Chapter Text
Fumika hurts. Every breath sends pain shooting down her bruising neck and through one side of her chest. Not to mention the skin split over every knuckle and the burning pain every time she puts weight on one leg. If nothing's broken then she'll be shocked.
She remembers Kudo's warning about the crash that follows once the adrenaline fades. The wall of pain and exhaustion that hits once the body and mind are no longer singularly focused on staying alive. That warning was given not even twenty-four hours ago, but it feels more like a lifetime has passed. She barely heard it then as she sank to the bar floor, but she hears it now even though Kudo is gone.
She curses the dead man's name again for leaving her body in so much pain. That last fight was way too rough even if their retribution was worth it. At least Kudo kept his promise. He didn't let her die. Except now she has a long, painful journey ahead of her until she can get help, and with Kagehara's gunfire still ringing out behind her she's not about to go back and ask for a ride.
Distant gunfire and Fumika’s own heartbeat pounding in her head distract her from the sound of a jingling chain until it’s right next to her. Fumika yells and spins, raising her good arm in self-defence as another adrenaline spike hits her.
A small black dog looks up at her and sits down at her feet, his tongue hanging out as he pants. The chain clipped to his harness jingles with every breath.
“Don't sneak up on me!” Fumika scolds as she lowers her arm.
She reasons that the dog's owner is either dead or is soon to be dead, and there’s no helping that. The dog doesn't seem too bothered one way or the other as his ears perk forward and his tail wags. Curious, Fumika kneels down but immediately regrets the decision when she realizes she's not confident in her ability to stand back up. It's too late now, so she reaches for the tag clipped to the harness.
“Anton,” Fumika reads aloud as her face scrunches up. “That's a stupid name.”
The barks in response and his tail wags harder.
“You shouldn’t go back there,” Fumika warns as she removes the tag. “You should find a new owner who has nothing to do with anti-social forces.”
She stands up, grimacing and grunting as she does, then throws the tag as hard as she can into the bushes.
“Go find a new owner,” she says before turning back to continue limping along the road.
Fumika barely makes it a few meters before she hears the jingling sound again. She looks down at the dog who keeps pace despite her agonizingly slow speed. Every so often he’ll get ahead of her and stop to wait for her to catch up.
Does her building allow dogs? Why is she even considering it? Maybe she just feels bad for it, or maybe it's the concussion talking.
Fumika stops to catch her breath, bracing herself against a streetlight. The dog waits patiently at her feet. Fumika groans.
“You need a better name,” she decides.
The dog just looks up at her, his tail still wagging. With an exhausted sigh, Fumika rights herself and keeps going.
“Come on, Kudo,” she calls, and without hesitation the dog follows close behind.