Chapter 64 : Those Who Remains
The infirmary lights buzzed faintly.
Shoko sat on a stool near the far wall, her coat stained, her gloves discarded in a metal basin filled with water tinged pink. She had been working for hours. Maybe more.
Kishibe's latest injuries were worse than before. Deep lacerations. Muscle tears. He had walked back alone, half-dead and wordless, collapsing on the stretcher without ceremony.
She had tried to stay professional.
But when she saw the state of him, she had to step out for air.
Now, as she washed her hands again, her eyes flicked to the long, quiet stretch of hallway.
He never cried out.
Not once.
---
Principal Masamichi Yaga sat in his office long after the others had left. The reports lay on his desk, unsigned.
Special Grade confirmed. Kishibe returned alive. No witnesses.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
The boy was falling. He knew it. Saw it in his silence. In the number of solo missions. In the missions he chose.
He had spoken to him once. Kishibe didn't flinch. Didn't argue.
"Send me where no one else wants to go," he had said.
Yaga hadn't forgotten the look in his eyes.
It wasn't vengeance. Or duty.
It was something colder.
A surrender.
---
The infirmary door creaked open.
Yaga stepped in quietly, stopping beside the threshold. Shoko didn't look up from the chart.
"He lost another two pints of blood. Internal bruising. Several tendons close to tearing. I can fix him. I always fix him. But he's not healing."
Yaga nodded, silent.
"You can't keep sending him alone," she said. Not accusing. Just tired.
"He asked for it," Yaga replied.
"You're the adult. You could say no."
Yaga didn't respond.
Shoko finally looked at him. Her eyes were red.
"We're going to lose him."
Yaga's voice was rough when he said, "I think we already have."
They stood there, the hum of the medical monitors the only sound between them.
---
Gojo and Geto arrived quietly, their steps soft against the sterile tile. They stood at the edge of the room, shadows against the low light.
Kishibe lay still, bandaged and unconscious, his breaths shallow.
Geto was the first to speak. "How bad?"
Shoko didn't look up. "Bad."
Gojo stepped forward, standing beside the bed. His face was unreadable behind the blindfold.
"Why didn't he say anything?" he asked quietly.
"Because he doesn't want you to stop him," Shoko replied. "Because this is the only thing he thinks he deserves."
The silence grew heavier.
Geto moved closer and sat at the foot of the bed. His gaze was distant.
"I should've said something. Back then. When he first started going off on his own."
"We all should have," Gojo said.
The three of them stood like that for a while, caught between guilt and helplessness.
Shoko finally spoke, her voice low. "You know... when I heal him, it feels like I'm just putting him back together so he can break himself again."
None of them argued.
---
Kishibe lay unconscious in the quiet dark, barely breathing.
Shoko sat beside him, arms crossed over her knees.
Yaga lingered just outside the room, watching a hallway that had grown far too empty.
And somewhere in the sky above them, dawn refused to come.
But morning would. Eventually.
Whether any of them were ready or not.