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Snip.
Shaky hands cut the nylon thread. Nozomi exhaled in agony. She hated doing stitches, even when they were for Mama. She always took them with a placid smile and a reassuring pat on the head, though. Nozomi could hardly stomach it, but what was the alternative? She cursed her body, her blood, for not being compatible with the Revive-O-Matic. She had to be careful out in battle; one wrong move, and she wouldn't just come back unscathed like the rest of them. Hopefully she had disinfected her wound well enough not to immediately succumb to sepsis. She would just have to take it easy for the next few days and hope there wasn't another battle soon.
"Nozomi?"
"Ah!"
Nozomi yanked her shirt down, stitches of both fabric and skin creaking. She immediately grabbed her side and pressed on it, almost doubling over from the pain. Sudden movements were quite the enemy.
"Sorry to startle you, Nozomi," said Yugamu, holding his hands up. "I feel as if I have walked in on something indecent."
Nozomi shook her head. Nothing of the sort at all. She hadn't heard the door of the Bio Lab open, nor had she noticed Yugamu walking up towards her. Moko had joked earlier about putting a bell on his choker, and after this incident Nozomi would agree.
"I took a hit in the battle today," she said. Warm blood stained the side of her shirt. She likely pulled a stitch. "I was just doing some first aid."
For some bizarre reason, this seemed to make Yugamu blush even more than he already was.
"Ah… The healing of oneself," he said, clutching the sides of his sleeves. "I'm honestly a little jealous. I grew quite fond of tending to wounds, but with the Revive-O-Matic, I haven't really had a chance."
Nozomi smiled awkwardly.
"Well, it's probably better that way. You'll come out of it good as new," she replied. If her gash had been anywhere else on her body, she would have kept going. She wasn't particularly concerned with modesty, especially not in the middle of the war. She'd buy into it if only to not consider the other reasons she didn't want to take off her shirt.
"It's quite convenient, isn't it? It's like our battles never happened, no, as if they didn't matter. We return time and again, fresh, with no trace of the past upon us. The past is what makes us who we are; without it, are we really us?"
It was an interesting concept, but ontologically flawed. The past, by nature of the passage of time, had to have happened.
"You don't have to carry it physically for it to matter," Nozomi said with a bit of a sigh. Some of the deepest wounds she possessed never scratched the surface of her skin, hidden within her in places no one could ever see.
Yugamu sighed in concession and grabbed the suture needle with his bare hands, holding it between the pads of his fingers. Great, she'd need a new one.
"Nozomi… You're still bleeding, would you want me to assist?" he said, changing the topic and catching her off guard. Nozomi shook her head. She applied more pressure to her abdomen, fumes of sticky copper filling the room between them.
"N-no thanks, I got it," she stammered out.
"You don't have to do everything yourself. We're teammates now," said Yugamu.
He took a step forward. She took a step back. He went in for the kill. "I've already seen it, you know."
The words struck Nozomi like shattered glass. Of course he would know. He was an assassin who knew how to hit people in their weaknesses. If she assumed it started when he entered the room, she would be half right, but likely his calculated observations had begun long before their meeting here. Fingers abandoned the open wound for the closed one festering from the inside.
The screeching of wheels. The smoke. The sound of the radio playing a commercial for auto parts muffled by the wail of a siren. Her father's hand reaching towards her, coming clean off the arm the second she grabbed on. Waking up in the hospital days later to a different hand in place of where her father's once was, with a promise to never let go ended only a few years later in a cold casket.
What could she possibly have done to deserve life over both of them? She felt lightheaded. She would attribute it to blood loss and not the feeling of pure hopelessness within her.
"Nozomi, are you alright?" asked Yugamu as if he wasn't aware of the consequences of his words. At least he sounded like he cared; maybe he didn't mean it. Nozomi grimaced, and sat down.
