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Dark clouds lined the horizon, the landscape almost completely obliterated from the battle. Mountains were shattered, leaving only crumbling ruins. Grassy plains were raked and scorched, and ponds and rivers boiling under the intense heat of the lingering energy in the air. Gazing at the carnage around him, Jiren grimaced. Such a peaceful place or that it was at one point before it had turned into a warzone. He hated that such a place had to be utterly desecrated in order to ensure the safety of the multiverse, but he supposed it had been a small price to pay. He would have rather done battle elsewhere, but they hardly had a choice.
Wiping blood from the edge of his mouth, Jiren let the destruction drift by, following close behind Goku, flying towards some unknown destination. Just any place that wasn’t here. Slowly, light began to break through the clouds, and the broken stones and barren land replaced with groves and groves of trees. After some time, they stopped, touching down in a small clearing. Pain traveled to every point in his body and he tried not to flinch from his aching wounds. But despite that, gazing around himself, Jiren couldn’t help but smile. Along the fringes of the clearing were large trees, full of verdant green needles sprouting from their branches. A faint sweet fragrance sifted through the air around them, mixing with the clean smell of dew and dense foliage. Filling his lungs with the air, he gave up a contented sigh. At least this hadn’t been touched by their battle.
Glancing around, he quietly watched Goku and Vegeta argue, the other warriors of Universe 7 laughing and grinning, soaking in the calm after the storm. Jiren’s eyes focused on a young man with blue hair. He hadn’t seen him during the Tournament, but here he had proved himself to be a capable warrior. Why he hadn’t come to his universe’s aid back then was strange. He would have made a solid addition to their team. Turning towards them, he let the thought pass from his mind. Regardless of the situation, he was sure they had their reasons.
Jiren strode up to them, catching bits of their conversation as he approached, Goku’s jovial voice carrying above the rest,
“...Awfully close there for a moment, huh?”
“Indeed, though it probably wouldn’t have been so harrowing if you two had fused sooner.”, Piccolo grunted, folding his arms. Almost as if on cue, Vegeta clicked his tongue, scoffing,
“Tch! It was only through necessity that I ever agreed to fuse in the first place!” Goku opened his mouth to say something, but noticed Jiren standing on the fringes of the group and beamed,
“Jiren! Thanks again for all your help!”
“I was only doing my duty.”, Jiren murmured, giving him a curt nod. Hearts and his band had been a threat to all of the multiverse. Of course he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let them wreak havoc and wanton destruction. Even if Universe 11 hadn’t directly been in danger, Jiren would have come to their aid. And as Goku clapped him on the back, beaming cheerfully, Jiren knew that he would do the same for him and his universe. Not that he owed him anything, it was just the kind of person Goku was.
Conversation began again and Jiren stepped back from it, quietly enjoying just observing. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Hit had come in beside him, arms folded, watching the spectacle unfold in front of him with a slight smile, slightly unsteady on his feet. The hitman had fought well, working well with the others and providing support when he could. Better than he could at least, coordinating attacks was never something he was good at. Like the rest of them, Hit was battle worn. There were numerous superficial cuts and scrapes across his body, hardly enough to keep a seasoned fighter like him down. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Before he could inquire about his wounds, he saw Goku waving to them from the corner of his eye.
“We were about to head back home if you two would like to join us.” Before he could even open his mouth, Jiren heard Hit call out next to him,
“I’ll be fine here.” Swiveling his head around, Jiren stared at Hit. What was he thinking? The battle left everyone quite beaten but Hit seemed to have sustained the most damage. Even standing there, he could hear him wheezing, struggling to take in deep breaths. Goku was even visibly taken aback by this response, scratching his head,
“Umm… Are you sure?” Hit nodded, squaring his shoulders. Goku turned to Jiren, giving him a friendly smile, “What about you?” Glancing sideways at Hit, Jiren gave up a heavy sigh,
“I’ll stay.”
“Well alright then!”, Goku shrugged. After a few goodbyes and good wishes, the warriors of Universe 7 flew home, leaving Jiren and Hit standing in the middle of the clearing. As soon as they were out of sight, Jiren turned on Hit, hands planted firmly on his hips,
“Any particular reason why you wanted to stay here?” Hit snorted, gingerly sitting himself down on a large rock.
