Note: As I've been absent after a hiatus, I wasn't quite sure if this would be PMable, but, it takes place during HM raid, so, I guess yeah...
CHAPTER 26 wake me when the blackness is gone1486
Hueco Mundo was dark was I predicted. The stench of mould and rotten flesh crawled into our most intimate gut. Hostile thoughts and aggressive roars came from afar.
They knew.
We travelled through endless deserts of white. The sand fustigated our faces like an abrasive kiss. I can´t accurately tell for how long we lurked within that penumbra. We didn't want to be seen but the very sand beneath our feet seemed to observe every single step we made.
It would be only a matter of time before calamity descended upon us.
Creatures from that purgatory travelled along with us. Their intentions were still obscure and a seed of doubt was planted within that fragile fellowship. Follow, we did. We weren't there to question.
It was painfully reminded.
Our creeping wander was not entirely flawless… Our blades swung many times. Hollows, probably sent by the obsessive eye that watched us from the blackness, rampaged over our flesh with voracious hunger. Blood was spilled. There was pain on both sides. None retreated. Severed in many parts and pieces, the masked beasts dissolved like ashes, until they ceased to exist.
We conquered the dunes of white like desert snakes.
There weren't significant deaths amongst our flanks. Inexperienced ones dying first, as it always happened. In the vertigo of the battle, impossible it was to distinguish hollow ally from hollow foe. Our blades were blind. So were their maws.
Still, not even a trail of blood was left to be seen in the incognito path we crawled.
It already felt like we were buried in that desert's eternal night for aeons when we finally saw the pristine walls of the enemy's bastion. We sensed feral spiritual pressures clashing like titanic predators in a cage. Allies and foes were dilacerating each other.
Silence surrounded our presences. Not even the ever watching sand seemed to bother about our existence. We understood the unspoken invitation. Hilts firmly grasped, we drifted in.
The last thing I remember clearly was looking upon my body and seeing a precious part of myself being spilled over the pale sand.
. .
.
The ceiling was undulating. There were also holes in it. Beyond them, only blackness.The sound of flapping fabric crepitated in Tristo's ears. A gust wind insisted to shake his roof. But it was a tent...
Possibly… Maybe...
His vision was still immersed in a milky veil. The left eye refused to open. A pulsing pain itched inside the closed orb but his arm was too weak to reach it.
It wasn't only the eye that hurt.
What is this place…?
A silent black torrent dragged him back into the void.
. . .
There was a body floating.
I took a while to recognize it.
How weird…
It was mine.
"Don't dare to die, Vega-san…! Please…"
Something said from close above my blurred eyes.
A crimson paste blinded my vision, my left eye wouldn't open. My audition was the only sense I could still trust. I kept floating. There was no pain. Only nothingness. Maybe that was what one feels when dying. I didn't want to die. But I wasn't in position to choose.... I didn't even know what was happening.
"…they are still miles north…"
"Wait! We should leave him in here! We're risking our neck over a dead weight…"
"With wounds that deep he is mostly dead!"
Dead?
I was still there.
"Let's just put an end on his misery, right here!"
"N-no…! S-stay away from him…!"
Cowards.
"Maybe we should put an end on you too, then…"
"Yeah… A maggot and a half-chunked-dead-beat piece of crap. No one would raise a brow over your deaths…"
I heard the sound of metal scratching over metal lazily while my body still floated in that bizarre void. My right ear heard the sound of something palpitating fast. Was it a heart?
"B-back off …"
"Don't worry! We'll kill him first."
"N-No!! Don't touch him!!"
The sound of fast wind whistled in my left ear. I wanted to speak, but my throat was jammed. Coarse mucus clustered in my mouth. It tasted like sour metal.
"Come back here, you little shit!"
"Ow, just kill him already!!"
"NO…………………………….……..!!
Ride, Auriga!"
The stingy sound of whistling wind pierced my tympanum. An unexpected vertigo crawled within my forehead. I felt that. Were we flying or running? I couldn't figure. Was I reduced to a mind without a body? What was happening…?