"I'll be fine," she said through a gritted smile. It wasn't his fault. He just wanted to help. She was the one with a body that just didn't do what it was supposed to. Her stitches had failed because she didn't do them right. It just meant she had to do them better. "Can you grab me a fresh needle? And some antiseptic too, if you could."
Thank goodness he took the hint. She wouldn't let him stitch her up, but it was probably better if he watched in case she passed out cold on the floor from the pain or the blood loss. Nozomi wasn't good at sitting still for the nurses. She preferred to do things herself: injections, stitches, anything that penetrated her skin. It was difficult to just sit there and take it through the pain. She'd try everything to get it to stop, which would only make things worse. It was easier to adjust her movements in accordance with the pain as she pierced herself. She knew her own pain second best, naturally. It never hurt when Mama did it. Mama would have stitched her up perfectly.
"Can I watch?" asked Yugamu as he handed her over the tools she requested. She was already planning on keeping him here, though his formal question made it feel as if he was putting her out by suggesting it.
"I suppose so," she said. "Just… Don't make it weird."
He had already seen her scar, what more was there to say besides prying questions or other comments on her body? She went to take off her shirt and winced from the pain. Yugamu assisted, allowing her arms and muscles to relax as he pulled it off. This was the first time a guy had seen her chest, though his gaze told her he was ogling the blood and broken stitch on her abdomen.
"Ah, sorry, it's impolite to stare," Yugamu said, covering his eye with his hand. "Your blood is very pretty."
Nozomi couldn't help the giggle that snuck out of her mouth. It hurt to laugh, but she couldn't help but think of the irony. Her blood was nothing like his, like the rest of the academy's, and it was quite the problem. But she detected no lie within his words, perhaps he did have a genuine appreciation. She took the antiseptic and began to clean off her wound. Yugamu handed her another packet of sterile tissues. Their clean white color quickly stained with crimson blood. Nozomi sighed as she looked down at the mess of stitches she tried before. She grabbed the scissors and snipped the one that had gotten half-tugged out. She made a mistake, so what? She'd just redo them. Nozomi bit down on her tongue as she slowly pulled on the cut nylon, feeling it acutely sliding out of her skin. The more she tugged, the longer it seemed to become. She gasped when it finally was pulled out, annoyed at how short the segment actually was once she looked at it fully removed.
"You're going to re-stitch?" asked Yugamu with a mix of concern and glee.
"I've done it before," she said to quell his worry, though she had not, and for good reason. Multiple attempts meant more damage to the skin that was already trying to heal. She pinched the final gap of the wound shut with her fingers. Nozomi braced herself before plunging the needle in again, rotating it so it curved through the side of the wound and through to the other, binding the gap between them. She groaned from pain as she felt the nylon pull through the puncture, before the knot found its place. She tied it off at the end with clumsy fingers.
"Here," said Yugamu, offering her a glass vial he pulled out of his robes. The liquid was suspiciously blue.
"What is it?" asked Nozomi.
"It'll help."
Yugamu didn't exactly have a convincing argument for complying, so Nozomi passed. Yugamu set it down on the shelf next to her as if time may change her mind. He did, however, hand her a bandage and some tape. Nozomi made good use of them and covered her wound. It wasn't deep enough for any internal damage, but moving around on the battlefield hadn't done it any favors, skin twisting and pulling. Nozomi exhaled, finally.
"Well, another one to add to your collection," said Yugamu. He reached his hand out, as if he were going to touch, but backed down. His hand slid back into his sleeve akin to the head of a turtle. He was quite the odd one. He had quite an affection for the human body, one Nozomi couldn't exactly understand. Though if her own body wasn't so resistant to the treatments, perhaps she would have a better understanding and appreciation for it.
"Don't remind me," Nozomi sighed. Though such was the fate of fighting for humanity. She'd make herself useful for all of them.
"I'm not saying it as a bad thing," said Yugamu. "It's proof of survival."