“It’ll be quiet for one.” While Jiren suspected that was true, he felt it was a small price to pay. Especially in Hit’s case. Eyeing him closely, Jiren meandered in his direction, moving faster as the hitman began listing to one side,
“Are you alright...?” Through the tears in his clothing, large gashes sliced through his thighs, thick trails of aubergine blood oozed from his open wounds, liberally staining his pants. Among other nasty cuts and bruises, a heavy bandage was wrapped around his chest, spotted with blood. Hit glanced up at him, his eyes somewhat glassy, but he managed a smile all the same,
“Relatively speaking. I’ve honestly been through worse…” He took deep shaky breaths as he talked, his face contorted with pain through the smile. Staring at him for a moment, Jiren gave up an exasperated sigh,
“What could have possibly been worse than this?” Biting back a grin, Jiren held up a hand, “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t think I could stomach another one of your stories.” Playfully kicking out at him, Hit choked back a laugh, coughing,
“I said relatively. And excuse me, but I’m pretty sure you could’ve got up and left at any time while I regaled you with anecdotes of my colorful past.”
“Colorful wouldn’t be the term I’d use.” Jiren stifled a chuckle as Hit scowled at him, turning his attention back to his wounds. Truth be told, Jiren had never minded the assassin’s stories. While they were definitely amusing to listen to, Jiren learned a lot about Hit from them. Before all this, the hitman had joined them in Universe 11, or more appropriately he guessed was that Toppo had hired him.
Normally, they didn’t need to resort to asking others for help, but there were issues that couldn’t be solved with strength alone. That’s where Hit came in. His time-skip abilities, and unfortunately his skills as an assassin, had proved incredibly useful in rooting out corruption in their universe. During that time, Jiren had acted as his partner of sorts, collecting information from him and accompanying him from time to time. And it was during those times, they somehow bonded. Waiting for new developments to arise, the two of them eventually started passing the long nights chatting.
At first, Jiren didn’t have much to say and neither did Hit really, and sometimes conversation was an exchange of about three words and a few grunts. But Hit would randomly pop in questions: how did he join the Pride Troopers, did he usually work with someone, was this the work he usually did? Jiren hadn’t been fond of the questions, but slowly got used to them. Soon, he was asking questions of his own. Questions turned into conversation and they would go back and forth, bantering with each other. The assassin often told him some of his more amusing tales of working in Universe 6 and they sat there in the wee hours of the morning, laughing at some of the more absurd situations he had managed to get himself into in his younger years. It had felt odd to just sit there and talk, but found himself looking forward to spending time with him, not that he’d outright admit that to him.
Playfully nudging him, Jiren sat down on the rock next to him,
“I will say though, I am curious… What other tales from the prehistoric era are you sitting on?” Not bothering to glance up from his wounds, Hit gave a low sigh,
“Nothing worth telling.” Watching him gingerly tend to his wounds, a thought flashed through Jiren’s head: how true was that? He honestly didn’t believe it for a moment, and for good reasons. Whenever the subject between them turned to Hit and the shadows of his past, the hitman would begrudgingly agree to talk about it and only for a while. But even he could tell that there were… holes, things that he was leaving out. He knew there were darker tales of things he had done as an assassin, but he didn’t feel that it was a point of tension between them anymore. It had taken a while and it wasn’t easy, but they had found ways to struggle through that. Jiren opened his mouth, but quickly decided to close it. Not here, not now.
Jiren was brought back to reality at the grating sound of cloth being ripped apart. Tearing the bottom of his coat into small strips, Hit tore a hole open in his suit, exposing the wounds on his leg even more.
“You’re not seriously going to use that to patch yourself up, are you?”, Jiren sighed, curling his lip slightly. Not even glancing up at him, Hit shrugged,
“It's all I have at the moment. It will at least stop the bleeding.” Shaking his head, Jiren grabbed at the makeshift bandages, but Hit was surprisingly fast even in his condition, tucking them away behind him. Though, it didn’t deter Jiren. He stooped in close, wrapping an arm around Hit to keep him still as he snatched them from his hands. Hit tried to struggle away from him, but was unable to free himself from his iron grip.
