To say Miyuki Kazuya was pissed was an understatement. Kazuya knew Sawamura was an idiot from the day they met. He knew even more so going into a relationship with him. And yet, Sawamura still manages to surprise him, in the best of ways, but this time, in the worst. So when Sawamura began to mouth off to the kidnapper, Kazuya had assumed it was his usual level of being an idiot, and he merely tried to shut him up. However, even after he would come back, beaten, and bruised, his actions would continue when Kazuya thought he learned his lesson the hard way. Sawamura, being the dumbass that he is, provoked someone that would gladly demonstrate how he would torture minors. And even then, he still aggravated the man.

So, yes. Kazuya was pissed. At Sawamura, at their kidnapper, but even more so, at himself. He should have known that the level of stupid was off-brand for Sawamura. Sawamura was an idiot, but he wasn't that dumb. He should have realized sooner that he was doing it on purpose. He couldn't quite distinguish the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he caught on too late. Kazuya knows now, he knows, so he can hopefully talk him out of his altruistic behavior. If not, to hopefully successfully prevent him from continuing. And if that meant holding a hand over his mouth anytime the kidnapper was around, so be it.

Kazuya doesn't think anyone else has noticed yet, either.

The man hauled Sawamura out some time ago. Without a clock or even windows, there was no saying how much time had transpired. But it felt longer. Maybe that was just because he was aware now. They didn't even have a consistent light source. It turned on and off at random intervals. Sometimes it'll be on for a long while, making it challenging - more so - to sleep. At the moment, pitch blackness engulfed them, leaving them with only a fragment of light illuminating from under the doorway. They were sitting in silence. There wasn't a whole lot to say at this point. Not even to bemoan concerning hunger or thirst. It was redundant; they were all hungry and thirsty. Sporadically, too few bottles of water were brought for them to share, with a tray of questionable mush for sustenance. They refused to touch the stuff at first; however, when the gnawing hunger accumulated, with it, the desperation did, too. The taste was unlike anything Kazuya has ever had, but he stifled it down anyway. Their goal was to survive after all, and if that meant forcing down gruel, then it had to be done.

They were locked in a tiled room, floor to ceiling. With only a single toilet and sink, the latter of which, spluttered out rust-tinted water. Both of which were utterly filthy. Kuramochi had discovered an old first-aid kit buried beneath paper-waste packed into a crate. The red cross on its lid was so discolored; it was barely recognizable. If it wasn't for its contents, Kazuya couldn't have been bothered to decipher the damaged exterior. Of course, a small part of him hoped there would be no need to use it; however, thankfully, and unfortunately, it got its use. Grateful they had it, but afflicted that they needed to utilize it. Mainly for bandaging as the bottles inside were unlabeled. One container, in particular, smelled strong of rubbing alcohol, it was roughly half full; they tried not to use it in the event where it was desperately needed.

Kazuya was just grateful they didn't have any severe injuries, and only small, surface wounds.

With that thought, the heavy door - timely- opened with an obnoxious squeal. Kazuya straightened where he sat propped against the wall - they all intuitively stuck to the wall parallel to the door. The man stood silhouetted in the doorframe, backlit from the light behind him. He moved just enough for the illumination to shine directly into Kazuya's eyes, forcing him to squint them closed. Immediately, the sound of something drag filled the room, with only a slight pause before a solid thud sounded. The door slammed shut right after. Silence returned. It wasn't strange for the man to not utter a word. Usually, he was in and out, either taking Sawamura with him or bringing him back. Sawamura, however, was regularly loud or making a racket. The silence now was disturbing. Kazuya suddenly remembered the thud, and his heart abruptly began to pace with panic.

Sawamura!

"Eijun?" Kominato beat him to the punch. Kazuya found himself holding his breath, anticipating a response. He strained his ears, listening, praying to hear anything, if not words. A shuffle of movement, or a groan, just something. Something to reassure him a lifeless body hadn't just collapsed into the room. But nothing came; only the extended quietness.

