"Damn right we're not, byon," Ken huffs, tugging Chikusa closer against his chest. He's shifted so that he's holding Chikusa more from the side than behind now, Chikusa's head pillowed against his shoulder.

Ken couldn't take a more overtly protective stance if he tried. Anyone who wants to take Chikusa to a hospital will have to knock him out or kill him to arrange it; that much is blindingly obvious.