@memoryextrction liked for a starter.

@vulpesly liked for a starter.

" WE DO. " is the doctor's reply from where she stands. far enough away to not feel like she's pressuring or closing in, but close enough that her presence is felt. she's not here to fight, anyway. ( empty handed, all she brings is herself, her gloves, her hairpin. her shoulders feel unusually light for the time of day, but even she gets tired of hauling around heavy bags. ) the hustle and bustle of the day was quieting down in the aftermath of the afternoon rush hour. fewer honking cars, fewer school children walking home, empty train cars. yosano tucks four fingers into the waistband of her skirt and lets her thumbs stick out. " what's got you mad today? "

THE SPACE IS QUIET AS THE MAN RETREATS. the tension is so think it's almost palpable, impossible to hear the man muttering in anger over the rush of one's pulse in their own ears. and the doctor stands, stiff and wild eyed as she had been before, jaw now wired in a tight scowl. ( her teeth grit against top and bottom so hard it rattles her skull, like if she bites down hard enough she'll be able to hold back the flood of rage and curse words threatening to bubble up out of her lungs. ) the way her palms clutch at the fabric of her own skirts kind of implies it's a losing battle. the man was lucky enough to walk away unscathed. half of yokohama probably knew the alternative option ⸻ knew what happened when you pissed off the agency's doctor. " fucking bastard, " it begins, and yosano swears she sees someone flinch away out of the corner of her eye from tone of voice alone. " got to walk away before i broke his smug jaw. "

Yosano Akiko, Labor Pains (1912.)