[It’s a good thing Chikusa has already pierced one of Ken’s legs with the needle when he asks that question. His hand jerks at it and the firmness in his voice is strained.]
You will be fixed.
[He’s not hearing anything contrary to that. He won’t let himself believe that.]
"...does that mean it'd be bad?" That's all Ken can think, with a response like that. He's not the smartest at the best of times, and his brain's not exactly working up to par right now between pain and starvation - although at least with Chikusa's needles, some of the pain is fading. But Chikusa's evident alarm at the thought makes Ken feel like the answer to his question might be bad, and it doesn't occur to him that the very premise of the question might be the culprit instead.
"...I'm thirsty, byon." Somewhere in his talking, Ken suddenly became aware of his burning of his throat and the dryness of his tongue. He hasn't had nothing at all to drink since they started starving him, but it's been kept to a bare minimum on purpose.
There’s no answer. Chikusa’s lips merely thin, and he pulls out a scalpel stolen from the Corvi’s supplies before pausing at Ken’s words. Right… He’d almost forgotten, in the face of all of Ken’s injuries. Carefully, he sets the scalpel down. So much, too much… but this is important. He has to keep pushing.
“I’m going to have to go again to get something from up in the kitchen…” So that Ken knows. It’s the kind of thing that will only take a second, but Ken had panicked so much before.
"...okay." Ken agrees a little more readily this time, even if he doesn't look happy. But he does really want something to drink, and nothing bad happened last time aside from the fact that Chikusa wasn't there. And with some of the pain fading, some of the kneejerk fear has eased as well.
He senses something in Chikusa, though, with a sense outside the usual five. He knows his partner better than anyone, and he's seen Chikusa shut down and fall apart and everything in between. He can almost feel Chikusa pushing himself.
He'll get yelled at if he moves again, so he has to settle for simply looking at Chikusa. "...it's okay, Kakipi." The words are a little awkward; he's better at communicating this stuff, at reassuring Chikusa, non-verbally.
Chikusa is in the middle of getting up when Ken speaks up, and he pauses, just staring at him. It seems like he might not say anything at all before leaving, but, after a second- “No it’s not.”
And just like that, he shuffles away before an argument can be started up. He doesn’t want to deal with it.
As he goes up the stairs, he manages to observe some of the captured mafiosi starting to stir. Well, he should still have enough time before they snap out of it completely, and he can ignore them if they start up a fuss while he’s tending to Ken. For the time being, he focuses on getting to the kitchen and stepping over bodies as he gathers food and bottles of water. It only takes a few minutes- much faster than when he went to clear everything out- before he’s stepping back into the little medical room. “Don’t drink or eat too fast,” he warns, uncapping a bottle of water and holding it to Ken’s lips as he cradles his partner’s head to help.
Chikusa's advice falls on deaf ears, which isn't unusual - but, as it happens, Ken can't ignore the warning because it's Chikusa who's giving him the food and drink. Chikusa is setting the pace, so if he feels Ken is drinking too quickly - which Ken will, if he's allowed - he can just pull the water away.
He'll get whined at when he does, of course. But Chikusa must be used to that.
Chikusa isn’t at all surprised by this turn of events. Not even slightly. Still, being in control has its benefits, and he pulls the water away from Ken more than a few times to let his body have time to process it. Probably all too soon for Ken, he pulls the bottle away completely and sets it to the side.
"Now I'm hungry, byon," Ken complains as Chikusa takes away the water. His appetite had almost vanished over time, but somehow the water seems to have woken up his stomach and let it realize how empty it is. It growls almost as loudly as Ken himself ever has.
He's still thirsty, too, but hunger's overtaken any more desire for water now that his need for liquids is no longer critical.
“After I’m done.” Only so much can be done at any time, after all, and the sooner they get to his wounds the better. By now, the numbing agent has to have taken effect, so Chikusa takes a breath and starts to slice through damaged skin. So much care has to be taken around the joints, where the separation from skin and bone is so thin, and he’s almost not sure how he manages to go through with it so calmly. Because…
He’s still scared. Still terrified of what he’ll find, of discovering just how much Ken has been hurt.
