#ijin

“You’re okay. Youre okay.” Ijin said quickly because he was right. Kang was going to be okay, he was going to be okay because it would be so stupid if he was taken out by something as simple as a car roll over where Ijin had to drag him out of the car and figure out how to treat his wounds before he died because he couldn’t die—

A thin whine escaped the back of Kangs throat as Ijin tried so desperately to keep the blood inside of Kangs body, as Kangs cold and clumsy hands tried to bat away Ijins bloodied hands, his slick, red hands. “Kid—Stop, stop—“

“Stop talking.” The more Kang tried to talk, the more wasted the little energy that he had and he couldn’t do that. He needed to conserve his energy.

Another low groan escaped Kang, and the knees of his pants started to grow wet, and Ijin didn’t want to look because there was no reason to do that, all he had to do was focus on helping Kang.

“Its,” the breath he took in between words were deep and ragged, his teeth were pink, “Fine—argh—”

He shoved his finger further into the wound, shoving the cloth in there in hopes that it would work as a shitty, make shift tamponade. “Stop talking.”

“Squirt. Its—okay.”

“Stop talking.”

“Make—make sure you tell—“

“Stop talking.”

“Tell my parents—“

“No.” Ijin snapped back, the blood on his hands was starting to cool down, and he could feel the blood becoming tacky as it dried, as it made the sides of his fingers stick together until a new wave of blood came to refreshen the area. “Tell them yourself.” Kang was going to be fine. He was going to be fine and he was going to tell his mom whatever he wanted to tell her himself, Ijin wasn’t going to have to be the one to tell her, Kang was doing to do it himself.

He was pale, his teeth was pink and the blood had started to slow under his hands.

His voice was strained, quiet, but oh so audible to Ijin.

“I love you buddy.”

His throat tightened, and he had to swallow hard to try and dispel the feeling. He just needed to focus on taking care of Kang.

“Mom—and dad,” he had to speak in between ragged breaths, his pitch dipping and rising with each wave of pain, each wave of weakness. “They’ll…take care of you.”

“Take care of me yourself.” It wasn’t stopping.

“I—Wish…I could…” Kang was starting to get cold, his eyes were fluttering shut every other second, and his lips had started to turn grey.

“Its okay.” No, it wasn’t.

“You’re—you’ll—strong.” No, he wasn’t. he wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t strong enough to protect his men and he wasn’t strong enough to keep Kang awake.

“’ts okay.” his pants were soaked with blood, from the blood that had been pooling around Kang that entire time, into the fabric of his pants, onto Ijins skin.

“’ts…okay…” it wasn’t okay.

Kang was dying.

And Ijin could do nothing to help.

His inhale was stuttered. “Kang?” A tired hum, his eyes were half lidded, his eyes focused on nothing, just the general direction of Ijins face.

His vision began to blur. “I love you.” He shouldn’t have taken so long to say it, he should have said it earlier, before Kang was dying, before he was barely coherent. Could Kang understand what he said? Did he even understand what he said?

“Please don’t go.” Kang couldn’t go. He couldn’t die.

Kangs head lolled to his direction and maybe if he had the energy, Kangs lips would have been parted with a smile. “I...love you…too buddy.” His lips had turned blue, and his eyes had already closed completely.

There was so much Ijin wanted to say, he wanted to thank Kang for everything he had done, to tell Kang that he was stronger than that, that he could stay awake, to tell him that Ijin couldn’t make it without him because how could he do it without him, how could he do it without the first person who gave him a chance—

195 was finally able to see over their shoulders to see what was going on. What was making them huddle and whisper so furiously.

It was the kid. The one that they had dragged in half dead and covered in bandages. The one that 211, 451 and 286 had taken under their wings to try and make sure that he would survive.

He was a ragdoll in 286’s hands. The older boy was trying to get the child to sit up, to puck his head, to do something to show that he was alive.

All the kid did was stare at them with glassy, unseeing eyes whenever his head flopped in the right direction. If it wasn’t for the quick pants that barely moved his chest, 195 would have thought him dead.

Well, the kid was going to die if he didn’t fight off the fever that was ravaging his body.

“He won’t be able to train tomorrow.” 195 at last commented. 451 and 286 nodded with a grim expression.