“Your wounds will get infected if you use these.” Tucking them under his arm, Jiren knelt down, examining the wounds on his leg, “Let me help you.” Giving him a wry snort, Hit shook his head,
“With what? Are you going to kiss them and make it all better?” Jiren shook his head, rolling his eyes,
“There are some medical supplies back where I arrived. Should be enough to at least patch you up.” The wounds themselves didn’t look to be too deep, but there were a lot of them. Jiren applied some pressure to them, but he had already lost quite a bit of blood. Murmuring something under his breath, Hit pushed him away,
“Fine…fine. Don’t have much choice at this point.” Struggling to his feet, Hit limped forward. Jiren could tell that each step was a colossal effort and the strain was only opening his wounds even more. Grimacing, Jiren quickly caught up to him, grabbing an arm to steady him.
“Stay here, I’ll get it. You really shouldn’t be moving.” Waving his hand dismissively, Hit pushed him away again, his breathing becoming more ragged and shallow,
“I’ll be fine. Can’t be that far.” Jiren tried again to lead him to a spot where he could sit and wait, but as he found out before, Hit was incredibly stubborn. He’d sooner pass out from all the blood loss than accept his help, which was something that became a bit of an issue between them when the hitman was aiding their universe. The more Jiren tried to urge to stay, the more vehement that Hit became about going. Finally turning on him, Hit placed a stiff arm against his chest, eyes narrowed,
“I appreciate the concern...but it isn’t warranted. Don’t be fooled by all the blood...I’m fine.” He was coughing as he said it, not entirely filling Jiren with confidence about those statements. Hit went to take a step back, but his foot slipped into a divot in the dirt and he fell flat on his back with a solid thud. Dropping to his knees, Jiren checked him over, biting into his lip to keep from smirking,
“How about now? Is that concern warranted now?” Groaning, Hit closed his eyes, half-heartedly swatting at him,
“It's fine. Well...it will be once everything stops spinning...” Other than being dazed, the fall didn’t seem to do any more damage. Though Hit was starting to look pale and his skin was clammy from the sweat. Helping him sit up, Jiren shook his head, grunting,
“Do I need to find you a cane? How about one of those old man walkers?” Hit glared at him through slitted eyes, clutching at his chest,
“That’s it… This is the last time I come back to save your ass…” With a bit of effort, Jiren managed to get him up on his feet, an arm wrapped around his waist. They stood there for a couple moments, Hit leaned up against him, his breathing slowly evening out bit by bit. He could feel his heart beating faintly as he pressed himself against him. The sun was beginning to set, the golden glow illuminating the tops of the trees. He had expected Lord Khai to have arrived by now to take him back, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time. Feeling Hit shift against him, Jiren sighed. Probably for the best anyway. He didn’t want to leave him alone.
After a few more minutes, Hit staggered away from him. Jiren went to reach for him again, but Hit held up a hand,
“I’m alright now. May not be able to walk straight… But I should be able to fly.” Jiren nodded, stepping back. It would be better than walking. He watched as Hit swayed slightly before widening his stance. He stood there for a couple of moments, nothing happening. Finally, Hit lifted off from the ground by a few inches, hovering in the air. Jiren was about to ask him if he was alright when he dropped back down to the ground, dropping to a knee, cradling his head. Jiren rushed over to him, offering him a hand. Ignoring the hand, Hit clung to his arm, using it to drag himself up to a standing position.
“Can’t concentrate…”, Hit breathed, brow furrowed as he leaned into him. Wrapping another arm around him, Jiren held him there. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get anywhere on his own. Though the assassin wasn’t going to be real keen on the alternative. Taking a beat to ready himself, Jiren pulled away from Hit, quickly scooping him up in his arms. As soon as Hit’s boots left the ground, he began squirming and writhing in his grasp,
“W-what?! Put me down!” Like steel bands, Jiren curled his arms around him, keeping him in place,
“You are absolutely unfit to move by yourself. I’m going to carry you. And besides, I’d die of old age by the time you hauled those creaky bones anywhere.” Hit kicked and struggled, hissing at him to let him go, but ultimately getting nowhere. Rising up into the sky, Jiren started back to where he first landed. Eventually Hit settled down some, but was none too happy about the situation.