There’s nothing but silence from him as he works, fighting back the terror by keeping his hands moving. What if he can’t even move his legs again- Slice, clean and simple, done a dozen times before. What if we need a surgeon- Pin the skin back, keep it out of the way, and he takes a deep breath as he goes to inspect the bone…
Fractured. Of course. But, as he stares at it, delicately inspecting the injury… It’s not displaced. His brain stutter-stops for a moment before he’s racing to think of the implications. That means no surgery, he thinks, which means all he has to do is stitch the skin back and keep the leg straight in a splint, or a cast, he’s done splints in the past-
There’s a strange feeling in his eyes, a kind of tug, but Chikusa is so detached from it, so unfamiliar with it, that he doesn’t even realize he’s started to cry as he quickly starts to stitch Ken back up. “I can fix this,” he rasps, so focused on his work that he’s oblivious to his voice’s own roughness or the tears slowly sliding down his cheeks.
Ken doesn't really feel much of anything, thanks to Chikusa's anesthetic. He's also not particularly bothered by Chikusa's cutting his legs open, even though he's conscious and bleeding and if he lifts his head he can watch.
They've been through worse. When it comes to most things, they've always been through worse.
Still, it's kind of weird to watch, not to mention boring. So he watches Chikusa instead...and when he sees those tears, he moves on instinct.
Chikusa hasn't cried since Mukuro saved them from Estraneo. Even when the Vindice caught Mukuro again, and Chikusa was as upset as Ken's ever seen him, his eyes had stayed dry. But Ken remembers him crying from when they were little. Chikusa would be dead silent, and then suddenly he'd be a shaking, crying mess with no warning. It had always scared and upset Ken, the way crying just exploded out of Chikusa for no reason - delayed reaction wasn't a thing Ken could understand very well even now, much less when he was a child - but he'd discovered that Chikusa calmed down easier whenever Ken curled up with him. Chikusa would cling to him and slowly wind down.
This...isn't like that at all. Never mind that it's been so long since Ken can remember Chikusa crying; he's never seen him cry like this, silently, like he doesn't even know the tears are there. Somehow that's even more unsettling, but Ken's response is the same as it always is whenever he senses Chikusa needs comfort - he reaches out. The fact that Chikusa is slicing into his legs, that Chikusa's got blades centimeters from veins that would kill Ken in minutes if they got cut...it doesn't occur to Ken to worry about them.
Chikusa is crying.
"Kakipi, why're you crying...?" He's never had to ask that before.
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.
But Ken's not going to be deterred this time. He's seen Chikusa cry before, after all, no matter how rare it's been in recent memory, and it's always upset him. But it's also something he knows how to make better, at least to some degree.
So his open, bleeding legs, his broken bones, his aching shoulders and mangled wrists - they're shoved aside. Even Chikusa's enforced obedience is discarded. He lifts himself enough to dig his fingers into Chikusa's clothes - even without his channels, those nails are as good as claws - and jerks Chikusa to him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose against his partner's neck.
Honestly, there may be an element of comforting himself in this. But Chikusa crying is definitely the main focus, something he can't ignore or allow.
"Don't cry, stupid," he mutters, and it's exactly like they're kids again. There's even the same upset, choked up quality to Ken's voice that was so familiar back then, like Chikusa crying is enough to almost trigger him doing so, either in pain or sympathy. The words are similar, too - if not verbatim to what they told each other back then, it's still close enough. "I'm here, so don't cry."
Ken, if your legs just stay sliced open indefinitely without Chikusa stitching them shut, you won't be here much longer. But that's not the way Ken thinks, if Ken is thinking at all right now. It's reaction and instinct, blind and powerful and not concerned with common sense.
