His Other Half (KiriBaku)

Chapter 18

September 30th, XX84,
-The Infirmary-

        "And this is infected--"

        "Hey!"

        "And this one's infected--"

        "Ow!"

        "Oh, this one's definitely infected."

        "Stop it, you crazy devil woman!" Eijiro scowled, recoiling again from the nurse with the floppy bun that was attempting to treat his wounds. Her bedside manner, which had seemed fine when he first entered the infirmary, had steadily dissipated as she looked him over and noticed all the untreated cuts that had turned red and puffy while he slept. But they hadn't hurt until she'd started relentlessly poking them like a sadist.

        "Well, they wouldn't hurt so bad if you had come in yesterday," she huffed for the fifth time in the past hour, her cheeks red from irritation. She brushed a lock of chin-length brown hair behind her ear as she rolled her round eyes with a dismissive scoff while using a damp cloth to sponge at the now-open cuts with a foul-smelling liquid. "Victors. Ugh. So needy and dismissive. Like, honestly, you act as though you've never been wounded before. Sorry to burst your god complex, bud, but you're not untouchable."

        "I never thought I was!" Eijiro defended, trying his best to sit still so she wouldn't hit him again for fidgeting. "I get wounds like this all the time! I've had worse wounds, and they've never hurt like this."

        She blinked at him, the dubious look quickly dropping into a glare. "You have a massive untreated acid wound, which has been eating at your skin for nearly three days. You're lucky that that one isn't infected too. You have multiple infected cuts across your arms, chest, back and thighs, serious chafed blisters on your throat, wrists, and ankles, faded bruising everywhere, evidence of electric burns--like, what the hell? Did you have a run-in with the royal guard, escape, and then just decide 'oh, looky me! I'm so smart and strong and I should join the Cour!'"

        "You are a horrible nurse," the redhead complained, unwilling to admit that this sarcastic woman was at least eighty percent correct.

        "You are a horrible patient," she shot back without hesitation, smacking him on the head with a roll of parchment she had been writing on. "Honestly," she continued, lifting his arm to peer at the skin over his ribs. "It is a miracle that you have survived all these scars if you treat your wound the way you do. These don't even look like they were ever stitched!"

        "They weren't," Eijiro grumbled, giving up fighting her. She was brash and cheeky and remarkably strong-willed and opinionated. Besides, she was right--Eijiro hadn't been well taken care of, and he had very limited knowledge on how to care for himself. He did know how to sew, and while he admitted stitching was likely very different, he had never been allowed to try anyways. "I wasn't allowed sharp things."

        "Then how the hell did you--oh..." She seemed to trail off, regarding him a bit differently. "You know what, it's none of my business. Stay here, I'll be right back with bandages and needles."

        He listened, scowling at the bowl and cloth with the foul liquid. It wasn't even the smell that bothered him--the liquid felt somehow dry, and it stung badly against his cuts. But Katsuki's words rattled around in his head, telling him he needed to take care of himself. Telling him to relax. 

        Damn, relaxing sucked.

        The nurse returned with the medical supplies she had promised and a candle. Eijiro was going to ask what the candle was for when she held the needle over the flame, letting the point get hot while she deftly threaded it with her other hand. "I'm... I'm going to stitch your cuts, and then I'm going to bandage what needs it," she told him, and her nerves had seemed to explode into skittishness while he was waiting for her. "It's probably going to hurt."