To My Sunflower

Eiji cast his eyes around the glossy dark marble floors and white washed walls of the building's foyer, which was also reflected in Tama's as she poked her head out of the bag.

He followed everyone's lead to the gold trimmed polished wood security desk positioned at the most welcoming spot on the floor. The desk smelt of freshly applied polish oil and paint like the rest of the building's newness.

"Ito-sensei to see Hashimoto-sensei from Prothesis Design and Engineering." Kei formally greeted the two impeccably dressed men in black and white suits, standing behind the desk so their bottom half was hidden. Their holstered guns were clearly visible from their leather belts to their waists.

"Hmm," said one of them with an expressionless face glanced at the leather bound book that was spread opened before him.

"Oh, yes, it says you have an appointment right about now." The man apathetically confirmed.

"The cat will need to be quarantined," said the burlier man with a frown.

"Guten Tag. I am Doctor Weber." Tyne introduced himself the German way with a stiff bow and snappy voice.

"This test subject is our successful vaccination test against the Lyssavirus Disease. We are testing its personality effects, allergies and impacts on nerve damaged areas to the body by carrying it around in a wicker basket bag. So far, tests are proving successful, and we are to demonstrate the benefits of our ground breaking prosthesis research to Hashimoto-sensei." Tyne clinically added with a good will gesture of showing the animal's paperwork.

The burly man glanced at the documents Tyne pulled out of his briefcase. Satisfied, he provided instructions on where to find Hashimoto-sensei and gave them clearance badges after registration of each member in the open book.

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Eiji brushed off his questions on Tyne's counter preparations. He was certainly impressed that the man was able to think so far ahead. Still, to push the future forward in thought was tough. It made him wonder on Tyne's personal stance to the war. His memories recapped on his conversation with him and his request to find his wife. Nothing more was said when they left Iwo Jima, but Eiji suspected it was a matter of timing. It was the same for him too.

Thoughts trailed to Hinata as their shoes squeaked along the conservative grey linoleum floors of the white-wall corridor they walked along.

He stowed his wistful thoughts when they stopped before the grey painted door with a metal name plaque reflecting light over the name of Dr. H. Hashimoto and the acronyms that represented his tertiary credentials.