#second fun fact: kudou almost immediately passed out during this operation. the pain of this memory is so immense

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP | "BITE DOWN ON THIS" | WC: 534

However delirious the blood loss was making Kudou, Bruce’s leader still retained enough of his wit to squint suspiciously at Bruce’s frantic sorting of their meager medical supplies. Their rebellion operated on a shoestring budget; all the wealth was on All for One’s side, and it showed in the fact that all Bruce had on hand was an array of over-the-counter painkillers, rolls of cheap gauze, hand sanitizer, and tweezers. 

He dispatched someone to scrounge up a needle and thread, and another to start boiling water.

“Do you actually know how to do this,” Kudou slurred. He clutched a towel to his side, the vest and shirt already discarded. In their sprint to escape a whole squad of All for One groupies, some bastard with a meta ability managed to wound him from several meters away. An invisible shredder had spun past Bruce and ‘grazed’ Kudou, and now Bruce had a heavily bleeding leader curled up on a ratty futon in an abandoned apartment complex.

“I’m better than anyone else here,” Bruce responded, unashamedly dodging the question. “Takahashi asked me if he should find a stapler.”

Kudou made an unholy sounding groan in the back of his throat. “Like… like an office…?”

“Mm-hm. Don’t worry about it. You’re getting stitches.”

His leader looked doubtfully down at the rapidly-soaked towel, blood smearing dry on his hand, cold sweat beading on his forehead. Bruce flexed his hands, trying to work out the stiffness in his fingers, and he had to shake off Fa Jin’s curl of potential. This wasn’t the time to succumb to nerves or a burst of adrenaline.

“Miki also asked if she should heat up an iron,” Bruce said blandly.

“What are you… teaching them,” Kudou said, aggrieved.

“I’m not teaching anything. They’re picking it up from medical dramas.”

“Medical dramas?” he wheezed. “They cauterize wounds… in those?”

“How should I know? I was a medical student, I didn’t have time to watch TV.” Bruce spotted Takahashi hurrying towards them, Miki following close behind with a pot of steaming water. The latter was also carrying, of all things, a wooden spatula. They knelt around Kudou, passed their treasures onto the tray, and waited for Bruce to save the day. “What’s this for? I didn’t ask for this.”

“Leader has a habit of grinding his teeth,” Miki helpfully clarified. She gestured towards her jaw. “That’s so, you know, he doesn’t crack them while you stitch him up.”

Kudou clenched his jaw. Bruce could tell by the way a tendon at his throat popped into a taut line, and he admitted to himself that it was a well-intentioned idea. He grabbed a roll of gauze and started wrapping it around the spatula’s handle, layering the cotton in quick fashion.

“Takahashi. Take a new towel, dip it in the water, and start wiping off the blood. Miki, good thinking with this. Help Takahashi. And you, Leader,” Bruce said, ripping the end of the gauze and tucking it into a fold. “Bite down on this. This is going to hurt, and no one wants to hear you curse me into an early grave.”

“Go to hell--!” Kudou managed, before Bruce fitted the padded handle between his teeth.