"Fuck." Kazuya grit out, crawling to where he believed the sound arose. He almost thought he had the wrong location when his hand brushed up against something. Kazuya jolted in surprise, "Sawamura?" He resolutely lay his hand on what he ran into, an arm. He traced his palm over its length in the direction he hoped would lead to a head. Once he reached a shoulder, he was soon promptly met with a handful of hair. Sawamura lay on his stomach; his face turned away. Instinctively, he moved to his neck, fingers searching for a pulse.

"Is he okay?" Kuramochi asked, the worry evident in his voice. Kazuya ignored him. His hand shook as he felt around his throat for the pulse point. It was hard to tell from the angle of Sawamura's head. "Miyuki!" He snapped, patience running thin.

"Shhh!" Kazuya shushed him. He found the pulse point, but he was struggling to feel anything with how hard his own heart was beating. He pushed a tad more against Sawamura's flesh, searching. Kazuya held his breath, forcing his hand to be as still as possible, and waited. Nothing. Nothing. The trembling in his hands renewed, and the sound of his heart hammering away was the only thing he could hear. Kazuya felt like he couldn't breathe; throat tight. Sawamura had such a bright, vibrant personality. He was so caring and passionate and the thought of that all gone-

Sawamura is-

Kazuya couldn't even think it; it was too surreal.

At some point, the hand Kazuya had pressed against Sawamura's throat shifted marginally, gracing his fingertips with the flutter of a heartbeat, soft yet steady. Kazuya immediately honed in on it, seeking it out again, pressing in harder, and was rewarded. He let out a shuddering breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the side of Sawamura's head; his body quickly unwound in utter relief. Be squeezed his eyes shut and just breathed, fingers resting over Sawamura's divine pulse.

"Miyuki?" Furuya spoke up; tentatively. Kazuya realized he had been quiet for far too long. They were all concerned, and with no light to see by, they could only wait for Kazuya's verdict.

"He's alive." Kazuya breathed out. Even he could hear the relief that enshrouded those two words. He didn't care. Sawamura was alive. And right now, that was all that mattered. Kazuya heard multiple sighs, making him feel guilty for not updating them sooner; however, they also weren't aware of the terror Kazuya had just gone through. He didn't see a reason in enlightening them on it, either. "Just unconscious." That explained Sawamura's uncharacteristic silence.

Kazuya reluctantly drew his hand away from his pulse, to comb his fingers through Sawamura's hair, touching along his scalp for any injuries. Not finding any lumps, he trailed his hand over his neck and was going to continue across his spine, but his hand immediately crossed into something warm and slimy on Sawamura's shoulder blades. Kazuya instantly froze, before pulling his hand away as if burned. He held his palm in front of his face like he would be able to see. If he squinted, he could just make out the outline of his hand. He had a strong suspicion as to what it was. But on the off chance he was wrong, he brought his hand up close, giving a tentative whiff. His nose was assaulted by metallic, and Kazuya's heart sank. Kazuya was often right, but this was one instance he earnestly wished he wasn't.

In the background, he could hear the others talk amongst themselves, but Kazuya paid little attention to what they were saying. Instead, he hesitantly lowered his hand back along Sawamura's spine, wanting to assess the damage. He was met with more blood, a lot more than he had hoped. However, underneath the layer, the skin felt odd. It was raised in some places and dipped in others. His hand traveled over a loose bit of flesh, causing him to recoil at the feeling of it slipping under his palm.

"Fuck!" He repeated, repressing the urge to gag. His exclamation rightfully alerted the others. Questions of concern bombarded Kazuya, but Kazuya didn't have any of the answers himself. All he knew was there was blood, and what felt like multiple wounds across the span of Swamura's back. "Someone get me the first-aid kit." He ordered, but what would that solve? They had bandages and alcohol. Would that be enough? What if the wounds were too deep and needed stitches? Kazuya took a breath in, the blood now being the only thing he could smell. "Fuck," He reiterated on the release of air. The sound of paper shuffling indicated the search for the supplies.

