As soon as the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, paramedics worked instantly in rushing him into the Emergency Room to be dealt with immediately. He was put into surgery immediately; the wounds in his side and chest closed and cleaned up. Not soon after he was moved into the Intensive Care Unit to be monitored. He was hooked up to machines and a tube was placed down his throat to regulate his respiratory system. Another machine had cords running to his temples, constantly checking for brain activity. Finally, he was given a blood transfusion to supply a bit of what he'd lost before they hooked him up to an IV to keep him hydrated.

It was another few hours after Izumo and Yata had arrived before a doctor comes out looking for anyone who might claim to be in relations to the Blue, only to have Izumo approach him instead. He begins to explain the situation, how the teen wasn't entirely stable and on support for the time being. However the surgery had been successful and they'd managed to close everything up, giving him a pint of blood, though if either wanted to donate more it'd probably be for the better.

Then came the part that, even as a doctor who had been practicing for years, he found difficult. While everything had gone okay, they couldn't be entirely sure of Saruhiko's recovery rate. They'd done multiple tests, and the Blue had scored mid to low range on most of them.

"So what are his chances of recovery?" the bartender asked in a hushed tone, to keep the vanguard from overhearing.

The white-coat frowned, as if trying to think through the numbers in his head. "Statistics can always be proved wrong." He starts off, though that doesn't make it sound nearly as good as it could have been. "The rates from the test say low, but I wouldn't be too sure. If anything, I'd say he could be responsive anywhere from a few days to a few months. The ventilation and intubation will keep him going for now, and hopefully he'll be able to manage without it after a few days, maybe a week at most. However," there's a pause, and there's a long moment before he knows how to piece this together correctly. "If he can't survive on his own after that, you might want to consider calling it."

"I don't have the right t' make that decision." The bartender interjects with a shake of his head. "'M not in charge of 'im." And while it might kill Yata inside as well, this wouldn't be his decision either. "Talk with the head of Scepter4. The kid works for 'em."

The doctor glances over at Yata, having heard about the brave kid who had tried his hardest and managed to do enough to save a life in the process. "I'd bring him back tomorrow. Let him get some rest and get his head straight. I'll make sure he gets in first thing tomorrow."

Izumo gives off a slightly awkward smile. "Thanks…will do." With that finished up, he moves back towards the vanguard, urging him out of the seat and towards home, assuring that they can come back early in the morning to visit.

—

The next few days pass with some improvement. After about two days and a few more tests, Saruhiko was able to come off the ventilation system, breathing and functioning on his own. Still unresponsive, he was left in ICU under constant watch in case anything went wrong. Someone was always in the small wing to keep things under control.

Some of the other Blues had come to visit, though rarely did they ever stay long. The air felt tense with Yata always in the room, so they made their stay short. Even Munakata had come once or twice, though he never entered the room once he saw the vanguard sitting by his Third's bedside. To him it seemed like his subordinate was in good hands. No need for him to interfere. He'd get his updates from the nurses and doctors that took care of him.

Though after a week, it didn't seem as if any more progress was being made. With the Blue still unresponsive and showing little advance in any repeated tests, doctors and nurses decided to consider moving him out of ICU and into the normal wings to free up the space. He was stable, just unable to wake up—as if his brain were enjoying the sleep too much and refused to start responding to anything that tried to stir it from its peace.

—

All Fushimi remembered was darkness

He had finally given into the sleep that was calling for him, deciding that he'd take whatever fate was waiting for him. There were so many possibilities that he wasn't sure which one was going to come true. He could wake up alive with or without memories of his out of body experience and maybe he'd have his memories of what happened to him. Or he'd move on and see what awaited him…heaven…hell? He didn't really know. All those stories he'd heard in school about what comes after death suddenly seemed wrong—like they had no real meaning other than assuring them that death wasn't so scary.

The last thing he could remember was hearing the few beeps and thumps of his heart. He wasn't sure if he had survived or not in the end. He was just trapped in this darkness. There was black in every direction he looked. He didn't understand what it was, but it was hard to move his body at all. It felt heavy, and it took too much effort to move a limb. So he lay there, floating and staring at the black all around him.

This was quite the boring death, and it was a lot of time alone. This, in the end, was not a good thing, because being alone meant time to think, and time to think meant bringing back old memories. Fushimi had always been trapped in the past, and it seemed even in death he couldn't escape it. Though the memories that popped into his head were always good ones, and it seemed that, if he closed his eyes, they practically played before him—as if he could relive the happier moments in his life.

Strange how they all seemed to include—

"Misaki…"

The ginger's gaze had shifted from the thugs surrounding them to the partner behind him, wide eyed, questioning look set in golden eyes. "I don't wanna hear it, Saru. You can scold me all you want later, but is this really the time to start?"

The bluet clicked his tongue before rolling his eyes. The two were back to back, staring down the oncoming group. "Just take your side, and I'll take mine. Next time don't drag me into it." The men around them started laughing amongst themselves, commenting about how two punks in middle school wouldn't stand a chance, or how they'd messed with the wrong group.

Oh how wrong they would be.

It took some time, and the two of them came out with a lot of oncoming bruises and cuts, but they'd managed to take down each and every one, working as the perfect team that they were. Fushimi came out with a faulty knee, and Yata came out with a sprained ankle. Each of them wrapped and arm around the other's shoulders, using each other to keep them upright. "Told you we could take 'em." Yata said with a grin, laughing at his victory.

