tigerine

Often the 'extra work' Jakurai does is on the seamier side: bandaging knife wounds and treating heavy contusions earns him the 'protection' of the local yakuza, who praise his skill with a needle. Some of his outreach extends to treating sex workers with sexually-transmitted infections, especially hosts and soapland workers, whose jobs will be threatened if it gets back to their bosses exactly what kind of doctoring they need. For families with internal problems that need to save face, he doesn't ask many questions about why or how something happened. Shinjuku Central Hospital doesn't ask questions either. 

His stoicism is well-known; Hifumi calls it his ♥*♡+:｡charm point｡:+♡*♥. 
Nevertheless, this one time, in this one case, he must speak up. 

"I am not your psychiatrist," he says.
"I-I know, Sensei." He looks up at Jakurai with those hollow eyes. 
Jakurai looks at Doppo again, and then goes over the patient record again. "But you are here asking for sleeping pills to help with your anxiety." He glances at Doppo over the rim of his glasses. 
Doppo flinches a little at Jakurai's direct gaze, and can't bear the eye contact. "I-I made an appointment with someone here. In the psychiatric ward." He stumbles over the unfamiliar word. 
"Good," Jakurai replies. "If you will let me know the doctor's name, I'll put it on your chart for reference." 
"It... It's not.." Doppo says, his voice shot through with despair. 
"Not?" 
"The appointment... it's not for several months." 
"...oh." A line forms on Jakurai's perfect brow. "I see." 
"It's my fault!" A torrent of guilt pours out of Doppo's mouth. "I knew I should have scheduled it ages ago, that the wait times were long, but I didn't think it would be this long. If I can barely make it to an appointment with you, Sensei, how am I supposed to make it months? Will I even last that long?" His hand closes on his chest, fingers curling over his heart, as if he would rip it out. "If I cry again at work I don't think I can take my boss staring at my red face when I come out of the bathroom--I think he knew last time that I'd been--"
"Doppo." Jakurai takes his glasses off, shoving them in his coat pocket. He sets the clipboard aside and puts his hands in his pockets. "This is not your fault." 
"No, I-- I should be able to do this," Doppo hiccups. "I got caught up in managing deadlines at work, and before I knew it--"
"It was already bad," Jakurai muses. 
"Y-Yes." 
"Very well," Jakurai says, with the air of a man who has made a big decision. "Come to my apartment tonight."
Doppo's heart skips a beat. "Your apartment?" 
"Not as a patient," Jakurai adds. "But as a friend. We will make a plan to get you through the months ahead."