#dwellingmedic 01

[max-uzumaki]

@dwellingmedic | cont.

He stops just short of his friend. Her expression said a thousand words; her voice, struggling with his name, said even more. There was nothing like seeing a ghost.

One that looked exactly like he did the last time they had ever spoken to each other. Hair freshly cut.

Voice soft, hand held out between them.

"Yeah, it's me. I know... I'm supposed to be dead, but here I'm not anymore. I'm real."

[seaofclashingclouds]

@dwellingmedic planned starter.

He finds the clinic after trial and error and a lot of asking around. Training was taking far more of a toll on his body than he's ever really felt before. Without his breathing technique, it nearly felt impossible to withstand the same intensity. No-- it was impossible.

Something had ruptured? Maybe. He wasn't too sure, but it hurt to breathe and that warranted either rest or going home. Even his hand had gone numb from how hard he was holding the sword. He didn't want to do either of those things.

So Muichiro was here, sitting in a chair, waiting for his name to be called.

[copytechnique]

Yuuuuuta. House call time, how have you been? (Don't lie)

"Ieiri-san!" Oh, that's a surprise! She must have gotten his address from Gojo. He glances back into the apartment, currently devoid of the other inhabitants, before he steps back to let her in. "Come in, come in."

The apartment smells of lunch, a bowl of noodles reheated and still sitting in the microwave, and he scurries into the kitchen space to see what snacks he had to offer their guest.

"Oh, we haven't...done the shopping yet this week. Ugh."

"Sorry. It's been a hectic week. I can offer you a drink though? We have soda or tea or water."