Chapter 57:Trial?
While cracking his neck, a man with blond hair styled in a fashionable, sleek manner and sky-blue eyes entered the bathhouse, a coffee mug clutched in his hand. He looked around the place, his eyes filled with curiosity, absorbing the serene yet lively atmosphere. He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the rich flavor as he observed the interactions between the bathhouse patrons. The warm, steamy air was thick with the mingled scents of soap and cedar, and the sound of light chatter and laughter filled the space, creating a comforting and welcoming environment.
His gaze wandered over to where men of various ages were exiting the steam room, their bodies glistening with moisture, their faces relaxed and content. The sight made him long for the soothing embrace of hot water, the way it could ease the tension from his muscles and wash away the stress of the day. Eager to join them, he decided to quickly finish his coffee. He took a deep breath, intending to drink the rest in one go, but the rush caused him to choke.
"Hrk-ghhk!" he spluttered, a small amount of coffee spraying from his mouth as his face turned a dangerous shade of blue. His airway was blocked, and his eyes rolled back as he struggled to breathe. The mug slipped from his grasp, shattering on the tiled floor, the sound sharp and startling.
*Thud!*
He fell to the ground with a loud thud, drawing the attention of everyone in the bathhouse. People immediately started to gather around the man, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. The low hum of conversation ceased, replaced by the urgent murmurs of those trying to understand what had happened. The room, once filled with the pleasant noise of relaxation, was now buzzing with anxiety and fear.
Before anyone could take action, a boy with short black hair and intense wine-red eyes pushed through the crowd. His presence was commanding despite his youth, and he moved with a sense of urgency and purpose.
"Please step aside!" the boy commanded, his voice firm and authoritative. He knelt beside the man, quickly assessing the situation.
In his hands, he held a pair of scissors and a plastic pipe, or straw. His movements were precise and deliberate as he carefully placed the scissors near the man's neck, preparing to perform an emergency tracheotomy. However, an elderly man intervened, stopping him with a firm hand on his arm.
The old man looked to be in his seventies, his eyes filled with the wisdom and experience of many years. His face was deeply wrinkled, and his hair was a mix of gray and white, with some bald patches that revealed a scalp marked by age. He wore a simple, loose-fitting yukata that spoke of tradition and comfort.
"You shouldn't do that," the old man said gently, his voice soft but firm. "You're just a child, and we shouldn't risk a human life. Let the adults handle this."
"But should we just wait and do nothing?" the boy shot back, his voice filled with urgency and intensity. His wine-red eyes blazed with determination and desperation.
The old man nodded solemnly, his expression calm and resolute. "Yes. And if you are going to say 'what if he dies before the adults arrive,' then let him..."
The boy widened his eyes, unable to believe what he was hearing. The old man's words seemed heartless, but there was a harsh truth to them. The elderly man's calm demeanor, the way he held himself with quiet authority, made it difficult to argue against his reasoning.
The old man continued, "If I let you do the work, who will take responsibility? I don't think you can take responsibility for a human life, can you?"
The people around the old man murmured in agreement, their faces reflecting the tension and uncertainty of the moment. Some nodded, while others looked away, unwilling to meet the boy's intense gaze. The room was thick with the scent of fear and the sound of whispered doubts.
Due to the tension, everyone seemed to have forgotten about calling an ambulance, or rather, it had completely slipped their minds. The way this had all happened so suddenly, some of them were still processing what they had just witnessed. The man's face was growing increasingly pale and blue, a stark contrast against the vibrant colors of the bathhouse.
The boy had to admit the old man was kind of right. What if he failed? What if he was unable to save the man in front of him? The man whose face was becoming more blue and pale with each passing second. And there was another fear, one that gnawed at his heart.
What if the man died in his hands?
"I will take the responsibility." The voice of a man in his 40s cut through the tension, commanding attention with his calm, authoritative presence. He was the bathhouse manager, stepping forward with an air of assuredness that brought a wave of relief over the onlookers.
The manager was dressed in a traditional lightweight yukata, its subtle pattern reflecting the elegant simplicity of the establishment. The fabric was light and breathable, perfect for the warm, humid environment of the bathhouse. Tied neatly around his waist was an obi, securing the yukata in place and adding a touch of formality to his attire. On his feet, he wore comfortable wooden geta sandals that clicked softly against the tiled floor as he walked.
Pinned to the chest of his yukata was a name tag, identifying him as Hiroshi, the manager. Over his shoulder, he carried a small leather pouch, useful for holding essential items such as keys and his phone. His presence brought a wave of calm over the onlookers, who instinctively trusted his experience and authority in this place.
"Go on, Ren-kun, and proceed. Like I said earlier, I will take responsibility," Hiroshi said, giving a firm nod of encouragement.
Ren's pulse raced, but his hands remained steady and his mind focused. He felt the weight of the manager's trust and the silent hope of the onlookers resting on his shoulders.
"Someone call an ambulance!" he shouted, the urgency in his voice jolting a few bystanders into action. They fumbled for their phones, their hands shaking with adrenaline, but Ren knew there was no time to wait. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pair of scissors, which he had taken from the counter earlier.
With a quick, deep breath to steady himself, Ren made a small incision just below the man's Adam's apple, careful to avoid cutting too deep. The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath filling the humid air. Blood welled up from the cut, but Ren didn't flinch. He grabbed a straw from a nearby drink, still wet and cool to the touch.
The old man's eyes watched Ren closely, his expression one of interest and perhaps a hint of approval.
Gently, Ren inserted the straw into the incision, his fingers slick with blood. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath along with the onlookers. Then, with a shuddering gasp, the man's chest began to rise and fall more steadily. The air flowed through the straw, bypassing the obstruction in his throat.
The old man smiled, his hands clasped in front of him, then his eyes fell on Hiroshi, the only person who believed that Ren could do it. The manager's face was calm but there was a glint of pride in his eyes.
The man's body jerked involuntarily as the fresh oxygen reached his lungs, a violent cough racking his frame and expelling a spray of blood from the incision. His hands clawed weakly at the tiled floor, his body reacting to the sudden influx of air. The onlookers flinched, some turning away, but Ren stayed close, his hand resting lightly on the man's shoulder to offer some semblance of comfort.
As the sound of distant sirens finally reached their ears, signaling that professional help was on the way, Ren exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The man continued to cough and shudder, his body slowly stabilizing, the immediate danger passing. Ren's heart pounded in his chest, relief mixing with the adrenaline of the moment.
He got up and was offered a tissue by Hiroshi, which Ren accepted with a grateful smile. As he wiped the blood from his hands and face, he felt a mix of pride and exhaustion wash over him. He had done it. He had saved a life.
"I am sorry for saying that to you," a voice said behind him, breaking through his thoughts.
Ren turned to see the old man who had initially stopped him. The man's expression was one of regret and respect.
"I suppose it was arrogance for having experience," the old man said, his voice tinged with a mix of humility and sadness. "I should have trusted you."
Ren nodded, accepting the apology. "Thank you. But you were right to be cautious."
The old man smiled and placed a firm hand on Ren's shoulder. "Take this." He handed Ren a card. "Call me whenever you need help."
Ren took the card, feeling the weight of the gesture. He didn't recognize the old man from his past life, but there was something about him that inspired confidence. He slipped the card into his pocket, feeling a sense of connection and gratitude.
As he walked back to where he and Akeshi had been talking, Ren felt a profound sense of accomplishment. He was glad he had been able to save a life, and the experience had strengthened his resolve. He knew there would be more challenges ahead, but he felt ready to face them, knowing that he had the support and trust of those around him.