That is to say, he feels like a child again, knowing that he’s not, tentatively safe for a few seconds in the burning heat that Ken has almost always seemed to give off. All of it is just- too nostalgic.
His distress, the smell of coldness and blood in the air, Ken wrapped around him… And that gut wrenching need to never let go of his partner, to never be separated. It shake him to his core, always has, and he almost doesn’t let himself pull away.
But… He has to. Tears still staining his face and now Ken’s shirt, he pulls away with a slow but wet and ragged gasp. “Ken, you’re being an idiot, you’re going to bleed to death.”
"You can't fix me up if you're crying anyway, byon!" Ken contests hotly, even though he's feeling woozy already. Whether it's blood loss or exhaustion or starvation or pain or some hideous cocktail of them all, it doesn't really matter. He's not in a good state, and Chikusa will see he's pale. In fact, when Chikusa tears himself free, Ken falls back down with nothing to hold onto.
Ken's never cared about himself nearly as much as he's cared about the few people who mean anything to him. Seeing Chikusa's distress means that's all he can think about.
“I’ll fix you,” Chikusa mutters stubbornly, hastily moving into action. His quick hands have been one of his few blessings in life; he threads a needle through Ken’s skin to patch him back up together with well practiced speed. All the while, his mind is repeating in relief so potent that it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen to his knees yet.
He can fix this. He can fix this.
Once that’s done, he sweeps an unsteady hand through Ken’s hair. It’s not a fond gesture he makes often, but everything about this situation has him feeling unlike himself. For a second, it felt as though he’d be alone for the first time in his life, that Ken might actually die, and that…
It only happens in a second before he pushes away, gathering the necessary supplies in the room so that he can make some splints for Ken’s wrists and leg. The other one he’s still not sure about yet, but it’s obvious that Ken isn’t in the condition for Chikusa to go poking about in it. That’s fine. “Just stay still through this, and I’ll get you food,” he promises his partner, starting with the leg first.
Ken leans into that touch weakly for a moment before Chikusa pulls his hand away, but with the blood loss and the pain and the exhaustion and the not-yet-abated starvation, even Ken's resilient body is giving out. By the time Chikusa finishes gathering supplies for the splints, Ken's barely conscious, eyelids fluttering a little at the promise of food.
It’s going to be okay. Chikusa repeats the words, over and over again, hastily working on splinting Ken’s limbs. It’s going to be okay. They’ve survived worse than this. They’ve survived hell, and a few other things besides. Ken will survive this.
When he’s finished up Ken’s arms, he doesn’t let himself stop. If he stops, even for a moment’s breath, Chikusa isn’t sure he’ll be able to start up again. That’s something he can’t do. So he cups Ken’s face again, tipping tiny drops of water into his mouth to see if that helps or at least wakes him up a little more.
Ken does stir a little, his throat working as the water touches his tongue. His eyes flicker open slightly. "K'kipi," he mutters, not particularly distinctly.
It's just as well he's out of it, honestly. He'd hate the splints. They feel like restraints, and only his dazed state and stillness stand between Ken tolerating them, and Ken trying to tear them off in a fit of kneejerk panicked rage.
“I’m still here, Ken.” Another few careful tips of water, making sure Ken doesn’t drink too much and throws it all up, before Chikusa sets the bottle to the side and starts to cut small slices of fruit. One small step at a time, and they’ll get through this. “Here- careful.” He presses a small chunk of banana to his mouth. Hopefully the squishiness means that there’ll be no problems even if he does just swallow the piece whole.
It's not hard to get Ken to eat, provided he's at least semi-conscious; it never is. And Chikusa doesn't appear to need to worry about Ken choking; Ken also doesn't need much excuse to bite things, and once the banana's in his mouth he chews automatically.
His eyes crack halfway open, looking up at Chikusa; they're glazed and unfocused, but they do seem to be aware of him. They flicker as Chikusa's hands work, loosely tracking his movements.
