A gunfight was not something Yama liked. How he had gotten into this mess, Yama had no idea. And more ridiculously, he had actually decided to stay instead of slipping away from it.
Such a genius.
His nameless enemy's shot barely missed his waist. The Captain of Arcadia fired one in return, and the person dodged and kicked Yama in his guts. The latter lost his balance and fell backwards, landing on the hard metal floor with his arse and losing his grip on Cosmo Dragoon still in his hand. He heard a bullet being fired, and he knew he was doomed.
He did not.
Time seemed to stop as the bullet stayed in place 10 metres in front of his chest. Both men froze and stared at the floating metal.
Then there was a gunshot. Yama's enemy fell down onto the floor with a loud thump, blood flowing out and staining the ground underneath him. Yama turned and nearly fainted.
Harlock was standing there holding the Cosmo Dragoon in his hand. Their gaze locked, and the former Captain of Arcadia walked towards his lover and scooped him up in his arms, carrying him all the way back to the Captain's quarters. There, he carefully placed him on their bed, took out the first aid kit and stitched up and bandaged the wounds, neither of them speaking.
Even though Yama wanted to scream and cry and bury his face in Harlock's chest in his arms.
The stitching finished smoothly. The older male (Yama refused to call him a ghost) pulled the blanket over the current Captain's shoulders, made sure that his eye was closed and he was on his way to sleep, and then disappeared.
When Yama woke up, the wound was already healed. No bandages, no stitches, just a faint, white scar among the numerous tracks on his body.
This time, he cried.