Ken makes a sound of unmistakable hurt, and he makes a painful, abortive effort to roll over and face away from Chikusa. It'll actually succeed if Chikusa lets him do so; the 'abortive' part comes in with the fact that Chikusa will undoubtedly stop him before he can complete such an ill-advised move. He can't begin to vocalize the tangled mess of emotions Chikusa's reassurances have given him, but none of them are 'reassured'. The only part that sounds even vaguely promising is the possibility - not even a certainty - that they might find something that can heal him faster.
The rest...there's nothing there to make him feel better. There's no promise he won't be agonizingly bored, that he won't be left alone and helpless while he heals. And there's the quiet implication that Chikusa and Mukuro can get by fine without him, which begs the question of why they even need him. A question that they'll have months to mull over.
He can't articulate that mess of pain, so all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and curl up in pain that ignores the physical agony he's in completely, in favor of the emotional hurt that there's no box to heal.
“Ken-” True enough, Chikusa’s hands settle on Ken’s shoulders to force him back into a safe position again. Quietly, panic is thrumming through him. It didn’t help. His words are useless. If only Mukuro-sama was here…. He would know what words to use, how to calm Ken. Chikusa, in contrast, has only really been comfortable with silence, and saying the simple truth.
This…. Is anything but simple. And he doesn’t know what to say.
Gently, showing all the unease that only barely shows in his eyes, he begins to knead at Ken’s shoulders. “What,” he murmurs, voice shaking slightly, “would make you feel better…?” Bewildered and lost and scared, it’s all he can think to say.
Ken looks up at Chikusa, eyes desperately unhappy and searching for an answer to a question he can't even articulate to himself. "Dunno," he mumbles, because he doesn't. His throat is squeezed tight around the words.
Eventually, a coherent enough question presents itself for him to ask it. "Mukuro-sama won't need me for months...?" His voice is unmistakably plaintive. There's a lot that can be inferred from that question, and the naked fear with which Ken asks it.
If Ken doesn’t know, then there’s no possible way that Chikusa can know either. It’s a frustrating enigma, a frightening one that’s all the worse right now because of how frayed his nerves had become at Ken’s absence to start with. Yet if there’s anyone he will try for outside of Mukuro… Ken is it every time. There’s no one else even close.
He’s wracking his brain for any kind of answer chin tucked in and bangs falling limply, when Ken finally speaks again. “Weeks,” he murmurs immediately, not thinking for once or taking it slow. For once, anxiety overtakes depression, although he’s never had the words to describe it as such. “I’ll make sure it’s only weeks, Ken. Mukuro-sama has left us to do things on his own for longer than that... hasn’t he?”
"I guess, byon," Ken acknowledges, slowly relaxing again. Not completely, but a bit. "Mukuro-sama...he doesn't need tools he can't use, right?" His worried eyes search Chikusa's face. "Is he gonna replace me?"
"No," Chikusa says, no hesitation, no usual lethargy dragging his voice. His fingers dig into the surface Ken is laying on. "No one can replace you."
It's a mixed truth. There are plenty of people who can be as strong as Kong Channel, or perhaps even move as fast as in Cheeth, and Mukuro's illusions could manufacture any of them in a heartbeat... But there is also no longer anyone who can Channel like Ken can, who has the pure physical diversity he does, now that the Estraneo have been all eradicated, and have been for many years now.
And, more importantly to Chikusa, no one can replace Ken.
"He'll fix you," he continues slowly. "He'll fix you because there's no other tool like you."
And that, finally, seems to ease Ken's fears and bring him to a state of contentment again. His body finally uncurls again, and he shifts to press closer against Chikusa. "Okay," he murmurs, sounding somewhat worn out from the intensity of his emotions - although part of it is no doubt what he's been through recently.
"How long can you stay with me, Kakipi?" Because while Ken likes this - likes it better than anything else except the not-nearly-frequent-enough occasions where Mukuro is settled in with them - he knows it can't last. Chikusa has to do other things - both in general, and to serve Mukuro. Especially with Ken injured and unable to help them.
But, selfishly, he wants Chikusa to stay with him for as long as possible.
Finally. As Ken relaxes, so too does Chikusa at long lost, and he eases up a little bit back into his seat where he'd been slumped before Ken's awakening. How much of what he'd said is really true? He's not sure, but he desperately wants it to be. For both of their sake.
So wrapped up in his own worries, it takes him a moment to realize that Ken is asking him something, and Chikusa blinks slowly. "Ah... Mukuro-sama has been letting me stay with you since we got you back. I'll have to ask him again... now that you've woken up." So, really, whenever Mukuro makes an appearance again.
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The rest...there's nothing there to make him feel better. There's no promise he won't be agonizingly bored, that he won't be left alone and helpless while he heals. And there's the quiet implication that Chikusa and Mukuro can get by fine without him, which begs the question of why they even need him. A question that they'll have months to mull over.
He can't articulate that mess of pain, so all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and curl up in pain that ignores the physical agony he's in completely, in favor of the emotional hurt that there's no box to heal.
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This…. Is anything but simple. And he doesn’t know what to say.
Gently, showing all the unease that only barely shows in his eyes, he begins to knead at Ken’s shoulders. “What,” he murmurs, voice shaking slightly, “would make you feel better…?” Bewildered and lost and scared, it’s all he can think to say.
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Eventually, a coherent enough question presents itself for him to ask it. "Mukuro-sama won't need me for months...?" His voice is unmistakably plaintive. There's a lot that can be inferred from that question, and the naked fear with which Ken asks it.
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He’s wracking his brain for any kind of answer chin tucked in and bangs falling limply, when Ken finally speaks again. “Weeks,” he murmurs immediately, not thinking for once or taking it slow. For once, anxiety overtakes depression, although he’s never had the words to describe it as such. “I’ll make sure it’s only weeks, Ken. Mukuro-sama has left us to do things on his own for longer than that... hasn’t he?”
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It's a mixed truth. There are plenty of people who can be as strong as Kong Channel, or perhaps even move as fast as in Cheeth, and Mukuro's illusions could manufacture any of them in a heartbeat... But there is also no longer anyone who can Channel like Ken can, who has the pure physical diversity he does, now that the Estraneo have been all eradicated, and have been for many years now.
And, more importantly to Chikusa, no one can replace Ken.
"He'll fix you," he continues slowly. "He'll fix you because there's no other tool like you."
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"How long can you stay with me, Kakipi?" Because while Ken likes this - likes it better than anything else except the not-nearly-frequent-enough occasions where Mukuro is settled in with them - he knows it can't last. Chikusa has to do other things - both in general, and to serve Mukuro. Especially with Ken injured and unable to help them.
But, selfishly, he wants Chikusa to stay with him for as long as possible.
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So wrapped up in his own worries, it takes him a moment to realize that Ken is asking him something, and Chikusa blinks slowly. "Ah... Mukuro-sama has been letting me stay with you since we got you back. I'll have to ask him again... now that you've woken up." So, really, whenever Mukuro makes an appearance again.