"Muk'ro...?" The tone he mumbles the word in - minus the honorific; it's the way they'd said it back in Italy - suggests that he's asking something about Mukuro, not mis-identifying Chikusa. (Not surprising; neither of them would ever expect this kind of care directly from Mukuro's hands, no matter how out of it they were.) Knowing Ken, he's almost certainly asking where Mukuro is; he fusses about that enough even when they're both perfectly healthy.
While Ken is still in any capacity conscious, Chikusa is going to take advantage of it. He keeps slicing small bits of fruit, wondering if he should look for meat whenever Ken falls fully asleep. After all, starvation has robbed him of all sorts of vitamins and nutrients. Water and fruit isn’t going to cut it.
“He’s going to be here tomorrow,” he promises his partner, pressing another slice of banana into his mouth and then following it up with a few grapes. This is good. Encouraging. So long as Ken can still eat, it’s fine. “And we’ll make sure you’re alright… I’ll clean up everything before we leave, Ken.”
"Don't wanna bath," Ken grumbles after his current mouthful. It's hard to tell if this misunderstanding of 'clean up' is a product of disorientation and blood loss, or if it's just Ken's usual lack of intellect.
Still, he's complaining. Another good sign, probably.
A Ken that can still whine about bathing is a Ken that’s perfectly fine. Chikusa adds it to his list of justifications, even as he sets down the knife he’d been using to slice up food. “I’ll be there. Maybe Mukuro-sama, if I can ask him. Now go to sleep, Ken.”
Any second now, he’s sure that the Corvo members will wake up fully. When he goes to take care of them… He’d like Ken to be resting instead of worrying about them.
Ken hardly needs the command; his eyes barely seem to be able to stay open, with all things taken into account. "Don't leave, Kakipi," he mumbles, though by all appearances he drifts off so quickly after the words leave his mouth that either he didn't expect an answer, or he couldn't maintain consciousness long enough to hear one.
It's hard to know if Ken wanted Chikusa to stay with him physically, or if he was worried Chikusa might be slipping away from him mentally again. Honestly, knowing Ken, he probably meant both. He's not likely to get either, but at least he's asleep (or unconscious; it's a fine line to draw right now) and won't know it.
For a few moments, Chikusa does just that. He stays right there with Ken, monitoring his condition, making sure that his leg is set properly and that he won’t bother his wrists, either. And…. Mostly, he just watches him sleep.
He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’ll recover. There’s even a chance, maybe, that his other leg is something Chikusa can fix himself. Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s something to keep him going. And if nothing else, there’s always Mukuro-sama. Mukuro-sama will fix this, one way or another.
But soon the sounds of alarmed hisses and whispers from the hallway gets his attention, and he straightens up, hands going back into his pockets to find his needles and yoyos. Right…
The Corvi have a lot to answer for in regards to taking his partner.
Finding the perfect balance of poison to put into his needles is something that takes considerable effort. It’s why he tends to stick to a limited but proven selection in his needles, as much as he’s loathe to be so predictable. It’s a rare occasion that he can experiment so easily, finding that perfect balance. In that way, if there’s any silver lining to this, it’s that.
As he stands there, ignoring the vicious curses and desperate pleadings from the remaining Corvi as he patiently inflicts his needles through them… He can’t help but think of another place, below the earth, where torture and pain were a regular.
When he was young, he went back to the Estraneo Labs. Very young- he’d only had the briefest taste of freedom and fresh air before he’d snuck away from Mukuro and Ken (only numbers, then, not names, not yet). Even as a child, he’d seen the difference between him and the two other survivors of the massacre. He’d listened even before then, to the talk between the scientists of Mukuro’s eye, of Ken’s channels. It had been his one saving grace back then in the labs: so quiet, the scientists sometimes never noticed him at all when he listened to them talk, puzzling out their words.
