Chuuya x OC ~ Let the memories cry (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Chapter 2

He had no idea why he had done this.

Even now, his earlier actions were totally incomprehensible to him. He was part of the Mafia, he had nothing to do with this girl...

Then why had he taken her to an emergency doctor? He was not supposed to be so kind and thoughtful as a member of the darkest organization in town... And he could not carry all the world's misery on his shoulders either.

A girl being stabbed and left for dead? It was not as rare as people thought. In the dump where he had lived for many years, this sort of thing was commonplace.

Perhaps he had decided to act this time because he knew that he, now, had the means to help her? And that, maybe, he could make amends to all those he had left to their fate, too busy trying to get out of it himself?

The girl was hardly breathing when he arrived at the Mafia headquarters, only a few minutes after having left it. He ignored the puzzled looks the henchmen gave him, certainly not understanding why he had come back after having so graciously rejected the offer to be taken home...

But the puzzled looks had very quickly turned to confused looks when they saw the body lying in Chuuya's arms. He had done his best to contain the bleeding, but blood was still coming out of the girl's wound, so he was beginning to think that the whole mess was not really worth it.

He could feel her body getting colder and colder as the snow continued to fall over and over again. The henchmen seemed to decide to act, finally, as they called for help right away.

Chuuya, out of breath from the real race against time he had just done, literally holding in the palm of his hand the life of this young stranger, then entrusted the wounded girl to the doctors called on the spot, with a shivering sigh.

He was not really relieved. It was a good thing that he had managed to reach the headquarters before the girl died, but he knew that she was not out of the woods yet.

Great. If he had taken the driver's offer, he would be home without even having to cross paths with that girl. He would be at home, in a nice warm bath, watching the snow fall on Yokohama, enjoying a well-deserved rest.

But no. Instead, his clothes were covered with blood, he was cold and exhausted, and did not know what to do. Should he go home? But, since he was the one who had brought this girl there, wasn't it normal for him to stay and make sure she was okay?

He did not even know her. He did not know her name, her age, or even the exact color of her eyes. He had just noticed, in the panic of the moment, that she had light brown mid-length hair, light glassy eyes, a dress that had seen better days that he had to rip down to make a makeshift bandage, and that was all.

Not to mention the huge wound on her neck and the blood that went with it. How many liters of blood did a human being have? About five liters, if he was not talking nonsense...?

Did this girl still have an ounce of blood in her, with all that she had lost? For sure, if he had not arrived at the crime scene almost immediately after the assault was committed, she will be dead by now. But he was not sure that it was enough anyway.

If the girl died in the next few minutes, or even hours, he would not be surprised at all.

He finally decided to return home, this time accepting to be driving back home. He did not want to go the same way again, especially if it was to run into a half-dead girl along the way.

With a touch of remorse, he left it up to the henchmen and doctors to warn him if anything happened to the girl. For the time being, he could not do anything more for her on his side, and he was not close to her enough to stay at her bedside waiting for her to wake up.

He still did not know why he had saved her, so he should not be asked for more. He had done what he could. If she died, it was not his fault. And yet, on the way home, he could not get those thoughts out of his head.

If he had not walked home that night, would the girl even have had a chance to survive...? Or would she have died in the middle of the garbage, covered by a thick layer of snow, waiting for someone to take out their trash and discover her body, half eaten by rats?

What had happened to the man who had run away, by the way? The one who was most certainly the perpetrator of the crime? Chuuya let out a long, frustrated sigh, ruffling his red hair with his hand, almost dropping his hat on the leather seat of the car. He regretted it almost immediately when he remembered that his hand was still partially covered with blood.

Damn it! He was a Mafia guy now, not a good Samaritan...!

Fortunately, the apartment he was staying in was finally in sight, and there were no half-dead girls around. He entered the building of several tens of floors, pressing on the number 75 and watched the elevator doors slowly closing, while cheesy classical music started, just to accompany his ascent.

He looked out at the view of snow-covered Yokohama, which he could see through the elevator window, which got smaller and smaller as he went up the floors. When he was finally able to get out and go into this appartement, he immediately headed for the bathroom, jumping into the bathtub filled with scalding water without hesitating any longer.

Even the breathtaking view he had of the city from his apartment, the one he had been so eager to enjoy, had no real flavor. The huge bay windows of his darkened bedroom let through the glittering lights of the many skyscrapers, including those of the Mafia a little further away. And yet, he could not enjoy it.

In his bed, even though he was perfectly washed, and his bloodstained clothes too, he tossed for many hours before he managed to fall asleep.

The memory of that girl lying in her own blood continued to haunt him even at home. Would she survive? The doctors had promised to contact him if anything happened to her, anyway.

Something else was nagging at him, too, but he could not figure out what. His first thought was that it had something to do with the alleged murderer, who was still running free on the streets of Yokohama at the moment, but no.

He could not put his finger on it despite his efforts.

Just before he fell completely asleep, however, he had one last thought. If the girl survived, he would call on someone who could find her attacker and make him pay. He may be a member of the Mafia, known for its violence and its more than questionable ethical activities, but wasn't its main objective to protect this city?

The welcome sleep came to shorten his useless interrogations, while the snow redoubled its power behind the window of his apartment, striking it with powerful gusts that he did not even hear.

He had fallen asleep.