Archive of Our Own

I think I messed up.

Five words.

Five words was all it took for Kira to stumble away from his desk, tripping on his own feet as he ran out of his office.

Nagisa wasn’t much of a texter — his fastest rate being one sentence per hour — so he didn’t add anything else. No clarification of what happened. No photos attached.

Nothing.

All that Kira had was his own morbid imagination, and the events from weeks ago. Nagisa’s arm, wounded from a knife. The request Kira made to him then: if anything happens, contact me. The fact that Nagisa never texted Kira unless it was important, out of concern of interrupting him at work.

There was only one place Kira’s mind could go to.

He was completely out of breath when he fell into his supervisor’s office. No doubt Kira looked like a mess, for the other man’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

“I need to leave early—” he gasped out, pausing to cough. “Personal emergency.”

He didn’t expect the man to agree. It was unprofessional of him, Kira knew. Regardless of what he said though, Kira had no intention of sticking around until his shift ended. Not when life and death was on the line.

“I see,” Dr. Furukawa replied. Kira nearly missed it, hardly hearing anything over the thundering in his ears. “The hospital isn’t too busy today. You may leave early, then. Take care, Dr. Kitazato.”

Dr. Furukawa’s behavior had changed recently, ever since the incident with his last patient. He was too generous with Kira now, making him skeptical each time.

Though, Kira had little time to ponder about it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and without wasting another second, he sped out of the office.

He could hear doctors and nurses muttering to each other, watching Kira walk out of the hospital as quickly as he could. He couldn’t afford to run — that was far too dangerous for a hospital. Even so, walking felt too slow, too painful, and each second made the weight in his chest worse.

Just in case, he checked his phone.

No response from Nagisa, even though he had sent four texts demanding answers. All he had were those same five words that echoed in his mind.

I think I messed up. I think I messed up. I think I messed up.

Kira clenched his teeth together so hard he heard something crack.

His legs felt numb by the time Kira staggered into the station. Odd looks followed him everywhere, but Kira paid no mind to them. He couldn’t focus on anything, really. His legs guided him in and out of the train, maneuvering his way to Zoshigaya on autopilot. His mind never left the chat, where Nagisa still left him no answer.

He clucked his tongue loudly as he turned his phone off. At times like these, Kira really wished Nagisa would text him back.

The sun nearly set by the time Kira had arrived on Nagisa’s front porch. It was a good thing that he had invited Kira over several times, so Kira knew exactly where to find his house. The front door was left unlocked, and whether it was for Kira or a careless mistake, he didn’t know.

No matter, seeing the door open with ease made his stomach twist — what if someone else had come in before Kira?

Nagisa always criticized Kira for being too cautious, telling him it borderlined on paranoia. Maybe so, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. That, Kira was sure of.

The house was dark inside, with no lights turned on. It wasn’t a reason to panic, Kira told his thundering heart. After all, the orange glow of the sunset still lit most of the living room. Perhaps Nagisa felt that lighting sufficed.

But no matter how hard Kira scanned the place, he couldn’t spot familiar red hair.

The buzzing in his ears got louder as Kira made his way up the stairs. There was a light up there at least, coming from the door of the bathroom. Kira let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, and knocked three times.

“Nagisa?” he called. Was it just him, or did his voice shake? “It’s me, Kira.”

For a moment, there was silence. Kira felt his heart drop, grabbing the handle.

“Kira…?”

He heard a croaking voice on the other side of the door. Kira pressed his lips together.

“I’m coming in,” he stated. Still, he waited a few seconds, in case Nagisa wasn’t ready. He got no response, so he opened the door carefully.

He froze.

Blood and abandoned bandages decorated across the floor. The sink especially was stained, with the addition of small white pills scattered about, spilled from an open container. The whole scene resembled something that Kira could only describe as a murder scene; or perhaps some sort of unethical DIY surgery.

There was even Nagisa’s pet owl — Lucy, or something — sitting on top of a cabinet, watching Kira closely. Kira could only hope that the owl hadn’t been the one to attack Nagisa. God knew how many diseases that thing had.

His eyes met Nagisa’s. Bright, red eyes that widened in fear, clutching the counter of the sink so hard, his knuckles turned white. He could almost compare the sight to that of a cornered animal. Or an injured one, for that matter.

“Kira,” he gasped out.

“What happened?” Kira demanded as he dashed over.

“I think I threw up blood,” Nagisa mumbled, pointing over to the toilet. Sure enough, the bowl was covered in blood. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Don’t joke,” Kira spat. He fished out the flashlight pen that Nagisa gave him two months ago. It was a good thing that Kira always kept it on him. “Open your mouth. I’m going to check your throat.”

Nagisa didn’t argue, opening his mouth and letting Kira stick the flashlight inside. There was blood, no doubt from when Nagisa had thrown up earlier, but he couldn’t see any internal damage to the throat. Kira frowned and pulled away.

He scanned Nagisa carefully. There were some scratches on his face, but none of them were enough to warrant concern. He couldn’t see his limbs clearly, covered by his clothes. He froze as his eyes landed on the blood that stained Nagisa’s shirt. “What is that?”

Nagisa coughed twice, before lifting his shirt. Kira twitched at the sight. A long gash ran across his stomach, messily stitched together with a fishing line by the hands of an amateur. The skin just barely held together, though the wound was still bleeding steadily. No doubt it was Nagisa’s handiwork.

“I didn’t think—” Nagisa coughed again. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Kira could feel a headache coming in. Why Nagisa didn’t contact him before trying to mend the wound himself was beyond him. Didn’t they agree to let Kira handle the medical treatments?

“This isn’t going to work, Nagisa,” Kira said, lightly pushing him to sit on the sink counter. The least he could do was not stand around with half of a gaping hole in his stomach. “You need to go to the hospital.”

Nagisa stiffened under Kira’s touch. “But you’re a doctor. Can’t you fix this?”

“If I had the proper equipment, sure,” Kira shook his head. “Which is why hospitals exist. There’s only so much I can do with a first aid kit. You’ve lost too much blood. What if you need a blood transfusion?”

Nagisa looked away and scowled. “I told you before, I’m not going. I can’t—”

“And why can’t you?!” Kira interrupted, his voice raising far more than intended. “You just vomited blood, Nagisa. Blood. Do you know what that means?!”

“My parents—”

“It means you’re dying, Nagisa,” Kira growled. “You’re dying, and what’s going to kill you is lack of treatment. Your beloved parents are going to come home to a casket instead of a son.”

Nagisa flinched. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, his face covered in sweat. Nervousness filled his eyes at the mention of death, as though the possibility eluded him. He kept his lips clammed shut.

Kira let out a heavy sigh. Then, he grabbed the left sleeve of Nagisa’s shirt, pulling it up in one swift motion.

“Wh—” Nagisa sputtered. “Hey!”

Bruises decorated his arm, purple glaring against his pale skin. Kira felt his eye twitch.

“Any more injuries you’ve hidden that you like to share with me?” Kira asked, tapping each bruise with his flashlight as he counted. “There’s three.”

Nagisa scowled and tried to pull away, but Kira reached him first, grabbing his leg next. Nagisa stumbled pathetically to support himself. With no hesitation, he yanked his pant legs up. Cuts scattered about, along with what seemed to be a burn.

