Shingo stood completely lost in the middle of the city, which was a living, breathing thing made up of a large group of chattering crowds. She had a map in her hand, but that was utterly useless if the compass she had was completely broken. She had a laminated badge around her neck that read 'Medical In training' in her grandma's handwriting, so she for sure couldn't throw that way. The first day, she would try to speak up, find the person in charge to find out her future goals from here. She tried to avoid being late, so she kept moving on. Her heartbeat was in sync with her humming.
The address of the Aesculapium was something she had committed to memory. She had been dropped off by the bus at shi point, but the numbers were going into the wrong direction. She was supposed to go north but was heading south. She looked up and felt her chest tighten a little with a twist of panic. She observed the faces of a florist arranging sunflowers.
“Excuse me,” Shingo asked, her voice smaller than she intended. “Aesculapium?”
The woman smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ah, you’re going the wrong way, love. Two blocks back, turn left at the old clock tower. You’ll see the spire.” The clock tower. Shingo remembered passing its stoic, grey face. She backtracked, her sensible shoes clicking a hurried rhythm on the pavement. Left at the tower, as instructed, led her into a quieter street lined with brick buildings and the faint, clean scent of antiseptic that grew stronger with each step. Her spirits lifted. She could smell her destination.
However, there was no spire visible at the junction where the street ended. Rather, a printed sign indicating a detout and a tall construction fence blocked the ath. This time, the panic was colder. She looked at her watch and saw that there were 20 minutes left.
An old man was scattering crumbs of bread from a paper bag while feeding pigeons. She came over to him in desperation. "I am attempting to reach the Aesculapium, for my medical in training..." His blue eyes were as kind as he looked at her. He did not provide instructions; he gestured with a twisted finger. "Observe that alley?" She questioned, but the man smiled and spoke. "The one with the tree mura, although it appears to be a dead end, it is actually a shortcut. There, my wofe worked a nurse. Forty years... She used to take it daily."
Shingo hesitated. The alley was narrow, shadowed, the painted tree on the wall vibrant with impossible blue leaves. It felt like stepping into a secret. Trusting a stranger, trusting the memory of a nurse she’d never meet, she took it. The world of roaring traffic fell away. It was cool and quiet, opening abruptly onto a bustling plaza. And there it was. Aesculapium. Not a spire, but a grand, sandstone building with wide steps and a revolving door that swallowed and emitted people in a steady, purposeful stream. The main entrance.
She had arrived not at the back, not at a service entrance, but right at the heart of it. She smoothed her scrubs, took a deep breath that smelled of hope and iodine, and checked her watch. Seven minutes to spare.
Her journey hadn’t been a straight line. It had been a series of wrong turns and quiet helpers, a small adventure that mirrored exactly what she was about to step into: a world where the path was rarely clear, where you had to ask for help, and where sometimes, the most unlikely shortcuts led you exactly where you needed to be. Squaring her shoulders, Shingo walked toward the revolving door, ready to begin.
MFT
The address of the Aesculapium was something she had committed to memory. She had been dropped off by the bus at shi point, but the numbers were going into the wrong direction. She was supposed to go north but was heading south. She looked up and felt her chest tighten a little with a twist of panic. She observed the faces of a florist arranging sunflowers.
“Excuse me,” Shingo asked, her voice smaller than she intended. “Aesculapium?”
The woman smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ah, you’re going the wrong way, love. Two blocks back, turn left at the old clock tower. You’ll see the spire.” The clock tower. Shingo remembered passing its stoic, grey face. She backtracked, her sensible shoes clicking a hurried rhythm on the pavement. Left at the tower, as instructed, led her into a quieter street lined with brick buildings and the faint, clean scent of antiseptic that grew stronger with each step. Her spirits lifted. She could smell her destination.
However, there was no spire visible at the junction where the street ended. Rather, a printed sign indicating a detout and a tall construction fence blocked the ath. This time, the panic was colder. She looked at her watch and saw that there were 20 minutes left.
An old man was scattering crumbs of bread from a paper bag while feeding pigeons. She came over to him in desperation. "I am attempting to reach the Aesculapium, for my medical in training..." His blue eyes were as kind as he looked at her. He did not provide instructions; he gestured with a twisted finger. "Observe that alley?" She questioned, but the man smiled and spoke. "The one with the tree mura, although it appears to be a dead end, it is actually a shortcut. There, my wofe worked a nurse. Forty years... She used to take it daily."
Shingo hesitated. The alley was narrow, shadowed, the painted tree on the wall vibrant with impossible blue leaves. It felt like stepping into a secret. Trusting a stranger, trusting the memory of a nurse she’d never meet, she took it. The world of roaring traffic fell away. It was cool and quiet, opening abruptly onto a bustling plaza. And there it was. Aesculapium. Not a spire, but a grand, sandstone building with wide steps and a revolving door that swallowed and emitted people in a steady, purposeful stream. The main entrance.
She had arrived not at the back, not at a service entrance, but right at the heart of it. She smoothed her scrubs, took a deep breath that smelled of hope and iodine, and checked her watch. Seven minutes to spare.
Her journey hadn’t been a straight line. It had been a series of wrong turns and quiet helpers, a small adventure that mirrored exactly what she was about to step into: a world where the path was rarely clear, where you had to ask for help, and where sometimes, the most unlikely shortcuts led you exactly where you needed to be. Squaring her shoulders, Shingo walked toward the revolving door, ready to begin.
MFT