Appointment

Every morning, Fuumi cooked breakfast and packed lunch for her brother. Twice a week, she also worked part-time at the convenience store near their home. On her days off, she'd head straight home to prepare dinner and a hot bath for Akira.

Unlike her brother, who felt obligated to do the chores, Fuumi did it all willingly. Ever since their parents passed away, she had been completely dependent on Akira financially. Her brother covered all their daily expenses, from utilities to her allowance.

At first, Akira handled all the household duties, taking on the role of both parents. He'd put bread on the table and take care of the house and young Fuumi. Back then, Quantum Esports hadn't been formed yet, and he was still with his old team, Phoenix Squad Esports.

Watching her brother work around the clock, Fuumi felt like she was just a burden. By the time she was 13, she started learning how to be more independent, taking on chores herself. Of course, her first tries were disastrous. She nearly set the kitchen on fire the first time she cooked and once broke a flower vase while cleaning the living room.

Despite her many mishaps, Akira never scolded her. That's why Fuumi cared so much for her brother.

"Yosh! Omelets, miso soup, salted fish—everything's ready. Just need the rice!"

Wearing a floral apron, Fuumi busied herself setting the dishes on the table. She grabbed two bowls and a rice paddle from the rack. As she opened the rice cooker, a wave of warm steam and the delicious aroma of freshly cooked rice wafted up to her face. Then, she gently scooped the rice into the bowls and placed them on the table.

"Good morning, Fuumi."

A familiar male voice echoed from the corner of the room. When Fuumi turned toward it, Akira appeared, dressed in a blue jacket and trousers, and took a seat at the dining table. Seeing her brother up and about so early sparked her curiosity.

"You're up early, huh," she remarked, sitting across from her brother and joining him for breakfast.

"Yeah," Akira replied, chewing on rice and an omelet. "I've got a doctor's appointment today. I need to leave early because last month I had to wait forever. Lots of people have been getting sick lately."

Fuumi just nodded in response, her eyes drifting to his hand. She couldn't stop thinking about her brother ever since he injured his wrist. Akira often struggled with activities, like eating breakfast this morning. She watched as he dropped his chopsticks a few times.

But what concerned Fuumi more was his mental state. Akira had become withdrawn, rarely speaking and often locking himself in his room. Whenever he failed at something or when Fuumi tried to help, he would snap, sometimes even throwing things in frustration.

Despite his recent behavior change, Fuumi still loved her brother. She could only hope that one day Akira would open up to her. When? She didn't know.

After breakfast, Akira offered to help Fuumi wash the dishes, but she stopped him.

"No need. Let me handle it. Your hand isn't better yet, anyway," Fuumi said.

"It's just washing dishes. I can do it," Akira replied.

Fuumi sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? Let me take care of the chores. You focus on resting. If you get better, you can wash as many dishes as you want, big bro."

"Okay, okay. I won't argue."

Seeing her brother finally agree, Fuumi flashed a wide smile.

As Fuumi washed the dishes, Akira sat at the table. She didn't know what he was doing, but the room felt peaceful. The only sound was the trickling water from the faucet as she rinsed the plates.

"Want me to take you to school?" Akira suddenly offered.

"Huh, you can drive now?" Fuumi asked, drying a plate and placing it on the rack.

"Nope, but we could ride bikes."

Fuumi couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny? Something amusing?"

Fuumi shook her head. "Nope, nothing."

Of course, it was funny to Fuumi. It had been ages since they'd ridden bikes together. The last time was when she was in third grade. The thought of them biking together at her age now seemed childish. Still, she liked her brother's idea.

"So, what do you think? Want me to take you?" 

"Absolutely," Fuumi said eagerly, taking off her apron.

She then dashed upstairs to grab her school bag and belongings from her room. Meanwhile, Akira smiled, watching his sister's excitement.

…

After dropping his little sister off at school, Akira headed straight to the hospital by train. It took a seven-minute walk from the station to the hospital.