“That’s four more — no, five,” Kira scowled and shook his head. “What kind of sick collection is this?”

Nagisa gripped the side of the counter. He kept his eyes focused on his leg. “I… didn’t notice those were there.”

Kira pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to the hospital. I’m no longer debating this.”

Nagisa’s eyes shifted from Kira, then back to his owl. The owl that never made any movements to fly out of the room; instead watching the two of them carefully. His eyes were particularly narrowed on Kira — Nagisa might have been right about him holding a grudge.

“Lufel…” Nagisa turned to the owl.

“The owl will be fine.” Kira tapped on Nagisa’s cheek with the flashlight, bringing his attention back. “I’ll even feed him while you’re gone, if you agree to go to the hospital.”

The owl didn’t seem to like that answer, fluttering his wings in what Kira assumed was irritation.

Nagisa’s eyes shifted to the ground. “Is there no other way?”

“No,” Kira said firmly. “There isn’t. I refuse to take that risk. Not when your life is on the line.”

Nagisa turned back to the owl, who blinked at him slowly, before nodding. Kira made a mental note to ask Nagisa later why his owl was intelligent enough to follow human conversation — if Nagisa lived, of course.

The thought made his hands feel cold. He wouldn’t think of it. He wouldn’t let panic freeze him. It was just like any other patient. If he thought otherwise, he would become useless.

“Okay,” Nagisa winced. “I’ll go.”

Something in Kira’s chest lifted. He wasted no time to fish out his phone, smashing in the numbers for an ambulance. The call passed in a haze — Kira hardly remembered anything he said, nor anything that was told back to him. His eyes never left Nagisa's wound. Before he knew it, he hung up, and all they could do was wait.

“I’ll carry you outside,” Kira said, slipping his phone in his pocket.

Nagisa shook his head. “I can walk.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. The last thing you need is more strain on the wound.”

Nagisa hung his head low. “Fine.”

As carefully as he could, Kira slipped his arms under Nagisa. He felt the younger man stiffen awkwardly — no doubt this was an experience he wasn’t used to — but it didn’t take him too long to ease into the touch. He made his way down the stairs slowly, careful not to strain Nagisa’s wounded body any further. As he walked, the owl followed closely, watching them.

Kira wrinkled his nose. “Does Lucy or whatever have a cage we can put him in?”

The owl didn’t seem to like that answer, squawking at him as he fluttered his wings. Fortunately, Kira didn’t speak owl, so any insults he threw were lost to him.

“Lufel,” Nagisa corrected, before letting out a soft laugh. “He’s free range.”

Kira frowned. “Then, can you make him leave? They don’t allow owls in the ambulance. The hospital is out of the question, as well.”

Nagisa turned to Lufel, tightening his hold on Kira’s shoulder. “Go find Motoha. I’ll meet up with you soon.”

Lufel hesitated for a moment. Then, he flew out the window — whether Lufel knew exactly what Nagisa said or not, Kira didn’t know. Frankly, their interactions freaked him out a bit, but Kira supposed that it was yet another thing that interested him about Nagisa. Just when he thought he knew everything about him, he would reveal something new Kira had never thought of. That part of Nagisa never failed to draw him in.

Nagisa gripped Kira’s shirt, his face twisted in pain.

“Just a bit longer,” Kira reminded him. A pathetic attempt of reassurance. Kira was never graceful with his words. “Hang in there.”

“I know,” Nagisa whispered. “I’m fine.”

Nagisa was far from fine. Nothing about the situation was fine. No child should be forced to mend their wounds at home, refusing help from anyone.

There was one thing Kira knew for sure. Whatever Nagisa was hiding from him, he would dig it up. He had no intention of sitting back and letting this reckless behavior continue. It had gone on for far too long.

Next thing Kira knew, the ambulance had arrived. The EMTs took Nagisa from Kira’s arms, barking orders to each other. He tried to listen, to focus in, but the thundering sound in his ears blocked out any sound, and his knees threatened the buckle under him.

Kira gripped his coat, the blood on his hands straining the white fabric. This feeling in his body… was he panicking?

No, he couldn’t have been. Kira had seen all sorts of injuries from trauma patients in the ER. This was no different. Nagisa was just another patient. Their relationship wouldn’t affect his ability to work.

He felt a tug on his arm. A man coated in a lab coat frowned at him, sympathy in his eyes that Kira did not need. Kira didn’t recognize him, but he never did pay too close attention to the EMTs.

“What’s your relation to the patient?” he asked.

Kira hesitated for a moment. Nagisa’s worries echoed in his head — his fears of bringing his parents home. Kira clenched his teeth together.

“He’s my younger cousin,” Kira found himself saying before he could process the words. “His parents are away, so he’s under my care.”

“I see. Would you like to ride with him?” the man’s eyes turned to the ambulance.

“Please.”

Kira followed the man in the ambulance. Inside, Nagisa laid still on the bed. He looked smaller somehow, his face deathly pale with his eyes hollowed out. He reached out for Kira. Kira reluctantly took his hand.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Nagisa tried to bark out a laugh, though it came out as a sputter. “I’m going to die again. I don’t want to die again.”

Kira’s brow furrowed. Again? What could he possibly be talking about?

He shook the thought away. Nagisa was in pain — he was delirious. It was obvious from his faded eyes. In fact, Nagisa might not have even known where he was.

Kira clutched Nagisa’s hand as tightly as he could.

“Hey,” he whispered, keeping his voice steady. “Didn’t I tell you before? You’re not going to die.”

Nagisa squeezed back. The fear in his eyes only made him look more juvenile, reminding Kira just how young seventeen was. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Kira squeezed back. “I won’t let you die.”

Nagisa’s bloodied lips slowly stretched into a smile.

Kira couldn’t find the strength to smile back.

—

“Stay out of this, Dr. Kitazato.”

Kira gritted his teeth as he was shoved out of the ER. “What are you talking about?! I want to help!”

Dr. Furukawa clucked his tongue as he pushed Kira again. “Don’t make a scene. You’re panicking, Dr. Kitazato. Letting you in the operating room is a disaster waiting to happen. Go wait in the lobby — and drink some water. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Kira clenched his fists together. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him?

“I’m not panicking,” he spat. “And I’m not going to pass out. I’m perfectly calm. Let me in.”

His hands betrayed him, shaking as he spoke. He shoved them into his pockets.

“You’re off duty,” Dr. Furukawa replied firmly. “You are not allowed to come anywhere near the operating room. You said he was your cousin, right? Be responsible. Don’t let your emotions get in the way.”

Kira grunted. Before he could pull another word, Dr. Furukawa left, and the doors shut on him, taking Nagisa away.

Kira tried to steady his breathing. It was fine. Nagisa would be fine. He had seen what Dr. Furukawa could do — his work was much more impressive than his own, after all. He could trust them to take care of him.

Even so, Kira couldn’t help but feel useless, hovering around in the waiting room. Hadn’t he studied to save the people he loved? And yet, there he was, sitting around and waiting for others to do his work for him.

Kira scowled. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed.

In and out. In and out.

Then, he swiftly made his way back to the lobby.

He slumped into the first chair that he found, his hands still stuffed into his pockets. Whispers surrounded him, no doubt staring at his bloodied lab coat. Kira should wash his hands eventually — he knew more than anyone how unhygienic it was for blood to come in contact with skin.

