Chapter Text
Ash could barely process anything, he barely remembers what happened to him. He didn’t remember the blade piercing through him.
The memory refused to settle into something clear and solid, instead dissolving into scattered fragments that refused to line up in the correct order. He couldn’t think straight at the moment, he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t like the situation he was in but he couldn’t do anything.
The last thing he remembers are flashing lights.
Bright ambulance lights flashed in harsh bursts of red and blue. Voices surrounded him, but to him, it was nothing but mere murmurs.
Some of them sounded calm and practiced, while others carried an urgency that Ash couldn’t feel even through the haze clouding his thoughts. Someone was speaking close to his ear, while another shouted instructions from somewhere near his feet. The words overlapped eachother, occasionally clear and sharp before dissolving again into distant noise.
“We need to move him now.”
“Careful, watch the wound.”
“He’s losing too much blood.”
Hands pressed firmly against his stomach, applying pressure that made a sharp wave of pain surge through his body. Ash sucked in a weak breath, though the sound barely escaped his through before the pain faded into something distant and strangely unreal.
The stretcher slid beneath his body with a metallic rattle before someone secured the straps around him. The movement made the word tilt dangerously, and for a moment thought he might black out entirely.
Though, he didn’t really black out.
Instead he stared upward, his eyes barely open as the paramedics pushed him toward the waiting ambulance.
The doors slammed shut behind them and sirens started almost immediately.
The sound pierced through the night as the ambulance sped through the streets of New York, weaving between cars and forcing traffic aside as it raced toward the nearest hospital. The vehicle swayed sharply with every turn, its tires screeching faintly against the pavement as the driver pushed it faster.
The ceiling lights inside the ambulance were painfully bright.
Ash watched them flicker above him as the paramedics worked quickly around the stretcher. One of them adjusted the oxygen mask resting over his face while another continued pressing gauze against the wound in his abdomen.
His arms refused to respond when he tried to love them, and even the small effort of turning his head slightly made his vision blur. His breathing had grown shallow without him realizing it, each breath thinner than the last.
A paramedic leaned over him, his expression serious as he checked the monitor attached to Ash's chest.
“Stay with us,” the man said firmly, his voice cutting through the distant ringing in Ash’s ears. “Hey, look at me. Stay awake.”
Ash’s eyes drifted toward him, though they struggled to stay focused.
The ambulance took a sharp turn, causing the overhead lights to blur into streaks of white.
The voices around him faded in and out.
Strangely, his mind remained calm.
He did not feel panic rising in his chest the way most people would have in a moment like this. Instead there was only a quiet detachment settling over him as the world slowly slipped further away.
His thoughts wandered somewhere else.
To Eiji.
Ash exhaled slowly.
Eiji is probably in Japan by now.
A quiet life waited for him there, far away from the violence and chaos that seemed to follow Ash wherever he went.
Far away from New York, far from people like him.
The thought didn’t make Ash feel bitter.
If anything, it made him feel relieved. Eiji deserved something better than this world.
Ash’s eyelids began to grow heavier.
The sirens still screamed outside the ambulance, but the sound had grown faint and distant, as if someone had slowly lowered the volume without him noticing.
“Blood pressure’s dropping,” one of the paramedics said suddenly.
“Damn it,” the other muttered. “We need to get him there now.”
Ash tried to focus on their voices, he really did. But the darkness creeping along the edges of his vision made it difficult.
The ceiling lights blurred together again.
For a moment, the world disappeared completely.
When the ambulance finally arrived at the hospital, the rear doors were thrown open immediately.
Cold night air rushed briefly into the vehicle before the paramedics pushed the stretcher out and rushed toward the emergency entrance.
The automatic doors slid open with a sharp mechanical sound, a bright white light spilled into the dark street.
“Severe abdominal stab wound!” one of the paramedics called as they hurried down the hallway.
“Heavy blood loss! Pulse weak!”
Doctors and nurses turned immediately.
Within seconds, several members of the hospital surrounded the stretcher.
“Trauma room one,” a doctor ordered quickly.
“Move.”
The wheels of the stretcher rattled loudly against the polished floor as they pushed Ash down the hallway.
Overhead lights passed above him one after another, their bright glow flickering across his half-open eyes.
Ash drifted in and out of consciousness as the voices around him blended together.
“…BP eighty over forty.”
“That’s way too low.”
“Get two units of blood ready.”
“Prep the OR.”
The trauma room doors burst open.
Ash was wheeled inside.
Everything moved quickly after that.
His shirt was cut open within seconds, the fabric already soaked through with blood. Nurses worked quickly to attach additional monitors while another doctor pressed firmly against the wound in his abdomen.
The machines beside the bed began to beep steadily.
“Heart rate one-fifty,” a nurse reported.
Another doctor examined the wound briefly before grimacing.
“That knife went deep,” he said under his breath.
Ash felt the pressure against his stomach increase again as they attempted to slow the bleeding.
Pain flared sharply through his body.
He sucked in a shallow breath.
“Hey,” a voice said near his head.
Ash forced his eyes open slightly.
A doctor leaned over him, his expression calm but focused.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” the doctor said evenly.
“We’re going to take you into surgery, alright? Just stay with us.”
Ash tried to nod.
The movement barely happened.
The doctor turned toward the rest of the staff.
“Is the OR ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
The stretcher began moving again.
Ash was rushed out of the trauma room and down another brightly lit hallway.
The ceiling lights slid past above him like a slow-moving row of stars.
His breathing felt weaker now.
Each breath took more effort than the last.
The double doors to the operating wing came into view.
They swung open before the stretcher even reached them.
Inside, the operating room was already prepared.
Bright surgical lights illuminated the center of the room where the operating table waited.
Doctors dressed in surgical gowns stood ready as the stretcher was wheeled inside.
Ash was transferred carefully onto the table.
Machines beeped steadily beside him.
Someone placed an oxygen mask over his face.
“Breathe slowly,” a nurse instructed gently.
Ash obeyed without thinking.
The air tasted cold.
Another doctor adjusted the IV line connected to his arm.
“Anesthesia ready.”
The room began to blur again.
Ash stared up at the bright surgical lights hanging above the table.
The lights above were impossibly bright, stretching across the ceiling in an unbroken line. For some reason, they reminded him of the ambulance lights from earlier, carrying the same blinding whiteness that seemed to go on forever.
The voices around him grew distant.
“Alright,” the lead surgeon said calmly. “Let’s begin.”
The last thing Ash felt before the darkness swallowed him completely was the steady rhythm of the heart monitor beside him.
The surgery had only just begun.
And somewhere beyond the closed doors of the operating room, the night continued without pause.