"Done there?" Aoba asked, bending down unable to catch his breath after having run out of the warehouse. "Mikado-senpai?" He looked at Mikado questioningly.
"I hope it's burning now." Mikado muttered, turning around to look at the building behind their backs. Aoba noticed right away how Mikado was trying to block his view of his left hand.
"It does." Aoba assured him, the sweet scent wafting through the air a better indicator than anything else. "Have you burnt your hand?" He asked, reaching out for Mikado's wrist and prying his hand from behind his back.
"It's nothing..." Mikado assured him uncertainly even as Aoba took his shark mask off and leaned down to examine it.
A bottle of water was emptied onto it, making Mikado wince at the sudden cold. He couldn't even remember clearly how he'd burnt it. It had something to do with wanting to move one of the packets that had caught on fire towards the others. Probably he should have used something other than his hand but it hadn't occurred to him in the hurry.
That was essentially how he'd gotten all the consecutive injuries in the past few weeks. Things had been moving too fast and then, all of a sudden, he'd been ending beaten up.
Aoba seemed so much better at evading such accidents, even though he was Mikado's kouhai. Though as far as being a part of a street gang was, their relation was probably exactly inverted. Mikado blushed at the thought and pulled his hand out of Aoba's grasp forcefully.
"Let's get out of here." Aoba pulled on his sleeve to get him to move.
A column of smoke was escaping the warehouse through the roof. Mikado stared over his shoulder, transfixed.
"Mikado-senpai, you'll watch the TV reports on the Internet once you'll get home." Aoba whined at his side. "There's no point in staring at things burn."
"I guess." Mikado followed reluctantly, looking back a few more times.
"You're only so transfixed because it's all new for you." Aoba pointed out with a know-it-all smile as if he had set dozens of warehouses on fire. Mikado couldn't decide if that could have really been the case. "I wonder if Kida-senpai was aware of this. How do you think, Mikado-senpai?"
"Of course not." Mikado replied with an absolute conviction.
"That means what? Yellow Scarves are slipping out of his control yet again? Apparently, he's not working quite as hard as you do, Mikado-senpai."
They pocketed their masks upon reaching a bigger and better-lit street. Mikado stopped to look down at his hand under the light of a street lamp. The palm was reddened and was starting to swell.
"You're so inconsiderate, Mikado-senpai." Aoba sighed by his side. "You do what has to be done without looking out for your own safety at all. I'm nowhere near brave like that."
Mikado's injured hand curled into a fist, even though it hurt.
"Stop sugar-coating it like that."
Aoba looked at him strangely, not expecting this kind of an outburst.
"I'm just awkward like that." Mikado confessed with an uncertain smile. "I can't take care of myself."
"That's why I'm always accompanying you, Mikado-senpai." Aoba beamed at him.