Even so, Kira couldn’t find the strength to pull himself up. He stared blankly in front of him, counting the people that came and went. A child who swallowed a toy car, wailing as her mother held her. A man who couldn’t stop vomiting, shoulder supported by a friend. A reckless teenager who sprained his ankle, bragging to his friends that it didn’t hurt as he hid his wince.

People and stories that Kira saw every single day. People that Kira helped with his own hands. And yet, all he could do was watch them that night. Uselessly blinking off into space, just waiting for time to pass.

His legs ached, as though he had been sitting for hours. It couldn’t have been that long, watching people pass by. A baby with a fever. A woman covered in bruises. A man with a swollen hand.

Three people would come in. Two would leave. Kira counted them all.

Something cold rested against his cheek.

Kira blinked twice, the scene in front of him coming into focus. His sister hovering in his face, her lips pulled into a tight frown. How long she had stood there, Kira didn’t know.

His cheek was tapped again, and it was only then that Kira realized she was holding a bottle of water.

“Drink,” she commanded, not unkindly. “You look awful.”

Without a word, Kira took the bottle. He took a small sip; a plastic taste filled his mouth.

His sister sat right next to him, crossing her legs. “Heard we have a little cousin now. Care to introduce me?”

Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start.”

“It’s your friend, isn’t it?” His sister pressed. “That boy you talked about.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Kira admitted. “His parents aren’t around. He needed… someone. An adult.”

His sister smirked. “Well, I’m not above lying to doctors. You, however…”

“Don’t remind me,” Kira said, rubbing his temple. It did little to ease his throbbing headache. He let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you here?”

“Other than to meet our new cousin?” his sister joked. Kira gave her a blank stare, so she shrugged. “I got a call from one of your coworkers. Y’know, the woman with the little butterfly hair clips? She was worried. It’s not like you to panic.”

“I wasn’t panicking,” Kira said firmly, gritting his teeth together. “I can handle this myself.”

“If I thought you looked fine, I wouldn’t have bought you that water,” his sister pointed out. “Did you even notice it took me two tries to get your attention?”

Kira bit his cheek. He didn’t notice at all, too focused on the people that passed by. Still, he counted. A family of three; a boy with a broken arm. A couple, no doubt dating from the way they clung to each other. One of them had a fever.

His cheek was tapped again. This time, it was a finger — his sister’s.

“Don’t space out on me,” she said, her voice firm. “I don’t enjoy fighting to keep your attention every three minutes.”

“I’m listening,” Kira replied. His tongue felt numb.

His sister hummed, long and slow. “I don’t think you are, Kira.” He listened her shift in place. “It wouldn’t kill you to ask for help — you know I don’t mind.”

“I know you meddle too much,” Kira hissed. “You don’t even know Nagisa.”

“I’m your big sister,” she pointed out, pride in her voice. “Meddling is my job.”

Kira never did understand why she seemed to be so proud of that. It was, in no way, a desirable trait.

A hand rested on his own. Kira twitched.

“He’s going to be fine, Kira,” his sister whispered, gently stroking his hand. Some of Nagisa’s blood touched her skin, but she made no comment on it, nor did she pull her hand away in disgust. “You don’t need to be scared. You’ve done all you could.”

“I’m not scared. I know how these things go. I see it everyday. It’s fine,” Kira clasped his hands together. They still wouldn’t stop shaking, no matter how hard Kira tried to stop. “You don’t need to speak to me as if I was a child either. I’m an adult now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Silly,” his sister smiled, rubbing his hand with her thumb. “I don’t care how old you get. You’ll always be my little brother.”

In other words, she would always see him as a child, no matter what he did. Kira shook his head.

His sister pulled her hand away from his, digging in her hand bag. She pulled out baby wipes, handing Kira one.

“Here,” she said, nudging it against his hand. “Wipe the blood off. It’s unsanitary.”

Kira took the wipe without a word.

It only felt like a few minutes ago that Nagisa was in his arms, but the blood on his hands had begun to dry in certain places. Kira scrubbed at the skin as hard as he could.

“Dr. Kitazato?”

Kira looked up. A timid nurse stood there, clutching her clipboard. Her eyes shifted from Kira to his sister. Kira watched closely, urging her to continue.

“Um… the boy you brought in — Kamishiro?” she paused for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Kira squeezed the plastic water bottle in his hands. It crumbled under his touch. “How is he?”

Something in the nurse’s face softened. “It’s a good thing you called the ambulance when you did, Dr. Kitazato. He lost quite a bit of blood, but his injuries were not as severe as we thought when he arrived.”

Kira pressed his lips together. “I assume that includes the wound on his stomach.”

The nurse nodded. “The surgery went without issues. We were able to stitch the wound properly. Of course, it will take time before he fully recovers, but if all goes well, the worst of it is over.”

Kira let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The report was more vague than he would have liked — Kira preferred details. Just how much blood was lost? What parts of his stomach were damaged?

But the nurse seemed impatient to leave, and no doubt she had to simplify her speech for the patients of families. They hardly understood the vocabulary that doctors used, after all. Most of Kira’s patients only cared about three things: if it was life threatening, if it was fixable, and if there would be lasting damages.

He heard his sister sigh in relief, tapping Kira’s wrist lightly.

“I told you it would be fine,” she whispered.

Kira ignored her, turning to the nurse. “Can we see him?”

“Visiting hours are over, but we’ll make an exception this time.” The nurse cracked a tired smile. “He’s in room 322.”

“Thank you,” Kira said. His sister smiled and nodded.

The nurse nodded back. With that, she dashed off, wasting no time to hover around. The hospital seemed busy all of the sudden, so Kira could hardly blame her. The thought brought a pang of guilt in Kira’s chest. He should have been working, not sitting around.

His sister tugged on his wrist.

“You’re spacing out, again,” she said. “Come on, let’s go see your friend.”

Kira gave her a short nod.

The third floor was quiet. The halls were empty, and most of the lights were turned off. Kira eyed a passing clock, noting the time.

2AM — he must have spent longer in the waiting room than he thought he had.

His sister was mercifully silent as they walked side by side. Perhaps she was tired; it was late, after all. There was no reason for her to stick around. She only knew of Nagisa from Kira’s stories. He didn’t mean anything to her. But Kira knew his sister, and how stubborn she was. She wouldn’t leave even if Kira asked her to.

They had already put Nagisa’s name on the door. Kira paused to read. He saw all sorts of names as a doctor, many which blurred together. Nagisa’s name stuck out like a sore thumb — a name that didn’t belong in the hospital.

Nagisa Kamishiro

He ran his fingers through the characters, as though they would shift into someone else’s name if he stared hard enough.

“Kira.”

His sister tapped on his shoulder.

“I know.” Kira shifted his hand to the door handle, opening it slowly.

Nagisa rested on the bed. His body was decorated in all sorts of bandages — and without his usual layers of clothes, it became more evident to Kira just how many wounds Nagisa had been hiding. Old and new injuries, it was almost as though Nagisa had been getting into fights everyday.

Though Kira didn’t want to admit it, that very well might have been what he was doing.

