They are both dark smudges of pain against the wooden floor, wrapped in dirty-red ribbons. Mugen wears the burning mouth of a new gash on his chest and his right eye is swollen shut, painted purple and blue. Jin needs splints for his sprained wrist and the porcelain of his slender waist is adorned with a deep, scarlet valley which he knows will scar. They awaken and become aware of the absence of their prized female companion at the same time, but it is Mugen who groans first.
"Ugh, damn," he croaks and Jin makes a hissing noise as he tests the damage of his injured wrist. Neither of them move to sit up or look at each other but they know the other man is there; the other man will always be there. They have learned to share their hurts, their scars, and their anger. The warmth of companionship is not nearly as painful as the blistering cold of solitude.
"My wrist…" Jin mourns.
"This was—this was all…ugh…your fault…"
"I beg you, Mugen, please don't fight with me. Not now."
"No, this was your fault and you need to know it. You're an idiot—jumping into a blade like that."
"If I hadn't…you'd be dead, ungrateful beast."
"I might as well be dead…lost so much blood protecting your stupid, clueless—"
"No one asked you to take a hit for me. I never asked—"
"Yeah? Well no one asked you to take a hit for me."
"Then we're even. So why are you complaining?"
"I'm not complaining, four-eyes!"
"Then what do you call this?"
"Telling you it's all your fault…"
"Complaining it's all my fault—which it isn't."
"It is, so shut up."
To Mugen's surprise, that's what Jin does. From the corner of bloodshot eyes he sees Jin has shut his own in pain, jaw set in a way that made his agony apparent. Mugen deeply hates him and profoundly loves him all the same and the contrasting emotions burn in him brightly, ferociously. So this is friendship, he thinks bitingly. You hate the guy you'd die for.
There's a long, stupid silence that suffocates them both. Mugen thinks his mouth will start running but Jin opens his and speaks first.
"Thank you," he says, plainly and finally and without regret. Mugen makes his trademark noise of confusion except it comes out raspy and breathless.
"I said thank you."
"What the—ugh—hell for?"
"You should know when you've saved a life, Mugen," Jin replies, eyes still closed. Mugen frowns but doesn't say anything—can't say anything. He had never deserved the gratitude of another human being for as long as he could remember but now here he is, being thanked for doing something he didn't even mean to do. When had it become instinct to suffer for another person?
There's another long silence and Jin almost nods off, the weight of the pain in his hip urging him to pass out again. Before he does, however, he hears Mugen murmur something.
"We're not friends."
Jin feels his mouth suddenly stretch into a smile, almost a grin, and he could picture Mugen's indignant, childish pout in his mind's eye. He risks a tiny laugh which sends a spear of bonfire up his side.
"No, of course not," Jin agrees.
Fuu comes in not too long after, a bucket of cool water in her arms, and the two of them are fast asleep. Jin's hand is on the stripes of Mugen's wrist and Mugen's fingers look dark against the blue beads of Jin's bracelet.