Work Text:
A thud echoes loudly in the office, although the source of the sound comes from the other side of the wall. Mori instantly flinches at the sudden disruption; his pen falls on the floor, right next to his foot. The man clenches his jaw, annoyed, accompanied by a high-pitched chuckle behind his back, but he ignores it anyway. Strange sounds in moderate amounts are not a scarcity in the Port Mafia headquarters and he has different things to worry about. His phone, put in a quickly accessible place, for example.
When he bends down to pick up the item, another noise in the corridor is enough for him to almost hit his head on the countertop of the desk — almost, because he successfully manages to move away on his chair instead. It seems like his reflexes are still in good shape, but when he turns his head to the right, Elise doesn’t even try to cover up the scoff on her face and the satisfaction in his expression is quickly replaced with resignation.
“You better check what’s going on out there,” she suggests, seemingly innocently, while Mori stares at the report that he was reading. It’s from Hirotsu, but a long, straight line of black ink is now staining the neat handwriting. This itself is enough to irritate him even more, hence he raises up from his chair, ready to open the door and scold anyone who caused him to mess up his work and leave his phone unattended, while this one, exact person might call him anytime.
As soon as he presses the handle and opens the door, something hard hits his chest and falls on the floor, right between his feet. It’s a phone, although it’s practically smashed to pieces; the damage done to it seems to be irreversible.
His eyes immediately travel up and the owner of said phone smiles at him weakly.
“I know you waited for my call,” Kouyou chokes out, breathing rapidly “But I might… ” Mori's eyes quickly brush over her whole silhouette when she stutters; he registers a huge, bloodied spot on her side that she seems to be holding on tightly with equally as bloodied fingers. Her kimono is ripped on the side, but most importantly, when he looks into her eyes, he sees the light that’s slowly fading away. “...need a new one.”
The last words are a barely audible whisper, because he catches her into his arms, ignoring the cracked phone somewhere beneath his feet. Mori’s body acts automatically, but when the blood from her wound soaks into the material of his shirt, he feels an unpleasant shiver run down his spine.
There is a couch in his office and he can do as much as push the executive in that direction. Kouyou seems to be conscious enough to let out a small groan of pain, but she lets him gently grab her palm and pull it away to let him get a clear look at the wound.
“How did this happen?” he mutters, more to himself than to her, while the sound of small steps in the background is quickly approaching, along with necessary supplies. Judging by the amount of blood seeping through the material of her kimono that somehow stayed in one piece, it would need stitches.
“There were more of them,” she practically wheezes, squeezing his hand. It’s a cruel image, their bloodied, intertwined fingers resting on the side of the couch, but somehow, it seems intimate. “More than we anticipated.”
“Don’t talk,” he shushes her, hearing that Elise has brought the medical equipment. Kouyou silently obeys the command and rests her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes. “And try to stay awake,” Mori adds, just to be safe, and reaches out for clean gloves while rolling up his sleeves.
He rips off the part of her clothing which is already in shreds, just to reveal three, long, parallel slashes going through her side, beginning on her back, running all the way to her stomach. He had dragged his fingers along the small scars on her body many times, but these seem to be the ones that will leave the biggest mark so far; and he's responsible for having just a mark in the place.
Mori works quickly, but he can't help but notice the way blue eyes follow his every move, seemingly watching every time his hand even slightly winces. If it wasn't for his own ability, he would probably ignore the tiny signs of vulnerability that his body accidentally shows — but no, Elise's there and he is sure that his unusual attitude while treating Kouyou will not go unnoticed. Besides, there's no way that the girl didn't notice what has been happening between them for a while now.
She's his ability, after all, and he might have considered the fact that she got along with Golden Demon an indirect approval for his new relationship.
When the excessive amount of blood is cleaned, he picks up a syringe filled with anesthetic (he doesn't even know why he still has such things hidden somewhere around his office, they should have been carried to the infirmary a long time ago; on the other hand, it’s not strong, it can only diminish the pain — not numb her whole body). Elise glares at him with something close to contempt.
“Can't she withstand it without anesthetic?” The girl rolls her eyes and for the first time in his life, Mori feels an urge to turn away and ignore the question coming from her.
One look at Kouyou's face, twisted in a grimace of agony, tells him everything.
“It's a safety precaution,” he explains, but the coldness in his tone while talking to his ability seems so foreign that even the woman in front of him slowly opens one of her eyes, dumbfounded. “We don't want any sudden movement, do we?”
“Boring,” Elise mutters, but the tray in her hand doesn’t even move, in a way that seems extremely unnatural (and it is, when you think about it). “Those stitches won’t be too sanitary either way, so why bother?”
