Also, just thought I'd mention I'm uploading these in the order of importance to Black Jack. So yeah. I hope you like it! :)


When he saw her, he wished he was brave enough to ask her if he could walk her home.

Instead he cleared his throat and gazed at her through an air of indifference. She always tried to smile, but it would falter when she saw the mask he put on. That, or just his face in general. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I hate him," he heard a nurse whisper once. "He's so creepy. I wish they screened people like him out."

He stayed long enough to hear her reply- "Don't be rude. He's the best this school's ever seen. He's quiet, that's all."

Quiet, not creepy. He floated on that for a long time.

It was harder not to smile at her after that.

He wasn't the kind of man who made photo albums. He sat cross-legged on his floor regardless, thick hands cutting the pictures with the precision of a surgeon and pasting with the clumsiness of a child.

He'd loved her. He'd known that for years now, known that ever since the first time he'd seen her walking home in the rain. He'd ruined it for himself. He hadn't figured that part out until much later. Every time he'd seen her and not said anything, just breezed past her with a blank face, he'd driven another stake in their nonexistent relationship.

But he had pictures. He'd cherished them at the time. He still remembered how he'd gotten each of them, one given by her, group photos from the hospital, one actually stolen from her wallet.


Did he really do that?

Did he follow her home every night?

What had he been thinking?

He covered his face with his hands, remembering. It had taken him fifteen seconds to know that he loved her, but five years to realize he'd never given himself a chance.

And seven to realize that he had been a twenty-two year old creep.

He shut the photo album firmly, deciding right then to give it to her the next time her ship docked at port. She must have had a thing for complete bastards, considering she'd actually liked him back.

Hell, in that case, he might still have a chance.

He did not have a chance. He could see it, not in the way Kei dressed or the way he carried himself, but the way he met his eyes and smiled. When Megumi had loved him, it had been different.

It was a good day. They talked for the first time in years, and it was good to have someone who actually enjoyed him company. He never realized how rare it was for him to have another doctor to speak to, truly talk to, without the derision of one who believes themselves better (morally and in every other way) than you.

When Kei left, Black Jack could smile. It was almost easy. He'd moved on. Megumi Kisaragi had loved Black Jack, but Kei didn't, and he was okay with it.

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