Hideyasu didn't think anything of it at first. Actually, he hadn't thought at all when he used his own body to shield his mentor and Kouta from the claws of the Invess. For once in his life, he threw strategy to the wind in favor of his emotions, and it had backfired in the worst way. Neither he nor Oren knew about the way Invess claws infected people—and they would have remained blissfully oblivious if Hideyasu was in the habit of transforming more.

Even if the Invess game hadn't ended, Hideyasu had long since left its battle stages; he chalked the pain in his back up to the gashes left by the Invess and his time away from combat. Within days, however, it became unbearable; delirious from pain, he didn't remember Oren carrying him to the hospital, or notice the vines growing in his back like a sinister tattoo. He remembered the screaming, though; all the other people that shared the ward with him, suffering from their own afflictions—or was he the one making all that noise?

Either way, his life became a lot quieter when they gave him the painkillers; his time in the hospital became a haze of sleeping and distant pain. Sometimes he'd wake up to feel someone by his side—most of the time, though, he was alone. He opened his eyes blearily—how much time had passed? Days? Weeks? He couldn't remember life without this throbbing pain anymore, and the idea that he had ever done something other than lay on his stomach in this hospital bed was little more than a dream in his sedated mind.

He was relatively alert this time—his last dose of painkiller was ebbing, and the new dose hadn't kicked in yet. He struggled to keep his eyes open and look around; he felt too heavy to lift his head, but at the edge of his vision, he saw a figure at his bedside. They had dark hair and a shirt in the warm range of the color wheel—Hideyasu couldn't discern much else, with the bad angle and without his glasses. It was crazy, but—

"...Hase…?" Hideyasu managed to murmur. The person turned towards him, surprised that he spoke. No wonder—his lips felt like they were glued together, like the hinge of his mouth was rusted in place; how long had it been since he said anything comprehensible? Hideyasu squeezed his left hand weakly, trying to move it towards the other boy, to verify that he was really there. He was, and he had noticed the movement—he took Hideyasu's hand into his own and squeezed it gently.

Relief washed over the bedridden dancer—the hand was rough and covered in callouses, a little bigger than his own, the hand of a brawler—it was Hase, after all.
"Hase, why…" He squeezed Hase's hand back as much as he could manage, lest it leave him like he left it's owner, "You're… here?" he caught the motion of the other boy nodding, "even though… I…" Hideyasu's eyelids fluttered as he fought against them closing—in the three-way fight of sedatives, pain, and Hideyasu's willpower, the drugs were winning. Knowing he'd succumb soon, he managed three more words.

"I'm sor…ry… Has...e…"

The dark-haired boy watched as his eyes closed, Hideyasu's hand going limp in his calloused grip. He continued to hold the sleeping boy's hand firmly as he tried to stuff his emotions down inside him; he had wanted to say something back, to tell Hideyasu he forgave him, to not worry about it anymore, but if he spoke, he was afraid that his voice would give him away.

Kouta drew a deep breath and released it, resolute. He let go of the sleeping Hideyasu's hand and stood up, giving Invitto's ex-leader one last look—the Helheim vines had spread quickly, taking root deeply in the other boy's back like ivy on an old brick building. How long he had left was unknown—he still didn't know how he'd manage it, but Kouta needed to either get the Helheim Overlords' help or defeat them if Hideyasu was going to stand a chance.

Something about the other boy's sleeping form caught his attention, and Kouta frowned. He moved one hand carefully in the path of Hideyasu's breath: nothing. He had stopped breathing. What fragile composure Kouta had threatened to shatter, the wave of despair and horror that had swept him away when Hase was killed in front of him threatened to crash down on him again.

Kouta tore out of the room at top speed, hollering for a nurse; this couldn't be happening, not again—two of his friends were already dead, he refused to lose a third one. The closest nurse bustled behind Kouta as he led her to Hideyasu's bedside—surely, she could buy them both more time. He turned hopefully from his friend to her, but what was written in her face made his heart plummet.

This was a woman that had worked this Helheim-infested ward from the start; she knew when someone's time could no longer be extended. The plant carving its way into Hideyasu's back had grown into his heart or lungs or something equally important and lethal. She put her hand on Kouta's shoulder.
"I'm sorry." she murmured earnestly—the two boys were just kids, after all. She had living patients to tend to, still, so she left quietly a moment later.

In a daze, Kouta sat down in the chair he was using earlier and looked at his friend's cooling body. Hideyasu wore a more peaceful expression than he had in weeks—he was gone, though, and this would probably be the last time Kouta saw him. The armored rider's gaze shifted to the Helheim plant, still happily growing from the dead boy's skin; he noted with disgust that a bud that the damned thing had put forth last week had started to bloom a brilliant violet. It, at least, would be burned to ash, unable to harm anyone again; if Kouta had his way, so would the forest it came from.

He reached out and took Hideyasu's hand again, for his own sake this time. It was still warm, and the residual body heat was comforting.
"I'm sure he'll forgive you." He squeezed the limp hand, mentally braced himself, and stood to leave. At least, in an odd sort of way, Hideyasu had made up with his friend before dying.

"Say 'hi' to Hase for me."