#chiefhotsuin

Before he could demand that man's identity, a familiar scream filled him to the core. No. Familiar wasn't accurate for he had never heard the owner of that voice make such a sound so far.

"What did you do to Yamato!"

The recipient merely hung the phone on Art's face. Of course, Art frantically redialed but the number was shortly declared out of range.

"Dammit!" He wouldn't be getting anything else from here. Instead, he called JPs Computer Department to track Yamato down. They were always on standby to pinpoint the higher ups' locations in case of emergencies. Now if only Yamato's phone was still intact enough.

Surely enough. They sent the results by the time Art rushed down the stairs into his car.

Cemetery. What kind of sick joke was that supposed to be?

All previous thoughts were long lost to him. Just the need to get to Yamato as fast as possible. He forwarded the address to the hospital just in case and sped forward. Along with Yamato's pained voice, ever ringing stronger in his brain.

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Upon arrival, he didn't even bother shutting down the car lights or police siren before shooting out of the car. Urgency to find Yamato at once took priority over manners and protocols. Since whoever did this was good enough to pull a fast one on the Chief there probably wasn't much point in subtlety. He'd just shoot anything that moved unless it was Yamato.

Searching with the flashlight of his phone was turning futile. Nor did anyone answer his calls. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

The smell of blood.

The sight that greeted him upon following it would haunt his nightmares for months to come.

A familiar phone broken in the dirt. Cracks travelling all over the screen like a spider web, pieces of outer casing flaked off. From that, light followed to a familiar glove, dark red and misshapen and connected to a familiar male. Face down in a pool of his own blood.

And above him, a gravestone stood imposingly. As if calling the chief down to the underworld. A verdict.

"Yamato!" Was all Art could choke out. He rushed to the fallen male's side and turned him over after making sure the source of the blood wasn't on his back. "...how could this.."

On Yamato's chest, a gaping wound stared back at him.

No. No time to break down. He was still breathing, however faintly. He still had a pulse and the barest sliver of warm. Yamato was still fighting. Still alive.

"Don't you dare!" He removed his jacket in one move and pressed the clean side over the wound. So many wounds all over his body. But if he couldn't stop the blood loss, it was all over. "You are not allowed to die right before my eyes! Do you hear me, Yamato!"

Yet, he could feel the blood soaking through the fabric. A weak cough that called panic. If his airways got blocked by blood, Art wouldn't be able to tend to the wound and do CPR at the same time.

So much damage all over his body and yet slowing down the bleeding alone was all he could do. Art rarely ever felt this helpless.

"Please, Yamato! Hang in there just a bit longer. Ambulance will be here any minute." His shaky calls turned into desperate pleading. Tears were blocking his vision by now. "Please don't do this! I...I can't lose you too...Yamato!"

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Ten minutes at most.

The time between his arrival and that of the ambulance was ten minutes at most. Even though every second of it felt like years. In ten minutes, his throat went sore from begging Yamato to live.

And the time Yamato had been in surgery for was nearing three hours. That also equaled to the time Art had been slumped on a hospital chair, waiting before the double doors. Only time he left was when a nurse shooed him to wash off the blood and change into a clean shirt so he wouldn't be scaring other patients.

He should probably go back to cemetery.

And he really didn't care.

He already handed the recording in for voice analysis. Besides that, there should be an extra set of finger prints on Yamato's phone. While the medics were swarming Yamato, a keen eyed JPs employees also discovered a fresh trail of blood moving away from them. About two hours ago, they reported about how the footprints indicated there had to be at least two people involved in the assault.

People combing through the crime scene were obviously competent enough to manage on their own. Besides, Art would only get in the way considering his exhausted state.

That and...the feeling he had to stay here. He had to wait for Yamato. Stay as close as hospital rules allowed him and keep his promise. Certainly foolish of him. Yes. Even a child could see there was nothing he could do to help Yamato out of this. But he felt like if he left his seat, if he turned his back to this door, then Yamato would truly leave them forever.

Exactly what Art had been trying to do. Yet, completely different. The realization made him disgusted with himself. If this was supposed to be his punishment, Art wished he had been the one to pay the price instead of Yamato.

I won't try to leave anymore. I won't run away. I won't go anywhere. I'll stay by your side until you're sick of me. So, please.

Please.

Don't go.

...

The light above the operation room finally turned off.

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He looked like he was just sleeping. Though this assessment wasn't all that inaccurate considering Yamato had been out of coma for a while now. They were simply waiting for him to wake up on his own.

However, 'they' didn't mean all that many people. Especially since Art, with the help of his ever so faithful nurses, went out of his way to make sure rumors of Yamato's death on operation table spread. Rather than an official announcement to doubt, give them a speculation to cling to. Almost as if JPs was trying but failing to cover his demise up.

For that matter, rumor's of Art's departure from city also spread. Easy peasy since he was all done with his preparation before that fateful call. Just send someone to pick up his luggage and things moved on their own.

Of course, in truth he'd been right here like a guard dog at Yamato's bedside the whole time. (Or the couch of his private hospital room, working from his laptop the whole time.) Can't be too careful. That was also why he choose to stay here despite having heard only good things about the doctor in Toshi Clinic.

Connections and trust. Beautiful things.

While they could get overbearing at times, the staff here was scarily competent and loyal on top of it. Better than some of his subordinates if he had to say. Their unity was definitely stronger and they kept bringing Art sweets.

In the end, he only decided to keep a handful of JPs employees involved. While Art liked it in TCDF, there was too much of a mix-match for him to trust every single member equally. He'd probably update Fushimi and Chie on things later. Unfortunately, Tasuku had been missing for a while now.

Vacation or not, he also sent Shinichi and Naoto encoded mails explaining the situation. It'd be far more troublesome if they rushed back to investigate and turned things upside down. Art really didn't have the confidence to fool those two.

For now he just wanted Yamato to get better. Then, they could decide where to go from here.

Looking at the chief sleeping without a care in the world, Art found himself yawning. He was going to get scolded by the passing nurses (again) if he stayed up any longer.

With some dissatisfaction, he closed his laptop and placed it on the counter besides the cookie box. After a short trip to the bathroom, he retrieved a pillow and blanket from the closet and made himself at home on the couch.

Before turning off the lamp, he stole one last glance to the sleeping beauty.