Chapter Text
“This is going to hurt.”
The murmur came out quietly, almost regretfully. The way it sounded, it was as though it was not intended to be heard by any third or second party. Chuuya wouldn’t have been surprised if the aim was to not have it spoken in the first place.
A pair of tweezers had been dropped to Chuuya’s hips, where the entry point was located on Chuuya’s body. The tall idealist had Chuuya propped up against the side of the building. They had been situated in an alleyway in the dark of night. Chuuya had no reference of time given the fact that he had been trapped in a book for god knows how fucking long. Pain rushed throughout Chuuya’s body, which he ignored, knowing reacting more than necessary could cause more damage than it was worth. Kunikida’s hands felt very gentle against his body, through his clothes. Chuuya would have been damned if his pants crawled down further than they already had. Being this exposed in front of his almost enemy wasn’t something he wanted.
“You’re Kunikida Doppo, right?” Chuuya inquired, his face straight and unmoving. He wasn’t used to allowing people to help him like this, in situations like these.
“And you’re Nakahara Chuuya, from the Port Mafia,” was stated as calmly as possible. A low underlayer was added to the voice he had only ever heard for himself once. He found the voice charming, much like the man himself. He had only heard about Kunikida from files being a Mafia Executive allowed. The profile matched up perfectly with what he saw in front of him.
However, Chuuya couldn’t help but wonder what caused Kunikida to come to his rescue. Kunikida was his enemy, and Chuuya was his, even if they were fighting the same force in the short run.
A sharp tug was made with the tweezers on his hips as the bullet was tugged from Chuuya’s body. Chuuya had always been pleased when any bullet only implanted itself shallowly into his body because it was much less painful to deal with. Kunikida hadn’t lied when he said that it was going to hurt, though Chuuya also knew that. He had been penetrated with enough bullets in his life to know that extracting them was a feat that caused significant pain. It certainly wasn’t pretty, either.
“Shiiit,” Chuuya groaned, wincing in a way that forced his eyes shut. He folded over his body, trying to protect the entrance wound.
“It’s out,” the words he had heard many times throughout his life from a multitude of individuals had been spoken by the man in front of him. “Who would have known you’d be rapidly attacked the moment you left that book.”
The truth was that Chuuya had been able to hold himself against most of the bullets that rained down on him upon his exit from Hell. His ability was solid proof of that. But sometimes, one nasty little fucker would get though For the Tainted Sorrow’s gravitational defence mechanism. While Chuuya had been able to dispatch the unknown group responsible for the attack against him, it couldn’t have been prevented that he got shot.
The redhead was still bent over himself, panting. One would think after tens, maybe even hundreds, of bullets had penetrated Chuuya’s skin, perhaps he would be used to the pain that came with any laceration of the sort. Yet, that clearly hadn’t been the case for Chuuya, as he had clearly felt all of it. Despite being able to take more than a human could handle, sometimes that pain was sickening to experience.
Chuuya had exhaled slowly, steadying himself as he glared down at the wound to actually analyse it. It was red, inflamed, and bloody, It was a disgusting sight to see, no matter how used to it one may be. “Thank fuck,” was cursed under his breath out of pure relief. He absolutely despised being shot. The other man had still been leaning over Chuuya, staring intently at the wound as well, a pair of needles and thread for stitching now sitting in his palm. “You don’t have to stitch it,” Chuuya confirmed, his voice almost gentle. He didn’t trust Kunikida not to stab him with that needle.
It was opted that it would be best to do it himself. He grasped the needles from the stranger’s palms, eyeing him with suspicion.
Chuuya had, once again, questioned why Kunikida opted to help him. He would have wondered how Kunikida had known where he was, but because it was due to that fucking bastard - Ranpo Edogawa - who was in the Armed Detective Agency, he figured the man figured out from Ranpo, one way or another.
“Okay, Kunikida.” He tried, letting a slight emphasis puncture the blond’s name. “Tell me why you came to help me, we’re practically fucking enemies.” Chuuya’s hands were busy working away at sealing the laceration adorning his hip.
Kunikida stared him dead in the eye, before looking away, crinkling his eyebrows and stating, “It wouldn’t be ideal to let someone die. Not when it could be easily avoided.” Given what Chuuya knew of Kunikida from extensive research - that he was a man who strove for his Ideals and took every single matter almost too seriously - it certainly wouldn’t have surprised him if Kunikida apologized for saying such things. Kunikida would never wish death upon anyone, and he certainly seemed to be the type to want pacifism above violence any day.
But that was the life they led - it was full of pain. It was something that came naturally to them, despite any sort of consequence; negating the fact that they were enemies currently tied together fighting a much bigger force, one that could destroy the city they loved dearly. The city they had both been born and raised in. One of their biggest, most evident similarities came into how they valued this city of theirs, and the lengths they would go to protect it. Even if it meant working in tandem together. He could also gather, that given Kunikida’s response, that he too cherished life, cherished the living, wouldn’t wish pain onto the innocent.
Kunikida had attained the trust of the Mafia Executive, if only a slight. “Thank you, then. But, you can leave.”
Don’t make friends with the enemy, Chuuya, he told himself.
“You’re welcome, Nakahara.”