The other teen merely sighed, shaking his head as they limped along. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't tried picking a fight with them…again. Your violent tendencies will get you in a lot of trouble one day. You could get hurt worse than today…or hell, they could kill you." All of this made him a little worried, though now was the time for scolding.

"That'll never happen." He retorts with another confident grin. "Because I know Saru will always be by my side. Just like today, you'll be there to help. I'll do the same for you, too."

Fushimi goes quiet for a long moment before speaking up again. "I don't get myself into messes like you do." He teases, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But thanks anyways." The two break into soft laughter, though the action causes both of them to wince in pain, only to look at each other and chuckle again.

"We'll always stick with each other, right Saru?"

"Right."

Always together. That's how it was supposed to be.

Guess that was two promises he had broken.

He opens his eyes and stares into the darkness again, head lolling to the side as his eyes shut again. It was horrible to have to die and go through this for the rest of eternity. He felt more alone than ever, and the memories that played for him weren't very comforting. Even if they brought back some things he had forgotten, he'd much rather not have to sit through them time and time again; because he'd see one from his early past, and then something more recent—and the more recent hurt much more.

"Why would you betray us?"

His eyes opened wide in an instant, heart beating faster. Where did that voice come from? No…not this memory.

"Why would you join the Blues? Of all people!"

Make it stop. He didn't want to go through this. He shouldn't have to. They never talked, never settled anything. Don't make him relive his mistakes. It made his eyes sting, and his hands clench into fists so tight he would swear he'd broken skin. Though he'd been unable to feel any physical pain for a long time now. He couldn't be sure.

"What did HOMRA even mean to you?"

The questions…the accusations…the label he'd so graciously accepted onto his head: Traitor. Suddenly it just seemed as stupid as it actually was; like he'd been so blissfully ignorant to see that there were so many other ways to settle the situation. Sure leaving for Scepter4 was probably inevitable from the start—he'd seen that scenario plenty of times. It was just the way he went going about leaving was all wrong. He'd done it for the attention and to try and get Yata to see him one final time, maybe try to stop him altogether; but all he saw was Red, and Fushimi just wasn't a part of that anymore.

Now he'd be grateful to have it back.

"Just make it stop." He cried out in silence, holding back the tightness in his throat. Though what did it matter here? No one could see him; no one would ever hear him. Why should he bother holding back the emotions he'd been feeling for so long? So when he felt the first few tears slide down his cheeks, he didn't bother wiping them away, didn't bother trying to stop the flow coming from his eyes. He'd done so much wrong, and there was no way to fix it now. He'd broken all of his promises to Misaki, and there was no way to apologize for them. The same questions repeated in his head, over and over; and all he could hear was Yata's voice asking, tone strained with the hurt and betrayal that he felt. "Make it stop!"

—

One of the machines that had been still for the week it had been hooked up to the Blue suddenly whirred to life, scratching away at a piece of paper as it detected the sudden brain activity he'd been lacking so far in his slumber. Upon realizing this, one of the nurses quickly finished up the business she'd been handling in order to rush over and check the status before moving to call for a doctor. When she came back over, she took the Blue's free hand in her own (the other being occupied by Yata) checking his pulse and attempting a few of the reaction tests that she could think up.

His fingers twitched in her hand, and his other hand slowly started to close around the hand that had been holding his all week. A few tears rolled down the side of his face and onto the pillow beneath him. His breathing sped up, a large inhale followed by a large exhale. A doctor rushes in and begins helping, checking conditions before he gives the Red a small smile. "We'll get him to come to." He assures. "Just a few minutes. That's all we need."

Eyes slowly begin to open, only to clench shut again as the light stings and blinds his vision. The tears that had been held back by shut lids spill over, though the trails soon stop. A familiar voice calls out to him; and he tries his hardest to open his eyes again, only enough for him to make out a blurry figure. His glasses were missing, most like lost long ago, but he can still make out that familiar figure looming over him, the hope and happiness practically radiating off his skin.

While the nurse and doctor do what they need to, trying to get his attention, he's too focused on the Red beside him, and soon those tears start welling up again as everything that had happened suddenly hits him with a force great enough to make the breath catch in his throat. "Mi…saki…?" his voice sounds hoarse, and it burns his throat to even speak, but he has to…has to know why he's here and… "Am I…still a part…of the world?" The question comes out in a quiet whisper, voice barely present, but he wants to know if this is just a dream. Fingers close tighter around the hand with the weak strength he could muster up. It was as if letting go meant everything would slip from him; like he'd lose everything and be thrust back into his sleep.

Everything comes back, and it overwhelms him—makes him dizzy even though he's grounded on the hospital bed. His eyes fall shut again, unable to stay open any longer. As much as he doesn't want to sleep more, he can't help but feel overly exhausted again, the rest welcoming him. It feels much safer, and there's no way he can prevent it. The doctor assures that this is normal, and while he'll probably sleep through the rest of the night, he'll wake up again soon. He explains that over time, he'll be able to sustain consciousness longer, and to just give it time. But Saruhiko had broken the coma and had pulled through, and it seemed as if that was all that really mattered.