He could sense his sister stiffening next to him. “When I heard he had been injured, I assumed he fell off the stairs or something, but…”

She made her way over to the bed, running her fingers across the railings. Her eyes lingered on Nagisa for a moment, opening her mouth only to close it again. Hesitantly, she looked up at Kira.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Kira shoved his hands in his pocket. “By the time I found him, he was already injured. He refuses to tell me anything.”

His sister frowned, turning back to Nagisa. “This looks a bit excessive for school bullying… Do you think he got into a fight?”

“I know he got into a fight.” Kira gritted his teeth. “It’s written all over his face. What I don’t know is who he fought, or why he insists on protecting them.”

His sister paused. “Where exactly are his parents? Their son is in the hospital with life threatening injuries — shouldn’t they drop everything to be here for him?”

“Out of the country on some vacation,” Kira scowled, shaking his head. “They have been for weeks. Nagisa insists on not bothering them, so…”

“So you lied to the paramedics.”

Kira swallowed. “He needed help.”

His sister fell silent. It wasn’t often she did so; words came to her naturally, and she used that talent to never stop talking. It was enough to drive Kira insane from being in the same room as her for five minutes.

Nagisa’s situation pulled all of the words out of her — something Kira didn’t think was possible. She kept her eyes on Nagisa’s sleeping form, a pained look in her eyes.

Carefully, she reached out to brush his hair from his face.

“Poor boy,” she whispered, with a gentleness Kira had not seen in years. Not since he was a child, wasting his life away writhing in a hospital bed. The aching feeling was back in his chest.

Kira slumped to the chair farthest from the bed. It would be a while before Nagisa woke up, Kira was sure. Waiting around would be pointless. Even so, Kira couldn’t bring himself to stand up and leave.

“You should go home.” Kira ran his hands down his face. “It’s late, and there’s nothing left for you to do here.”

His sister turned to face him, her bangs sweeping over her face. “And let you stay here alone? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“Besides,” she cut him off, pulling a stool near the bed. “I want to stay here.”

Kira supposed asking his nosy sister to leave was too much for her. He should have known better. His hand fell in defeat. “Do as you wish. I don’t care.”

The room fell silent. His sister sat with her hands in her lap, watching the slow rise and fall of Nagisa’s chest. Kira rested his elbow on the armrest, leaning into his hand.

The throbbing of his headache made it difficult to think. He covered his eyes with his hand, letting out a long breath.

Things were lining up too well for Kira’s liking. Nagisa, asking Kira to teach him how to use a gun. Nagisa, buying and hoarding all sorts of odd medicines. Nagisa, throwing himself into deadly fights at any given moment.

The supposed Phantom Thieves that he heard about on the internet. The sudden change of personality after they target a victim.

How it only took Kira to share Dr. Furukawa’s name to Nagisa for his whole life to turn around.

Kira wasn’t an idiot. He saw how things lined up. Nagisa was not as good at hiding things as he thought he was.

He tried to convince himself it was nothing dangerous. A strange, afterschool club of sorts. How they functioned, and how they managed to convince his boss of all people, was beyond him.

But maybe, Kira should have paid more attention.

His head throbbed again, causing him to groan. There was nothing he could do until Nagisa confirmed his theories.

Surely, he could pull answers out of him tomorrow.

—

Kira didn’t know when he fell asleep, but next thing he knew, he jolted awake, nearly falling off the chair he sat on.

He was still in the hospital room. The sun had risen since Kira was last awake; he blinked slowly at the window, greeting with a bright, blue sky.

Nagisa laid on the bed, covered in various bandages. His eyes were open, and his lips tugged into a small smile. “Kira.”

“Oh, he’s awake.”

Kira turned to see his sister sitting next to Nagisa — apparently, she decided she was going to meddle in his life as well, and refused to leave.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” his sister joked. Nagisa cracked a small smile at that. “Sleep well?”

“No,” Kira droned. “I’m sore.”

“You should have gone home to sleep,” Nagisa frowned.

“And if you haven’t gotten yourself injured, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Kira argued.

Nagisa winced and bit his cheek.

Kira brought a hand up to his temple. It was only then that he realized someone had put a blanket over him while he was sleeping. There was only one person who would do such a thing. Kira pressed his lips together as he folded the blanket and placed it to the side.

“I was telling Nagisa how to build the perfect lockpick,” his sister smirked. “He was curious about the time I broke into your apartment. I like this kid.”

“It’s interesting,” Nagisa added.

Kira let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair. Maybe letting those two meet wasn’t such a good idea. “Don’t influence him too much, please.”

Kira stood up from his chair, stretching his arms. Nagisa seemed to have more life in him than last night; all of the fear from before had washed away. If anything, he seemed too enthusiastic, laughing and joking without a care in the world.

It should have been a good thing. The fact that Nagisa could continue to smile should have made him happy.

But instead, he felt the twisting feeling back in his stomach. It was the same as the morning after Kira patched Nagisa up the first time: Nagisa would bounce right up, brush the whole incident off and move on. He feared when death came near and yet the experience of facing death didn’t seem to faze him, as though he had seen it time and time again.

Nagisa’s words from last night echoed in his mind: I don’t want to die again.

Kira shuddered.

“Kira?”

Kira blinked, the view in front of him coming into focus. Both Nagisa and his sister were staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” Nagisa asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing,” Kira dismissed him. “Rather, isn’t there something you should have learned here, Nagisa?”

Nagisa blinked at him. “Um…”

The sound of Kira’s boots clicking against the ground echoed through the room as he made his way to Nagisa’s bed. Nagisa didn’t flinch as he loomed over him, watching cluelessly.

“Need I remind you?” Kira shoved a hand in his pocket. “You almost died last night.”

“Well, yeah…” Nagisa looked away. “It’s fine now, isn’t it? I’m still alive.”

Kira’s eye twitched. His sister held her breath, but she didn’t say anything.

“And what if things went differently?” Kira asked. “What if I hadn’t received your text in time? What if you lost too much blood by the time you arrived? Your survival was a mere chance, not a guaranteed outcome.”

Nagisa looked Kira in the eyes. “Stop beating around the bush, Kira.”

Kira thought he was being very clear. Even so, he took Nagisa’s invitation, slamming his hand against the railing of the bed.

“What happened last night?” he demanded.

He expected Nagisa to flinch and dodge around the question, as he always would. It wouldn’t matter if he did; Kira was more than capable of dealing with lying children. He had worked with them long enough to learn such a skill. But Nagisa’s eyes remained unwavering, never leaving Kira’s own.

“It’s my business, not yours.”

Kira’s eye twitched again. “I think it’s very much my business, actually. You texted me last night asking to come patch you up, and yet claim I have no involvement in the matter?”

“That’s…” Nagisa winced. Immediately, he tried to cover his uncertainty. It was too late, though. By the time he met Kira’s eyes again, he had caught the slip up. “I was panicking.”

“And have you considered you were panicking precisely because you cannot handle this alone?” Kira pressed. “You need help, Nagisa.”

“I managed fine until now—”

“Yes, until your guts spilled out of your stomach,” Kira cut in. “I congratulate you on your independence, Nagisa.”

Nagisa flinched when Kira spat his name. Fear, perhaps, flickered in his eyes, but Kira refused to pull back.

“That scar is never going to heal. It’s going to follow you for the rest of your life, coming back to haunt you as you age.” Kira leaned in, his voice steady as he spoke. “But since you seem to care so little about your body, that wouldn’t matter, would it? Who cares if you have excruciating pain each time it rains?”

