〖JJBA - EN〗- Last Judgement

Chapter 72: Friend? Friend.

Naples, Italy. November 17th, 1999.

"Bucciarati! Bucciarati, we have a problem!"

That afternoon, Bruno Bucciarati did not expect to have to solve this kind of "problem". Mista had just returned from a mission, (Y/N) in his arms. (Y/N) in the arms? (Y/N) passed out in his arms. His blood swirled, he jumped off the sofa.

"What happened?!"

He almost barked, but took his composure back immediately, clearing his throat. He approached, examining the young woman with a certain concern in his blue eyes. Jaw clenched, Mista replied,

"Stand attack! I believe? We separated, I found her bleeding in the street!

- ... she's frozen. Take her quickly to her room."

Mista didn't need to be asked. And in the corridor, he met Abbacchio who laid his eyes on the young woman's unconscious body. He felt nauseous, unable to look away.

"... she's alive?" he asked in a hoarse growl.

"I believe?" Mista said, unsure of himself.

He put (Y/N) on his bed. And too bad for her clean sheets. In the doorway, Abbacchio crossed his arms, tense. Mista met his gaze. Was it really concern that he could read in his duochrome eyes?

"She'll be fine, huh," he said, not really sure of his own words.

But Abbacchio did not answer, feigning indifference. At the same time, Bucciarati passed by him to bring the first aid kit.

"Get out," he ordered, "I'll take care of it. Mista, go do the mission report.

- On it!

- Abbacchio, take the c-

- I'm staying here."

Bucciarati looked at his comrade, his face closed. Did he hear correctly? He clenched his fists.

"Abbacchio", he repeated in a calm but cold voice, "take the car and go get Fugo and Narancia."

Abbacchio groaned. Because he couldn't disobey. Not when Bucciarati was using his bossy tone against him. He was no more than his subordinate, and he had to do what was asked of him. Not without slamming the door on leaving. But Bruno did not take up this affront. He was too worried for that. He preferred to get busy preparing bandages for the young woman.

"... hey."

Bucciarati turned his head when he heard that tiny voice he knew so well. (Y/N) coughed and tried to sit up, but he quickly made her lie down. She groaned in frustration.

"... I can manage on my own, huh?

- You're hurt. Lie down, I'll take care of you.

- Haha...sexy..."

Bucciarati nearly choked. He turned around, eyes wide, ears red. He had heard right? No... It was better to pretend nothing.

"... I'm going to lift your top so I can heal the wound in your abdomen. Don't m-

- Oh no, things are going too fast between us sir..."

Embarrassed because he didn't have the impression that she was herself, the young man leaned over to look her in the eyes with a frown. She had dilated pupils. And a silly smile on her face. Had she been drugged? It was the only hypothesis that came to mind. He sighed.

"Stop moving. Keep quiet.

- Rawr~"

She laughed, but the pain in her abdomen quickly brought her back to her senses and she let out a pained moan. Slowly so as not to rush her, he helped her remove her top, trying somehow to ignore the easy view he had of her chest. Her wound was much more important, and he had to treat it first.