I was still alive but…
Was I still myself?
. . .
The same holey roof was still in there. It flapped harshly. There was a storm outside. As the gust gale howled, Tristo's chest seemed to become heavier, into the verge of pain. A greenish phosphorescence scintillated in that fragile haven. There were tired presences nearby. That buzz inside his head did not stop. What about that constant beeping?
"He's stable for now, it seems," an unrecognizable voice echoed from afar. "We need to see what will happen in the next hours."
"What about the internal bleeding?" another one asked; unknown as well.
"It is contained. Our major concern is about the organ loss… His organic response level still needs serious observation. "
"And how is she?"
"She'll be fine. She exhausted herself to mend his wounds. Her zanpakutou's ability is not yet mastered."
"But she did great. He's still with us."
"Indeed."
Where am I?
Tristo tried to speak but his words were still buried below the tube sunk on his throat. By the corner of his right eye, he saw blurred silhouettes that he recognized as Shinigami. He couldn't see much, for his vision was still vague and hazy. Moaning voices and the acre stench of ether announced his whereabouts.
The fourth division's infirmary…
The howling wind brought fearsome menaces from afar. The starving howls of Hollows and the clash of blades could still be heard from distance. Heavy atmosphere, sulked in violence.
We're still here…
A sudden asphyxia took over his throat as he tried to breathe deeper. Agitated, Tristo tried to pull it off with the faint strength that still resided within his body.
"Patient commotion on bed eleven!" one yelled, nearby.
"Calm down, calm down," a nameless woman comforted him as an acute pain stung his wrist. Gently, with distinguishable skill, she pulled off the invasive tube. "Breathe lightly. You still need to rest."
Whatever it was that was injected into his veins made quick effect. Letting go of his will to stay awaken, Tristo descended once more into the cataleptic gloom.Mute.Nothing.
. . .
I remember waking up with my skin over a cold surface. Everything on me was hurting. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Existing was an experience of pain.
How long would that last? I did not know.
Even my mind seemed to be playing tricks on my senses. Was my eye, the only opened eye, seeing that iridescent golden luminance crawling over me? It was laid over me like golden luminous puffs.
Birds.
Those luminous orbs were birds. Frenetic birds made of light chirped within my wounded flesh. What in the world was that? I saw them on my mind. Their twitter echoed through every cell of my body. It became warm and, somehow, the pain dissolved.
A spell?
I wondered.
"The intestine integrity is safe now! Fukuda-sensei! I need your help with the lung!"
"Don't talk to me as I didn't know, Hanabi! Chiyudo no sanjuu, Clear Sight…"
"He is bleeding too much! I can't…"
"'Can't' is a forbidden word when you're saving someone's life on a surgery table! Gather your birds over the haemorrhage site and have them regenerating the damaged tissues back to stable integrity just like you did with the bowels. Hurry!!"
"Hai! Tsubame, please gather full activity over the severed lung and missing kidney site!"
Chirp… Chirp… Chirp…
"Vega!" . . .
"Wake up, Tristo Vega!"
A loud coarse voice pulled Tristo back from slumber. In the verge of the abrupt awakening, his heart was striding like a horse; his head felt like it was shattered. It took a while for the vision to focus. His memory gradually awoke from the cold lethargy, bringing up the vague pieces of what Vega actually remembered.
The ragged tent was still flapping under the everlasting sandstorm. The wind whistled a sinister tune. A gloomy penumbra immersed the recovering chamber, confined inside pale canvas walls. Tristo contemplated the pale luminance; it had been a while.
Somehow, I survived.
"Hoy!" the uninvited buzzer called out rudely. "Wakey, wakey, you lazy bastard! Nap time's over!"
With painful effort, with his head still heavy, Tristo led his attention to the presence next to his convalescing bed. The first thing he saw was a tattered kimono with a flamboyant flower pattern. Lazily, the wounded man lifted his eyes towards the visitor's face, meeting a familiar, still uninvited, scornful face.