“This is absolutely unnecessary.” Smirking, adjusted his grip some, propping the assassin against his shoulder,
“I would beg to differ. I’m beginning to think that the safest place for you is in a nursing home at this point.” Jiren felt Hit’s fingers curl into his uniform, and he smacked his head,
“I’m not made of glass! And don’t patronize me!” Unperturbed by the hit, Jiren continued on,
“If you took care of yourself at all, this wouldn’t have been an issue.” Mumbling something himself, Hit settled into his arms, but didn’t bother to remove himself. Jiren tried talking to him a couple more times, but it was clear through Hit’s silence that he was not interested in talking anymore and was fine with a sullen silence. Jiren guessed he couldn’t blame him, though he was acting childish for someone his age. It was absolutely true that he should take better care of himself. Time and time again, the assassin would push himself to the brink, covered in wounds and eyes sunken as he forwent sleep again. This wasn’t the first time that they were in this sort of situation, and admittedly, the roles had been reversed a few times. For Jiren, it was hard to accept the help, to admit that he was drowning and it was just so much. He had gone so long, trying hard to support himself, that asking for help…felt almost like cheating. That he couldn’t overcome his obstacles with his own strength. That he was ultimately weak. Shaking his head, he berated himself. No. Not weak. Asking for help wasn’t a weakness. He had been through this with the counselor, time and time again. But even then he still couldn’t get it right. Was he doing something wrong? He must be… Thinking hard on it, he jumped slightly as Hit tapped on his head,
“Hey. You’re thinking so hard I’m starting to smell smoke.” Jiren let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, smiling sheepishly,
“Oh… Just…Uh, sorry.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Looking around, Jiren grimaced as he realized that he had been flying aimlessly, not really paying attention to their direction. Scanning the horizon, he absently responded,
“...Later… Right now…” His eyes focused on a large hill and he practically melted with relief to finally notice something familiar. Flying towards it, he stepped down onto cool grass. On a large rock nearby was the medical supplies that he brought. Well, Toppo had insisted that he bring with him and admittedly they came in handy.
Gently placing Hit down on the rock, he set himself to tending to the wounds on his legs. After washing away a lot of the dried blood, he figured that Hit would need to get them stitched closed so they would heal faster, but his efforts would have to do for now. Thankfully, they seemed to be the worst of his wounds. As he finished wrapping one leg up, Hit began to move, wriggling out of his cuirass. Jiren looked up at him and immediately sucked in air. With the chest plate removed, he could see a large purplish-blue splotch covering half of his chest.
“What...” Jiren couldn’t get out the rest of the sentence before his jaw clenched. Taking a deep breath, he started at the ground for a moment as he slowly counted, trying to reign in his anger. Groaning, Hit held up his hands,
“Before you lecture me, it’s not as bad as it was.” That sent Jiren of the edge, his voice booming across the grassy plain,
“And that’s supposed to make it any better?!” Hit peeled off his shirt, eyes narrowed,
“No, but that’s the way it is.” A long vertical slice cut through his breast, blood slowly welling along the bottom of the wound. Unlike the other wounds, this appeared to cut deep into his flesh. Hit dabbed at it with a sterile cloth, brow furrowed in pain. Taking a few moments breath, Jiren let out a long sigh and pulled out a fresh roll of wraps from the kit.
“Once you’re done, we’ll get it wrapped.” He paused, watching as Hit froze, hesitating. Finally, he forced his next words out,
“...The exit wound needs to be disinfected too.” Jiren stared at him, eyes growing hard,
“...The...exit?”
“Jiren, please. Not now.”
“No, I think now is the perfect time to talk about this.” Jabbing a finger at Hit’s chest, Jiren was just short of yelling again, “How did you get this? When did you get this?” Folding his arms over his chest, Hit leaned away, suddenly looking exhausted again,
“Long before it got to this battle, I was confronted by Hearts and an associate of his, Zamasu. They tried to question me on who the strongest mortal was. I didn’t say anything, but they still managed to hone in on you. I tried to fight them but Zamasu speared me through.”
