musubi | fourteenth breath ✧ voice

[Naoki's not sure how many days it's been. Just that they've been spent in the mountains, in an indistinct haze of pain and a fight to control his own self, his demon side.

It's the break of dawn of the 24th by the time he's walked close enough to see the apartment building. His shoulder throbs, his ribs are still broken--ha...I hate this power cap...--and for all intents and purposes, he shouldn't even be able to walk (especially the distance he did). But he's not human and, with a tiny edge of hysterical laughter, he's really goddamn glad for it.

He stumbles, one of his legs giving under him and he falls heavily. He groans, markings blinking red, on and off, steady as a heartbeat. Dirt smudges his cheek as he attempts to get up again but can't. So, instead, he raises the arm connected to his uninjured shoulder slightly. Wind whips past him, up toward the window of their apartment to rattle the pane noisily.

Thanks for...getting him for me, Kipinn...]

Holy hell, what--? [Isamu jerks awake, realizing he'd passed out at the table after denying himself sleep for the past couple days. He stands, confused, and heads to the window but sees nothing immediately outside it. But it isn't windy and there's no trees reaching this high. Maybe it had been a bird?

He's about to turn and head back inside when a red glow on the ground below catches his attention. That's all he needs.

Hissing a curse between his teeth, Isamu runs for the door. Never mind that he's barefoot and only half dressed. Down five flights of stairs he goes, nearly falling down the last few in his haste. He slows as he finally reaches Naoki, taking in the damage.]

Shit... Naoki, you son of a bitch! Where the hell did you... shit. [He bends down next to him.] What do I heal first man? Stay with me...

Isamu... [Naoki almost laughs--but it hurts too much to try. Seeing him is such a relief because Isamu's here now. He'll be fine, right? Right.

He moves, musters enough strength to roll over on his back even if it makes him swallow back a choked gasp of pain and push down a wave of nausea. He looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes and, as he's lying now, Isamu'll no doubt be able to see the bruises.

Most of them are shaped like footprints, the majority over his chest and abdomen. But they're on his shoulders too--one of which swollen--knees, forearms.]

Ribs...broken, I think. Don't know how many. [...] How long'sit been?

Shit... [Of course it has to be the ribs, something he can't see. And all these bruises... what had Naoki gone and done?

He places his hands on his friend's chest, carefully probing. It'll hurt, but there's nothing he can do about that. When he thinks he has a good idea of what to do, he sends the healing energy out from his palms, where it carefully knits its way down into the teen's ribcage.

Naoki's chakra is different than Kakyou's, different than Donatello's. But it's a familiar feeling, and for a moment the red glow along his friend's skin reminds him all too eerily of the flowing magatsuhi of the vortex world. He closes his eyes in order to focus better.]

It's been two... maybe three days. [He wants to say more, but it's hard to focus on much else besides healing.]

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