Katsuko raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t needed stitches in a while. Don’t see why he’s so irritated. You been in here recently?”
“Not for stitches.”
She gave him an inquiring look.
“Might have popped a shoulder last week,” Raidou said, in the same way a person might say, ‘I lost an eyelash’.
“Oh.” Katsuko scratched the side of her nose in thought. “Well, you popped it back in, right? Nothing to get pissed about. Maybe Toushiro-sensei’s face just looks like that.”
“Right?” Raidou said, completely in agreement, and headed down the hallway. Katsuko kept pace with him, curious whether Toushiro had actually fled or just hidden in a supply closet.
The medic was filling out a small pile of forms at his desk. “Stop right there,” he said, pointing his pen at Katsuko and Raidou without looking up from his task. They paused in the doorway of his office. “If you get one drop of blood on my floor, I’ll haul Namiashi out for a prostate exam.”
“What about me?” Katsuko asked, morbidly curious.
“Urine and fecal samples.”
She shuddered and took a step back.
“If this isn’t a good time, I can go back and bleed in the hallway,” Raidou said.
“And faint from blood loss again, I’m sure.” Toushiro stood from his desk, taking the forms with him, and shooed them out of his way as he closed the door to his office behind him. He led them imperiously to the nearest empty exam room, depositing the forms on a table and snapping on a pair of medical gloves. “Namiashi, sit. Ueno, don’t touch anything.”
Katsuko kept her mouth shut and leaned against the wall, watching Toushirou break out the disinfectant and medical glue.
“Honestly,” the medic muttered, dabbing at Raidou’s head wound with an alcohol wipe. "Did you do this with a tree branch? You have leaf parts in this."
“Stone spear,” Katsuko said, helpfully. “He’s working on this new technique where he blocks things with his head.”
“Roaring success so far,” Raidou deadpanned.
Toushirou was probably more vengeful applying the skin glue than he had to be. Raidou winced as the medic held the edges of the cut together until it bonded. “There,” Toushirou said, sitting back. “You know the standard care for scalp wounds. Let it heal and don’t wash your hair for a week.”
Raidou raised a hand to where his hair had dried rust-brown, old blood spiking it up. “Well, that’ll be gross.”
Toushirou’s eyes narrowed. “Remember that the next time you get yourself wounded for recreation.” After a moment, he sighed and added grudgingly, “Sponge baths are acceptable. Try not to aggravate the cut any more than you have to. Ice that lip, too.”
“Yes, mom.” Raidou grinned crookedly. “Do I get a sucker?”
“You’re a sucker,” Katsuko said.
He snorted, unimpressed. “You can do better than that, Ueno.”
Toushirou threw his hands up. “Out! Go be twelve-year-olds somewhere else.” He made impatient shooing motions at them. Katsuko sighed and let herself be herded outside.