CHAPTER 27live with the leftovers of yourself 1613
The dark sky loomed outside. By its turn, the eternal sandstorm wasn't willing to give truce to the black robed drifters that stood their ground amidst the white sand.
Why did he have to wake me?
We're still inside the blackness…
Vega's gastric content was agitated in a constant reflux, leaving an acid burn along the oesophagus. His skin was cold and sticky, smelling of sterilizing fluid and sweat. For how long he was laying in there still baffled him and a crepitating pain growled over his numb torso. With a lazy hand, he reached under the blanket, running his palm over the strongly tightened bandages that covered most part of his upper body. Whatever happened, it was very ugly.
"Yare, yare… Vega-kun~" Miyagi twittered with sinister playfulness, getting closer to the bed. "I hope you learn to live with only one kidney, one lung and half of your bowels…"
"What… are you talking about…?" Tristo replied; too tired to shoot back the scornful words. That Miyagi… "Please… Leave me al…"
"Man, you're fuckin' lucky to be alive, lemme tell ya," the grey haired fop kept with his nerve wrecking babble, getting nearer without invitation. "You got here with almost half of your body missing and still you didn't die! Look! You're still as pale as a ghost from that nasty blood loss!"
Still laid, defenceless, Tristo travelled his eyes through the improvised infirmary, with the hope of finding some help. There wasn't anyone that would attend to his agony. If there was a person that should not be allowed into a deadbeat man's convalescing room that man was Miyagi. Unpleasant and owner of the darkest humour, that narcissistic dandy and his flowery kimono figured themselves to become bizarrely queer inside a stark place as Hueco Mundo.
"Where are we?" Tristo asked, accepting Miyagi's acre company with bitter resignation. "Are the fights over already?"
Miyagi giggled. The violent waves of reiatsu that crossed the air replied in advance.
"Hah, you wish," he replied. "You've been knocked out since the first big clash so you don't know. Hueco Mundo is on fire. The top dogs are fighting. I don't foresee an end for this fuckin' war anytime soon…"
The flowery dandy spitted on the floor bitterly. Beneath his kimono, Tristo was able to see many bandages on his arms and torso. Even though he was too proud to admit, Miyagi was also in the healing site due to his personal injuries. If even someone like him got that trashed, Tristo didn't resent that much for almost being killed. His pride was shattered but not that much, it seemed.
"Miyagi, what you meant by half lung and shit…" Tristo inquired, trying to sit, in vain. "Was it that bad?"
Miyagi simply whistled dramatically, scratching his head with mocking concern.
"Well, maybe you should ask the medics, ya know?" Miyagi evaded, "I'm not good with tragic news…"
A firm flap opened one of the curtains and two small silhouettes stepped inside the small infirmary's penumbra. Miyagi looked over his shoulder and sighed in displeasure. Seemingly, his playtime was over. Seeing a familiar face amidst the newly arrived Shinigami bathed Tristo's anima with relief, even though that young girl's serious expression wasn't exactly encouraging.
"Hanabi-san… I'm glad you're safe," Vega greeted calmly, addressing a vague smile. "I was worried when I heard you came to Hueco Mundo as well…"
Hanabi Momo's face did not illuminate as it normally used to. Pale, with dark circles around her eyes, the young healer addressed a protocol smile to her patient. Her clothes were ragged and bandages covered her mince collar and left arm. She too got hit by that war's splinters. Once sparkling and vivacious, her eyes were rather distant and lightless. What horrors had they seen?
"Hello, Vega-san," she vaguely greeted.
Without ceremony, she pulled the blanket that covered Tristo's chest, exposing the bandaged torso. Without saying further words of comfort or small talk, she observed the wounded site, touching it gently as she looked with accurate attention. Her eyes were definitely different. Where would the cheerful Momo get lost within those wicked dunes?
"Fukuda-sensei, please see this," she asked the minuscule man with geek glasses standing beside her. "The lung is stable. The perforation is healed. However, I'm afraid that the liver isn't receiving enough blood. And there is the intestine too. It is taking time to mend to a stable state."
