Page 59 of The Oyabun's Boy

"We need to move him to the medical suite," the female doctor said, her hands already busy preparing a stretcher. "Now."

I looked down at Kenji, whose eye had drifted closed, though his grip on my hand hadn't lessened. "I'll be right beside you," I promised, my voice breaking. "Every step of the way."

As they lifted him onto the stretcher, his eye fluttered open again, finding mine instantly. His lips moved, forming words too soft for anyone but me to hear.

"Mine," he whispered, blood seeping through fresh bandages with the effort. "Always...mine."

I leaned down, pressing my forehead gently to his, my tears falling onto his broken face. "Always yours," I agreed, the promise settling deep in my bones. "Always."

The fluorescent lights of the infirmary corridor buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting everything in a sickly, unforgiving glow that highlighted every drop of blood on Kenji's broken body.

I jogged alongside the stretcher, my hand still locked with his, my eyes never leaving his face even as doctors and nurses swarmed around us like highly organized bees, calling out medical terms that each sounded worse than the last.

The antiseptic smell burned my nostrils, mixing with the metallic scent of Kenji's blood until I could taste it on the back of my tongue.

"BP's dropping, 90 over 60," someone called out.

"Multiple lacerations to the torso, possible pneumothorax," said another.

"We need to get him into surgery now."

Words that meant Kenji was dying. Words that sliced through me with more precision than whatever knife had carved up the man I loved.

Yes, loved. The realization hit me with perfect clarity as I watched his chest rise and fall with painful, irregular breaths. I loved this dangerous, damaged, beautiful man, and I might lose him before I ever got to tell him properly.

"Sir, you need to let go of his hand," a nurse said, her voice gentle but firm as we approached a set of double doors marked SURGICAL SUITE.

I tightened my grip on Kenji's fingers. "I can't."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but one glance at Chen, who was following behind us like a silent shadow, and she thought better of it.

The stretcher paused briefly at a junction in the corridor while someone checked Kenji's vitals again. I seized the opportunity to lean down close to his ear, my tears falling onto his bloodied cheek.

"Listen to me," I whispered fiercely, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "You are not allowed to die on me, Kenji Zisheng Hú. Not now. Not after everything. You came back to me and you're going to stay with me. Do you understand?"

His one good eye fluttered open, focusing on me with alarming intensity despite his injuries. His lips moved, but no sound emerged.

"Don't try to talk," I pleaded, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "Just fight. Fight like you've always fought. Come back to me."

A doctor with a tablet approached, scanning Kenji's body with clinical detachment. "Multiple broken ribs on the left side.Dislocated right shoulder. Facial fractures. Suspected internal bleeding. Evidence of systematic torture rather than random violence."

The clinical assessment hit me like physical blows. Each injury cataloged was another piece of evidence of what Kenji had endured to come back to me.

"He needs surgery immediately," the doctor continued, not addressing me directly. "We need to assess internal damage and stop the bleeding."

The stretcher started moving again, faster now, and I stumbled to keep up, refusing to release Kenji's hand.

"They're going to fix you up," I promised him, my voice breaking. "And then I'm going to kill whoever did this to you. Slowly. With something dull and rusty."

The corner of Kenji's mouth twitched slightly—the closest thing to a smile his broken face could manage. Even half-dead, he found my bloodthirstiness amusing.

"I mean it," I insisted, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I saw what they did to you as a child. I know why you are the way you are. And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again." I swallowed hard, my voice dropping even lower. "I'd burn down the whole world to keep you safe."

Something shifted in Kenji's expression—a softening around his one open eye, a relaxation of the tightness around his mouth. Recognition, maybe. Understanding.

My tears fell onto his face, mixing with the blood there, marking him as mine just as surely as his touch had claimed me.

"Sir," a new voice cut in, sharper this time. "We're entering the sterile area. You cannot go beyond this point."