They all knew what happened to the trainees who couldn’t train, to the ones who weren’t cut out for the training.

With a fever like that, at least the kid wouldn’t be aware of what was happening when their handlers went up to him to make that little head of his burst with a lead bullet.

There would be at least one asshole who would laugh and point at the kids remains afterwards.

Remains being taunted in such a way was a common occurrence in that hellhole. 195 had done it him self when he saw one of their handlers be taken out for some reason that 195 didn’t care enough to try and guess. He had kicked the handler when 195 saw him. He had told the handler to burn in hell, and that the flames of hell wouldn’t burn hotter than the hatred they all held for every single contributor to their torture in that hell hole.

It was easier to count the people who hadn’t cursed at a body. It was the norm.

Something about the thought of the kid’s body receiving the same treatment didn’t sit right with him.

The kid was just so…small… he was so small and quiet. He slept a few beds away from 286. 195 always saw him curled up in the shitty cot that had been given to him after another trainee had been cut.

He was small and quiet. So small, that 195 had to crane his head down to look at him. The kid had to bend his neck back to look at 195. When he tried to look at 286, he had to bend his back backwards as well.

Sometimes, although beyond rare, the kids’ eyes would light up, and when he looked up at 195, all he could see was little Liora.

The kid was the wrong color, and the wrong gender. They didn’t even have similar facial features, but the kid reminded 195 of Liora. Of the little Liora that he had first heard with his ear pressed against their mother’s stomach. Of his little Liora that he had shared a bed with, his little shadow their mother liked to say.

He had held her just like their mother taught him to when she was a newborn. He had held her just like that when she died in his arms.

At least 195 had been there to hold her as she died.

The kid wouldn’t be allowed to be held.

The kid didn’t have anyone to even want to hold him like that in the first place. Maybe in the arms of the body the men had found him under, but there? In that hellhole?

There was no one to hold him like that.

.

211 narrowed his eyes from where he stood. He wasn’t in his usual place. He wasn’t on his side of the tent like usual, but he had been the first one to notice him limping up to 286 and the others.

211 was rather passive, but 195 saw his hackles rising when he saw 195’s bruised and battered state. The guard had beaten his ass thoroughly, and his face showed it.

195 didn’t let him say anything. All he did was press the box into 211’s hands.

He would have grabbed more, but it was the only name he recognized. He didn’t want to risk grabbing an antibiotic instead of a fever reducer and he definitely didn’t want to risk grabbing more than one because oh boy did they notice the missing box. But they hadn’t been able to find the box on him, and that was all that mattered.

211 eyes widened a mere fraction when he saw what 195 had pushed into his hand, but he didn’t dawdle. Instead of asking what happened and where 195 got the medicine from, he turned around and went to the others.

195 followed him.

They had taken off the kids’ shirt to try and help with the fever. Based on the way there were cold compresses on his chest and head, they hadn’t been very successful.

Eyes flicked between 195 and the box, but none of them said anything. They didn’t thank him, they didn’t call him an idiot for risking himself, they didn’t ask him how they got it.

195 preferred it like that.

The box was examined, the instructions looked at and passed around futilely until 211 showed that he could read the language and read the instructions to them. Then 286 held the kids’ mouth open while 451 threw the pill in and dribbled in water from her water bottle until the boy swallowed.

They burned the box and instructions after that. 451 buried the rest of the pills in a hole close to her cot so they wouldn’t be found in any of their possessions.

He sat down on his cot with a hiss; his hand cradled around his chest. That asshole had kicked his ribs more than once. Shit guard in 195s opinion. He had noticed the missing box but hadn’t found the box on his person.

“Get him up. Do something.”

The quiet ‘his fever is finally dropping’ that he heard from that corner of the tent was the last thing he heard before he finally dropped off to sleep.

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Heres a version of the story with everyone have their manhua numbers instead of their trainee numbers bc idk about you but I had a hard time remembering everyone's trainee numbers lol.

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Even if 004 hadn’t been looking for the kid, with the way 005 and 008 were crowded in the corner of the tent, furiously whispering, 004 would have noticed either way. He could hear their whispers the closer he got.

“Kid. C’mon. Sit up. I need you to sit up.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Do you know if he’s eaten anything, his water rations?”