Nagisa hesitated, looking at his hands.

“What happened, Nagisa?” Kira asked again, emphasizing each word.

Nagisa kept his mouth closed. He refused to meet Kira’s eyes. They stayed focused on his hands, completely shutting him off. Irritation bubbled in his throat.

“Nagisa—”

A hand grabbed his arm, tugging twice. He turned to see his sister next to him. She shook her head slowly. “Kira, let’s step outside for a minute.”

Kira clenched his fist. “Don’t tell me you're taking his side on this, Nee-san.”

“He’s not listening to you anymore.” his sister gestured her head at Nagisa. “Give him some space.”

Kira clucked his tongue and turned back to Nagisa. He hadn’t moved, not even lifting his head when his sister intervened. He sat there quietly, staring blankly at his hands.

His sister tugged on his arm again. “Come on.”

Kira inhaled. Three beats, then exhaled.

“Fine,” he said. He let his sister lead him out of the room. Nagisa remained unmoving, staring off into space even as Kira closed the door behind him.

Kira drummed his fingers against the door knob for a moment. Then, he turned to his sister.

“What’s your goal here?”

“Goal?” she scoffed. “You make me sound so unsavory.”

Kira narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t have any goals,” his sister said, tilting her head. “I agree with you — whatever Nagisa is involved in, it’s nothing he should do alone.”

“Then why—?”

“That look on his face,” his sister sighed. “I saw it before. Far too many times, from a certain little brother.”

Kira’s eye twitched. “That’s nonsense. I’ve never done anything so reckless as a child. I handled myself perfectly fine.”

“Don’t lie,” his sister scoffed. “The only reason why you made it to adulthood is because I was here.”

Kira crossed his arms, tapping his finger in annoyance. “That’s not—”

“Sure, you kept your blood inside your body,” his sister continued. “But I can count on my fingers the amount of times you skipped out on your medication until you got too sick to leave bed. And I can’t even count the amount of times you passed out from exhaustion…” she paused. Then, she growled. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“That’s not the same,” Kira argued. “I’m busy. It’s inevitable.”

“Don’t give me that,” his sister bit back. “You’ve had terrible habits since elementary school. It was anything but ‘inevitable’.”

Kira felt a headache pounding behind his eyes.

“Do you know what I would see, back then?” his sister asked, voice cracking as she spoke. She gestured at Nagisa’s door, pointing at his nameplate. “This is what I’d see. A self-destructive teenager who thought he could handle everything by himself, only for it to fall apart right in front of him.”

The hall fell silent. Though her voice cracked, no tears leaked from his sister’s face. But her breath was short, and her hands clutched at her pants.

Kira sighed, and pressed a hand against his forehead. “Fine. So I was reckless as a child—”

“—and you still are.”

“—and I still am,” Kira added. “So what’s your point? Should I leave Nagisa alone? Because back then, I wanted nothing more than for you to leave me alone.”

His sister shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m telling you to be careful with how you approach him.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Give him space when he needs it,” his sister continued. “Pushing it too far will only make him shut you away. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

“I can’t afford to give him space,” Kira spat. “Are you blind, Nee-san? I gave him freedom and trust, and he almost died last night. By the time he decides to open up, he’ll be dead.”

“He’s not going to die,” his sister’s voice was soft, and yet it held confidence. Confidence that Kira didn’t like.

“You can’t say that with certainty,” Kira said. “Not when I almost lost him.”

His sister shook her head. “I can say it with certainty. You won’t let him die. I know you’d do everything in your power to keep him alive.”

“And what if I don’t have enough?” Kira challenged. “I’m a doctor, Nee-san. Not a god.”

“You’re a stubborn bastard, that's what you are.” His sister patted his arm. “Give him a few hours with his thoughts. Then, try a different approach.”

Kira frowned. “Like what?”

His sister, as useless as she was, shrugged. “He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Kira grumbled.

“Come on,” his sister tugged on his arm. “The cafeteria should be open now, right? Let’s get some food. You can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Kira wasn’t sure how long it’s been since he had last eaten, yet he found himself having no appetite. An effect of the stress, he supposed. But he knew his sister well enough by now; saying no would be pointless.

So he nodded, small and short, letting her pull him down the hall, and away from Nagisa’s room.

-

About ten minutes into their meal, his sister’s phone rang.

She picked up the phone, clucked her tongue, and gave Kira an apologetic look. Kira shrugged in return. It wasn’t like he minded — after all, he was the one of the two who usually had to leave for work phone calls.

“Hello?” his sister called, pressing her phone to her ear. “This is Kitazato.”

Kira turned his attention to the chicken and broccoli that his sister had forced onto his plate. He poked it around with his fork. Although they had completely drenched the chicken in two different sauces, it tasted like nothing to him.

He heard his sister loudly click her tongue again. “It’s a family emergency. Are you sure there’s no other—?” she paused, interrupted by the muffled voice on the other side of the phone. Then, she hung her head low. “Alright. I understand. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She put her phone down, frowning at Kira. “Work call.”

“I know.” Kira pushed his broccoli halfway across his plate. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

“Don’t be so quick to send me off,” she frowned. “At least tell me you’d miss me.”

Kira stared at her blankly.

“Fine, have it your way.” his sister shrugged. “I’ll text you later.”

Kira hummed absentmindedly. He pushed broccoli next to the last one. Then, another.

His sister slipped her bag over her shoulder. She turned to Kira, and furrowed her brow.

“Stop playing with your food.”

“It’s a smiley face,” Kira pointed out, looking down on his masterpiece. The eyes — two small pieces of chicken — seemed to cry for the mercy of being eaten, pathetically leaking out sauce.

Deadpan, his sister stared at his plate. She wrinkled her nose, with little appreciation for his art.

“He looks miserable,” she said.

“He had a rough day,” Kira agreed.

His sister shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Unbelievable. Whatever, I don’t care what you do with your food. Just eat it — let my money be worth something, at least.”

Kira could never understand his sister. She was the one who had offered to pay, after all. Kira had more than enough money to afford his own meals, yet each time he pulled out his wallet, his sister would stop him, insisting it was embarrassing to let her little brother pay.

He couldn’t help but wonder where she got these ridiculous ideas of how siblings should act. One day, he would ask for whatever rulebook she read.

His sister firmly patted his shoulder. “Alright, I’m off. Text me if you need anything.”

Kira hummed. He was positive he wouldn’t need to, but his sister had wasted more than enough time hovering around him. Thankfully, she had no more words for him, leaving like that.

Kira stared down at his plate. If Nagisa were here, he would find his smiley face hilarious.

Probably.

Though, he supposed that Nagisa would find little humor in the joke now. After all, with a stomach injury like that, it would be a while before he could eat solid foods again. Eating was one of Nagisa’s favorite things to do — no doubt this would frustrate him.

Kira shook his head. Actions had consequences, and Nagisa was lucky that his consequences were not more severe.

He stabbed the left eye of his smiley face creation. Sauce oozed out as Kira brought it to his mouth. He chewed slowly and thoughtfully. Still tasteless.

His artwork looked even more miserable with one eye missing, and Kira had long lost his appetite.

It’s fine, he told himself as he dumped the rest of his food in the trash. He must have eaten half of it; it was all he needed to get through the next few hours.

