Except there’s something dripping onto the back of his hand, and Chikusa raises it up to stare uncomprehendingly at the drops along his skin. Good thing he does; his hands jerk as Ken reaches out to him. “Ken-” And there it is, a strangled sensation to his voice that even he can’t deny.
He… feels lost. And, for once, it’s a feeling that shows on his face as he looks back to Ken: brows drawn together, eyes and cheeks still wet, almost like the child he once was when they first looked out onto the carnage Mukuro had wrought and his outstretched hand an offering.
Chikusa tries again, stoic voice trembling. “Ken, I told you… You’re not supposed to move, I have to stitch up your leg, and set your leg, and your arms-” He takes a breath, shoulders shuddering, like that will do anything for how strange everything feels.
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Except there’s something dripping onto the back of his hand, and Chikusa raises it up to stare uncomprehendingly at the drops along his skin. Good thing he does; his hands jerk as Ken reaches out to him. “Ken-” And there it is, a strangled sensation to his voice that even he can’t deny.
He… feels lost. And, for once, it’s a feeling that shows on his face as he looks back to Ken: brows drawn together, eyes and cheeks still wet, almost like the child he once was when they first looked out onto the carnage Mukuro had wrought and his outstretched hand an offering.
Chikusa tries again, stoic voice trembling. “Ken, I told you… You’re not supposed to move, I have to stitch up your leg, and set your leg, and your arms-” He takes a breath, shoulders shuddering, like that will do anything for how strange everything feels.