If you’ve watched up to Episode 8 of DotS, you might have noticed earnest puppy, Ki-bum, and rookie nurse, Min-ji. There doesn’t appear to be any storyline involving both, but being the most junior in their organisations in Urk, I’d expect they might have more in common than they think.
Clickbait Wannabe: Ki-bum is bummed out that he’s more hindrance than help. Compassion comes from an unexpected quarter.
This flashfic is related to the post-earthquake recovery work in Ep 7. Disclaimer: I hold no rights to the characters, plot or anything else associated with Descendants of the Sun.
Ki-bum was upset. Here he was, arm in a sling, useless at English, and of no practical use to almost anyone. He knocked over things, got in people’s way, and couldn’t even cook when there were no ingredients. The only bright spot was giving blood to Lieutenant Yoon’s patient, and that didn’t take very long at all. If only he had more blood to give.
Aish, has that boy caused more problems again? Min-ji muttered under her breath as she strode past briskly to the MediCube to get more supplies. He was looking as woebegone as a dog in a bath. She did feel a little sorry for him, especially after she’d yelled at him earlier. After all, they were both the maknae in their teams here, and though that involved doing most of the menial work, at least it meant being useful. But the kid now was as good as an elephant in a room.
There was a small crowd milling around the Medicube and Head Nurse Ha was at the site assisting Dr Song. Nurse Soo-Jin was elsewhere, possibly bartering for more blood again. And she had to head back to the site to help Dr Kang. A nurse’s work is never done.
“Soldier-nim! If your superior allows it, could you take charge of those locals who have come for treatment? We’re a bit shorthanded. Just register them, and try to take down their symptoms. Could you do that?”
Ki-bum was taken aback. Here was the pretty nurse who’d yelled at him and given him the stink eye asking for his help civilly. Couldn’t be a joke, could it? No, no. There’s no time to joke at this moment.
“Yes, Nurse Choi! I’ll check and let you know ASAP!” he hollered back.
He ran to the Medicube as soon as he got the approval. The job wasn’t so difficult – he did know his ABCs, even if he didn’t quite know what most of the combinations meant. But he also knew a little Urkian – name, age, pain – and he could mime the rest. By the time she came back, he had sorted the patients according to the severity of their ailments. He’d even got the younger children playing a traditional Korean game to distract them from their discomforts.
“Good job, Lance-corporal … ” she peered at his tag, “… Kim.”
He beamed at her, “Thank you, Nurse Choi!”
“You can call me noona. Now, if you could just pass these … …”
Years later, when they recounted their experiences in Urk, arguments would invariably arise about what actually happened, who came onto whom. But their grandchildren would still gleefully ask for the same story, if only to see their usually doting harabeoji and halmoni break into childish squabbles just like them.