He hadn’t been noticed when he went back, either, if only because the dull eyes of the dead could see nothing anymore. He’d picked through the discarded rotting corpses, searched tirelessly through the remnants of the labs, all for anything that could help him stay with the only two things in the world that he still knew. The only people that were familiar and who held his then tentative trust. Books, drugs, first aid- he’d gathered all he could in bags after bags, desperate.
When he’d left the smell of death and chemicals, he’d crumpled in a bush somewhere and vomited what little food he’d ever had since their escape.
Chikusa doesn’t do that now, for all the familiarity as he slowly and methodically goes through the Corvi, noting the effects of his poison and how much of it. Periodically, he checks the dummy phone he’d been given before coming to the mansion, and, hours later, it finally lights up with a message. It’s time to leave.
A snap of his wrist takes care of what few mafia are left behind, and Chikusa goes back into the room to search for a stretcher. It’ll be difficult to get Ken up the stairs, but a stretcher will make it easier. Then all he has to do is strap him in, get him up the stairs, into an escape vehicle…. And they can leave this place. They can go back to how things should be.
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
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You will be fixed.
[He’s not hearing anything contrary to that. He won’t let himself believe that.]
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"...I'm thirsty, byon." Somewhere in his talking, Ken suddenly became aware of his burning of his throat and the dryness of his tongue. He hasn't had nothing at all to drink since they started starving him, but it's been kept to a bare minimum on purpose.
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“I’m going to have to go again to get something from up in the kitchen…” So that Ken knows. It’s the kind of thing that will only take a second, but Ken had panicked so much before.
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He senses something in Chikusa, though, with a sense outside the usual five. He knows his partner better than anyone, and he's seen Chikusa shut down and fall apart and everything in between. He can almost feel Chikusa pushing himself.
He'll get yelled at if he moves again, so he has to settle for simply looking at Chikusa. "...it's okay, Kakipi." The words are a little awkward; he's better at communicating this stuff, at reassuring Chikusa, non-verbally.
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And just like that, he shuffles away before an argument can be started up. He doesn’t want to deal with it.
As he goes up the stairs, he manages to observe some of the captured mafiosi starting to stir. Well, he should still have enough time before they snap out of it completely, and he can ignore them if they start up a fuss while he’s tending to Ken. For the time being, he focuses on getting to the kitchen and stepping over bodies as he gathers food and bottles of water. It only takes a few minutes- much faster than when he went to clear everything out- before he’s stepping back into the little medical room. “Don’t drink or eat too fast,” he warns, uncapping a bottle of water and holding it to Ken’s lips as he cradles his partner’s head to help.
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He'll get whined at when he does, of course. But Chikusa must be used to that.
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“You’ll get more when I’m done, Ken.”
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He's still thirsty, too, but hunger's overtaken any more desire for water now that his need for liquids is no longer critical.
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He’s still scared. Still terrified of what he’ll find, of discovering just how much Ken has been hurt.
There’s nothing but silence from him as he works, fighting back the terror by keeping his hands moving. What if he can’t even move his legs again- Slice, clean and simple, done a dozen times before. What if we need a surgeon- Pin the skin back, keep it out of the way, and he takes a deep breath as he goes to inspect the bone…
Fractured. Of course. But, as he stares at it, delicately inspecting the injury… It’s not displaced. His brain stutter-stops for a moment before he’s racing to think of the implications. That means no surgery, he thinks, which means all he has to do is stitch the skin back and keep the leg straight in a splint, or a cast, he’s done splints in the past-
There’s a strange feeling in his eyes, a kind of tug, but Chikusa is so detached from it, so unfamiliar with it, that he doesn’t even realize he’s started to cry as he quickly starts to stitch Ken back up. “I can fix this,” he rasps, so focused on his work that he’s oblivious to his voice’s own roughness or the tears slowly sliding down his cheeks.
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They've been through worse. When it comes to most things, they've always been through worse.
Still, it's kind of weird to watch, not to mention boring. So he watches Chikusa instead...and when he sees those tears, he moves on instinct.
