this rank match had been so, so tiring. with only two ciphers left and a significant lead, thanks to Ganji, the end was in sight.

he doesn’t speak when you wave him over. nor when you gently usher him to crouch down so you can assess where Jack had really sliced into his back. blood already beginning to dry.

the only sound you get from him is a soft, pained hiss. when you pry his shirt off of the wound, and begin to wrap it.