CW:Medical trauma, blood, graphic injury, flatline, psychological distress.
Also contains: 43 seconds. Silence inside him. Screaming everywhere else.
Present; SUV
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Jin blinked, the ghostly image of that blood-smeared wall dissolving into the rhythmic sweep of wiper blades clearing the downpour. His throat tightened. He stole another glance at Kuro in the mirror. Pale. Still. Peaceful. Like the woman after he'd closed her eye.
He went back tonight because it was the same block, Jin realized, icy dread pooling in his stomach. Same alley behind that cursed, shuttered ramen stall… practically next door to the building where she died.
The pieces clicked with chilling clarity. Had Kuro been drawn there by the ghost of that tragic woman? A silent pilgrimage to a grave marked only by violence? Or worse—had Hideo, that vindictive old serpent, baited the trap with that memory? Whispered rumors through the underworld channels Kuro might still monitor, knowing the alley's significance would lure the one man Hideo hated above all others?
Jin's knuckles cracked against the steering wheel. The decoy SUV ahead swerved sharply onto a narrow, unlit service road heading away from the city's core—towards one of their discreet safehouses, a converted clinic buried deep in an industrial district. Rain drummed a frantic rhythm on the roof, seeming to intensify as if echoing Jin's racing thoughts. The monitor in the back let out a sudden, shrill BLEEP—a flatline alarm.
The shrill BLEEP tore through the SUV like a physical shockwave.
"Sh##! Go!" Jin roared, stomping the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward.
In the back, chaos erupted. "Cardiac arrest! Paddles! NOW!" The lead medic quickly but cautiously applied gel to Kuro's chest, mindful of the scars and the two broken ribs on his left side, careful not to cause further lung damage. Another medic positioned himself at Kuro's shoulders, gripping firmly to keep him steady, while a third medic held his legs to prevent any movement. Paddles charged. "CLEAR!"
Hikari watched, frozen in horror, as Kuro's body jolted off the gurney, a grotesque puppet snapped by electricity.
Silence.
The monitor screamed a single, relentless tone.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
"Got a rhythm! Sinus tachycardia—weak, but present!" The medic's voice was razor-sharp, already slamming syringes of epinephrine into Kuro's IV line. Kuro's chest rose in a shallow, gasping breath—forced back from the brink by voltage and willpower. The relentless BEEP-BEEP-BEEP resumed, softer now, trembling like a fading echo.
Jin didn't ease off the accelerator. Rain blurred the world outside into smears of gray and neon as the SUV careened down the service road. His knuckles stayed white on the wheel, but his eyes in the rearview mirror held a fractured relief.
Hold on, Boss. Almost there.
Hikari unclenched her fists. She watched Kuro's chest rise and fall—each breath a fragile victory. The oxygen mask fogged, then cleared, fogged, then cleared. His face remained eerily calm beneath the bruises and blood, that unsettling peace clinging like a shroud even amidst the chaos.
〖Did he see the stars?〗
The thought slithered through her numbness.
〖Did he want to stay?〗
The lead medic leaned close, checking Kuro's pupils with a penlight. "Pupils reactive but sluggish. GCS 7. Brain took a hit when we lost him."
Jin's jaw tightened. "How long was he out?"
"Forty-three seconds."
〖Forty-three seconds dead.〗
The words hung in the thick air.
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