The fluorescent tube in the emergency treatment room buzzed with electric current.
The patient howling nearby was a young man in his early twenties, shirtless, his left arm hanging rigidly at his side. Even the slightest movement made him grimace.
Kiryu Kazusuke walked over, wasted no words, and immediately began his examination.
The patient’s left shoulder displayed the classic square shoulder deformity. The once-rounded contour of the deltoid muscle had vanished, the acromion jutting out like a right-angled clothes hanger.
He had the patient try to place his affected hand on his opposite shoulder while bringing his elbow close to his chest wall.
He couldn’t.
This was a positive Dugas sign—ironclad evidence of an anterior shoulder dislocation.
In this day and age, painless reduction had not yet become commonplace. Or rather, deploying an anesthesiologist for such a minor injury was a waste of resources.
Doctors usually just administered a shot of Dolantin or simply had the patient tough it out.
The nurse beside him had already prepared the triangular bandage and bandages.
Kiryu Kazusuke stood at the patient’s side.
He recalled the contents of the “Joint Dislocation Reduction Technique - Basic” he had just obtained.
What surfaced in his mind was not some glittering special effect, but rather an intuitive understanding of the human body’s mechanical structure.
The humeral head had dislocated from the anterior-inferior aspect of the glenoid cavity, becoming lodged beneath the coracoid process or under the clavicle. The surrounding muscles were spasming violently from the pain, forming a powerful resistance that locked the dislocated bone firmly in place.
To reduce it, he first had to counteract this muscular force, then guide the humeral head back along its original path.
Kiryu Kazusuke extended both hands.
One hand gripped the patient’s wrist; the other supported the patient’s elbow.
Without any flashy movements, he employed the most classic Kocher method.
“Relax. Deep breaths.”
Kiryu Kazusuke spoke as he began slowly applying traction to the affected limb.
There was none of the imagined sensation of a sudden surge in strength.
His arm strength remained at its original level, but the difference was that he now knew with extreme clarity at what angle to exert force and how much force to apply.
The feeling was like he was unscrewing a rusty screw.
Before, he might have needed to probe repeatedly, searching for the point where it would catch. Now, the moment he grasped the patient’s arm, he already perceived that single correct path.
He first maintained traction, allowing the patient’s spasming muscles to gradually fatigue and relax.
Then, he slowly externally rotated the upper arm.
The patient broke out in a cold sweat from the pain and tried to struggle.
“Don’t move.”
Kiryu Kazusuke’s hands were steady, rigidly controlling the angle of rotation—not a degree more, not a degree less.
Until the humeral head rotated to the front of the glenoid cavity.
Then, adduction.
Bringing the affected elbow close to the chest wall.
Finally, internal rotation.
Having the patient’s palm rest on the opposite shoulder.
These four steps—traction, external rotation, adduction, internal rotation—had to be completed in one fluid motion.
*Click.*
A dull snapping sound rang out in the quiet treatment room.
It was a peculiar trembling sensation that accompanied a bone returning to its socket, transmitted through Kiryu Kazusuke’s palms—not intense, but exceptionally distinct.
The patient’s originally twisted, pain-ridden expression froze instantly, then transformed into surprise.
That piercing pain vanished by more than half in that instant.
The arm that had been stiff and immobile could now rest freely on the opposite shoulder.
The square shoulder deformity was gone; the shoulder had regained its roundness.
Reduction successful. Kiryu Kazusuke released his grip.
“All right. Go get an X-ray to check, then we’ll put you in a sling.”
He took the disinfectant wipe from the nurse, wiped his hands, and turned to start writing the medical record.
“That’s it?”
But the young man wasn’t having it, his expression displeased.
Shouldn’t it have been like on TV, where several burly men held him down and a doctor kicked him in the armpit, making him writhe in agony?
That was it?
This doctor wasn’t very old either—was he some quack with lousy skills?
But when he moved his shoulder, he immediately swallowed the words of doubt in his throat.
“That’s it?”
He looked at his arm, muttering to himself.
This doctor’s really something.
After handling this patient, the emergency room temporarily fell quiet again.
Kiryu Kazusuke returned to the on-call room and lay back down on that uncomfortable single bed.
…
December 24th. Christmas Eve.
It was also a Saturday.
On this holiday that couples all across Japan were looking forward to, the heavens refused to cooperate.
It was snowing in Maebashi City.
The snowflakes that had begun falling at noon had become a heavy blanket of snow by two in the afternoon, and by four o’clock had escalated into a blizzard.
The meteorological observatory issued a heavy snow warning. Visibility was less than ten meters.
The entire city of Maebashi was shrouded in a white curtain; traffic was nearly paralyzed.
Gunma University Affiliated Hospital swiftly activated its severe weather emergency response plan.
All non-urgent surgeries were cancelled. Medical staff living in remote areas were allowed to leave early, leaving only essential on-duty personnel to hold their posts.
Eight in the evening.
After finishing the follow-up observation report for Congressman Okawara’s son, Kiryu Kazusuke was about to end his day.
He walked to the elevator lobby and pressed the button.
*Ding—*
The elevator doors opened. Inside stood a woman in a white coat, hands in her pockets, wearing a cold expression.
“Dr. Imagawa.”
Kiryu Kazusuke paused briefly, then stepped inside.
He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but there seemed to be a slight redness and swelling at the corners of Dr. Imagawa’s eyes that hadn’t fully faded?
Imagawa Ori simply nodded, making no sound.
The elevator doors slowly closed and began descending.
However—
Just as the elevator was halfway down, passing between the first floor and basement level one—
*Bang—*
Accompanied by a dull, heavy crash, the car shook violently, then jerked to a halt.
The bright overhead lights instantly went out, replaced by dim emergency lighting that eerily illuminated the less-than-two-square-meter space.
Immediately after, a crackling broadcast came through the intercom.
“Emergency notice.”
“Due to the blizzard, the hospital’s external power lines have malfunctioned. Backup generators are now active.”
“Maintenance personnel are delayed due to the blizzard. Estimated arrival time is two to three hours. Please remain calm and await rescue.”
The transmission ended.
Only the breathing of the two people could be heard in the elevator.
Kiryu Kazusuke turned to look at Imagawa Ori.
In this cramped, enclosed space—a lone man and woman, on Christmas Eve, with the power out.
If this were a romance novel, what would come next was one of those plotlines like, “Dr. Imagawa, you wouldn’t want your secret to be discovered, right?”
Unfortunately.
Imagawa Ori took a chocolate bar from her pocket, tore open the wrapper, broke off half, and put it in her mouth.
“How unlucky.”
She chewed the chocolate, not panicking in the least, merely disgusted that her precious time was being wasted here.
Tonight was Christmas Eve, after all.
Who knew how many champagne towers those lonely women at “Kagura Club” would have ready for her.
“Tch.”
“This damn elevator should have been replaced ages ago.”
“Once that old man Okawara sends over his donation, I’m definitely going to suggest the director fix the elevator first.”
She leaned irritably against the elevator wall.
Kiryu Kazusuke didn’t reply, because a pale red light screen once again flickered into view before his eyes.
[Imagawa Ori: Why did it have to be Kiryu here? It’s so cold. I really need to pee. If only he would kill himself. I’ve never tried peeing in an elevator before.]
[Convergent World Line—]
[Branch One: Display your manliness. Force open the elevator doors and climb out with her. (Reward: Slightly improved physical fitness)]
[Branch Two: Remain silent and be a qualified background character until rescue arrives. (Reward: 10,000 yen cash)]
[Branch Three: Attempt suicide. You decide to strangle yourself to death. (Reward: Half-day tour of the prefectural national psychiatric hospital)]