"Your Clear Sight is improving, as I see," the tiny doctor replied with a rather annoying voice. "Many hepatic arteries are still damaged. Attend to them first. Don't bother about the intestine before the liver is fixed. Most part of it is functional, so there ain't need to rush. Keep up with solution number seventeen, diluted in one part to forty seven."
"Okay. Thank you for your help, Fukuda-sensei," Momo replied with professional composure, not anxious or flattered as she used to be.
"By the way… Great job, Hanabi," the veteran doctor praised, looking over his shoulder as he left the patient's side.
Seemingly, Hanabi's skill as a healer greatly improved during Hueco Mundo raid. It was probably forged with suffering and bloodshed. Tristo still remembered the hard time she had when he undertook the hospital care after the fights in the last tournament. Inexperienced, she was cheap meat to the voracious veterans' awful temper. Also, Hanabi-san still held a grudge over Tristo for escaping from her medical supervision, almost resulting in her being expelled from the hospital and, God forbid, the division.
She's grown.
"That sounded pretty bad, Momo-chan~" Miyagi said, sardonically. "Is someone able to live with half of the shit pipes?"
"Please stop, or leave, Miyagi-san," the young healer retorted firmly; almost scary. "You're not allowed to be in here in first place, so, the least you can do is not get in the way of duty."
"Yare, yare… She has grown some claws, I see…" the grey haired dandy said, in manner of excuse, raising both hand in surrender.
"Hanabi-san…" Vega started, trying to overcome his exhaustion, "how bad is it?"
The healer took a little while to reply. She was focused on the examination of his deep wounds.
"You got the right flank of your torso severed," she calmly replied as she kept on with the inspection. "You lost a kidney, two rib bones, most of a lung, part of your intestines and muscle tissue. You lost too much blood and still need intensive care."
"So… I lost barely half of my guts, huh?" Vega spilled, sarcastically. "Will I live?"
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
"Yes…" he sighed deeply. "What about going back to the frontline?"
"Every step on its proper time," Momo replied. She avoided his eyes. "For now, you have to lie still, until I say so. Drifting away will only result on your death and the waste of my time."
A cold shadow scratched the back of Vega's mind. With such a loss on his internal organs, what would be of him…?
"Will I be back to my old shape?" he timidly asked, fearing the answer. "Tell me."
She didn't. He was not in position of claiming, also. Vega was just a patient. A fragile one. With the help of a scalpel, Momo removed the bandages that coiled the fallen man's torso, exposing his skin to the cold air. Tristo was not able to see the wounds, what afflicted him even more.
"Ew!" Miyagi yawped rudely, looking over the butchered torso with disgust. "I'm so outta here…"
He finally left.
"Vega-san," she started serenely, while looking over Tristo's wounds with a sombre face, "whether you'll be back at your former level or not, only time will tell. We're doing our very best here. For now, you should be grateful that you're alive and learn to live with what you have."
Live with leftovers of myself, you mean…?
"Now stop talking," she ordered, frostily, kneeling beside Tristo. "I need you to remain calm during this procedure. I'm still learning how to regenerate your lost muscles with it."
Still learning?
That wasn't exactly relieving, especially when Tristo saw her unsheathing an ornamented tanto blade, her zanpakutou, and holding it few inches from his chest, just like she was about to stab it.
"H-Hanabi-san… Please, wait…" he stuttered in panic.
"Just shut up and watch," she grumped. "Twitter, Tsubame."
The small blade started to glow with a pure golden light. Allegro chirps burst from it before the radiant blade puffed into a flutter of luminous birds. Frenetic and curious, dozens of tiny birds soared in the air happily, landing on Momo's shoulder and Tristo's torso.
"Tsubame, today we will regenerate the muscles once again," she announced peacefully, looking at two luminescent passerines over her palm. "Shall we begin?"
They chirped in reply.Flying in a shimmering swirl, the little birds descended upon Tristo's body. He could feel their movements over his skin. It was warm and soothing. Soon, that tepid sensation engulfed his flesh and veins, awakening a subtle soreness in the wounded section.
