| Running in Circles [Haruichi and Open] | [Mar. 4th, 2008|06:06 pm] |
Hyuuga Haruichi was no stranger to multi-tasking: it took a high degree of talent in it to snark somebody's brains out and stitch their limbs back together at the same time. Given the amount of work he always had to do, the medic nearly always did two things at once if he could manage it and today was no different.
Three-two-five: Shibata Yuzuya - A, twenty-five, Intel, no history, no history; papercuts, dietary/vitamins and getting blown up.
It was seven a.m., three hours until the end of his shift, and Haruichi was silently running laps around HQs apartments and matching names, basic medical profiles and predicted healthcare needs to each door number every time he ran past it. It was the kind of exercise his cardio-vascular system needed, and more. Primarily it was an old game from his days living here, and had made it easy to remember the medical histories of everybody under the same roof and to know where to drag them back to once he'd finished treating them.
Three-two-four: Yamashiro Aoba - record lost/check again, twenty-four, Hunters, optical photophobia, no history; burns and opthalmic migraine.
Pass the door, match number to name and recite the profile before hitting the next one. It was like a quick-wits version of a flashcard test, but Haruichi found it invaluable - especially now that he was getting back into his stride as medic at HQ. He'd need this information, and reams more besides, to be available in a second if anything happened to any of them, on his watch or off of it.
Three-two-three: Oyate Ayumi - A, twenty, Hunters, no history, flagged; muscle strains and exhaustion.
Especially if he was going out into the field to bring them back. You couldn't carry a filing cabinet out to some godforsaken ditch to cross-check blood types and persistant medical conditions before you administered treatment. No matter how well-organized it was.
Three-two-zero: Shiranui Genma - too long, didn't read.
And so, despite the fact he'd been up all night, Haruichi didn't pause in his run - just reached up to flick some of his black hair out his eyes and kept racing along the corridors of the third floor over and over - his sneakers silent on the malfeascent carpet, delicately taking corners and gracefully navigating chairs and potted plants, hoping to do his twenty laps on this floor and head down to the second again before anybody arrived to interrupt him. Like that ever happened. |
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