Crossposted on AO3 under the same username.

You thought you were going to die. You even thought you might be dead.

But why could you still feel the soreness from the bruises lingering throughout your system? Why could you still feel your own cold blood trickling down on your skin? Why could you still feel the chilling cement underneath your body, inviting you to death? Surely if your senses weren't functioning anymore, you'd be in the midst of limbo by now.

But you never made it. All because of another voice. Not to mention familiar.

It's that jackass with that weed-colored mohawk, wasn't he?

You cursed as you clutched your stomach. You no longer cared that your breathing rhythm signified you're very hurt. You no longer cared about the blood coming out of your mouth. You no longer cared about the fight and the struggling noises heard from above you. All you cared at this very moment was your suffering and wish to lose consciousness.

But you never fainted.

Not when another body crashed near yours. Not even when the noises faded. Especially not when that voice, now clear, sounded after probably a couple of minutes.

"Oi..."

Oh, great. You're being forced to show acknowledgment. You ignored him.

You heard the other grunted. "Ya ok?"

What? What's going on? You knew that idiot well enough (through your habitual and bitter arguing and barking together during recess and dismissals) that he would never concern himself with anybody, especially not with you. This person could be someone else, but you had grown too familiar with his voice and way of speech that he couldn't be anyone else in this lowly populated high school (Asides every girl in your class, why the hell do you know him so well?). Regardless, you desperately hoped to escape this situation right then.

"Woah, ya can't even move. Tsk. What a pain-"

"Shut it," you finally snapped as you propped your injured forearm on the ground, only for you to fall back and cry in pain. You cursed yourself as you silently reminded yourself not to show any kind of weakness, especially to your closest rival.

"Che," That bastard scoffed when he shuffled on his place and blocked the sunlight. You tried to look up his crouching figure, and despite the shadow overcoming his features, you noticed a black eye and a uniform nearly tattered, ready to be ripped off. You scoffed at the laughing sight, ignoring your crushed bones threatening to fall apart.

Before you could even retort, he offered a helping hand. His face didn't even twist into a threatening look, nor was his eyes shone with mock pity. He just simply said, "Here, you ass."

You're pretty positive that you had gone crazy at this very moment. He should have walked away to leave yourself to rot like the way he wanted you to, but why the hell were you seeing this? Why was he helping you? Why should you believe him and take his offer? Why was this happening?

"Go away," You weakly slapped your rival's hand away. "And leave me to die already." (You wished that you had shouted instead, but your beaten-up body protested.)

You faintly noticed his blank face contorted into a startled look, and then it turned into an offended one. The next thing you knew was that you're being yanked up (Everything hurts again-) and forced to look at his grouchy face. "Ya listen here, ya piece of shit!" His grip on your dyed hair tightened. "Be grateful I got you out of this hell hole of yours! If I hear one more complaint from ya, I swear to God I'll make that prissy body of yours worse! Got it!?"

Yep. You're definitely insane. Thankfully not entirely, because he still possessed that dirty mouth with that reeking breath of his. You're too busy registering his words that you barely felt his supporting arms, carefully standing you up. He slumped your arm on his shoulders, and then you were being lead to somewhere.

"I'm taking you to the school hospital, dammit."

Congratulations, you had lost your sanity. Was this hell now? It sure felt close to real life.

Oh, whatever. You stopped caring your delusional state. What's the point of overthinking when it won't take your anywhere anyway?

Still frowning, that idiot clicked his tongue and murmured, "Hang in there, kohai."

"Hah!?" You spoke up. Fortunately your throbbing head helped you distract from the sudden gratefulness you felt, the warmth in your chest, and your will to respond something kind. "I never considered you my senpai!"

"Whatever, bitch."

Silence.

"Hey."

"Hn?"

"Gah, don't take this the wrong way, but... what's your name again?"