I'll go with you

Untitled Part 4

The young man woke with a start, his hands searching frantically to grasp some kind of weapon to defend himself in case the need arose. Finding none, he tried to get up and leave immediately, but he found himself too weak to do so. 

"Lie down," Sadao cried. "Do you want to die?"

He forced the man down gently and strongly and examined the wound. "You may kill yourself if you do this sort of thing," he scolded. 

"How come... you speak English..." he gasped, still petrified. His eyes that were a brilliant electric blue, bluer than the sea that had nearly killed him sparkling in the light of the full moon were impossibly wide, staring at him in almost fascinated horror. He was incredibly weak, but his eyes were ablaze with an iridescent flame that the sea had not succeeded in putting out. His piercing gaze in spite of his fear almost impressed Sadao, and he felt compelled to answer his questions. 

"My wife and I studied in America for many years," he said. "Learning the language was inevitable."

"You have a wife!" he exclaimed. "Can't I see her instead?" Sadao understood why he would prefer Hana's company. Hana had always had an aura of warmth emanating from her so effortlessly, almost like it was nothing; but to him, it had been everything. Sadao's own presence created an atmosphere of tension and uncertainty, which was probably the last thing the foreigner needed. 

"You very nearly did," said Sadao drily. His voice was almost robotic, refusing to betray any trace of emotion. "Although I highly doubt your soul could possibly be sacred enough for the other world of heaven. An American could never go there, especially not one as pathetic as yourself."

"Y'all Japs must truly be men of sunshine and rainbows," the man said sarcastically. Sadao now recognised his distinct South Texan accent. "I admire your optimism on my behalf, Doc." 

"Be quiet," Sadao reprimanded him, although he could not help but feel grateful that the foreigner did not offer the same sympathetic condolences that his ears had gotten weary of. "I will throw you out if you keep getting on my nerves." 

The foreigner gave a hollow laugh. "Is that not what you're gonna do anyway?" he cried. "You're all the same: ruthless sociopaths who don't care whether we live or die. You see us solely as your enemies, not as human beings with vivid internal lives that have nothing to do with our rivalry." 

"Do not take that tone with me in my own house!" bellowed Sadao. But one look into his vivid blue eyes that now seemed to be forming storm clouds within them told him all he needed to know- that despite the brave front he had been putting on, he was terrified out of his wits. His outburst had not been out of disrespect, but out of fear. 

"I truly do not know what I am to do with you," he explained, slightly softening his expression. "I ought to hand you over, as a patriot. But you are my patient, and as long as you remain so, I cannot let any harm befall you." 

The young man was speechless for a long time. Sadao didn't mind, he had grown too used to silence for it to bother him anymore. That was until the man started crying. 

Tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks, as he had his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to physically hold himself together. Soon, he had broken down completely, and the sound of his nerve racking sobs filled the room. Sadao's impassive expression did nothing to soothe him, and while Sadao pitied the man, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes in disgust as he wiped his snot against the flowered silk of his father's quilt that unfortunately happened to be the first piece of cloth Sadao happened to see before performing the surgery. 

Suddenly, the man grabbed Sadao's hand and held it tightly as if it was the only thing that could possibly give him a sense of support and stability in that moment. He was gasping for air, desperately trying to get a grip on himself. Sadao was getting more and more aware of the hand that was clutching his by the second, and he felt this peculiar feeling coursing through him that he could not name. 

This was a man that Sadao had carried home, washed, and operated on. Why did merely holding his hand have such an overwhelming  effect on him? 

Ignoring the twinge of regret he felt upon seeing the obvious hurt in the man's eyes as he pulled his hand away from his, he left the room leaving the man alone with his fears and no further reassurances whatsoever.

A/N: Is the attraction seeming a little rushed? I want to show some physical attraction but also make Sadao still be repulsed by the foreigner. And I wanted to show somehow that Sadao still had a temper, because earlier I've mentioned that he'd become extremely irritable after Hana's death to the point where his servants couldn't tolerate him. Have I captured that right?