Estrella Cruzada ⋮ ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ ⋮

꧁ ıѵ | ƈųąɬгơ

ꜱᴀ ᴘᴀɴᴀɴᴀᴡ ɴɪ ᴀʀɪᴀ ꧁

Natigilan kaming lahat dahil sa putok ng baril. Napuno ng katahimikan ang paligid. Walang nagtangkang gumalaw. Maski ang paghinga'y pinilit naming huwag makagawa ng ingay. Ilang segundo lang ay natumba na lang bigla si Mr. Shinohara.

I heard their terrified murmurs and loud exclamations. I was astounded by what I witnessed. I looked at Mom, but she didn't say anything, and I looked at Dad, who was just smug and dared to smile. That smile, as though he'd shot no one in front of him.

Are you out of your mind, Dad?!

"Dad, you—!"

Dad, staring intently at each of the terrified gentlemen one by one, said in Japanese with seriousness and firmness, "What an outlaw this man is! He made a deal with our competitor hospital to sell our recently developed medication for neuropsychological disorders, which we plan to launch next month."

Inalis ko ang aking paningin kay Dad at tinitigan si Shinohara-san na nakahandusay sa sahig. Marami nang nawawalang dugo sa katawan niya. 'Di ko mapigilang magdalawang-isip.

Hindi pa ako lisensyadong doktor kaya bawal akong mag-perform ng surgery. Pero kailangan ni Shinohara-san ng agarang tulong.

Isa akong surgeon sa aking isip at kaluluwa. May dapat akong gawin kung may buhay na nakataya, maiiligtas ko man ito o hindi. Sumumpa ako sa aking paaralan na ang halaga ng ignatian values ng magis at ng cura personalis ay isasapuso ko sa pagtatapos namin sa pag-aaral.

'Di ko alam kung paano pa tatratuhin ang aking ama sa ginawa niya kay Shinohara-san. Ayaw kong maniwala na ganito ang ugali ni Dad.

Hindi ko na pinansin kung nagsasalita pa si Dad o kung akin nang nababastos ang mga bisita niya. Basta mabilis akong lumapit kay Shinohara-san  at tinignan ang lagay niya.

"How is he going to fare?"

"Has he passed away? Must we try to save him?"

"Did you miss the Director's remarks? What a traitor he is! How dare you save him?"

"Indeed, you are right. In addition, nobody knows how to handle him. Let him die,"

What they were saying was so offensive to me. If we don't waste time, he might still be able to be saved. How do they not call a doctor instead of just trash-talking him?

"Daremoga hanashimashita. Anata wa kare o shinu koto o erandanode, watashi wa—" my father decided to speak, looking thoroughly amused at what he was hearing. (Everybody has spoken. Since you chose to let him die, then I will—)

I prevented my father from finishing. I yelled, "Sure, I'll do it! So please stop talking, Chichiue!"

Tumingala ako at sinamaan ng tingin si Dad. Nagtama ang mga mata namin, doon nakita ko ang tuwang-tuwang ekspresyon nito. Sinuklian naman niya ng inosenteng ngiti ang sama ng aking tingin.

"Hai, so shimasu. Kore wa anata ga kirainahitodesuga, watashi wa kare o sukuimasu," I spoke with confidence and didn't wait for my dad to answer. I examined Mr. Shinohara's gunshot wound with great care. (Yes, I will. This is the man you hate, but I will save him.)

Looking at the wound, it appears to be above his stomach. Blood is streaming through the opening.

"Absurd! It was his heart that was shot through. Holding the bleeding in is impossible," my father proclaimed his assumption in a haughty manner. He just gave me a small smile and then sat down.