Chikusa hasn't cried since Mukuro saved them from Estraneo. Even when the Vindice caught Mukuro again, and Chikusa was as upset as Ken's ever seen him, his eyes had stayed dry. But Ken remembers him crying from when they were little. Chikusa would be dead silent, and then suddenly he'd be a shaking, crying mess with no warning. It had always scared and upset Ken, the way crying just exploded out of Chikusa for no reason - delayed reaction wasn't a thing Ken could understand very well even now, much less when he was a child - but he'd discovered that Chikusa calmed down easier whenever Ken curled up with him. Chikusa would cling to him and slowly wind down.
This...isn't like that at all. Never mind that it's been so long since Ken can remember Chikusa crying; he's never seen him cry like this, silently, like he doesn't even know the tears are there. Somehow that's even more unsettling, but Ken's response is the same as it always is whenever he senses Chikusa needs comfort - he reaches out. The fact that Chikusa is slicing into his legs, that Chikusa's got blades centimeters from veins that would kill Ken in minutes if they got cut...it doesn't occur to Ken to worry about them.
Chikusa is crying.
"Kakipi, why're you crying...?" He's never had to ask that before.
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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.
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So his open, bleeding legs, his broken bones, his aching shoulders and mangled wrists - they're shoved aside. Even Chikusa's enforced obedience is discarded. He lifts himself enough to dig his fingers into Chikusa's clothes - even without his channels, those nails are as good as claws - and jerks Chikusa to him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose against his partner's neck.
Honestly, there may be an element of comforting himself in this. But Chikusa crying is definitely the main focus, something he can't ignore or allow.
"Don't cry, stupid," he mutters, and it's exactly like they're kids again. There's even the same upset, choked up quality to Ken's voice that was so familiar back then, like Chikusa crying is enough to almost trigger him doing so, either in pain or sympathy. The words are similar, too - if not verbatim to what they told each other back then, it's still close enough. "I'm here, so don't cry."
Ken, if your legs just stay sliced open indefinitely without Chikusa stitching them shut, you won't be here much longer. But that's not the way Ken thinks, if Ken is thinking at all right now. It's reaction and instinct, blind and powerful and not concerned with common sense.
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That is to say, he feels like a child again, knowing that he’s not, tentatively safe for a few seconds in the burning heat that Ken has almost always seemed to give off. All of it is just- too nostalgic.
His distress, the smell of coldness and blood in the air, Ken wrapped around him… And that gut wrenching need to never let go of his partner, to never be separated. It shake him to his core, always has, and he almost doesn’t let himself pull away.
But… He has to. Tears still staining his face and now Ken’s shirt, he pulls away with a slow but wet and ragged gasp. “Ken, you’re being an idiot, you’re going to bleed to death.”
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Ken's never cared about himself nearly as much as he's cared about the few people who mean anything to him. Seeing Chikusa's distress means that's all he can think about.
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He can fix this. He can fix this.
Once that’s done, he sweeps an unsteady hand through Ken’s hair. It’s not a fond gesture he makes often, but everything about this situation has him feeling unlike himself. For a second, it felt as though he’d be alone for the first time in his life, that Ken might actually die, and that…
It only happens in a second before he pushes away, gathering the necessary supplies in the room so that he can make some splints for Ken’s wrists and leg. The other one he’s still not sure about yet, but it’s obvious that Ken isn’t in the condition for Chikusa to go poking about in it. That’s fine. “Just stay still through this, and I’ll get you food,” he promises his partner, starting with the leg first.
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When he’s finished up Ken’s arms, he doesn’t let himself stop. If he stops, even for a moment’s breath, Chikusa isn’t sure he’ll be able to start up again. That’s something he can’t do. So he cups Ken’s face again, tipping tiny drops of water into his mouth to see if that helps or at least wakes him up a little more.
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It's just as well he's out of it, honestly. He'd hate the splints. They feel like restraints, and only his dazed state and stillness stand between Ken tolerating them, and Ken trying to tear them off in a fit of kneejerk panicked rage.
