The lost continent

Chapter 15

He vomits. He drops his sword and covers his mouth with his bloodstained hands and throws up into them, a mix of the blow to his head and the life he cut short so fast.

His feelings come in a rush of nausea, guilt, and necessity, and the inability to place or situate his morals.

He's tucked away, retching over the side of the ship, when an uproarious noise fills the air- a shout of victory. Kirishima doesn't know what side it's from. He has a shock of panic, for a moment, that Bakugou has been overcome. He turns his head quickly, and it pounds and makes his vision swim before him. He touches a hand to his temple, but he's uncertain, now, if the wet red on his hands is his own.

He sees Bakugou, though, standing tall and victorious, twin swords in his hands, glinting red and silver in the daylight, lifted high into the air in triumph.

"Cowards!" he shouts, cackling into the sky. "You're weak!"

Kirishima looks past the smoke that lingers from the canons, and sees men hustling themselves into the few rowboats that are left intact- the grand ship itself is barely holding together- it's burning and splintering, creaking and falling apart. He sees surviving members of the mottled crew descend quick in a rowboat- among them a face Kirishima recognizes.

Iida Tenya. His eyes lock with Kirishima's. Kirishima intakes a sharp breath, praying his disheveled appearance saves him from recognition. He blinks and looks away as nonchalantly as he can manage- there's no way he'd recognize him, right? His hair is covered and the rest of him is splotched in blood and puke. He does his best to push the thought from his mind- they've won, and cleaning up their mess was the new priority.

A quick glance to the wheel shows that Ojirou is already steering them away from the battle scene. Another glance around shows that some of the crew are less than worse for wear, but they're forming a line to Bakugou.

Kirishima watches in interest as one by one, they reach into their pockets, or remove their hats, nodding down to Bakugou as they lay items at his feet- coins, bracelets, necklaces, belts, guns, blades... tribute. A battle one due to their Captain's orders.

Sero offers gold rings.

Hatsume offers her spyglass.

Mina drops him gold coins and a wet kiss on his cheek.

Kirishima pats his pockets. He has nothing to give. He has no chains, no bracelets, and no earrings. Bakugou would probably not be too pleased if he tried to give him his sword.

Kirishima opts instead to retrieve the medical kit-running low on supplies- and tend to the wounded crew. He refuses to think about the way his hands are still shaking when there are people who need him.

The crew frowns at his excessive use of alcohol, but he pours it into their wounds and bandages them tight, instructing them on aftercare as best he sees fit. He works until the sun sets, the crew who are better off pulling dead bodies off the deck and dropping them into the sea. Kirishima is relieved his friends are alive, the worst injury probably being Sero's broken arm.

Bakugou was left almost completely unscathed, save for a few minor scratches from flying debris. Kirishima is on his way to put the near-empty medical kit away in Bakugou's cabinet when he's stopped by the captain himself.

"Sit down." Bakugou says. "You treated everyone but yourself."

"Oh, right." Kirishima says, touching the side of his head. It pounds steadily, but in the rush of it all, he forgot the pain.

Kirishima looks around and sits atop a barrel, letting Bakugou open the kit. There are just enough bandages left that when tied together, they'll be long enough to fit around Kirishima's head a couple of times. Stopping now, in a daze, he closes his eyes tight against the images rushing through his mind. He didn't even think, when he killed him. His hands aren't clean anymore.