“And you’ve just been running around with a fatal wound like this?”, Jiren hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders. Hit knocked his hands away, his voice strained, but level,
“My supreme kai came to my aid after they left. It took a while, but he managed to mostly heal the wound. It hurts to breathe somewhat, but all my organs are intact.” Jiren rolled his eyes, what difference did that make?! He could have bled out, overexerted himself, collapsed a lung, the list was endless.
“But you still came here, to a battle that no one was sure that we would leave alive from, with something as severe as this? What were you trying to do, get yourself killed!?” Suddenly, Hit was on his feet and in Jiren’s face, eyes blazing,
“There wasn’t much choice! A lot of things hung in the balance today, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing!”
“You could have died!”
“If that was what it took so you could live, then so be it!”
“But I don’t want that!” There was a pregnant pause between them as the two of them stared at each other. Hit frozen to the spot, the pain in his chest the only thing reminding him to breathe. Fidgeting with the roll of bandages in his hand, Jiren did his best to avoid Hit’s piercing gaze, the blood starting to rush to his face. Breaking the silence, he mumbled,
“Let’s get you patched up.” Hit continued to stare at him for a moment longer, before finally tearing his gaze away and sitting himself back down, muttering,
“We should address your injuries too.” Jiren nodded and went about cleaning the gash in Hit’s back. Silently chastising himself, Jiren tried to make sense of his own thoughts. He meant what he said… He didn’t ever want it to come to that, that Hit would have to sacrifice himself for them. Even though it was never really said between them, they had become friends in an awkward sort of way. And it hurt to see him like this, to hear him say that he would give up himself that easily. But… He still felt like an idiot for saying it. And it had come out a bit forceful, as if he was commanding him, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to have to command him to keep living.
Dressing the last of his wounds, Jiren stepped back, patching up a few of his cuts and scrapes as Hit pulled his shirt back over his head. The sun had set at this point, the light quickly beginning to fade out. Holding out a hand, Jiren let energy fill his palm, forming a small, brilliant red sphere, and he let it float above them. Bathing in its pale red glow, Jiren felt a hand cup his face and he flinched.
“It's alright. I’m just washing the cut on your face.” Nodding, Jiren bent down slightly, letting Hit dab at it. Feeling his hands slowly cup his face, fingers smoothing out the bandage now on his cheek, the blood began to rush back to Jiren’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hit, relieved to see that the edge to his gaze had softened considerably. There was the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and as he pulled his hands away, he slid his eyes over to Jiren’s,
“Yes?” Rubbing the sweat from the back of his neck, Jiren mentally cracked his knuckles,
“Do you know if you have a way home?”
“In all honesty, no. I actually don’t know if anyone is coming for me.”, Hit shrugged, tossing the box of bandages back into the kit. A chuckle leaked out of Jiren and he shook his head,
“Really? Spent all that time getting healed back in Universe 6 and no one discussed how you’d get back?” Hit rolled his eyes, smiling as he put the rest of the contents of the med kit back,
“Forgive me if it was the last thing on my mind at the time.”
“Would you like to come back to Universe 11 then?” Glancing over his shoulder, Hit raised a brow,
“Why? Are you worried that I won’t be able to take care of myself?”
“After seeing the state that you were in, yes.”, Jiren snorted. Dusting his hands, Hit grabbed his chest plate, tugging it back over his head, letting go an exaggerated sigh,
“Well, since I have nowhere else to go, I suppose I have no choice.” For a while, they sat there, quietly chatting and gazing up at the twinkling stars overhead. A cool breeze brought with the sweet smell of the forest and before Jiren realized it, he was yawning. He didn’t realize before, but the fight had taken a lot of him. Hit looked relaxed, but didn’t seem all that tired, teasing him that it was past his bedtime. Before too much longer, Khai finally arrived, profusely apologizing about being late, stating that Belmod was insistent about discussing something. Something that Jiren could believe with how much he loved to talk and to do it when it was the least convenient. After some brief discussion, Jiren clapped a hand to Hit’s back, grinning. As Hit gave him a gentle smile, Jiren was glad that he was going home with a friend.