipping your hand off of his shoulder, and almost tumble backwards. But before you think of falling, Kenji grabs your wrist and pulls you back into place. He doesn’t linger, removing his hand as soon as you’re safe. 

You look at him, he looks at you. You look away, he doesn’t. 

You gather yourself as quickly as you can, lightly clearing your throat, before you look through your bag for the compression sleeve. You feel a little uncomfortable, but there’s something else. It’s probably the lighting or the silence or the proximity at which you sit from each other. A strange feeling creeps up on you, but you can’t identify it. 

You’ve found the compression sleeve, tucked towards the bottom of the bag. While you bring it out, the short silence between you breaks.

“I’m…sorry.” 

Immediately, you lock eyes with Kenji, confused. 

“What for?”

He looks to the side and falters before saying,”For calling you out here. It’s really late.”

Your confused expression doesn’t leave your face. Instead, it deepens. Was he that worried about bothering you? That’s a surprise. If anything, you thought he was annoyed with you for being here. And, anyhow, regardless of how irritated you may have been when you first arrived, you know it’s a part of your job. It’s your job to take care of the team, overtime pay or not. 

“Don’t be sorry, Sato. If I seemed irritated, I apologize. It’s my job. You have a game tomorrow, so I understand.”

You then try to brighten the mood, just a little. “Besides, Shimura will have my head if you’re not fixed in time. I already don’t get paid much as is.”

You can see some of the guilt leave his eyes as his eyes twinkle in slight amusement. You smile slightly, lopsided. You resume your task, fitting the compression sleeve onto Kenji’s shoulder, securing it tight against his frame. 

“Take these painkillers and ice the area when you feel discomfort. Try not to sleep on your injured side, and let me know if something comes up,” you say, as you pack your things back into your bag, preparing to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you check your watch,”in about, uh, six hours anyway. Any questions?” You feel bad about the little time he has to rest.

Kenji slips his shirt back on, careful not to move his shoulder too much, before giving you a small smile. “No questions. Thanks…uh…”

He pauses to look at you, a questioning expression, before you realize. You look to the side in slight disbelief, although you kind of already expected this. He doesn’t remember your name. In slight exasperation, you tell him your name, softly, followed by your title, with a little more confidence. 

“If you can’t remember, just call me ‘physical therapist’. Or PT. For short, I guess.” You try to give a small laugh, even though you feel weirdly hurt by the suggestion (despite making it yourself). 

“No, no. I’ve got it. I’m sorry for not remembering.” Kenji purses his lips and gives you a serious look. For some reason, you believe him. You hold on to his unofficial promise, and you give him a small smile. 

“Alright, then. Since you’re good, I’m off. I’ll see you.”

You stand up, backpack in tow, and make your way to the front door. Although his house is impossibly large, it’s not hard to miss the enormous front door that’s a few steps past the living room. As you slip on your shoes and grab the door to leave, Kenji calls your name. 

Surprised, you turn to face him. “Yes, Sato?”

One hand scratches the back of his neck, while another’s tucked into his pocket. He looks at you with an expression you can’t read. 

“I’ll see you later.” He bids you farewell, your name hanging off his tongue. It’s tender, the way he says it. It’s not overly affectionate, but not formal either. You smile at him one last time and head out. 

You hear the door close behind you, and you let out a breath. It’s well past one, you’re exhausted, but, you think, the drive home won’t be that bad. 

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[spiderboogie]

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Ultraman: Rising

☆ eleven pm.

-> kenji sato + physical therapist! female reader. pining/feelings. (1.3k words)