Bulat's head fell back against the worn and cracked leather of the headboard, his gaze drifting to the wooden ceiling above.
The searing ache was omnipresent, burrowed into every inch of his muscles and bones, yet his mind seemed strangely clear.
'Guess the gods have a twisted sense of humour,' he mused, a slight curl of bitterness tugging at his lips.
He was a survivor, even if survival had left him battered, his own flesh a patchwork of bruises and half-healed cuts.
For someone like him, who was once charged through battlefields without a second thought ending up here, barely held together by crude bandages and stitches, felt like a dark irony.
Clink.
Across the room, Bane had finally looked up from his meal, meeting Bulat's gaze for the first time.
A glint of recognition flickered in his aquamarine eyes, though he didn't stop eating, tearing into another piece of bread with his blood-streaked fingers.
"Seems like you pulled me out of the fire," Bulat muttered, his voice rasping with the effort.
There was a half-hearted attempt at a smile in his expression, though the humour was as cracked and fragile as the rest of him.
Bane paused, chewing before swallowing. "Couldn't leave a dying madman behind," he replied simply, his voice low. "Not while he was still breathing."
Bulat let out a low chuckle, his shoulders rising just slightly, careful not to disturb the ache that pulsed through his battered ribs. "Indeed, who in their right mind would try to confront General Budo?" he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement.
The silence that followed was thick, punctuated by the crunch of Bane's meal, the rhythm steady and almost grounding in the quiet room.
Bulat's gaze lingered on him, studying the bruises and cuts that covered Bane's chest and shoulders. The dark bruises, the swollen edges of half-healed gashes. It was a brutal sight.
And as he watched, the last few raw patches slowly mended, leaving Bane's skin uneven and scarred, but whole.
"You have suffered a lot in this ordeal, it seems." He said.
Bane looked at his state and nodded his head,"Yeah….well, after massacring a district gang and killing its leader, getting getting shot by at least a dozen bullets by imperial soldiers who were chasing me like hounds, then killing a strange tentacle monster, fighting a crazed man who collects heads, getting zapped by enough lightning to make a tree explode... then nearly getting killed by the Empire's strongest general... let's just say anyone would be feeling a bit fucked up after a day like this."
Bulat blinked after he heard Bane tell about his insane day.
He was stunned as he asked, "Wait... 'head-collecting maniac'? You don't mean…"
"Zanku," Bane said, not letting Bulat finish. He threw down his napkin.
"Bastard was crazier than hell and he nearly killed me, but, yeah ....I took him out. He had a Teigu called Spectator." Bane reached into his pocket, taking out a thin metallic headband with a cold sheen, the unmistakable relic. "Still don't know why he was there."
The silence that followed was thick. Bulat's gaze lingered on the headband.
"You took out Zanku? That's... I mean, what the hell was he doing in the pleasure district? And how did you?"
Bane only shrugged, though a trace of irritation darkened his eyes. "No idea. Maybe he was just lurking around like any other psycho. But that's one less Teigu the Empire has on its side, anyway," he said, slipping his shirt over his head, his tone too casual given the weight of what he'd revealed. "After we reach the base, I will give it to Najenda." He said lastly.
Bulat didn't respond immediately, still taking it all in. Finally, he gave a slight nod, as much to himself as to Bane.
Bane finished his meal with a satisfied grunt, wiping his hands on a cloth smeared with old stains.
The room was silent except for the creak of old floorboards as he stood, grabbing a worn T-shirt from a chair and slipping it over his head as he crossed the room. His gaze held a mix of irritation and something more unreadable as he looked down at Bulat.
"You're an idiot," Bane said bluntly. "What were you thinking, throwing your life away for someone you barely know?"
Bulat met his gaze, unbothered, the hint of a smile still on his lips. "Funny, you somehow remind me of Mine," he replied, his voice softer now. "Sharp tongue, quick temper. But you both care for your comrades."
Bane's eyes narrowed beneath the bandages, clearly unamused. "Don't get it twisted," he said, his tone sharp. "I saved you because you saved me first. I don't have attachments here, and loyalty isn't something I owe anyone, not even Najenda. When my deal with her is done, I'll be gone."
He continued, "Also, just because I patched you up doesn't mean I'd hesitate to leave you here."
Bulat shook his head slightly, his smile unfazed. "You could've left me, sure. But you didn't," he replied, a flicker in his eyes. "And back there, in front of Budo, you could've betrayed us and Sheele to save your own skin. But you didn't. That means something."
Bane scoffed, "As if that bastard would have left me alive."
Ignoring the muscular idiot, he leaned in, his bandage-wrapped hands deftly beginning to unwrap the soiled cloth from Bulat's torso.
"I will change the dressing once more," he said to which the muscular man nodded. The bloody and worn linen came away slowly, revealing the red burns and dark bruises beneath.
Patches of blistered skin pulled painfully, and Bulat bit down on a curse as the cool air stung the raw surface.
"You're lucky you're still breathing," Bane muttered, eyeing the damage critically. "The lightning attack had ripped through Incursio, but it looks like you managed to bear the brunt with just half your upper body. If it'd hit you dead centre…" His voice trailed off, leaving the consequences unsaid.
As he worked, he reported. "The burns are deep. Second- and third-degree in some spots. You've got bruised ribs, maybe a couple of fractured ones. And the muscle damage…" He pressed gently along Bulat's side, eliciting another wince. "You'll need to be careful. Any sudden movements and those tears will worsen."
Bulat's jaw tightened. He glanced at Bane's face, eyes catching the faint tremor in Bane's hands as he re-wrapped the fresh bandages.
Bulat briefly considered whether Bane had not yet recovered, but then turned his attention back to his current situation.
The clothing was done and was snug but better placed, enough to hold the burns and bruises in place without cutting off circulation.
"What I've done, it's just temporary." Bane spoke. His voice was low and the irritation from before giving way to a grim pragmatism.
"You'll need a real medical professional if you want to heal properly. These burns go deep. The ribs took most of the hit, but they're fractured and that's if you're lucky. There might even be nerve damage. Your armour took the worst of it, but…"
He paused, his eyes meeting Bulat's. "You might not be able to use Incursio again."