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His eyes crack halfway open, looking up at Chikusa; they're glazed and unfocused, but they do seem to be aware of him. They flicker as Chikusa's hands work, loosely tracking his movements.
"Muk'ro...?" The tone he mumbles the word in - minus the honorific; it's the way they'd said it back in Italy - suggests that he's asking something about Mukuro, not mis-identifying Chikusa. (Not surprising; neither of them would ever expect this kind of care directly from Mukuro's hands, no matter how out of it they were.) Knowing Ken, he's almost certainly asking where Mukuro is; he fusses about that enough even when they're both perfectly healthy.
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“He’s going to be here tomorrow,” he promises his partner, pressing another slice of banana into his mouth and then following it up with a few grapes. This is good. Encouraging. So long as Ken can still eat, it’s fine. “And we’ll make sure you’re alright… I’ll clean up everything before we leave, Ken.”
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Still, he's complaining. Another good sign, probably.
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Any second now, he’s sure that the Corvo members will wake up fully. When he goes to take care of them… He’d like Ken to be resting instead of worrying about them.
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It's hard to know if Ken wanted Chikusa to stay with him physically, or if he was worried Chikusa might be slipping away from him mentally again. Honestly, knowing Ken, he probably meant both. He's not likely to get either, but at least he's asleep (or unconscious; it's a fine line to draw right now) and won't know it.
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He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’ll recover. There’s even a chance, maybe, that his other leg is something Chikusa can fix himself. Maybe it’s a long shot, but it’s something to keep him going. And if nothing else, there’s always Mukuro-sama. Mukuro-sama will fix this, one way or another.
But soon the sounds of alarmed hisses and whispers from the hallway gets his attention, and he straightens up, hands going back into his pockets to find his needles and yoyos. Right…
The Corvi have a lot to answer for in regards to taking his partner.
Finding the perfect balance of poison to put into his needles is something that takes considerable effort. It’s why he tends to stick to a limited but proven selection in his needles, as much as he’s loathe to be so predictable. It’s a rare occasion that he can experiment so easily, finding that perfect balance. In that way, if there’s any silver lining to this, it’s that.
As he stands there, ignoring the vicious curses and desperate pleadings from the remaining Corvi as he patiently inflicts his needles through them… He can’t help but think of another place, below the earth, where torture and pain were a regular.
When he was young, he went back to the Estraneo Labs. Very young- he’d only had the briefest taste of freedom and fresh air before he’d snuck away from Mukuro and Ken (only numbers, then, not names, not yet). Even as a child, he’d seen the difference between him and the two other survivors of the massacre. He’d listened even before then, to the talk between the scientists of Mukuro’s eye, of Ken’s channels. It had been his one saving grace back then in the labs: so quiet, the scientists sometimes never noticed him at all when he listened to them talk, puzzling out their words.
He hadn’t been noticed when he went back, either, if only because the dull eyes of the dead could see nothing anymore. He’d picked through the discarded rotting corpses, searched tirelessly through the remnants of the labs, all for anything that could help him stay with the only two things in the world that he still knew. The only people that were familiar and who held his then tentative trust. Books, drugs, first aid- he’d gathered all he could in bags after bags, desperate.
When he’d left the smell of death and chemicals, he’d crumpled in a bush somewhere and vomited what little food he’d ever had since their escape.
Chikusa doesn’t do that now, for all the familiarity as he slowly and methodically goes through the Corvi, noting the effects of his poison and how much of it. Periodically, he checks the dummy phone he’d been given before coming to the mansion, and, hours later, it finally lights up with a message.
It’s time to leave.
A snap of his wrist takes care of what few mafia are left behind, and Chikusa goes back into the room to search for a stretcher. It’ll be difficult to get Ken up the stairs, but a stretcher will make it easier. Then all he has to do is strap him in, get him up the stairs, into an escape vehicle…. And they can leave this place. They can go back to how things should be.
Later...
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