"Where are you?" Kominato inquired; he was the one to act, no questions asked. What ensued next was an undesired game of Marco Polo, with Kominato slowly crossing the room to where Kazuya sat. Kazuya played cautiously, fearful of Kominato accidentally stepping on Sawamura. Though Kazuya knew Kominato was being just as guarded, dragging his feet along the tile instead of lifting them. Kominato knew something was wrong but wasn't pressing for answers. Kazuya was grateful; he wasn't sure if he could clarify. His mind was racing, trying to construct an image of Sawamura's injuries, though he couldn't be positive whether or not he was downplaying the wounds or exaggerating them.

When it sounded like Kominato was close enough, Kazuya told him to stop, followed by an awkward flailing of his hand for the first-aid kit Kominato held out. After he made contact, Kazuya instantly pulled it close and was swift in locating the latch holding the lid shut. He blindly felt around, efficiently finding the bandages; however, the alcohol would be trickier. Kazuya grabbed random bottles and twisted their caps off to detect the scent of the liquids held inside. A majority of them did not have an odor, and one, in particular, was offensively pungent. Still, he came across the alcohol soon enough, setting it aside, and hopefully, next to the bandages.

"Is it bad?" Kominato asked in a quiet voice. Kazuya closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, letting it slowly flow out passed his lips.

"I don't know," Kazuya admitted. He hesitated, mouth already parted. He was hesitant if he should tell them how bad he thinks it is. "There's," he paused, trying to find the best way to word it, "a lot of blood."

"Are you sure it's blood?" Kuramochi asked though he didn't sound hopeful.

"I wish I wasn't." That was enough to stop any line of them double-checking he wasn't mistaken.

"Where is it?" Kominato wondered.

"His entire back." Kazuya clarified, depositing the kit aside, and purposefully placing a palm onto Sawamura's back, in search of his shoulder blades. His free hand raised the alcohol, positioning it to hover over his hand. Slowly, he tilted the bottle until he felt the liquid trickle onto his knuckles. Kazuya's fingers painstakingly traveled a path down Sawamura's spine, followed closely by the alcohol. When he reached the hem of Sawamura's shorts, he repeated the process, retracing his tracks back to his shoulder blades. Kazuya's knees grew damp from the runoff, a mixture of blood and rubbing alcohol; the edges of Kazuya's shorts were most likely absorbing the concoction.

It went to show how out of it Sawamura was, to have absolutely no reaction to the alcohol on fresh wounds. Kazuya knew first hand how much it stung on minor cuts; he couldn't even begin to conceive how it would feel on more substantial injuries. Kazuya set the now empty bottle into the kit. He requested someone locate their last bottle of water, knowing it would take several minutes, which in turn, would allow the alcohol to rest before it was to be flushed. Kazuya gladly permitted Kominato and Kuramochi to migrate the bottle over. Using the time to ready the bandages, but first, he had to wipe the bloody mess off his hands with the only fabric he had, which just happened to be his shirt. When the bottle reached Kazuya, he repeated his actions with the alcohol, pouring the liquid up and down his spine until it was empty. Kuramochi donated his shirt to the cause of dabbing Sawamura's back till it was as dry as it would get, and between the three of them, they managed to get the bandages tightly wound around Sawamura.

Usually, when the light was off, they would use it as a chance to get some shut-eye; however, if it corresponded with the times Sawamura wasn't there, then they would wait until he returned. Now that he was back, though worse for wear, they needed to use the window of opportunity to sleep while they can. The adrenaline from the scare and unknown of Sawamura's condition was quickly fading away, and not knowing when the light would be back on, they had to be prompt. Kazuya brought Sawamura to the nearest corner - though furthest from the door. Sawamura's skin was chilled and clammy, making Kazuya uncomfortable with the notion of leaving him to lay on the cold flooring. Kazuya laid down first, and gently maneuvered Sawamura until he fully draped across Kazuya's front. He allowed himself to relax the best he could, wrapping an arm carefully around Swamura's waist, while the other cradled the back of his head. Kazuya let out a sigh and allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Barely seconds later, the lights flickered on, accompanied by the buzzing hum of the voltage powering the bulb. They all groaned in unison.