"No!" The word is fired from Ken's lips like a bullet, his arms tightening reflexively around Chikusa as though he expects him to be snatched from his arms. Hospitals have, on occasion, been required by himself and Chikusa, and there's nothing they hate more. The tubes, the needles, the people in lab coats in power over them - it's always a relived nightmare of Estraneo. And Chikusa's never been hurt quite so badly; Ken's terrified of how long he might have to be in there, what they might do to his partner. Worse, he's not sure mundane medicine can fix injuries this extensive; that's why he opted for box healing as a better solution in the first place.

"He can't go to a normal doctor, byon! They'll put him in casts and he'll be stuck there for months and he might not even heal right! Can't your stupid box heal everything?!"

He's as tense as piano wire. Even more than Chikusa, he's radiating terror, thinly masked by sound and fury. He's in his most dangerous state, one Chikusa's seen before on occasion - an animal at bay, ready to do just about anything to himself or to anyone else if it'll get him out of the situation he's cornered in.