i really loved the short story of isekai reader patching up Twilight using modern medical methods aka stiches. Could we have more of that? Maybe isekai reader teaching them some more things like maybe the reason Sky gets so winded when he runs is because he might have asthma.
Absolutely! I love giving these boys a much-needed break! You mentioned Sky, but I've also seen people head-canon that Four has migraines and I wanted to be nice to him seeing as SOME PEOPLE have been STABBING HIM recently. (I know one Tylenol probably wouldn't stop a migraine, but he's 1. never had medicine like that before and 2. really short, so it would probably be ok dosage-wise.) Time is here because OLD.
LU x Modern! Medic! Reader
Four
“Ow,” Four winced, touching the side of his head.
“You ok?” you turn as you walk, shifting the bag on your back as you do.
“Fine,” he mumbles. “Just a headache.”
“Ok, give me a sec,” you take your arms out of the straps of your bag, swing it around to the front of your body, then put the backpack back on backwards so you can dig through it.
“I don’t need a potion,” Four says quickly. “Honestly, it wouldn’t even help. It’s just a headache.”
“Four, if you’re complaining about a headache, it’s serious,” you continue digging through your bag, remembering the various injuries he’d taken without so much as a wince. You guess black smiths were just built different. “I’ve got some Tylenol. One pill and some water and you should feel right as rain.”
“A potion wouldn’t help,” Four says again. “It’s not an injury.”
“Good thing this isn’t a potion, then,” you take out the small white bottle, then proceed to struggle with the child-proof cap.
“I’ve seen you give that to some of the others,” he points at the bottle. “They eat it and then they feel better. Potion. Maybe not liquid, but still.”
“It doesn’t actually heal anything,” you explain, grunting as you try to open the cap. “The thing causing the headache will still be there. It just blocks the pain.”
“How would there be no pain if the injury is still there?” Four raises an eyebrow.
“It’s like… how do I explain this,” you muse. “So, your nerves send signals to the brain. Think of them like little mail men, taking messages from where the pain is to you. This blocks those signals. The mailmen are still there with their letters, but now the letters can’t get to where they’re going, so no pain.”
“So I’m full of tiny little mailmen,” Four smirks.
“Sure,” you laugh, then finally pop the cap off the bottle and shake a single pill out of the container. You hold it out to Four. He takes it, looks it over, then pops it into his mouth.
“Wha–!?” you sputter, your hand still reaching for your water bottle. “Did you just dry swallow it?”
“Yes?” Four winces at the after taste. “Why? Was that wrong?”
“I mean, no, it’s fine,” you close your bag, still bewildered. “It’s demented, but you won’t, like, die.”
“Who are you calling demented?” He grins.
“You just took a pill without water!” you cry. “Who does that!?”
Time
Time was old. Mentally, yes, he was probably like 60 or something as far as you or anyone else could figure, but physically as well. Most of the other heroes were in their twenties or younger. Time was in his thirties, and with the added stress of hero work he might as well have been forty.
He had old injuries that still ached, and the past strain on his body had definitely sped up how quickly he developed arthritis. You noticed the way he would massage his hands occasionally. Or wince when he woke up. It was your job to notice these things after all.
Unfortunately, heroes were stubborn and selfless. Most attempts to help them were met with “I’ve had worse” or “so-and-so needs it more.” And from what you could tell, Time had never been “mothered” in the traditional sense, making it all the more unlikely he would accept anything you had to offer. He thought your help was necessary for the others, not him. It was noble. And incredibly stupid.
You had to find alternative ways to help him.
“Tea?” you hold up a mug to him as he passes where you’re sitting, your own cup held loosely in your other hand.
“That’s not suspicious at all,” Time frowns at the mug.
“What’s suspicious about tea?” you take a sip from your mug.
“Yeah, old man, when has tea ever gone wrong?” Wild, currently also enjoying a cup of tea next to you, smiles.
“Tea isn’t suspicious,” Legend nods, clutching his own mug close to his chest.
“Not at all,” you agree, nodding in a totally not suspicious way.