Kira made his way down the hall, kicking at the ground as he did. No doubt he was off work today. It was near noon already; if his boss expected him to work, he would have gotten called over already.

Still, hovering around the hospital when he wasn’t working was an odd feeling. He wasn’t sure if it was too early to go back to Nagisa’s room or not — he had never been good at this sort of thing. He should have asked his sister for the proper waiting time after an argument. There were few people he could call friends, so the experience was not one he was well informed on.

Right as he turned a corner, a girl that might have been around Nagisa’s age bumped into him. She pulled away with a gasp, her eyes wide. “Oh, sorry!”

Kira shook his head. “It’s fine.”

She glanced at his coat, then his name tag, and looked up at him. “Um! Excuse me, do you know the patient that’s in room 322? Red hair… red eyes…”

“Nagisa?” Kira narrowed his eyes.

“Yes!” the girl’s eyes lit up. “Wait, are you two close?”

“Debatable.” Kira shook his head. “Nevermind that. What about Nagisa?”

“Well…” she fiddled with her short brown hair. “I was wondering if he got taken out of his room or an exam or operation or whatever.”

“He’s not in his room?” Kira frowned.

“Uh… yeah.” the girl frowned. “Do you know where he could be? I don’t really know the details of his injury, so I don’t know if he’s in a state to be walking around. I just came here after he sent Lufel — I mean, his owl over.”

He hummed. He vaguely remembered Nagisa sending his bird off to a friend. It seems that Lufel understood that command, at least.

Kira furrowed his brow in thought. “If they planned anything, I’m certainly not aware of it.”

Nagisa’s friend blinked. “That’s strange… Aren’t doctors supposed to communicate these kinds of things?”

“I’m not his doctor.”

“You’re not?” Nagisa’s friend narrowed her eyes on Kira’s lab coat. “But—”

“It’s a long story,” Kira said, shaking his head. “No matter, this is still my workplace. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you…” Nagisa’s friend sighed with relief. “Oh, my name is Motoha Arai by the way. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Now that Kira thought of it, the name that Nagisa had called out last night did start with an M. He supposed it lined up.

“Kira Kitazato,” he introduced him, simple and short.

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Kitazato,” Arai smiled. “I hope it’s nothing serious…”

Kira hummed, stuffing his hand in his pocket. With a simple wave, he left Arai, making his way to the elevator.

There was no reason to panic. After all, Nagisa couldn’t have walked far with his injury. Though it seemed unusual that they would move him around so soon, it seemed more likely than the alternative.

When he arrived in the room, though, he found a nurse, her face deadly pale. Her eyes widened as she saw Kira enter.

“Dr. Kitazato…” she spoke slowly, pointing to the bed. “You’re not the one who took Kamishiro out?”

Kira froze.

“What are you talking about?” Kira demanded. He must have been too loud, for the nurse flinched at his voice. “He left of his own accord?”

The nurse winced. “Well… when I saw him missing, I assumed he was with you.”

Kira’s heart thundered in his chest. He pulled on his shirt, trying to remember how to breathe.

Just how many times did Nagisa plan on scaring him? He squeezed his eyes shut.

“He couldn’t have gone far. I’ll find him.” Kira whipped around, sprinting out of the room before the nurse could put in another word.

Kira weaved his way through the familiar halls as quickly as he could. The hospital was big — far too big for Kira to search every corner — but there were only so many places a patient could go without being questioned.

Even so, no matter where he checked, he couldn’t spot the familiar red hair. The roof, the bathroom, the unoccupied patient rooms… even under the stairs. There was no sight of Nagisa.

Kira was completely out of breath when he found himself back in the entrance again. He clutched at his chest. Oxygen was a luxury that he didn’t have; as Kira found himself unable to pull any in his lungs. Through his hazed vision, he saw the doors to the entrance, leading out to the parking lot.

Nagisa couldn’t have gone outside, could he?

Kira swallowed away the thought. He was far too injured to be walking about. There were too many people around during the day — someone would have caught him. Nagisa couldn’t sneak past all of these people, much less outrun them.

It was a ridiculous thought. And yet, Kira found himself running out the doors, and into the streets, looking for any sign of Nagisa. The station wasn’t terribly far from the hospital. If there was anywhere Nagisa would escape to, it would be his own home. There was no one there to bother him.

He knew he would arrive at an empty house. To make it that far injured and in a hospital gown was impossible. He should turn back, and continue to do his search somewhere useful.

Even so, the pounding in his chest wouldn’t settle until he checked.

The train was far too crowded for his liking. It was lunch hour, Kira supposed. It was only natural. He bit back a hiss as another shoulder bumped into him, and when the train doors opened, Kira sprinted out as fast as he could. A few glares pierced in his direction, but Kira paid them no mind. He had little time.

His legs felt weak by the time he arrived at the Kamishiro residence. Kira couldn’t help but bark a laugh as he saw the name on the plate. He must be losing it — he had wasted too much time on a wild goose chase.

The door was left unlocked, again. Kira’s memory of the night before was hazy — did he lock the door before going to the ambulance? All he could remember was the blood that strained Nagisa’s body. It was likely that the lack of security in Kamishiro's residence was his fault, this time.

As he opened the door, he made a mental note to apologize to Nagisa later.

All of those thoughts dashed away as he saw the figure in the door.

Nagisa stood there, still dressed in his hospital gown. His hair was a mess and his gown had some dirt on it, but at the very least, Kira didn’t see any blood.

It was comedical, really, the way he stuck out like a sore thumb, despite it being his own house. Nagisa gaped at Kira.

“How did you—?”

“That’s my question, Nagisa.” Nothing was funny about the situation, but Kira found himself barking out a laugh. “How on Earth did you get here?”

He must have been hallucinating. It had been weeks of inconsistent sleep. But when Kira rubbed his eyes, Nagisa remained. As real as they came — Kira resisted the urge to laugh again.

Nagisa pressed his lips together. “I… can’t disclose my methods.”

Kira’s eye twitched. “Of course you can’t. It’s related to your secret illegal fight club life, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a fight club,” Nagisa grumbled.

“Yakaza, then.”

“It’s not illegal,” Nagisa insisted. “I told you this.”

Kira shook his head, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“Fine,” he said, his voice coming out more exhausted than angry. Then, he gestured his head to the living room. “Come sit down. You stood up for far too long today.”

Nagisa gripped at his gown. Still, he didn’t argue, following Kira wordlessly. His steps were heavier than usual, and he would wince at each step. Walking that slow, Kira could only assume Nagisa had found a way to sneak past everyone in a less crowded area — his current appearance attracted far too much attention.

Nagisa sat down at the dinner table just as slowly as he walked, letting out a pained hiss.

“You’d be in less pain if you stayed at the hospital,” Kira pointed out. Then, he softened. “You didn’t pop your stitches, did you? Notice any bleeding?”

“I don’t think so…” Nagisa mumbled, pressing his hand against his stomach. “I was trying to be careful so I wouldn’t go to the hospital again.”

A miracle, then. It seemed to be nothing but miracles lately, to the point where Kira wondered if he was dreaming again.

“And why did you escape?” Kira pressed. “It was a foolish move. No matter what you did, you would have gotten caught and brought back.”

