ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ - ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ

Chapter 4

Before Ieiri could share any information, their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a sequence of forceful knocks on the door. 

Caught off guard, they exchanged bewildered glances before hurrying to respond. On the other side of the door stood Yaga-sensei, his typically composed demeanor replaced with a sense of urgency.

"Ieiri and Akira, you're both needed in the medical room," he directed, his tone brooking no argument. "Suguru has been injured."

At the mere mention of Suguru's name, a surge of adrenaline coursed through Akira's veins. "He can't be gone," Akira's thoughts raced, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and disbelief. Ordinarily, it was Ieiri who would be called upon for medical emergencies, but this time, the urgency extended to Akira as well, which meant this wasn't good.

Hurrying to the medical room, a sharp intake of breath escaped Akira as he took in the sight before him. Suguru's chest bore deep slashes that continued to ooze blood. Swallowing down his own emotions, Akira quickly donned sanitized attire and set about his work. This was not the moment to be swayed by personal sentiments; his role was that of a dedicated healer.

Taking the remains of Suguru's shirt off, Akira took a deep breath seeing the injury was worse than he thought, it wouldn't kill him but it was still bad.

As his hands hovered over Suguru's exposed chest, Akira felt the steady flow of chakra coursing through him and into Suguru. Vibrant green hues emanated from his palms, casting an ethereal light upon the scene. Immersed in a realm of unwavering concentration, Akira navigated the currents of healing with precision.

Observing from a distance, Ieiri watched in a mix of admiration and awe. Instances of witnessing Akira's healing prowess were very rare to see due to the constraints placed upon him by higher authorities, who sought to protect the last chakra user. Being present in the room as Akira worked his healing magic upon Suguru felt surreal, a testament to the gravity of the situation.

After several grueling hours, the meticulous medical procedures by Akira and Ieiri came to an end. With their work complete, they found themselves in a state of anticipation, waiting for the moment when Geto would finally stir from his unconsciousness.

Opting for a brief respite, Ieiri made the decision to step outside for a well-needed smoke break, leaving Akira unwaveringly stationed by Geto's bedside. His vigil remained steadfast, undeterred by the surrounding uncertainty.

As Akira sat in the hushed stillness of the room, a plate of untouched food sat before him, a stark reminder of his unmet appetite. The vivid memory of Suguru's grievous injuries hung heavily over him, casting a somber shadow over his desire to eat. Compounding his unease was the glaring silence regarding any communication from Satoru.

Abruptly, a faint rustling sound emanated from the bed, snapping Akira's attention away from his thoughts. He swiftly pivoted, his gaze locking onto Suguru's determined attempt to rise. "No, Suguru! You have to stay in bed," Akira urged, moving with urgency to prevent any further strain on Suguru's already compromised condition.

"I have to get to Satoru," Geto pleaded, desperation evident in his voice.

Akira's eyes reflected a mixture of concern and determination as he gently but firmly guided Geto back onto the bed. "Suguru, you're in no condition to move right now," he insisted, his voice laced with worry. "We're here to take care of you. Let us handle the situation."

Geto's gaze held a fervent resolve, despite his weakened state. "Satoru might be in danger. I need to make sure he's alright," he persisted, his words echoing his unwavering determination.

Hearing about the possibility of Satoru being in danger kicked Akira's protective instincts into high gear. His concern for Geto and his urgency to check on Satoru converged. 

"I'll go and check. You stay here and focus on healing," he declared, snatching up his bag in readiness to depart.

"Toji Zenin is still out there," Geto interjected, his voice laced with a blend of fear and urgency. "He claimed he killed Satoru and he nearly killed me. What could you possibly accomplish?"

Akira's steps faltered, a whirlwind of emotions churning within him. He pivoted to face Geto, his expression a cocktail of determination and frustration. 

"What are you trying to say, Suguru?" he retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. 

"That I'm somehow less capable than you? Is that your point?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Geto responded, unyielding despite his own injuries. The atmosphere in the room seemed charged, each word exchanged like a clash of verbal swords, a battle of conviction.

Before the mounting tension could escalate further, Ieiri made her reentry, her presence injecting a sense of calm into the charged air. "Just settle back onto the bed, Geto," her voice was gentle but unwavering. 

Having returned from her smoke break, she could discern the palpable energy that crackled in the room.

Akira's gaze held Geto's, a torrent of emotions still evident. With a resigned sigh, he turned on his heel, briskly striding out of the room. The echo of his departure reverberated through the air, a testament to the gravity of his concern for Satoru.

As he entered his quarters, Akira's purposeful demeanor was unmistakable. His first destination within the room was a pair of gloves, an indispensable part of his meticulous preparations. With a seamless fluidity, his attention then shifted to a drawer, meticulously organized and brimming with an array of dried herbs. 

These botanical tools stood as a testament to his expertise, serving as a vivid representation of his craft. In his mind's eye, he envisioned the potential applications of these herbs, a contingency plan should Satoru's ailment be more severe than anticipated.

Every item in his bag was carefully chosen, a testament to his methodical approach. Each article was meticulously placed, signifying a readiness that could only arise from deep concern. 

As his preparations reached their culmination, Akira found himself standing at the crossroads of departure, a pivotal moment laden with significance. His hand, steady and determined, reached out towards the door, poised to open it and embark on his mission of care.

Yet, the universe seemed to interject with a sudden twist. The door, just before his grasp could claim it, swung open of its own accord, revealing Suguru standing there, now garbed in his uniform. 

A question tumbled from Akira's lips, curiosity interwoven with a hint of caution, "What brings you here?"

Suguru's response was unambiguous, his gaze carrying a profound resolve. His words bore an urgency that could not be ignored, "Weren't you on your way to check up on Satoru?"

In silent acknowledgment, Akira nodded his head slightly. A tacit understanding passed between them, a shared purpose that needed no elaboration. 

But before the weight of this exchange could fully settle, Suguru's declaration cut through the air, "Well, I'm going with you."