Chapter 12: Operation: Don't Let the Rival Die (Because Then I Can't Beat Him)

The truck driver is on the phone with (I assume) his boss, and he’s sweating.

Rika is crying. "We have to call an ambulance!"

"No!" I snap.

Fuji snaps, "No!" at the exact same time.

We look at each other.

"No ambulance," I say, my voice firm. "No hospitals."

I hate hospitals. They mean paperwork. They mean parents. They mean questions.

"Aoi-chan, he’s bleeding!"

"I'm fine!" Fuji says, trying to stand again. He gets to one knee, but his face is pale. "I'm... fine."

He’s not fine.

And this is, 100%, my fault.

I chased him. I was being reckless.

Ugh.

Empathy. Responsibility.

This is the worst.

"Toujo," I order.

"Y-yeah?"

"You and Rika. Take the dog."

"Potato?" Toujo looks at the giant, happy retriever, who is currently trying to eat a discarded pizza crust.

"Take him... somewhere. Take him home. His home."

"But... we don't know where he lives!" Rika protests.

Fuji fumbles in his pocket with his good hand. He pulls out his keys.

"Address... is on the tag," he grunts. "He's got a dog-walker who comes at 4. Just... get him inside. Please."

Toujo nods, suddenly serious. He grabs the keys and clips the leash to Potato's collar. "Got it. C'mon, Rika. Operation: Dog-sit the Rival's Furry Child."

"But Aoi-chan-!"

"Go!" I command.

They go. Rika gives me one last, worried look.

Now it's just me. The truck driver (who I am ignoring). And a bleeding, stubborn Prince.

"Alright," I say, sighing. I squat down in front of him.

He looks up at me. His white hair is matted with... alley-gunk.

"What?" he asks, suspicious.

"You're an idiot."

"This, I know."

"We're not going to a hospital. We're going... to your place."

His eyes widen. "My... my place?"

"You need to get that arm cleaned," I say, trying to sound as bored as possible. "And your leg... what did you do to your leg?"

"I think I hit it on... a crate? When we fell."

"Great. Fantastic. You're broken."

I stand up and, with a groan of pure annoyance, I offer him my hand.

He just stares at it.

"What," I snap, "are you waiting for? I'm not going to carry you."

He slowly takes my hand. I haul him to his feet.

The second he’s standing, he sways.

"Whoa."

"Don't you dare faint," I hiss, grabbing his good arm and throwing it over my shoulder.

"Ugh."

We are now in the most humiliating position possible.

I, Aoi Isuzu, am acting as a human crutch for Fuji Kenji.

His "injured" side is pressed against me. He's tall, so I’m basically tucked under his armpit. It smells like… soccer. And... pine needles? Why pine needles?

"This is... cozy," he murmurs, his voice a little shaky.

"Shut up. Just... shut up. If you bleed on my hoodie, I swear, I will finish the job the truck started."

"You know," he pants, as we start the world's slowest, most awkward walk. "For someone named 'Bloody Twilight,' you're not very good at handling actual blood."

"I told you to shut up!"

"Is this that 'empathy' you've been working on?" he asks.

My eye twitches.

"I am only doing this," I hiss, "because if you die, you can't take the next set of exams."

"Oh?"

"And I refuse to be #1 just because #2 dropped dead in an alley. My victory has to be earned."

I can feel him smirk, even though I can't see his face.

"Such... such a romantic," he breathes.

"Which way, idiot Prince?"

"Just... just down here. And... thanks. For the... 'not-letting-me-die' thing."

"You're not dead yet," I grumble, and I half-drag, half-carry him down the street.

My peaceful life. My arcade time. My gamer cred.

All of it. Ruined.