“He didn’t even get up to get his rations.”

004 was finally able to see over their shoulders to see what was going on. What was making them huddle and whisper so furiously.

It was the kid. The one that they had dragged in half dead and covered in bandages. The one that 002, 005 and 008 had taken under their wings to try and make sure that he would survive.

He was a ragdoll in 008’s hands. The older boy was trying to get the child to sit up, to pick his head, to do something to show that he was alive.

All the kid did was stare at them with glassy, unseeing eyes whenever his head flopped in the right direction. If it wasn’t for the quick pants that barely moved his chest, 004 would have thought him dead.

Well, the kid was going to die if his body didn’t fight off the fever that was ravaging his body.

“He won’t be able to train tomorrow.” 004 at last commented. 005 and 008 nodded with a grim expression.

They all knew what happened to the trainees who couldn’t train, to the ones who weren’t cut out for the training.

With a fever like that, at least the kid wouldn’t be aware of what was happening when their handlers went up to him to make that little head of his burst with a lead bullet.

There would be at least one asshole who would laugh and point at the kids' remains afterwards.

Remains being taunted in such a way was a common occurrence in that hellhole. 004 had done it himself when he saw one of their handlers be taken out for some reason that 004 didn’t care enough to try and guess. He had kicked the handler when 004 saw him. He had told the handler to burn in hell, and that the flames of hell wouldn’t burn hotter than the hatred they all held for every single contributor to their torture in that hell hole.

It was easier to count the people who hadn’t cursed at a body. It was the norm.

Something about the thought of the kid’s body receiving the same treatment didn’t sit right with him.

The kid was just so…small… he was so small and quiet. He slept a few beds away from 008. 004 always saw him curled up in the shitty cot that had been given to him after another trainee had been cut.

He was small and quiet. So small, that 004 had to crane his head down to look at him. The kid had to bend his neck back to look at 004. When he tried to look at 008, he had to bend his back backwards as well.

Sometimes, although beyond rare, the kids’ eyes would light up, and when he looked up at 004, all he could see was little Liora.

The kid was the wrong color, and the wrong gender. They didn’t even have similar facial features, but the kid reminded 004 of Liora. Of the little Liora that he had first heard with his ear pressed against their mother’s stomach. Of his little Liora that he had shared a bed with, his little shadow their mother liked to say.

He had held her just like their mother taught him to when she was a newborn. He had held her just like that when she died in his arms.

At least 004 had been there to hold her as she died.

The kid wouldn’t be allowed to be held.

The kid didn’t have anyone to even want to hold him like that in the first place. Maybe in the arms of the body the men had found him under, but there? In that hellhole?

There was no one to hold him like that.

.

002 narrowed his eyes from where he stood. He wasn’t in his usual place. He wasn’t on his side of the tent like usual, but he had been the first one to notice him limping up to 008 and the others.

002 was rather passive, but 004 saw his hackles rising when he saw 004’s bruised and battered state. The guard had beaten his ass thoroughly, and his face showed it.

004 didn’t let him say anything. All he did was press the box into 002’s hands.

He would have grabbed more, but it was the only name he recognized. He didn’t want to risk grabbing an antibiotic instead of a fever reducer and he definitely didn’t want to risk grabbing more than one because oh boy did they notice the missing box. But they hadn’t been able to find the box on him, and that was all that mattered.

002's eyes widened a mere fraction when he saw what 004 had pushed into his hand, but he didn’t dawdle. Instead of asking what happened and where 004 got the medicine from, he turned around and went to the others.

004 followed him.

They had taken off the kids’ shirt to try and help with the fever. Based on the way there were cold compresses on his chest and head, they hadn’t been very successful.

Eyes flicked between 004 and the box, but none of them said anything. They didn’t thank him, they didn’t call him an idiot for risking himself, they didn’t ask him how they got it.

004 preferred it like that.

The box was examined, the instructions looked at and passed around futilely until 002 showed that he could read the language and read the instructions to them. Then 008 held the kids’ mouth open while 005 threw the pill in and dribbled in water from her water bottle until the boy swallowed.

They burned the box and instructions after that. 005 buried the rest of the pills in a hole close to her cot so they wouldn’t be found in any of their possessions.

