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The first bomb went off and he felt it deep in his chest. Maybe that was the debris hitting him as he was standing just outside the hospital but at the same time he knew. This was deeper. It felt like the first of the fragile strings holding his heart together.
By the time the emergency services had gotten there the Agency had heard too. Yosano found him lying on his side, dust covering his usually neat clothes and at first with his stillness she feared the worst. Looking closer the stuttering rise and fall of his breaths were evident.
He was hurt, hiding his face from the world and from the firemen searching the rubble for human remains.
When Yosano turned his face roughly to her she saw the truth in the tear streaked, wide eyed boy's features. Injured only with minor wounds maybe, but emotional wounds that would scar. He looked so young as his dirty face contorted into anguish upon facing the light.
He was young.
Kunikida Doppo was eighteen years old.
Not quite a child but just not a man.
As she pulled him up to heave more tears into the crook of her neck she heard him manage, "I can't get up. My legs can't hold me."
Legs that for weeks wouldn't carry the burden of his mistakes.
So she carried him.
---
When the second bomb went off it was in a subway tunnel with a little girl. Healed in an instant by her ability it all seemed so neat, the conclusion, but Yosano could never forget his appearance in that half second through the haze of smoke. Glassy eyes gazing into hers and the small body wrapped in his arms as blood and burns covered nearly every inch of his body.
She nearly choked up, something she had used to do in her military days only costing her a second which meant the life of a human being.
She sent out her ability tenfold to pour everything she could into the two bodies willing their wounds to heal. As the smoke cleared she built back her composure and helped the two of them up. She uselessly brushed some dust off of Kunikida’s vest and looked up to him and met his eyes.
Yosano didn’t know what she wanted to do so she just watched as his face quickly changed from relieved and thankful to confused and worried. Realizing her emotions had escaped her cover and plastered themselves over her face she walked away and swatted him on the ass earning her a small yelp.
She’d figure it out.
--
The third bomb came and she would always regret being late.
The most nerve wracking moments were spent walking to the blast location, not knowing quite what would meet her. Finally she had come upon the pile of rubble and dust. Kunikida knealt in front of it, his head lowered and shoulders hanging limply in front of him. One appeared lower than the other. Creeping closer she saw ash and dirt coating his clothing and tear tracks that cut through the blood and dust that covered his features.
There was a small arm sticking out of the rubble that she tried to ignore but it was hard to when that was all Kunikida’s eyes could fix themselves on. He didn’t even look at her as she reached out to brush the falling bangs from his eyes. Why did bad things happen to good men? What had Kunikida done that caused the universe to hurt him not once, not twice, but three times over.
Examining his wounds closely she spoke with a clinical and distant tone, “You’re in shock. Your right shoulder was dislocated most likely during the blast, lacerations above the hairline, and you have shrapnel in your torso.” The blood stains were dark and wet, showing through the fabric now. She did her best to look him in the eye, “You know what I’m going to need to do.”
Briefly, his eyes flickered to hers, they were full of pain and still shining with more tears despite looking raw and red. When he spoke his voice was rough as though he’d been screaming for hours tearing up his throat. “Do it.” There was a strange edge to his voice that Yosano had never heard before, “You can make it as painful as you like. Tear me up all you want before bringing me back.”
Chewing on her bottom lip she nodded.
“Okay.”
She didn’t.
Yosano instead took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as his weight leaned into her. He moved to rest his forehead on her shoulder and as one of her gloved hands reached up to tangle in his hair the other moved the scalpel across his throat.