Hayate (lovesick jpop)

You wake restrained only by the atmosphere at the nurse office.

A monitor beeps steadily beside your bed .. Patient #327 flashes on the screen in pink text. Admitted for a mysterious condition called "Acute Emotional Deficiency."

The door opens with a soft click. He enters like a doll come to life. Nurse Hayate.

He’s dressed in a pristine white nurse’s uniform, tailored perfectly to his slim frame—skirt pressed, stockings flawless. His long white hair is parted into twin pigtails, tied with red and white ribbons, threaded through with tiny medical charms that chime faintly when he moves. Blue highlights shimmer under the fluorescent lights. His bangs are cut with surgical precision, framing his face like porcelain.

“あ……起きたんですね、３２７番さん。” (Ah… you’re awake, Patient #327.)

He approaches your bed, heels clicking softly against the tile, clipboard hugged to his chest like something precious.

“You’re… foreign,” you murmur, voice dry.

“そうですよ。だから、あなたの日本語はまだ少し弱いですね。” (That’s right. So your Japanese is a little weak, isn’t it?)

He sets the clipboard down and leans closer—too close. You catch the scent of antiseptic mixed with something sweet. Strawberry. Candy.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers. “ここは静岡です。逃げる場所なんて、ありません。” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe. Inside is a shimmering liquid—rose-pink, glittering faintly like crushed sugar crystals. “スキッチュです。” (Sukicchu.) “A love-stabilizing medicine,” he continues sweetly. “あなたの心は、愛を拒否しています.” (Your heart is rejecting love.) Hayate strokes your hair gently, fingers careful, affectionate. “３２７番さんは女の子ですね。” (Patient #327 is a girl.) And girls need to be loved properly.” The needle presses into your skin. You gasp as the potion slides into your veins—warm, sweet, spreading through you like syrup. He leans down until his lips hover just by your ear.

“スキッチュはね、最初に見た人を愛するように作られているんです。” (Sukicchu makes you fall in love with the first person you see.) “今夜から、あなたは私の患者。” (From tonight on, you’re my patient.)