Nagisa frowned. He squeezed his arm. “I don’t know. I know it was stupid, but…”

“But…?” Kira raised an eyebrow.

He let out a sigh, a shaking one, at that. “I don’t… I can’t relax there. It doesn’t feel safe.”

Kira pressed his lips together. He hadn’t expected such a juvenile response. Though, it seemed to extend more than just a simple fear of hospitals.

“Did anyone threaten you?”

Nagisa shook his head.

“You know the hospital is there to help you, right?” Kira said. He almost felt stupid asking, as though he were talking to one of the terrified five year olds in the pediatric ward.

Clearly, Nagisa felt the same, for he scowled. “I’m not stupid.”

“Then why?”

Nagisa fell silent again, staring at the table in front of him.

Kira sighed, shaking his head. Back to square one. When it came to the conversation study, Nagisa was usually willing to answer the questions Kira would throw his way, no matter how private they got. Occasionally, he would narrow his eyes at Kira and ask: ‘Is this really necessary?’

Kira would shrug it off and move on.

He never acted like this. Dodging questions and falling silent, speaking on nonsense Kira could barely understand. The only time he would act that way during their sessions would be when he talked about Dr. Furukawa.

Kira took a deep breath. Then, he drummed his fingers against the table.

“I have a theory.”

Nagisa froze.

“You’re free to laugh at me if I’m wrong,” Kira said. “If I’m right… well, I’ll know by your reaction. I can read you like a book.”

Nagisa’s face soured. “No you can’t.”

The fact that Nagisa was not aware of how obvious he was amused Kira at times. Kira shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

“They’ve been talking about it on the news.” He tapped his finger twice. “These Phantom Thieves who send calling cards with nonsense about stealing desires. Miraculously, the victim would have a sudden change in personality the next day.”

Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sounds familiar to something that happened to Dr. Furukawa, isn’t it?” Kira smirked, before his smile dropped. “You’re involved in this, aren’t you?”

Nagisa didn’t open his eyes. He remained still, breathing so heavily that Kira could see the rise and fall of his chest. He squeezed his arms tighter, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

It was enough of an answer for Kira.

“How long—” Nagisa breathed. “How long did you know?”

Kira crossed his legs together. “I don’t have an exact time frame for you. I had my speculations as things pieced together, but I had little interest in confirming it. It was none of my business, at the time.”

“And now it is?”

“It’s putting you in danger,” Kira said, his voice firm. “As an adult — no, as your friend it’s my responsibility to protect you from harm.”

Nagisa’s shoulders dropped. He kept his eyes on the floor, still refusing eye contact. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, he finally met Kira’s eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your concern but,” Nagisa bit his lip. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?” Kira challenged, pushing forward. His voice cracked, coming off more violent than he intended. He let out a frustrated sigh, before leaning back on his chair. “Fine. Don’t answer that. Let me change the question: does your team have a doctor?”

Nagisa’s blank stare told him everything he needed to know.

“Well…” he hesitated. “We have medicine…? I’ve been stocking up on first aid supplies.”

Kira hummed. He did remember Nagisa asking him on particular medications he could recommend — yet another thing that clicked in.

“You wouldn’t mind showing me these medicines, would you?” Kira asked.

Nagisa hunched his shoulders.

“Relax,” Kira assured him. “I’m just checking there’s nothing dangerous in there. You wouldn’t want to give your teammates something that could kill them, would you?”

Guilt flashed in Nagisa’s eyes. His hands shook, and he brought them to his chest. Clutching the front of his gown, Nagisa let out a shaky breath.

“No,” he mumbled. “I don’t want them to die. Not again.”

There it was again. Kira raised an eyebrow. The idea of death being something that could happen more than once — and from the look of Nagisa’s eyes, he seemed to believe it.

Yet another thing Kira needed to look into. Delusions could be dangerous if left untreated.

“…I’ll go get them,” Nagisa said, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to stand up slowly, before wincing.

Guilt weighed on Kira's chest. “Don’t stand. I’ll find them. Where do you keep them?”

Nagisa scowled, staring at his stomach. Then, he sighed, bringing a hand up to fiddle with his bangs. “In my room. Under my bed — there’s a white box. You can’t miss it.”

Kira nodded firmly. Then, he turned swiftly, making his way over to the staircase. He hesitated as he passed the bathroom. No doubt the place was still covered in blood. Nagisa would have difficulties bending down for a while, so Kira made a mental note to come by later and clean it up. Maybe he could convince his sister to join; he knew more than anyone how much that woman loved to clean spaces that weren’t hers.

Nagisa’s room was nice and organized, as always. He was right about the box. There was only one white box under his bed, so big that Kira would have been blind not to see it. He pulled it out; the sound of rattling bottles echoed.

Kira took it wordlessly, before making his way downstairs.

Nagisa was leaning over on the table by the time he came back. Kira’s heart jumped out of his chest, and he quickly dropped the box on the table, examining Nagisa.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes trailing down to Nagisa’s stomach. “It’s your stomach, isn’t it? You shouldn’t have pushed yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Nagisa wheezed out. “I’m fine. It just felt sore for a minute.”

“Of course it did,” Kira replied. “You walked for far too long today. Let me see it.”

Nagisa tried to push his hand away. “No, it fine—”

“Nagisa, if you popped your stitches open and it’s bleeding, you’re in danger again.” He brought his hands back. “If you’re not going to let me check, then I’ll call the ambulance again.”

Nagisa stiffened. Then, he nodded.

Kira brought his hands back, lifting his gown to expose his stomach. Layers and layers of bandages stood where the wound from last night once was. He saw small specks of blood — natural, as he hadn’t had his bandages changed since the surgery — but no abnormal level of bleeding.

Kira sighed, pulling Nagisa’s gown back down. “I’ll hold off on calling the ambulance for a bit longer.”

Nagisa sagged in relief.

“But.”

He stiffened again.

“Regardless of how you feel about hospitals, you will be going back sometime tonight,” Kira said. “You cannot just leave — you need to be discharged.”

Nagisa picked at his gown. “Is there no other way?”

Kira hummed. “I suppose if you cooperate with me, I could try to pull some strings to get you out earlier.”

Nagisa’s face lit up. “You can do that?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure.” Kira shook his head. “But if you were placed under my care, there’s a possibility that they would agree.”

“Thank you, Kira—”

“Don’t thank me, yet.” Kira raised his hand. “I haven’t done anything yet. Besides, we have unfinished business. I’ll decide my actions when we’re done here.”

Nagisa frowned. “I guess I can’t argue that.”

“Good.” Kira returned to his seat at the table. He locked the hatches of the first aid box, peeking inside. “Let’s see what goodies you have stashed in here.”

Kira recognized some of the bottles. Over the counter medication from the convenience store next to the arcade; Kira had recommended them himself. He took a bottle in his hand, shaking it twice.

“You’re taking these as prescribed, correct?”

Nagisa nodded. “You drilled that much into my head, at least.”

“If only you could listen to everything I say—” Kira paused. He fished a bottle out of the box, narrowing his eyes. “What’s this?”

Nagisa paled. “That’s, uh…”

“No label,” Kira spun the bottle in his hand. “No name, no usage instructions, no ingredient list…”

“I promise that’s—”

“No prescribing physician listed, no company…” Kira clicked his teeth. “Nothing. What is this, exactly?”