Sometimes, with survival came guilt. It festered within her. Why her… Why had she survived? Perhaps it was selfish to continue to fixate while there were others with their lives in her hands. Moko. Kyoshika. Kurara. Yugamu. The fate of humanity. Survival wasn't a tradeoff, it was a necessity. Survival meant protection, it meant assistance.
"I wish they weren't so visible," said Nozomi. She looked down at the ground to avoid eye contact with Yugamu. Most people had never seen her scar. Those who laid eyes upon it tended to only see it, doctors mostly, leaving her to feel branded with a mark enticing pity. "It's fine. It's difficult to understand."
"I have my own," Yugamu began. He tugged at the side of his sleeve, letting it hang off the side of his shoulder like meat falling off the bone. Gnarled white fibrous tissue wrapped around the joint, raking its way across his skin. Nozomi flinched. It looked as if his arm had been severed off at one point in some sort of horrific accident. She had seen her fair share of injuries at the hospital, but for what could have caused this, her mind turned up blank.
"I sustained an injury during a mission gone wrong," said Yugamu. He brushed his fingers over the tissue, and closed his eye. "My father was always a quick thinker. We had the resources to stick my arm back on, but why settle for normal when he could make an improvement?"
Nozomi nodded along. Yugamu opened his eye. He brushed his fingers along the scar until he touched part of his undamaged skin, pulling his fingers away quickly as if he had just pricked them on something sharp. It was a reaction so subtle that Nozomi almost missed it, and even then she wasn't entirely sure if she had imagined it. Because it didn't make sense. His father must have gotten after successfully operating, so why did Yugamu seem so withdrawn? His eye bore a certain sadness that Nozomi couldn't comprehend, and an emptiness seemed to take up space.
"Ah, the augmentation, that's why they get so long—"
His eye met hers, and the capillaries in his cheeks filled up. He quickly covered his shoulder as if its exposure had been an mortifying wardrobe mishap.
"It's so embarrassing," Yugamu said, with a bashful grin Nozomi could only assume was to comfort her for her inscrutable social blunder.
Then why did he bring it up?! She couldn't help but feel a slight pang of longing. His surgery was worked just as intended. She'd seen his ranged attacks on the battlefield. They must have been perfect for his assassin work, allowing him to get close to his targets while stealthily keeping a distance. They wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late. If her augmentation had been successful, she'd be of use on the battlefield too.
"I don't think it's embarrassing. I think it's cool," said Nozomi. He was such a strange guy, fretting over the augmentation rather than the injury, or the scar for that matter. She rested her hand on his back, awkwardly. It felt like the right thing to do. Though the moment she touched him, she realized for the first time just how cold he was. Yugamu reacted to the touch with alertness, snapping to attention and looking at her with a sharp eye.
"Thanks, I appreciate it," he said softly, contradicting everything his body language told her. Nozomi didn't think much of it. She was familiar of the disconnect between mind and body quite well. They clashed often, in fact, and after becoming aware of the worst that could happen when they didn't match would be, she couldn't stop spotting it everywhere. No amount of willpower could save a broken body. No amount of physical strength could save a broken mind.
Nozomi grabbed her shirt to put on again. A guy like Yugamu was probably covered in more of these scars, if Nozomi had to guess. She could tell he was just trying to make her feel better in his own unique way. It was certainly an interesting way of re-contextualizing what had happened to them. She touched her own arm, and traced her finger along the little scars of her frequent injection spots. Mama had gotten frantic near the end. Shaky hands produced an under-confident needle, and many tries to get it just right. But if she had done it perfectly so, Nozomi wouldn't have these to remember her by.
"Thanks for helping," said Nozomi. Yugamu looked confused.
"But you wouldn't let me," he teased. "I'll help next time."
He already had. His obliviousness as to how made it feel sweeter. Her wounds would heal with time after being treated with proper care. They were part of her, after all, and she needed to look after herself.
She smiled.
"I'd like that."