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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
makeshift surgery

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༇ BAYA'S hands are pressing hard against the wound, but the blood keeps slipping between her fingers, hot and dark. Chishiya's chest rises in shallow bursts beneath her hands.

"Baya."

She looks down at him. His skin is pale, almost gray beneath the dull lighting, sweat beading along his hairline. "It's still in there." His voice is quiet.

"What?"

"The bullet." His hand, trembling and slick with his own blood, lifts weakly toward the wound. "You have to take it out."

"What?" She repeats, her eyes so wide they nearly pop out. "No, no, I can't—"

"You can." His eyes sharpen. "You don't have a choice."

"I don't know how—"

"I'll tell you how." His hand weakly brushes over hers. "But you need to focus."

"I—I'll make it worse," she stammers. "I could kill you—"

"If you leave it in, I'm dead anyway.". His lashes flutter against his cheekbones. "So stop wasting time."

"I can't—"

"Baya," Chishiya sharpens his voice. "Listen to me."

Scared, she nods.

"You're not going to panic. Just breathe. You're going to do exactly what I say. Understand?"

A lump forms in her throat.

"Understand?"

She swallows. "Yes."

"Get supplies. Scissors. Gauze. Disinfectant. Tweezers or forceps if you can find them. Needle and thread. Something to keep me awake if I lose consciousness. And gloves. If they have any."

Her vision spins, remaining tears burning in her eyes. "I—"

"You don't have time to hesitate." His hand slips from hers, hitting the floor with a dull thud. "Now."

She scrambles to her feet and darts toward the shelves, legs shaking beneath her. The pharmacy is a wreck. Broken glass, splintered shelves, and bottles scattered across the floor.

Her hands tear through the debris. She finds a first aid kit beneath a pile of broken bottles. Scissors. Gauze. Surgical thread. A needle. Tweezers. A small bottle of disinfectant. A roll of bandages. A packet of painkillers.

She staggers back toward Chishiya and kneels beside him, breathless. "I have them."

"Gloves," he murmurs, his eyes barely open.

The latex sticks to her sweat-damp skin as she puts them on.

"Cut my shirt open."

Her hands shake even worse as she positions the scissors. She peels the soaked material away from his skin, revealing the ragged bullet wound. Blood seeps sluggishly from the torn edges of skin.

"Clean it," Chishiya instructs. "Use the disinfectant.

She uncaps the bottle. "This is going to hurt—"

"Do it."

She tips the bottle over the wound.

Chishiya's body snaps instantly. His jaw locks, his breath cutting off in a strangled sound. His back arches violently off the floor. His hand flies to her wrist, crushingly tight.

"Chishiya!"

He gasps. "Now... you need to remove it," he goes on, half-choking on his words.

"No—"

"Baya. You're going to do it. Now."

Her head shakes wildly. "I'll make it worse—"

"You might, but if you don't, I'm dead anyway."

Tears burn her eyes. Her hands hover uncertainly over his chest. "How—how do I—"

"Find the tweezers. Angle them toward the bullet. Slow and steady."

Her breath shakes as she grips the tweezers. Her hands hover over the wound, frozen. "What if I hit something important—"

"Then you'll know because I'll be dead," he murmurs. "Now. Steady hand, Baya."

With sweat trickling down her forehead, she eases the tweezers into the wound.

Another tremors hits his body. His hand jerks toward her wrist, but he stops himself. She can tell he's trying his best not to push her off.

"I'm—I'm hurting you—"

"Keep going. Two inches deep... a little to the left."

Baya's hands are slick with blood. The tweezers slip in her grip as she pushes deeper into the wound. His eyes spring wide open, pupils glassy from pain.

"Baya," he grits out. "You're... too high. Lower. Three... centimeters."

Her vision blurs with tears. "Chishiya, I—"

"Lower," he snaps. "The bullet... it's angled down. You're going to tear muscle—"

"I'm already tearing muscle!" she snaps back.

A strained chuckle leaves his throat, though it dissolves into a choked gasp almost immediately. "That's... the least of my problems."

Baya sniffs. Her vision is blurred with tears, even as they stream down her face. They just keep coming. Her hands tremble too heavily, her heart beats too hard, her breath is too uneven. "I can't do it," she peeps.

"Yes, you can," Chishiya responds. "You're doing fine. Just breathe. You've got this. It's just you and me. I'm not going to die—not if you keep going. I know you're scared. Just focus on my voice. Follow my instructions. And when this is over, you can yell at me for making you do this." He inhales. "But now, you need to get the bullet out."

"Okay," she says shakily. "But what if I—"

He rests one of his hands on her shoulder. "You can do it."

"I—"

"I wouldn't trust you if I didn't think you could," Chishiya goes on. "Okay? I trust you. Now continue."

Her hands shake as she adjusts the tweezers, feeling through the heat of torn tissue. Beneath her fingertips, Chishiya's pulse races violently. He's trembling so hard that it makes her hands shake worse. Blood is seeping too fast now.

"I—I can't see anything," she whispers, trying to blink the sweat from her eyes. "There's too much blood."

"Clean it," he breathes. His other hand, the one not gripping her shoulder, slides toward his side. His fingertips brush against the edge of a gauze pad. "Take it... wipe it away."