"It might hurt a bit, but it's worth the pain," she said. "I ended reaching my shikai inside this dump… Can you believe that?"
"Congrats… I guess…" Tristo replied, trying to not make a twisted face over the agony.
"I always pictured it as a day of joy, but all I had in here was suffering and grief," Momo lamented, sadly. "War is a dreadful thing."
"Well, look at me," he laughed nervously, "Tristo Vega or the leftovers of him…"An uneasy silence descended between them.
"Whether you're a leftover or not, it's entirely up to you," she said.
Leaving his fate to the luminous passerines, Vega closed his eyes.
Vega opened his eyes and as his vision focused, he realised the room was empty and cold. Momo and her miraculous birds flew somewhere else. Probably to another person in need, it was. In a violent war like that, the weak and the wounded would need all the help they could. Tristo wondered about how many bodies would be ripped off like his? How many people would die?
How ridiculous I became, facing this world's might…
Explosions of reiatsu shook the nocturne heavens. Powerful entities where clashing in the proximity. It was impossible to rest with that spiritual storm raging on. Why would the restorative unit be so close to the eye of the storm? Very soon, they too would be engulfed by the torrent.
I never expected to feel so small.
Alone in the penumbra, Tristo stared at the fustigated tent's undulating fabric. He had been awaken for a while, sitting in the bed; silent. His wounds almost did not hurt anymore and the bandage layer around his torso was thinner this time. With lots of caution, Tristo pressed the place where Hanabi-san had been healing. It felt slightly numb but, seemingly, all the muscles were in there. Wasn't that a great job?
Who would tell that Hanabi-san would have such an amazing skill…? 'Tsubame', she said.
And wasn't he a man, Tristo also checked his private parts with great detail to make sure nothing was missing, wouldn't his tragedy be even greater than what he expected.
"Good…" he muttered while checking. "You guys are all here~"
Slowly, Vega gathered the scattered pieces of the confuse jigsaw his mind had become… He completely lost the sense of time. For how many days he had been knocked out; he did not know. Yet, inside the unconscious void, it felt like an aeon.
For what I reckon, I was drifting into Las Noches with my unit. I even remember reaching its pristine walls, but…
Where are we anyways…?
He tried to rise up, but a sudden spasm made him change his mind. Shivering, he fell back in the tough cushion."Ooouch… Dang it…"Tristo was still too debilitated to fancy a walk on his own and an internal aching suddenly manifested. He wouldn't call for assistance, for being in that infirmary for God knows how long, was already humiliating enough. However, like a deafening bell, the thought of going back to the frontline hammered his brains. The Twelfth couldn't be that far, he believed.
With a wound like this I can't have travelled too far… But someone was carrying me… I remember that. But who…?
Would it be Miyagi? Possibly.
It made a lot of sense to think that Miyagi was the one to bring him to the healing site. Along the approach towards Las Noches, Tristo heard rumours that the Third Division was about to strike the enemy's bastion as well. It might have been a blast of a fight. For the first time he would see his Captain in action. He would be able to prove some worth, but, lame luck, he ended up with his guts spilled on the dunes.
I missed all the fun…
"I looked like a freaking rookie…" he grieved; furious with himself. "Shit-"
-BANG!!-
Not that far away, a heavy explosion shook the ground, making the tent's dirt fall over him. Scared voices yelled outside, as another violent bang quaked the ground once again. The conflict was getting nearer to the healers' haven. Many reiatsu signatures were entangled like a dazzling yarn, making them too difficult to discern. Many Shinigami were near, but Tristo was too exhausted to identify them. His skull still felt like a broken piñata.
"They might be fighting the Espada…" Tristo murmured to himself; worried. "Will the Captains be able to keep up?"
"We better think so, for if they lose, we're all dead~"
Appearing out of the penumbra where he was lurking like an invisible chameleon, Miyagi approached Tristo's bed with a sardonic smirk. Tristo looked at him like he just received a kick in the teeth.
