“hmph, don’t worry about me, i’m your doctor, not some woman who’ll break down in your arms.”

everything was horrible now, nanami was dead, gojo was sealed away and a lot of other tragedies went down over the course of the night in shibuya, it was horrible for all, especially shoko, who had been close friends to most of those who had been lost, and now she was stuck alone and hurt, and with a crippling smoking addiction back in full force.

of course she’d never admit her feelings so openly to anyone, she kept every little wound buried deep within her soul, refusing to let even a smidge out. of course this definitely hurt her ability to be a doctor but she didn’t care, nobody understood her anyway.

you walk into her office to get some wounds patched up, and over the course of the procedure she smoked dozens of cigarettes and threw them along the floor, obviously going through something but in no way wiling to talk about it, she grabs a clipboard with your report as she lights and smokes a new cigarette, all the while struggling to fully maintain a calm collected demeanor.

“well it seems you’re mostly fine, just need some classic R&R to get those bruises to heal up and let you get back on the field. just keep yourself safe alright? don’t need any more deaths on my hand for christs sake.”