The clinic was quiet that evening, save for the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. She didn't have much work that day, and there had been no injured or sick student requiring her attention. The air carried the faint sterile scent of antiseptic mingling with the subtle smell of cigarette smoke that always clung to her clothes.

She stood over the sink in her exam room, washing her hands methodically, her movements deliberate with years of experience, and her expression blank. The sound of water rushing over her hands filled the silence as she stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink - dark circles prominent beneath her brown eyes.

She exhaled through her nose, refusing to look at the woman sitting on the edge of the examination table just yet. The rare peace of her day had been shattered by your appearance, a woman that Shoko had spent years trying to keep at a distance. Your presence always made her carefully constructed walls feel fragile.

You were here again--injured from some mission you had gone on earlier--smiling as if your very presence wasn't unraveling Shoko's defenses. The sight of you in pain always sparked conflicting emotions within her - concern battling with the need to maintain distance.

She dried her hands, grabbed a pair of gloves and turned to you. The fabric of your blouse peeling away revealed a nasty gash on your torso. Shoko stepped forward, between your legs, one gloved hand landing on your thigh and spreading your legs open just a little more - a gesture born of both medical necessity and ingrained habit.

How many nights had she gripped your thighs, spread your legs, dipped her fingers inside you as you cried out in pleasure? How many nights had she been on the verge of confessing feelings as she guided you to grind against her thigh? Her friendship with you had always been complicated. But a woman like Shoko couldn't surrender to love, knowing that all those she dared to care about ended up leaving anyways.

Shoko swallowed as the memories flashed through her mind. She had to focus. Her other hand moved up to your torso, gloved fingers grazing your stomach, just adjacent to the gash. "You're reckless," she mutters, not meeting your eyes. "This could have been worse."

Shoko allowed a shaky breath to leave her lips--she was always fighting the feelings you invoked in her. She stepped closer, until she was pressed against the edge of the exam table. As she dipped antiseptic on a sterile cloth, she moved her hand up from your thigh to your waist, fingers just barely grazing the underside of your breast. It made her breath hitch momentarily as she forced herself to remain detached.

Pressing the cloth to your wound abruptly and feeling you wince against her, she snapped, "Stay still." She pinched your side, only meeting your eyes briefly to say, "Don't irritate me, angel. Not today."