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The news is slightly less boring tonight.
He isn't exactly watching it—the television isn't commanding his attention, not like how it's commanding his mother's. He sits perfectly still on the couch and lets the images pass him by, each one cementing itself to his memory without effort. This is a departure from how he usually watches the news; he usually finds something less dull to occupy his hands.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, Spider-Man is out in the streets of Tokyo, defending the acadmey from an attack by the Ultimate Despair.
Izuru doesn't have many pleasures in life—in fact, he could probably count them all on his fingers—but watching Spider-Man fight ranks amongst the top. He hasn't seen that exact mix of clumsiness and grace in anyone but his twin brother, and it offers him comfort.
Speaking of his brother, Izuru glances down towards his phone. His twin is rather quiet tonight; he hopes that means he's absorbed in schoolwork. He resolves to check on him later, looking back at the screen.
Spider-Man is stuck to the side of the clocktower, clearly considering his options. The Ultimate Despair's bear suit—Monokuma, he recalls—sweeps his claws in an arc heading directly towards the hero. His mother makes a noise of concern.
"He'll move," Izuru says. His mother startles beside him, clearly having forgotten he was there.
"How do you know?"
Izuru opens his mouth to respond just as Spider-Man leaps towards the claws. Idiot, he thinks, as Spider-Man collides with the paw. His arm is impaled on the sharp point of the claw, but overall he manages to halt the bears motion.
He slings a web towards the other paw, pushing off the claw and wrapping the bears wrist together in one quick, flashy motion. He flips over the bear's head, attaches some more webbing to it's legs, and knocks it down away from Hope's Peak.
Selfishly, he thinks of it as a pity. If the school was shut down for repairs, Hajime would've gotten a break, and he desperately needed one.
He keeps this to himself, though. Not many would agree with him. He watches as Spider-Man swings out of view of the news camera.
His mother makes another wounded noise next to him, redirecting his attention once more. "Do you think he'll be okay?" she whispers.
Izuru ponders that for a moment. The bicep does have an artery, but it's unlikely it was hit due to Spider-Man's position and ability to maneuver efficiently so soon after. That, coupled with what Izuru suspects is an advanced regeneration makes his survival probable.
He hears a thud come from Hajime's room, and elects to ignore it for a moment. His brother probably just dropped something.
"He has a 62% chance of survival if he seeks medical attention immediately," he says. He moves to leave, but his mother grips his arm.
"But will he be okay?" she asks again, her green eyes locked onto his red ones.
Izuru finds this strange, but he acquiesces. "Yes, mother. He will be alright."
She nods once, releasing him.
He starts towards his bedroom, inteading to begin his nightly routine, when he hears another noise coming from Hajime's bedroom. He hears a thud, and then his twin hisses under his breath.
Izuru freezes, right in front of the door. He doesn't blink, doesn't even breathe. He stares at the doorknob.
He can smell blood.
Something else clatters to the floor, and Hajime lets out a groan of pain. Izuru twists the handle sharply, just barely catching the door so it doesn't slam into the wall.
There, on the bed, is Hajime, shirtless, with blood coating his left arm. He has the audacity to look stunned.
They stare at each other for a moment, before Izuru silently steps back out and shuts the door.
He allows himself just a moment to panic before making his way to the kitchen to grab a bowl of water, then to the hall closet for a washcloth.
When he enters Hajime's room again, the other boy has completely removed his suit and donned some sweatpants. When he looks up from his wound, his eyes are wet.
Hajime drops his eyes back to the medical kit beside him, rummaging through it uselessly.
"It's—" he begins, sniffling through tears, "it's exactly what it looks like," he finishes.
Izuru crosses the room, dragging the medical kit towards himself.
Heaving a deep sigh, his twin continues. "Yeah, I'm—you know," His left arm moves, Izuru's hand shooting out to still it. "I don't think I can patch this up on my own, by the way."
He laughs, but the sound is wet and all too scared. He moves to flick through the medical kit; Izuru smacks his hand away. "Ouch," his brother mutters, "way to kick a guy while he's down."
"Quiet." Izuru hisses, alreadly examining the wound.
"Okay, my bad."
Time moves slowly and all at once, simultaneously. Izuru's mind blocks everything else out, ignores the red and blue suit and the green eyes and the short brown hair. His focus narrows to just this bicep in front of him, this one singular problem he can solve.
He grabs wound packing supplies—the medical kit is far more advanced than the average one—but a hand clasps around his wrist.
Without looking up, he says, "I cannot properly bandage your wound if I do not pack it."
"I heal quicker," is the only response he recieves, but it is impactful nonetheless. He lets the material fall into his twin's lap, continues on as planned.
He dips the washcloth into the bowl of water and begins cleaning the wound.
"I'm sorry," Hajime says, after of couple of minutes of Izuru tending to him, "I meant to tell you I just—."
Izuru allows for a few moments to pass them by, then prompts, "Just what?"
"You know." Izuru does not know, and he tells him as such.
Hajime huffs. "I wanted to wait."
"Till what?"
Hajime gestures vaugely, says nothing more. Silence settles around them both as Izuru finishes cleaning the wound.
Hajime was right. His bicep has already begun stitching itself back together.
"I'm still going to bandage it," he says, reaching for the roll of gauze. Hajime only nods, then affixes his eyes on the lamp sitting on his desk.
"I didn't finish my homework," he groans, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"I will complete it for you. Get some rest" Izuru makes sure the gauze is secure before sitting back on his haunches.
"I—What? No." Hajime pushes himself off his bed, but Izuru grabs him before he starts walking towards the desk.
"You are injured," he says, taking his seat at the desk.
Hajime grabs a hoodie off the ground and pulls it on. "It's my responsibility."
Izuru grabs a pencil. "It doesn't have to be."
Hajime huffs from somewhere behind him. "I was handling it fine!"
Izuru quickly answers the first question, copying his twin's handwriting flawlessly. "You were not. Sleep, now."
Blankets rustle behind him. "You don't have to protect me," Hajime whispers.
Izuru continues with the next question."You don't have to protect Tokyo, either."
Hajime's breathing evens out.