"Is it broken?" Sawamura asked, worry evident by the furrow of his brows. His hands hovered around his face as if he wanted to feel, but couldn't actually bring himself to touch. Sawamura's fidgeting, while not unusual, wasn't allowing Kazuya to get a good enough glimpse. With practiced ease, Kazuya swatted Sawamura's hands down, before cupping his jaw with both hands to hold his head still. Kazuya leaned in closer, and when the proximity caused Sawamura to let out a squeak, he couldn't help but smile in response. He may have done that on purpose, in anticipation of Sawamura's reaction. However, while Kazuya got enjoyment out of riling Sawamura up, it was actually pretty difficult to get a clear view, what with the dim lighting, drying blood, the already forming bruise, and the horizontal cut along the bridge of his nose where the skin split. All in all, it looked gnarly. Kazuya didn't even want to poke around in case it was broken.

He smoothed his thumbs across Sawamura's cheeks, stopping just before they reached his nose. Kazuya applied a small amount of pressure to the area, resulting in Sawamura flinching, but he didn't try to pull away, which Kazuya was going to take as a good sign. He stared at Sawamura's nose, eyes tracing the outline for any out-of-place bumps or misalignment. Minus the blood and bruising, it appeared to be normal, however, that didn't mean it wasn't broken or there was no internal damage. He'll have to watch for swelling and see if the bruising spreads.

Kazuya's gaze drifted up, immediately locking eyes with Sawamura. The skin around them was still red and irritated from his earlier breakdown, while his hair was still damp, making the fringe clump together along his forehead. Sawamura needn't have told Kazuya what happened, he was quick to put the pieces together from the destination and the sound of running water. Listening to Sawamura's choking and desperate gasps for air was torture of its own. Kazuya could do nothing but sit surrounded by the sickening wet inhalations before they were abruptly cut short with a splash of water. As the seconds between each breath grew longer, the more anxious Kazuya began to feel, with a painful nausea that rolled in his stomach. Each time, Kazuya assumed it would be the last. He feared that all sound would stop, including the coughing that signaled Sawamura was still breathing. When their psychotic kidnapper left and the bathroom eventually fell silent, Kazuya thought Sawamura had passed out, he expected it even, but when Sawamura loudly burst through the door, soaked to the bone and blood dripping from his chin, relief hit Kazuya like a train.

With little thought, Kazuya leaned even closer, to brush a feather-light kiss to the corner of Sawamura's parted mouth. He was simply just glad that they will survive another day. When he pulled back, to his delight, a rosy blush spread across Sawamura's face, bringing a familiar color to his features. Something that wasn't caused by violence and pain.

"Miyuki!" Sawamura exclaimed; tone scratchy and pitched in his fluster. "You didn't answer!" Kazuya couldn't help but chuckle. Despite everything they've done so far; ranging from sloppy make-outs to rushed hand jobs, Sawamura never fails in being embarrassed from the smallest things. Though, Kazuya absolutely derives pleasure in teasing Sawamura. Mainly because he has great reactions, and it usually ends with a fed-up Sawamura jumping at him.

"It doesn't look broken," Kazuya began, "but there could have still been damage to the interior." While Kazuya has had plenty of nosebleeds in his life - courtesy to his years in grade school - he hadn't had to deal with a broken nose, personally. He has known people that have, and has heard bits of their experiences. "Can you breathe through your nose?" He asked, and he felt like that should have been one of the first questions. Sawamura paused in the middle of rubbing the blood off his lips, taking a tentative breath in. Kazuya could see the slow rise of his chest indicating Sawamura's success.

"I can-" Sawamura started, before a fresh torrent of blood dripped out of his nostrils. His hand shot up to cover his nose, apparently forgetting its sensitivity as he let out a hiss of pain when he made contact. He shifted his hand until his fingers were pressed directly under his nose. Which did nothing to slow the flow.

"You must have dislodged a clot," Kazuya explained when Sawamura turned a wide-eyed gaze to him. "For the time being, avoid breathing through your nose until it heals some. You'll just have to be a mouth-breather for a while." He teased as he pushed himself up to a stand. The room was pretty sparse, with a couple of cabinets and counters. Hopefully, there would be something that Sawamura could use other than his hand. However, as soon as Kazuya was upright, he was hit with a painful wave of nausea that had him lean against the wall for support.

"You okay?" Sawamura asked, evident worry laced in his tone. Kazuya clenched his teeth as the assault continued. "Miyuki?" Kazuya took a slow breath in, holding it before forcing himself off the wall with the exhale.

"I'm fine." He gritted out, hoping his voice sounded neutral. "Foot was asleep." A lie. Kazuya didn't want to add any more concern to Sawamura's list, especially something as small as nausea in comparison to everything else happening. "I'm going to see if I can find some sort of fabric." Talking didn't help, and standing certainly wasn't either. Regardless, he lumbered his way over to the cabinets, feeling like a zombie. His eyes tunnel-visioned on the counters, making his task the only thing he could focus on other than his stomach twisting itself into knots. The walk was short, however, by the time he reached his destination, he could feel sweat beginning to form at his hairline and along his spine.