“Then why are the two people you’re always after about pain management the only ones drinking it?” Time points at Wild, who often got whole-body aches that he liked to try to ignore, then at Legend, who, like Time, had arthritis in his hands, but was more willing to take medicine for it.
“Maybe they’re the only two who happened to walk past,” you take another long sip from your cup.
“What’s in the tea?” Time sighs.
“Uhhh, it’s green tea, so Camellia leaves,” your arm is starting to get tired from holding the extra mug out to him. “And some honey.”
Time raises an eyebrow. He didn’t remember having honey in the camp supplies.
“We just got it. Wild shield-surfed face-first into a hive,” you explain. The Link in question gives you a thumbs up when you glare at him.
“So this tea is just to use up the honey?” Time takes the mug carefully.
“Can’t really store it all. Our jars are for fairies or potions,” Legend shrugs.
“I kept one jar,” Wild smiles.
“Fine,” Time takes a drink. Success!
“Oh! And I added some turmeric and ginger,” you admit, looking away from him as you do. You glance at your surroundings in a nonchalant manner. “They have anti-inflammatory properties. Figured you could use it.”
“I knew it,” Time narrows his eyes (eye), but takes another drink of tea. “You were trying to medicate me.”
“Is it helping?” you ask. He flexes his hand, thinking.
“...Yes,” he finally admits, shoulders slouching in defeat.
Sky
“That’s not what happened!” Sky scowls. He had been recounting his attempt to catch the apparently portal-using mail man when a few of the others had begun teasing him about his inability to run.
“That’s totally what happened,” Legend smirks.
“Sounds like asthma,” you shrug, turning away from the conversation to inspect Twilight’s side. Apparently there was some evil magic that you couldn’t see infecting the wound, and while you were no mage, you were a medic, and infection of any kind, magic or otherwise, was unacceptable.
“Asthma…?” Nine heads tilt inquisitively sideways, various looks of confusion on their faces.
“Do you guys not know what asthma is?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.
The blank looks you get back speak for themselves.
“Okay,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think. “Athma is like… your throat gets tight and it gets really hard to breathe. Sometimes it feels like someone is sitting on your chest, making it really hard to get air in.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s pretty accurate,” Sky smiles.
“How do you not know what asthma is? If you have asthma you should have an inhaler.” You stand up, forgetting Twilight’s magic wound for a moment, and start rummaging through your bag. There wasn’t really a way to treat inflammation like that with the herbs you had available, but you had to have something.
“I thought it was just because I grew up in Skyloft,” Sky shrugs. “The air down here is just different.”
“That’s not how altitude changes work. The air up there is thinner, meaning Skyloftians should have an easier time breathing near the surface,” you say exasperatedly.
“Oh,” Sky blushes.
“So it’s an illness?” Warriors glances at Sky and takes a not-so-subtle step away.
“No, it’s genetic. You can’t ‘catch’ it, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” you roll your eyes. A few of the boys snicker at Wars’ look of relief.
“But is there a cure?” Sky sounds hopeful. “You said something about me needing to have something.”
“An inhaler. Not a cure, just a way to treat the symptoms,” you give up digging through your bag. “It’s medicine that you breathe in. And I have no way of making it here. If we ever go to my era I’m breaking into a pharmacy and getting you one.”
“Surely there must be something you can do without traveling to your era,” Time says.
“Not really,” you grimace. “We can limit triggers. If you didn’t have issues on Skyloft your asthma might be triggered by humidity? Or pollen? But it sounds like it’s triggered by exercise, which… well, you might have chosen the wrong profession.”
“You could say that again,” Legend snorts.
“Well, not much to be done,” Sky hums. “I’ve been alright up until now. I should be fine.”
“I’m still swiping you an inhaler if we wind up in my era,” you mutter, adding it to your growing list of things to either buy or steal from a modern pharmacy (some of the meds these boys needed were prescription, which you wouldn’t really be able to get otherwise).
Bonus: [Name]'s Shopping List - Inhaler - Compression Socks & Gloves - Knee Braces, Elbow Braces - Pain Meds - A therapist