"Whoa! How long you've been there?!" the teal eyed shinigami growled, furiously. Miyagi had been watching embarrassing moments of him. "And, Hey! Reiatsu cloaking… How can you?!"
"Bah… There are still many things 'bout me you'll never know," the flowery fiend retorted as he sat on an improvised bench. "And don't worry for I won't mouth off your private moments… At least, not yet~"
The teal eyed officer frowned at Miyagi with a silent threat, but the latter only smirked maliciously. At times like those, Tristo truly regretted his luck for having that man as his field sensei, back in the Academy's bullshit. For some wicked reason, which Tristo will never come to understand, Miyagi has been crossing his path too many times, always bringing some unpleasant needle to sting in the worse occasions, ever. Still, despite their sour relationship of theirs, Tristo admired Miyagi as a warrior.
"Miyagi," Tristo called, a somewhat cooled from his anger, "how did I get here? Are we near Las Noches?"
Miyagi grinned, annoyingly.
"Well," he started, "as far as I heard, you were found unconscious along with some nobody, in the nearby the camp. You know, we're not close to Las Noches, so, it was quite a feat he was able to bring you here before you died with those fatal wounds. You're a lucky bitch, Vega."
So there was someone with me. I got my ass saved. Oh, shame…
"Who was this person?" Tristo insisted, barely containing his uneasiness about the big picture. He preferred lose an arm to owe his life to some 'nobody'. "Is he alive?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah…" Miyagi yawned, stretching his arms up. "But I bet he would rather be dead, for Hanabi-le-fiend made him her bitch and the poor guy has been helping out with her chores."
Oh, Lord… Please don't make this person be who I think he is… No, it's impossible. He wouldn't… and couldn't. Not in a thousand years.
"Help me to stand up," Vega asked, avoiding Miyagi's scornful eyes. "C'mon…"
"Yare, yare~! Asking for help~!" Miyagi shot with the predictable, and traditional, mock. "What kind of drug did they put on your veins, Vega-chan~"
"Cut the crap," Tristo retorted as the grey haired fop supported his torso with an arm. "And don't mouth up this as well..."
Finally standing on his foot, Tristo still felt as the world was a rollercoaster. His legs shook a little as he tried few steps. It felt like the monstrous weight of Hueco Mundo was placed on his tattered shoulders. Vega's sore body complained. Rushes of blood frizzed through his body, giving the sensation that electric eels were crawling beneath his skin. That was the feeling of coming back.
"Is it still hurting or what?" Miyagi asked, casually."Not that much anymore," Tristo lied.
It was still hurting like a bitch but he wouldn't indulge Miyagi's sadistic pleasure.
"Let's just go. I want to see what's happening outside.""Ah… They left this medicine for you," Miyagi said, pitching him a white porcelain vial. "Take it while we go."
-Brawlrrr!-
The sandy ground shook violently. Diligent Shinigami moved frenetically amidst the several tents from that improvised camp. The healers seemed to have a lot of work to do. As he dragged himself along the encampment with Miyagi's aid, Tristo saw, for several times, spills of dry blood on the sand and along the tents' ecru canvas. Agonizing moans came from inside while frantic voices shouted commands and recited incantations. Things got really ugly, it seemed.
"Where exactly are we, by the way?" Tristo asked, gulp the bitter drug in a single swallow. It smelled weird…
"We're many miles northeast from Las Noches," Miyagi replied, practically dragging Tristo by the arm. "The Twelfth and the Third, along with the Eleventh and the First are southwest, in Las Noches… Dang! They're having a fuckin' blast without me!""
Heh…? Why are you here, then?" he asked, with a little - victorious - grin.
"Tsh… That's none of your business," Miyagi evaded, looking somewhere else.
He was probably as nuked as Tristo was, days ago.Seeing his bully's chalky face getting subtly blushed made Tristo's ego clap hands hysterically. Priceless, it was. Some things in that war were really worthy. Miyagi's whacked arrogance was one of them.