Contrary to what he had told Fuumi, the hospital was nearly empty. In the lobby, Akira barely saw any patients, just a few nurses and staff behind the counter.

He had a brief conversation with the receptionist before heading to the third floor, where the orthopedic doctor treating him worked. As he opened the door, an old man in a white coat was busy examining some X-rays. The doctor only noticed Akira's presence when he closed the door.

"Dr. Jun," Akira greeted.

"Oh, Akira. Come in, have a seat."

Dr. Jun quickly got to work, examining Akira once he sat down. The doctor nodded occasionally as he inspected Akira's hand.

"Have you been using your right hand a lot lately?" Dr. Jun asked.

"Yeah," Akira admitted.

Dr. Jun shook his head, pursing his lips. "Hmm. Didn't I tell you to rest your hand? You're not supposed to do anything that strains your wrist. You should have only needed six months of rest after the surgery. Now, it might take even longer."

Of course, Akira felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He was impatient to recover and get back to work.

"Is there any way to speed up my recovery?" Akira asked.

"There is. You just need to rest and avoid using your right hand. But it seems you don't like that idea. Look at your hand now—it's worse than before your surgery."

Akira clicked his tongue, feeling both frustrated and disappointed in himself. He knew he shouldn't have pushed himself so hard.

"So, how much longer do I need to rest?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. We need to do an MRI scan. There's something I want to confirm."

Instead of the answer he wanted, Akira got news that made him even more uneasy. The last time he had an MRI, it led to him taking a break from tournaments.

Long story short, Akira went to the lab for the scan. He put on the hospital gown and lay down as the machine whirred around him. Once the scan was done, Akira had to wait in the examination room, sitting alone in the all-white space. About 15 minutes later, Dr. Jun returned with the scan results. As usual, the old man's poker face made him hard to read.

"I've got some good news and bad news for you. Which one do you want to hear first?"

Akira sighed deeply, starting to worry. When someone brings both good and bad news, it usually means it's all bad. His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't deny that he was genuinely scared to hear it.

"Let's start with the good news," Akira decided.

"The good news is, you can still recover, but you'll need to keep that cast on for another two months."

Akira squinted. "That's not exactly the good news I was hoping for."

"No, it's not. But at least you're not losing your hand."

"Please, doc. Don't scare me like that."

Every word from Dr. Jun made Akira bite his lip. He couldn't tell if the old man was being serious or not.

"Okay, so what's the bad news?" Akira asked, his knees trembling.

"The bad news is," Dr. Jun sighed deeply before locking eyes with Akira, "you might have to give up on your career. Your wrist can heal, but I'm not sure it will ever be the same again."

The news hit Akira like a dagger to the chest. His shoulders slumped, and his mind went blank. He was in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing as if it were all just a bad dream.

"You're joking, right?" Akira asked, in denial.

"Unfortunately, I'm not. Your right hand may not be the same anymore. There's a high chance you'll lose strength in your fingers."

The rest of Dr. Jun's words sounded like a distant breeze to Akira. They went in one ear and out the other. The old man explained what was happening with his wrist, but Akira wasn't listening.

He felt like he was floating above the clouds before crashing down to earth. All the dreams and hopes he'd held onto vanished in an instant. At the same time, Haruto's words before he resigned echoed in his mind.

"Your condition is unfortunate, but your life still goes on. Stay optimist. As people say, when you lose one sense, the others become stronger. You're still young. I'm sure you can get through this."

Akira didn't say anything. He just got up and walked to the door. He almost stumbled because his legs felt so weak. As Akira opened the door, the doctor called out to him.

"You can rest here for a bit if you want."

But that kind of offer wasn't enough to lift his crushed spirits. Akira nodded weakly in response before leaving the room with a heavy heart.

In the long, empty corridor, Akira had to face the bitter reality that his career as an esports athlete was over.