The Angel is a Nurse
Translator: newton
(tl note: “plum” in this case is “umeboshi”, which is technically pickled plums. it’s a popular japanese food)
The one thing he regretted was that he saw what he was experiencing through a feverish haze rather than seeing it for what it was.
The apartment Amane lived in was a 1SLDK-type. (tl note: one storage room, one living room / dining room / kitchen, one bathroom)
There was a spacious living room, a bedroom, and a storage room – a luxurious residence for someone living alone. Amane’s parents picked this place out for him with his wealth and security in mind.
Living alone here wasn’t something he planned to complain about because it was his parents who decided this for him, but it’d be better if they didn’t spend this much money on it… at least that’s what he thought. HE didn’t know what to do with such a big place.
Besides, Amane wasn’t very good at organization, despite living alone.
And so, his living room was filled with a mess of various things.
“I can’t believe my eyes.”
Regardless of her lovely appearance, the angel who saved Amane had some choice remarks.
His living room was actually terrible, so Amane couldn’t say anything back. If Amane knew that someone was going to come home with him, he probably would have tidied up, but that’s not something he could do now.
Breathing through shiny lips without looking back, Mahiru carried Amane back to his bedroom so he could sleep.
As both of them started to fall, losing concentration would be bad, or so thought the person who had already fell.
“For now, I’ll leave for a bit so please change clothes. I’ll come back, alright?”
“…aren’t I already back inside?”
“Leaving you alone in bed awake like this would be bad.”
The previously wet Mahiru in Amane’s thoughts would return without hesitation, so he held his complaints back.
When Mahiru exited the room, he obediently changed into his house clothes just as he was told to do.
“It’s really messy in here, my feet can’t go… how do you live like this?”
While changing clothes, this quiet voice could be heard, and he immediately apologized.
After changing his clothes, Amane slept on his side, and so when he opened his heavy eyelids again, he immediately saw light blonde hair.
In order to get a better look, he followed the hair with his eyes, and as if he wasn’t dreaming, Mahiru quietly stood up to look at him.
“…what time is it?”
“7 PM. You slept for a few hours.”
Mahiru, who gave a short response, handed over a cup of sports drink to Amane as he rose up. (tl note: something like pocari sweat, probably)
As he accepted the drink with thanks, he was finally able to look around him.
Because he slept, he was now only slightly sick.
He noticed that his head felt chilly, and soon after that when he came to press his forehead, he felt the towel-like sensation on his fingertips.
He then realized that the thing on his forehead was a cooling pad, and he looked up at Mahiru only to get a quick “I brought it from my home” in reply.
“…sorry for being such a bother.”
“It’s fine.”
There was no choice but to chuckle at such a blunt reply.
Just because Mahiru offered to nurse Amane to health out of guilt didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to talk to him. In the first place, she didn’t think it was possible to have a friendly conversation with a boy that was only a small acquaintance.
“For now, I brought the medicine on the table over here. It’d be nice if you ate something to fill up your stomach and drank something too, but do you have an appetite right now?”
“Hmm, I guess.”
“I see. Well then, I’ll be making porridge so please wait here.”
“…eh, handmade by you?” (tl note: he calls her “shiina” w/o honorific here, so they’re on a last-name basis for now”
“Who else? If you don’t like it, then I’ll eat it myself.”
“No, I’ll eat it, so please let me do so.”
Maybe it wasn’t possible to make handmade porridge while administering nursing care, but for a second that fact was forgotten.
In truth, it was impossible to gauge Mahiru’s cooking skill, but she at least seemed to have passed Home Economics, so at the very least it shouldn’t be terrible.
Mahiru looked at Amane rather longingly, who had immediately put his head down to eat, and handed him a thermometer that had been on the side table.
“I’ll bring the porridge shortly, so please use this thermometer in the meantime.”
“Mm.”
As he was told, he pulled up the front of his shirt and placed the thermometer in. Mahiru averted her eyes.
“Please do that after I’ve left the room.”
As Mahiru said that quietly yet roughly, her cheeks reddened slightly.
Unlike girls, boys like Amane didn’t have to hide their chest areas, so he was mystified about how Mahiru was affected by some showing of skin. Just by raising the front of his shirt, he could easily see that Mahiru was flustered.