He sat down on his cot with a hiss; his hand cradled around his chest. That asshole had kicked his ribs more than once. Shit guard in 004s opinion. He had noticed the missing box but hadn’t found the box on his person.

More than once, Ijin had blocked one blow while taking another that had Kyong and Seokju wincing in pain, but at the same time, Ijin had gotten in a few hits that had them wondering about the well being of the brothers.

It was a simple backhand from 006 that made everything came to a stop.

Ijin immediately dropped to his knees, a muffled cry slipping past his lips as he held his hand over his face.

It was like a switch had been flipped, 006 and 032 dropped their fighting stances and were already asking what had happened. 

“What happened?” Kyong asked loudly, jogging over to the teenagers as they huddled around the kneeling teenager. As he got closer, he could hear the furious whispers between the three former mercenaries while Seokju just watched on in confusion. He repeated the question, as did Seokju, but they didn’t get an answer.

“I have to take it out.”

“Don’t take it out!”

“Dude if you take it out, you can’t get it replaced!”

“It’s starting to overheat. I have to take it out.”

“Wait-don’t use your fingers man!”

“Where are your tools?!”

“It’s already broken-!”

All they could hear was their whispering until there was a very distinctive smell of hot copper, and the sound of something snapping. Ijin jerked his head up suddenly, pulling something away from his eye as he flung it away from him.

Listening to 006 and 032’s exasperated groans, their eyes followed the path of whatever Ijin had thrown.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they could see its mechanical insides, they would have screamed when they saw the prosthetic eye staring at back them, steam coming off as the blood evaporated.

What. The. Fuck.

“Ugh,” They could see Ijin’s face and they could see him covering his right eye, “Damn.” His voice was weak, and he sounded defeated as Ijin angled his face away from them.

Noticing the way the two were losing color in their face, 006 helpfully supplied, “It’s a prosthetic, it’s not real.”

That did absolutely nothing to help them feel better.

032 kept on trying to pull Ijin’s hand away from his face. Much to his annoyance as he finally snapped out, “Can you not?” He gritted out his words, twisting away 032s wrist with more force than what was necessary.

032 effortlessly twisted his wrist away from Ijin’s hand and continued to try and pull Ijin’s hand away from his face, “Let me look at it.”

“Later.”

“No,” 032 said firmly, a tone of frustration in his voice, “Let me look at it now. Knowing you, you fucked up the release mechanism.” They could tell that Ijin was hesitant towards the idea of letting 032 look at whatever he was talking about.

But they didn’t realize just how uncomfortable Ijin was with the idea until he glanced over at them, clearly unsettled by the thought of them being able to see his empty eye socket.

006 noticed and sighed heavily. ”Look, they already know, “He waved his hand around flippantly, “They might as well learn in case something happens to us and we need help.”

Ijin pursed his lips for a few seconds, and just as they thought Ijin was going to refuse again, ”…fine.” He looked nowhere near happy about it, but he finally pulled his hand away from his face, allowing them to get a look at his face, “How does it look?”

Honestly, they didn’t know what they were expecting to see upon finding out that their friend had a prosthetic eye that had apparently overheated.

But what they weren’t expecting, to see that the inside of his right eye socket was metallic. There were smears of red covering the light-colored metal (steel?), the metal stopped right where his natural eyelid started, so once the prosthetic eye was in, all of the metal was hidden. With it being designed like that, it was no wonder that no one had noticed that Ijin had a prosthetic eye.

032 hummed thoughtfully, tilting Ijin’s head back with his hands as he peered deeply into the empty cavity. “Well, I don’t know how, but you didn’t break the release mechanism. I think.”

Ijin’s look was still withering, even with one eye. “You think?”

“I need my tools to check. Not unless you wanna stick another eye in there and figure it out that way.”

All Seokju and Kyong could do was stare as they went back and forth.

“You have a spare?”

“Do you have a spare leg laying around?”

“No. I got another eye though. It’s my old one.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It doesn’t try to color match anymore, it’s just a light orange.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know, we have to go back.”

“You don’t 002 and the others would have one?”

“He’s the only one who is missing an eye. Why would they have a spare?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they took a bunch of shit with them before wiping out the camp.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get into contact with them.”

“Okay. Until then, don’t let the socket dry up, and keep it covered.”

“I know.”

.