Baya fumbles for the gauze with her free hand. Chishiya's hand covers hers, pressing it toward the wound. His breath hitches when her fingers press down on the raw, open flesh.

A sound tears from his throat, but he presses harder. "Hold it there."

Baya presses the gauze against the wound. His hand flies to her wrist, gripping hard enough to bruise. His teeth grind together so hard that the muscle in his jaw jumps. "Okay," he pants, eyes squeezed shut. "Now... deeper. Two more centimeters."

Baya shakes her head, tears spilling down her face. "I'll hit an artery—"

"Then don't." His eyes crack back open. "Baya. You can do this."

She swallows the scream climbing up her throat and pushes the tweezers deeper.

His mouth immediately falls open in a sharp, strangled breath. "More to the left. You're close. I can feel it."

"How—?"

"Because it hurts like hell." A weak smirk tugs at his mouth. "Angle it. Left... slightly. You'll feel the edge of the bullet."

Slowly, she tilts the tweezers.

A horrible, wet sound follows as the metal edges scrape against something solid. Chishiya's back bows upward, his nails scraping at her skin. His mouth opens, but the sound that leaves him is nothing more than a loud groan.

"You're there," he breathes, almost soundless. "Now... pull."

"Chishiya—"

"Pull!"

Baya tightens her grip on the tweezers and does as he says.

His mouth falls open. A broken scream tears from his throat. Blood flows from the wound, faster than ever—yet the bullet slides free.

Chishiya's body drops limp against the floor. Sweat glistens on his pale skin. His hand slips from her wrist. His eyes roll toward the ceiling.

"Baya," he rasps. "Stitches. Quickly."

She fumbles for the needle and thread with shaking hands. Her breath hitches as she threads it through, her fingers clumsy.

"I don't know how—"

"Just listen to me. Stick the needle in. Deep. Tie it off... tight."

Baya pinches the torn edges of skin together and pushes the needle into his flesh. Chishiya remains surprisingly still, yet his eyes flutter shut.

"I'm sorry," Baya whispers.

"Keep going," he chokes. "Keep your hand steady... pull it through."

She threads the needle out the other side of his torn skin. Blood seeps dark and slow from the new wound. Chishiya's breath rattles dangerously in his throat.

"Now... pull the edges together. Tight."

Focused, she pinches the torn skin together, trembling, and pulls the thread tight.

"A surgeon's knot." His head lolls toward her. "Loop it twice. Pull it tight."

The first knot slips beneath her slick fingers. The second one holds.

"Good. Keep going. Second knot."

Baya presses her lips together, biting back the rise of nausea, and pierces his skin with the needle again.

His hand curls into a fist against the floor, so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "You're doing fine," he breathes, but the tension in his body betrays him. "Steady hand, Baya."

She bites back more tears and threads the needle again. The puncture is clean, but Chishiya still groans. "Next one... deeper," he instructs. "It might snap if you don't."

Baya pushes the needle in deeper. Blood seeps beneath her fingers. His throat bobs with the effort of swallowing down another groan. "Tie it off. Loop it twice."

She works faster now, forcing down the tremor in her hands as she pierces the next tear in his skin. His hand curls around her wrist, holding her steady.

"You're doing it right. Just a few more."

Her hands ache from the tension, but she threads the needle again. His breath fractures in his throat. His eyes flutter shut.

"Chishiya—"

"Finish it." His voice is almost soundless. "Now."

She makes the final stitch, tying it off with a sharp tug. Chishiya's body trembles one last time, and then he goes still. His mouth curves. "Told you..." His voice is faint. "You could do it."

Her chest tightens as she watches him closely, every breath feeling too shallow, too slow.

"Chishiya?" A thread of panic creeps into her tone. She shakes his shoulder, gently at first, then harder when he doesn't respond, and his entire body sags.

"Chishiya! No! Don't—!"

Her hands fly to his face, searching for any sign of life. She presses her ear to his chest, praying for a sound, a heartbeat, anything. But all she hears is silence.

The sense of helplessness she felt earlier creeps in again, but it's worse this time. She could have killed him. "Chishiya!" Baya squeezes his nose shut as her mouth works on his, blowing air inside. Her palms slam into the middle of his chest.

Just as her sobs become too much to hold back, his body jerks with a low cough.

"Chishiya!" she exclaims, relief and fear colliding in her voice.

His eyelids flicker before slowly opening, revealing bloodshot, glassy eyes that barely focus. "I'm glad you at least know how to perform CPR."

"I thought you died!" Baya attacks him with a hug. The force makes Chishiya grunt. With one arm, he pats her back. "How do you feel?"

"Mmm." Chishiya sits up straighter. "Better than when I made you leave my house."

She hits his shoulder. "Better?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then you must've been miserable without me, because no way you're feeling alright right now."

Chishiya responds with a tiny hint of a smile.

Baya exhales sharply, trying to suppress a laugh, but it bursts through anyway. The sound is almost hysterical. She buries her face in her hands for a moment, wiping away fresh tears, and then looks at him with soft, relieved eyes. "Idiot," she mutters.

Chishiya grins but winces slightly, his hand instinctively going to his side, where the other wound still throbs.

"Wait a minute."

Her smile fades. "I forgot you got shot twice."

He pulls a face. "At least you're not inexperienced this time."

"Not again—"

"Yes, again." Chishiya holds up the tweezers.