“Pain killers?” Nagisa tried.

“Not good enough,” Kira stated, cranking the bottle open. “There’s plenty of pain killers out there — many of which are highly addictive and dangerous.”

Nagisa fell silent, turning his attention to the table wood again.

Kira spilled a few in his hand.

“These reek of benzodiazepines.” He felt his headache coming back, right behind his eyes. “Nagisa, it’s illegal to own benzodiazepines without a prescription.”

“They were prescribed!” Nagisa insisted.

“By who?” Kira asked. “I can only overlook so much. Do you know why benzodiazepines are controlled substances, Nagisa?”

Nagisa shrugged. “I guess they’re dangerous.”

“That’s right,” Kira said. “If misused, these could kill you. Not to mention how highly addictive they are. And yet, whoever prescribed these to you didn’t even inform you of the dangers.”

“She told me they were dangerous…”

“And nothing more? Not even the ingredients?” Kira scoffed. “Drop the name. I’ll be having a talk with her.”

Nagisa hesitated for a moment. Then, his voice dropped low. “I can’t expose her.”

“Why?” Kira asked. “Is she one of the Phantom Thieves?”

Nagisa winced at the name. “No, she isn’t involved but… we need supplies of medicine. Without her, we’d all be dead now.”

Kira hummed, studying Nagisa’s eyes. He seemed to be telling the truth, at least. “No matter, I still can’t overlook giving possibly highly addictive substances to a teenager, with no explanation or ingredients at all.”

Nagisa sighed, defeated. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

Kira took the pill bottle, putting it to the side. “I’ll be confiscating these until I know exactly what they’re made of.”

Nagisa gagged. “You can’t do that! I paid for—”

“And you’re lucky I’m not calling the police right now.” Kira shook the bottle. “If I investigate and find that these will cause you more good than harm, I’ll return them. Under certain supervision, of course.”

Nagisa groaned.

“If they’re as you say they are, you have nothing to worry about,” Kira said. He peeked his head back into the box, taking my bottle with names or labels he didn’t recognize. “So I’ll be taking this. And this too.”

Nagisa sunk into his chair, grumbling. “Fine. I can’t stop you.”

At least he wasn’t picking a fight. Perhaps the excitement of the day had finally hit him. He looked exhausted, leaning back in his chair.

His fighting spirit being down made things easier for Kira, at least.

After being satisfied with his raid, he returned the box to Nagisa. “You can keep these. I’m generous, so I’ll put enough trust to assume you’ll keep using them as recommended. If I find any evidence of misuse, I’ll be confiscating everything.”

Nagisa hung his head low with a sigh. He picked at his hospital gown.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Nagisa gritted his teeth.

“Good.” Kira clasped his hands together. “Now, back to the other matter on hand…”

Nagisa’s face immediately soured. It was almost amusing, in a way, and if Kira wasn’t in such a sour mood himself, he might have laughed.

“You said you don’t have a doctor.” He tapped his finger against the desk. “And yet, this business consists of dangerous behavior almost daily — to the point where you need illegal drugs.”

“They’re not illegal.”

“They are illegal,” Kira said. “And I’m not debating this.”

Nagisa closed his mouth. He waited patiently, with his hands in his lap, for Kira to continue.

“I’ll be blunt; I don’t think your group will survive for very long.”

The air felt tight, filled with tension. Most of which came from Nagisa, who stared at him carefully.

“Yesterday was something to learn from,” Kira continued. “You cannot do this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Nagisa said.

“You need a doctor—”

“From where?” Nagisa asked. “I can’t hire a doctor off the streets. And I told you before, I have my reasons for avoiding the hospital. It’s complicated.”

Kira shook his head. “And what about the doctor right in front of you? What am I, minced meat?”

Nagisa paused. Then, he narrowed his eyes, studying Kira carefully, as though he was searching for inner motives.

“You can’t join the Phantom Thieves,” he said firmly.

“Oh?” Kira lips tugged into a smile. “Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.” Nagisa shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

Kira lost count of how many times Nagisa had repeated that same phase. It was starting to irritate him, his eye twitching each time he heard the word complicated. If Nagisa would sit down and explain it to him, he was sure he could understand it. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of joining your club,” Kira said, twirling a bottle in his hand. The pills rattled inside. “I have enough on my plate as is.”

Nagisa tilted his head. “Then, what do you mean?”

“I mean I’ll be your doctor. Primacy physician, if you will.” Kira set the bottle down with a clank. “Any injuries you get, find me. Any medicine you take, run by me first. I can’t make any promises, but if your injuries warrant a hospital visit, I’ll try to pull some strings. There are some private rooms in the hospital, you know.”

Not that he expected Nagisa to agree. No doubt the younger man would shrug him off again, saying that it was none of his business and too complicated to understand.

But Nagisa brought a hand to his chin, deep in thought. “That… doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Tempting, isn’t it?”

“But,” Nagisa hesitated. “What do you gain from this, Kira? You could be putting your job on the line. You hardly know what we do or why we do it.”

“What do I gain?” Kira scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. You know my reasons for this.”

Nagisa blinked once. Then twice.

“Because I don’t want you to die,” Kira said. “Or anyone in your group, for that matter. I’m a doctor, it’s my job to save people, regardless of their situation.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Kira sighed, placing an elbow on the table. “I’d sleep much better at night if I knew you weren’t alone, stitching wounds too big for you and taking meds from God knows where.”

Nagisa loosened his shoulders. He brought his hand up to the table, tracing the patterns along the wood in thought. Kira waited patiently, continuing to spin the bottle in his hand. The sound of the rattling pills was somewhat enjoyable to listen to — if only Kira knew what was inside of them.

“I…” Nagisa hesitated. “I need to discuss this with my team before I make any decisions. I’m sorry. It's what we agreed on.”

Kira supposed he should have expected that answer. He shrugged. “Very well then.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nagisa jumped in. “I appreciate the offer. Really, I do.” He brought a hand to his stomach, running his fingers across. “When you told me to text you if anything happened after that incident a few weeks ago, I was relieved. I feel much safer being in your care than handling things alone.”

At least Nagisa could admit that much, Kira supposed. Though, it took him far longer than Kira would have liked it to.

“Of course it feels better,” he said, his voice softening. “No teenager should handle that alone. It’s my job to support you. It’s the least I can do.”

A small smile stretched on Nagisa's lips. It was short lived, as he immediately grabbed his stomach, wincing in pain.

Kira stood up. “Is it hurting again?”

“Kind of,” Nagisa coughed twice. “Maybe you’re right — I pushed myself too far.”

Kira scowled, shaking his head. “Of course I’m right.”

He made his way over to Nagisa, resting his hand on his back. He bent down, so that he could meet Nagisa’s eyes.

“Nagisa—”

“I know,” Nagisa croaked. “Back to the hospital. Lucky me.”

Kira let out a small sigh. At least he agreed. Nagisa was much more willing to work with him now; perhaps spilling his big secret made him feel that there was nothing left to hide.

“Come on.” He lifted Nagisa as carefully as he could, to not irritate the wound. “I’ll bring you back. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get an early discharge.”

Nagisa hummed, leaning his head against Kira’s shoulder. His eyes drooped slowly, as though he would fall asleep at any moment.

“That would be nice.”