With half a mind, he rummaged through the cabinets, while the other half thought what could have set it off. And the list was fairly extensive considering their living conditions. He recalls the nausea he had earlier when he was worrying about Sawamura, but he chalked that up to the stress and anxiety he was fighting at the time. It had stopped shortly after, and he honestly thought that was going to be the end of it. It could have been the "food", however, they have all been eating it for quite some time now, and no one else had shown or mentioned this level of nausea.

He pulled open a bottom cabinet that contained nothing but dust and cobwebs. He let the door swing shut on its own, moving on to the next one.

Kazuya froze as he peered into a top cabinet. The injections. He has had two so far. The first happened when he was still unconscious and unaware after the electricity. He only found out about it when Kominato noticed the entry point on his neck. The second was just before he was moved into the new room with Sawamura. Kazuya hadn't really felt different after them, but maybe now he was beginning to. Then again, Sawamura has had a total of three and hadn't mentioned anything. Unless their bodies were reacting differently, or whatever they were injected with was varied.

He closed the cabinet when he realized he had been staring into it for an unnatural amount of time. A shuffle to his right brought him to another that opened with a squeak.

It had to be caused by the injections, a side effect of whatever it contained. Unless it was like a slow-acting poison that was going to kill them painfully and sluggishly. Destroy them from the inside out in the most excruciating fashion. But maybe he's just overthinking this. Maybe it's just a stomach bug and it'll pass on its own. God knows the place is utterly filthy and unhygienic, that it shouldn't be a surprise if they contract anything. Honestly, he should be surprised that none of them have after so long.

It's hard to tell whether their increased exposure to their contaminated surroundings was strengthening or weakening their immune system.

Kazuya had just yanked open the last cabinet when he belatedly remembered the strips of cloth that were used to bind and gag him. He blames the nausea for his inability to think properly. In a fit of spite, Sawamura had balled them up, chucking them into the far corner. Of course, they being light-weighted, did not make it that far. Kazuya slowly turned, knowing fast movement would probably be the tipping point for his stomach, and sure enough, the wad had landed in the middle of the room, just over the only piece of furniture they had. Which was a metal table, like the ones in morgues used for autopsies. Safe to say, they avoid it. It did not bode well for their future if they were moved into this specific area.

After he retrieved the balled-up fabric, he made his way back to where Sawamura remained, hand still positioned just under his nose, blood trickling over and between his fingers, though thankfully, it appeared to be slowing. He lowered himself back onto the floor with a grunt, Sawamura's eyes fixated on him the entire time. Kazuya pulled Sawamura's hand away, replacing it with the cloth, and without prompting, Sawamura held the bundle to his face, still staring.

"You're pale." Sawamura blurted. Kazuya snorted a short, snarky laugh, but otherwise didn't respond. Couldn't. His stomach had gotten to a point where he knew if he tried to talk or even just open his mouth, he'd throw up. As it was, he could already taste bile on the back of his tongue. "Are you okay?" He asked again. Kazuya considered lying again but knew there was no covering this up. Not that he would be able to talk his way out of it now, anyway. So instead, he took in a shaky breath and shook his head once. The small motion was enough to upset his stomach more, making him clench his teeth as excess saliva began to build in his mouth. A sign that vomiting was going to be a thing very, very soon. "Miyuki, what's wrong? I hope you know I was joking when I said I like you better when you can't talk." Kazuya wanted to reply, could hear the stress and hurt in Sawamura's tone, but he couldn't.

Kazuya bolted up, immediately stumbling his way to the bathroom door, ignoring the calls of concern from behind him. He pushed the door open, feet slipping momentarily on the damp tile before reaching the toilet. He just barely got his head over the bowl before he retched violently into the water, not even caring that he didn't lift the toilet seat. Not that it really mattered since it was disgusting already. With barely a chance to breathe, round two was working its way up his throat, stomach acid stinging the unprotected flesh in his mouth.

Distantly, he heard movement in the bathroom with him, feet slapping on tile, with a voice he recognized to be Sawamura, but couldn't focus his brain enough to decipher the words. He flinched as a hand came to a rest on his back, and before he could try to say anything, his stomach forced more of its contents up. At some point, he had lowered himself onto his knees, hands clinging to the bowl in a white-knuckled grip as wave after wave of vomit spewed past his lips.

Eventually, he was left painfully dry heaving as his stomach made a valiant attempt to expel all the nothing that remained. By then, he was coated in sweat that made him shiver and shake, despite his entire being felt like it was burning. Kazuya cracked his eyes open when he felt like it had finally come to an end. Only to notice the vomit in the bowl made his blood run cold. Kazuya wasn't concerned about looking at the throw-up, it never really affected him to see his or even anyone else vomit, however, what currently coated the inside of the toilet was pitch black. He knows for a fact that he hasn't eaten or drank anything of that shade to cause it to be that color. He didn't know what it meant to have vomit come out like that. Couldn't even look it up to quell the concern or give him a reason to seek medical help.

He knew it couldn't be good.