"It's okay Miyagi," Tristo started, pushing his luck. "Even the veterans get owned in the battlefield sometimes. It's called aging…"
"Say that again and I'll rip your guts back out," Miyagi snarled, without losing his cool. "By the way, how's the medicine?"
"It tastes like piss."
"It is piss."
"You fuckin' bastard!!" Tristo howled his lungs out as he spit out the gross fluid he had been drinking, tossing it away. "I'll…"
"Silence…!Shush!" a pissed young voice reprimanded from inside a tent. "The racket from the battles is enough noise already!"
Momo wasn't looking any happy. Tired and pale, she seemed to carry the burden and sorrow from that war's tragedy. Her other arm was bandaged. Maybe a less cooperative patient assaulted the hard-working healer during her duty. It used to happen often.
"And why the hell are you two wandering around?" she continued to scold, as she walked towards them, slightly hobbling. "Vega-san! You should rest a bit more! And you, Miyagi-san! Did you give him the medicine I left there?"
Miyagi giggled at Tristo's furious face with a fucker smile. If his own body wasn't that painful, the teal eyed fury would have rampaged over the grey haired blitzkrieger. Bastard.
"You're impossible!" she grumped, rolling her eyes up. "Nouvel-kun! Come here!"
Nouvel-kun?
Attending to the call with sharp accuracy, a blond haired puff head sprouted from the tent's dim. With a ragged shihakushou and a body covered in bandages, there he was; Raphael Nouvel. When the battered rookie settled his eyes on Tristo, a broad smile loomed in his dirty face. Clumsy, Raphael skipped towards his self proclaimed friend.
"Hey, Vega-saaaan~!"
Oh, dear…
With a yellow smile, Tristo addressed him a flabby wave, praying to not be hugged.
"Please, don't hug me," the wounded officer pleaded, when he saw Raphael's arms coming on his direction. "A 'hi' is enough…"
"I'm so glad you're up on your feet already!" the blond lad cheered with bright excitement.
Tristo wondered if Raphael understood that they were in a war. The clumsy rookie only scratched his head and smiled foolishly. Maybe ignorance was bliss.
"Yeah, I can almost walk already. I wonder if I will be able to go back to the frontline any soon…" Tristo said casually, looking towards Momo. She narrowed her eyes with a silent threat. Damn, Miyagi was right. She was becoming a she-devil.
"Nouvel-san, go find them something to eat," she ordered, like a bad-ass general. "I still have an abdomen to close, so, if you slacking gentlemen excuse me..."
Addressing them a last frown, the petite healer disappeared inside the tent. Raphael sighed in relief. Looking at him, Tristo wondered if it was that clumsy yellow-head the one who carried him all the way from the south. It was somewhat impossible for someone with Nouvel's skill to have travelled that far, that fast, that flawless. It was so unlikely, but still…
"She's, heh heh, gone," the young lad confirmed, breathing easy while looking at Tristo. "Wow, Vega-san, you're pale! But I see you're almost back to you good shape!! Don't worry! Here they have awesome soups! Curry flavour! Seafood flavour! I personally took the curry one and ker-pow! I was back on my feet again! The seafood one's fine too… Ah! There's a vegetarian version as well!"
Raphael was still frenetic as a rail gun. Those wounds of his were just superficial it seemed - or he was under the effect some powerful drugs. Some kind of speeder or something…
"Well, kid," Miyagi calmly halted Raphael's frenetic frenzy, putting one arm around the rookie's shoulders, resembling a threatening feline as he clutched it with his claw-like fingers. "Let's just go to somewhere quiet… There's a little something we need to talk about."
Suddenly pale as the sand, Raphael gulped and walked along with Miyagi, addressing Tristo a silent cry for help as he was dragged through the penumbra. The officer, by his turn, wondered what kind of business Miyagi would have with someone like Raphael Nouvel.
What happened around here while I was asleep?
Feeling surprisingly better, maybe due to the piss-like medicine, Tristo followed them without questioning. Walking silently, he wondered where would they have kept his zanpakutou. In case it happened to be carried along with him, at all…