Mori doesn’t answer; he is more focused on opening a packet of new, surgical needles. It’s been a while since he patched up a wound and his ability is probably right; his office is far from a sterile environment. He can’t stop now, though, they don’t have that much time to run to the infirmary — not that his own body would allow him to.
Kouyou’s expression visibly relaxes when he gets to work. The local anesthetic isn’t meant to numb the injured part of her abdomen completely, it can only weaken the pain for the time being, so she definitely feels his touch. Therefore, he tries to be as gentle as possible, just as if it was an ordinary night spent in each other’s company.
Elise’s blue eyes are piercing through his back during the whole process and when the man finally breathes out a sigh of relief, the girl yawns.
“You were too gentle,” she comments, the sound of her voice obscured by the needles hitting the tray noisily. The slashes on Kouyou’s other arm also require his attention, but fortunately, they’re shallow. He only needs to clean them thoroughly with antiseptic and reach out for the rolls of bandages, which he does after taking off the bloodied gloves. “Pathetic,” she mumbles once again, when Mori wraps the bandage around the executive’s wrist.
The dressing which he constructs for Kouyou’s stomach is much bigger and more complicated, but his hands aren’t shaking as much when he does it. The disgust on his ability’s face is evident when he gently embraces the woman and brightens up over hearing that her breath had more or less stabilized.
Elise leaves the room to throw out the supplies, so Mori allows himself to sit next to Kouyou on the couch instead of kneeling in front of her.
“Tell me if it gets cold,” he whispers, wiping a small stain of blood from her pale face, while the woman hums a mhm in response and rests her head on his shoulder. “Watch out for the stitches.”
“Can you let my hair down?” she pleads in a weak voice and he finally notices that during the whole procedure, the meticulous hairstyle of hers had withstood everything. It’s a rare privilege to even touch the captivating strands of her hair, only a few have the honor to do so, Mori naturally being one of them. The shiny locks sprawl over the couch like a red, bloody waterfall, reminding him of the stains on his own white shirt. “It hurts,” Kouyou confesses through clenched teeth.
“The effects of the anesthetic are wearing away,” he explains softly, combing through her hair with his fingers. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she says sarcastically and Mori feels an urge to smirk because of the way she is still able to joke, even heavily injured and stitched up by himself in his own office. “I really thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“You could’ve gone straight to the infirmary,” he mentions, but inside, he’s glad to have her by his side. “Why did you come here?”
“I promised to call you right after I finish the mission,” she says drowsily, scrunching her face because of the pain. “I couldn’t call, so I visited you personally.”
“Foolish woman,” he responds, but his fingers grasp her palm affectionately.
“Can you talk to me for a while?” Her pained half-smile is enough for the answer to be an instant yes , before she can even explain what she means by that. “Just talk. About anything. I need to focus on something different.”
“About what, for example? I’m not very good at coming up with conversation topics.”
“How did you become a doctor?” Her weak hand squeezes his and only then he notices the difference in their temperature, how hers is much colder. Almost like the warmth from her body has been drifting away along with the light in her eyes before.
“I guess it has been my dream since I was young.” The story brings an unpleasant shiver that runs down his spine and clashes right into his core. A memory of an innocent young boy, a gifted, golden child aspiring to help other people in the future flashes right in front of his eyes and for a second, he wonders whether Kouyou can feel the way his muscles tense. “I’m not sure why.”
He really has no idea, but the woman’s expression seems slightly relaxed, so he continues.
“The war ruined it all, I guess,” he concludes, realizing that he was supposed to divert her attention from her wound and basically, he failed miserably. “I still have the degree, though. The certificate is hidden somewhere.”
After a pause, he wonders whether Kouyou has accidentally fallen unconscious, but no, her eyes are open, staring at him, her breath warm against his shoulder.
“If I close my eyes now,” she finally asks. “Will I wake up in the morning?”
“Yes,” he reassures, caressing her head gently. “Definitely.”
“And you’ll be there?” Kouyou adds, glancing at him with unconditional trust in her eyes. It hits him hard, the final manifestation of her attitude towards him; it’s almost painful, because his own subconsciousness is well aware that he is not to be trusted. Nobody is, actually. Anyone could betray him, no matter how much loyalty towards him they show. It could be merely a disguise to hide their true intention.
Somehow, he doesn’t even want to consider the possibility that the woman in his arms poses a danger to him.
“Yes, I will,” he promises. Kouyou lets out a relieved sigh and rests her forehead against his chest.
Mori hears a snort somewhere in the back of the office, only to see a pair of unnatural blue eyes watching him from a distance.
“What happened to keeping the balance in the city?” her voice echoes in the office, loud and clear, unpleasantly high-pitched in Mori’s ears.