Chapter 38

Pain coursed through Kenshi's body as consciousness slowly returned. His first sensation was the dull ache in his chest, spreading outward like ripples in water. Every muscle protested as he shifted slightly, his head pounding like a drum. The air smelled clean—too clean. He wasn't in the woods anymore.

The sound of soft beeping reached his ears, accompanied by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Kenshi groaned, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain in his ribs forced him back down. His blindfolded eyes fluttered open, not that it made a difference.

"Take it easy, Kenshi," came a familiar voice, steady and calm.

"Jax?" Kenshi croaked, his throat dry and scratchy.

"Yeah, it's me," Jax confirmed, his heavy boots shifting slightly as he leaned closer to Kenshi's bedside. "You gave us all a scare back there."

"What... what happened?" Kenshi managed, his voice hoarse.

Jax chuckled softly. "What didn't happen?" he said, though his tone carried a weight of relief. "You and Johnny caused one hell of a stir. The explosion, the fight, the helicopter—you name it. Made my job a lot harder."

Kenshi ignored the attempt at humor, his mind focusing on one thing. "Johnny," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Is he... is he alive?"

Jax hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough to make Kenshi's heart race. Then Jax nodded, though Kenshi couldn't see it. "Yeah, he's alive," Jax said firmly. "The paramedics managed to bring him back. It was close, Kenshi. Real close."

Kenshi's body sagged against the hospital bed, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back. "Thank the heavens," he whispered. "I thought I lost him for good."

"You almost did," Jax said, his voice softening. "He's tough, though. Like you."

Kenshi swallowed hard, the memories of Johnny's lifeless form flashing through his mind. The moment the paramedics shocked his heart. The feeling of helplessness as he knelt in the dirt, unable to save the man he loved. "When I saw him... so still... I didn't know what to do," Kenshi admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

Jax placed a reassuring hand on Kenshi's shoulder. "Johnny's a fighter," he said with a small smile. "And a stubborn son of a bitch. You know that better than anyone."

Kenshi managed a weak chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince as pain flared through his chest. "Where is he?" Kenshi asked after a moment, his tone serious.

"He's in the ICU," Jax replied. "They're keeping a close eye on him. He's stable for now, but it's gonna be a long road to recovery."

Kenshi nodded slowly, his mind spinning with emotions—relief, worry, and an overwhelming desire to see Johnny. "I need to see him," Kenshi said, trying to push himself up, but his body protested immediately, and he fell back against the pillows with a groan.

"Whoa, take it easy," Jax said, gently pushing Kenshi back down. "You're in no shape to be moving around right now. You need to rest up, or you'll just end up in worse shape."

Kenshi nodded weakly, though the movement sent a sharp pain through his neck. "I'm glad you were there, Jax," he said after a moment.

"Wouldn't have missed it," Jax replied. "But now you need to rest up. You've been through hell, man. Johnny's in another room, stable for now. You'll see him soon enough."

Kenshi exhaled shakily, the weight of the ordeal finally settling on him. His fingers twitched, reaching for something familiar, and Jax seemed to notice.

"Don't worry," Jax said, standing up and moving to a nearby chair. He picked up Sento, the sword gleaming faintly in the artificial light. "I brought this for you. Figured you'd want it close."

Jax placed the sword on the chair beside Kenshi's bed, the comforting presence of the weapon grounding him. Kenshi reached out weakly, his fingers brushing the hilt. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Get some rest," Jax repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Johnny needs you to be strong for him now."

Kenshi nodded, letting his body sink into the mattress. His mind, though foggy and wracked with pain, was at peace for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Johnny was alive. And for now, that was enough.

Kenshi Takahashi lay in the hospital bed, his body battered and bruised but alive. The room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside him. Pain radiated through his chest and limbs, yet his mind was restless. He closed his blindfolded eyes, seeking solace in the voices of his ancestors that had guided him through so much already.

"Do not let despair take hold," one of the voices said, calm but firm.

"You have endured worse," another added.

Kenshi sighed heavily. "I'm trying, but it's hard," he admitted. "Johnny... I need to know he's okay. I can't rest until I see him."

His ancestors were silent for a moment, as though deliberating. Then the first voice spoke again. "Be prepared, Kenshi. When you see him, he will not look like the man you know. The battle has scarred him deeply, but his spirit endures."

Before Kenshi could respond, the door creaked open, and footsteps approached. A man cleared his throat softly. "Mr. Takahashi?"

Kenshi turned his head slightly, wincing as the movement tugged at sore muscles. "Yes," he said, his voice rough from disuse.

The man stepped closer. "I'm Dr. Erikson," he said, his tone professional but warm. "I've been overseeing your care since you were brought in."

Kenshi inclined his head faintly. "What... what are my injuries?"

Dr. Erikson pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. "You've suffered multiple contusions and lacerations, as well as a fractured rib. Thankfully, none of the fractures punctured your lungs, but you've also experienced severe exhaustion and dehydration. You were unconscious for a few days, likely due to a combination of the trauma and the physical toll your body endured."

Kenshi absorbed the information in silence, his mind already moving to what mattered most. "I need to see Johnny," he said, his voice more urgent now.

Dr. Erikson hesitated, his gaze flickering to Kenshi's determined expression. "Mr. Takahashi, you just woke up. You need to rest and focus on your recovery. We can talk about visiting later—"

"Please," Kenshi interrupted, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need to know my husband is going to make it. I need to see him."

