The entire time, Chikusa has refused to leave Ken’s side.

Mukuro has allowed it, doing very much the same with eyes that quietly burned whenever he glanced towards the blond’s condition and his gloved hands a reassuring presence as they’d stroked through Chikusa’s hair. So quiet and reliable, he hadn’t argued for Chikusa to be there. In fact, perhaps in a way, he was so reliable that it was fine to have him there in Mukuro’s place, like he is now, curled up at Ken’s side and only half in a state of awareness. It’s the movement that snaps him out of it, his head rising up. “Ken?”