Ken freezes. He pretty much stops thinking when Chikusa yells. So only later will he think that, if Chikusa yelled like that, even Mukuro-sama would probably stop in his tracks - if only out of shock.

Chikusa doesn't yell. Chikusa doesn't get like this at all. Ken hasn't seen him this violently...anything since back when they were being experimented on. After Chikusa would come back from what they were doing to him. And not right after, either. It was always like Chikusa's reactions lagged behind, back then - sometimes he'd be silent for half an hour, just sitting, and then freak out without any warning. It had always kind of creeped Ken out, because he couldn't begin to understand it. (And, also, because at all other times Chikusa was so quiet and emotionless that seeing him break down felt completely wrong.)

Ken feels something of that fear now - and just like back then, it's mixed with confusion and uncertainty about where it's coming from, why now. He simply stares at Chikusa, wide-eyed and fearful himself, but - for perhaps the first time ever - Chikusa's driven obedience into him all the way down into his bones, as deeply as Mukuro ever has.

"Kakipi...?" His voice is small. He's flat on the bed, all the resistance having been leeched out of him at Chikusa's bellow, and only the twitch of his fingers indicates how badly he wants to reach up and grab Chikusa's clothes for something to hold onto. But obedience overrides it.