Dr. Erikson sighed, the reluctance in his eyes softening into understanding. "Alright," he said after a moment. "I'll make an exception, but I need you to promise me that you'll take it easy. Johnny is stable for now, but he's in a fragile state."

Kenshi nodded quickly. "Thank you," he said, the weight in his chest lifting just slightly.

The doctor stood and moved toward the door. "I'll get a wheelchair and come back to take you to him. Stay put until then," he said firmly before stepping out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, Kenshi exhaled shakily.

"You must steel yourself, Kenshi," one of his ancestors said. "Johnny is alive, but the battle has left him scarred. It may be difficult to see him like this."

"I don't care," Kenshi said softly but with conviction. "He's alive. That's all that matters."

"Then go to him," another voice said. "But remember, your strength is his strength. Show him that you believe he can endure, no matter how he looks now."

Kenshi nodded to himself, gripping the edges of the hospital blanket as he steeled his resolve. Whatever awaited him when he saw Johnny, he would face it with the same unwavering determination that had carried him through every trial before this.

Kenshi sat in the hospital bed, waiting. The moments felt like hours, each second dragging on endlessly. His ancestors' voices had quieted, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Anxiety gnawed at him as he stared at the door, willing it to open. His fingers curled into the blanket draped over his lap, his mind filled with memories of Johnny—his stubborn determination, his humor, and the way he never backed down from a fight.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled Kenshi from his thoughts. The door opened, and Dr. Erikson entered, pushing a wheelchair.

"Alright, Mr. Takahashi," the doctor said gently, parking the wheelchair beside the bed. "Let's get you to see him."

Kenshi nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. Dr. Erikson moved to his side, carefully helping him shift from the bed to the wheelchair. Every movement sent waves of pain through Kenshi's body, but he gritted his teeth and endured it.

Once Kenshi was settled, Dr. Erikson began wheeling him out of the room. The corridor outside was quiet, the sterile smell of the hospital filling the air. Kenshi's hands gripped the wheelchair's arms tightly as they moved toward the elevator.

"He's in the ICU," Dr. Erikson explained as they rode up to the upper level. "His condition is critical, but stable for now."

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and they stepped out into a quieter, more solemn part of the hospital. Kenshi's breath quickened as they approached a room with a plaque on the door that read, "Johnathan Carlton."

Dr. Erikson paused outside the door, turning to Kenshi. "Before we go in, I need you to understand the extent of his injuries," the doctor began, his tone serious.

Kenshi nodded, bracing himself.

"He has internal bleeding, which we managed to stabilize for now, but it's a constant concern," Dr. Erikson said. "His ribs are shattered, and one punctured a lung, causing it to collapse. We've treated the pneumothorax, but his breathing remains compromised."

Kenshi's stomach twisted as the doctor continued.

"His hand is broken, and he has a severe concussion. The deep wound in his abdomen caused massive blood loss. We were able to close it, but it's left him extremely weak."

Dr. Erikson hesitated, his eyes searching Kenshi's face. "There's also a bullet lodged in his skull."

Kenshi's heart stopped for a moment. "A... bullet?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "It's not a new injury, though. It's already partially healed, meaning it occurred some time ago. But we don't know if it shifted during the recent trauma. If it has, it could cause further complications—possibly brain damage."

The world seemed to tilt as Kenshi processed the information. His mind flashed back to the mansion, to Haroshi pulling the trigger, and to Johnny collapsing in the grass, lifeless.

"He... he was shot in the head," Kenshi whispered, his voice barely audible.

Dr. Erikson frowned but said nothing, waiting for Kenshi to regain his composure.

After a moment, Kenshi swallowed hard and asked, "Will he wake up?"

"We're doing everything we can," the doctor said honestly. "But his body has been through unimaginable stress. It's too soon to say."

With a deep breath, Dr. Erikson reached for the door handle. "Are you ready?"

Kenshi nodded, though his hands trembled slightly.

The door opened, revealing the dimly lit room inside. The steady beeping of monitors filled the air, along with the faint hum of medical equipment. Kenshi's breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on Johnny.

Johnny lay in the hospital bed, his skin pale and almost translucent. Dark bruises mottled his face and arms, and bandages covered his abdomen and chest. His right hand was immobilized in a splint, and his head was wrapped in gauze. Tubes and wires connected him to various machines, each keeping him alive.

Kenshi's chest tightened as he took it all in. He could barely recognize the man he loved, the man who had stood beside him through so much.

Dr. Erikson stepped back, giving Kenshi a moment alone. Kenshi reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against Johnny's unresponsive hand.

"Johnny," Kenshi whispered, his voice breaking.

There was no response, only the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Kenshi leaned forward, tears slipping down his face as he pressed his forehead to Johnny's hand.

"You are the strongest person I've ever known." Kenshi's lips tremble, " We have been in so many battles together, Johnny. Fought side by side to not only protect Earthrealm, but we fought for us." Kenshi wipes away the tears that continue to fall.

Kenshi took a deep breath before continuing, " This is probably your biggest battle yet. You have to fight, love. You have to come back to me, to us," Kenshi whispered. "I can't do this without you."

Behind him, Dr. Erikson quietly stepped out of the room, leaving Kenshi to his thoughts and prayers for the man he loved.