Mahiru, with her white cheeks still blushing, was facing away, swaying. Amane felt as if his heart and ears were also blushing, and he could see the embarassed state Mahiru was in.
(ah, i just got the feeling that a guy around me was calling something cute)
Amane thought that Mahiru was truly a beautiful girl, but that was just that. She was cute and pretty and definitely not anything else.
When you look at art, you see it as beautiful, right? Mahiru’s beauty was “beauty” in that regard.
However, unlike art, the slightly embarrased Mahiru showed a slight hint of humanity, and that was strangely cute.
“…well, is it time to take the porridge now?”
“I-i was going to do that even if you didn’t ask.”
However, this wasn’t the meek cuteness you’d expect from a relationship, so he held back his thoughts.
Small talk quickly became boring so Mahiru quickly left the room with audible footsteps.
She seemed agitated either because she was upset, or because of the mess in the room. It was probably the latter.
After watching the scene drowsily, Amane sighed and wondered to himself what just happened.
(well, it’s probably a mixture of responsibilit and guilt)
Usually, you wouldn’t want to go to the house of a man you don’t know to care for him. Being attacked would be a pretty big deal.
Mahiru chose to carry this risk and nurse Amane back to health. Anyway, Amane seemed to be uninterested in her, which gave her some slight reassurance.
After all, Mahiru did this as a means of last resort, for sure.
“I brought it, but…”
In delirious thought, the door was knocked on reservedly.
Apparently Mahiru was concerned over Amane not wearing clothes, but then she quickly remembered that he only raised up his shirt to take his temperature.
“I haven’t gotten my temperature yet.”
“At least take it when I’m not here…”
“I’m sorry.”
While apologizing and taking the thermometer out, the thermometer made a muffled buzzing sound.
Whoa, taking it out and looking at it, the thermometer displayed 38.3 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t high enough to warrant going to the hospital, but it was still quite high.
After Amane put his clothes back on and gave the clear to Mahiru (who was still hesitant to go in), a tray of porridge with a pot on it came inside.
Mahiru seemed to be relieved, presumably because Amane’s clothes were back on.
“What was your temperature?”
“38.3 degrees. I’ve taken medicine, slept, and taken a bath.”
“…over-the-counter medicine just treats the symptoms, not the virus itself. Just sit back, take a rest, and let your immune system do its job.”
Though Amane still got a small comment, it was out of concern, so the response was warranted.
“Good grief,” Mahiru sighed. She put down the tray on the side table and opened the lid of the pot.
Inside was a bowl containing plum. It was watery, in consideration of the strain it might place on the stomach. It was most likely instant porridge (tl not: lit. seven-minute porridge)
Was it because plums were apparently good for treating colds, and not for the taste?
Though it was warm, the steam coming from the porridge wasn’t overtly hot, so the porridge could have been left to cool rather than freshly made.
While Amane stared at the porridge, Mahiru poured the plums into the porridge bowl. The seeds were loosened up and removed, and the red mass mixed into the white mass.
“Here you go. It’s not that hot anymore.”
“Mm, thanks.”
Even after delivering the food, Mahiru couldn’t help but feel concerned about Amane, who was presently occupied with the bowl and a spoon.
“What? I told you to eat, didn’t I? I don’t need to wait on you like this.”
“Nobody said anything.
…no, I can cook too.”
“Isn’t that expected of someone who lives alone?”
For Amane, who could barely live alone, these words cut deep.
“…you should clean up your room first before even attempting to cook.”
“I guess.”
Mahiru, in deep thought, bit her nails. Amane took the spoon and had a scoop of porridge, so as to avoid further conversation.
The thick porridge, tasting of salt intertwined with rice, covered his tongue with taste.
However, the sourness and saltiness of the plum amplified this taste, balancing the flavour further.
Amane didn’t particularly like plum, but the sweetness, lightness, and mild acidity of the meal contributed to its great flavour, and it was healthy to boot.
“This is good.”
“Thank you. It’s porridge, so no matter who makes it, it’ll be more or less the same.”
When Amane finished the porridge, a faint smile appeared on Mahiru’s face.
It was a smile of relief, different from the smile she put on at school, or the one she wore outdoors.
“…Fujimiya-san?”
“…it’s nothing.”
Unfortunately, that fleeting smile disappeared immediately.
…or so Amane thought, taking another scoop of porridge to dodge any more awkward small talk.
