reckless. ā michizÅ tachihara
michizŠwas rash. this was already known by most mafia members, seeing the way he often acted recklessly and casually even with his elder and superior, ryūrŠhirotsu. he often called him anything related to old man or grandpa. it was just the way he was, and the lighthearted-ness of it could even be seen as a nice change for the strict mafia hierarchy (if you were really stretching it) but he got his jobs done and knew how to follow orders, and that was that. nobody could argue with a mafioso who was in one of the strongest assault groups of the mafia.
he, particularly, was a role model. he technically should have been one of the normal henchmen. the ones in suits that followed higher-level members as bodyguards, sentries, etc. but instead, he was promoted to be one of the black lizard's battalion leaders. so, yeah. people looked up to him. they aspired to rise the ranks and gain recognition. power was addictive to most, after all, and he was sure many wished to take his spot. it was power, even if the jobs were sour and often too bloody for most to handle.
but even now, he was holding back. he, like his direct coāworkers in the government, had an ability. specifically, his was ferrokinesis. he could sense any kind of metal and depending on the mass, he could manipulate it, albeit with some struggle. and along with his enhancement surgery for the hunting dogs, he had to keep his strength to a minimum. holding back in almost all of the fights he's participated in was just a little bit annoying, especially when he lost, and especially when he knew he could have easily beat them. but to keep the charade up and running, he would gladly lose. this discipline was natural to him at this point, so it wasn't half bad. he wasn't superhuman, but it was tolerable pain.
but when he got stuck in a situation that nearly left him dead in the road, he started contemplating his recklessness. how did he get so wrapped up in being mafia that he nearly got himself killed for it? he was stronger than the average human, yes. he had extremely fast reactions due to intense, almost inhuman training, yes. of course, he wasn't as inhuman as the other canines; it would be a stupid level of difficulty in trying to conceal that much power. he was just supposed to be a skilled human, no abilities, and certainly no strings attached. so he played a reckless, ordinary human, who had a strong affinity towards violence and weapon-wielding. and because of that and the danger of this mission, he was in a safehouse, laying in pain, on a blood-soaked couch.
he knew that running through a burning building was not a smart idea, no matter how invincible you were or how fast you reacted. but it was the mission, and he followed his orders. most people would say that he followed them to a fault, but they made him who he is, and he wasnāt about to go against them now. this was the one aspect of him that was true in both personas he held, and he would stick by it.
an enemy organization had taken hostages, and although they were not as important as an executive being held captive, they were tasked to save all of the men they could. this number of losses would be harmful, no matter how skilled the mafiosi were. the entire building was filled, and even though it wasnāt a large one, there were still quite a number of people stuffed into it. small bombs lay in the center of every floor with the mafiosi lined up in a circle around it, threatening to kill everyone and destroy the apartment in the process.
he found himself running through the smoking building with an unconscious man on his back. he was being followed by able-bodied members, who each also had injured men on their backs. shing! as he exited the building and handed the man off to someone else, he coughed aggressively and nearly lurched to the floor from all the smoke he had inhaled. this was more irritating than being in a regular fistfight, despite just running around in smoke. he was accustomed to smoke, as hirotsu tended to smoke after missions and he joined him for a couple of post-mission chats, but to this extent? even if it didnāt hurt him, it was still irritating to breathe in smoke almost the entire time. he nearly let himself take a breather and stayed outside, but he grit his teeth and ran back in. he couldnāt wait to go home and go to sleep.
he had been in the burning debris for nearly twenty minutes now, rescuing another batch of people. he was starting to get tired, but thankfully almost everyone was accounted for, from what he could see. he wanted to do a final round of the building, and instructed the reinforcements behind him to immediately send everyone back to base for recuperation. crash! all of the injured needed to be treated, and the able-bodied needed to file reports on the whole situation. their security and the battalionās skill needed to be reevaluated after this major failure of a mission.
tachihara wouldnāt be one of those failures. the mission is only successful if heās alive. still, he was adamant on checking for any survivors ā perhaps under the rubble, maybe hidden and trying to survive. that, and the morals in him couldnāt bear to leave anyone dead and forgotten about. the building was basically in shambles, but he still wanted to do one last check. shhhick! and for the umpteenth time, he started from the top and made his rounds down. he was crouching and coughing nearly every second now, the smoke constantly blurring his vision and making him tear up. ssslice ā¦ despite his current state, his prior exhaustion was nearly all gone, replaced by an irregularly fast heartbeat and oversensitivity to his surroundings. an adrenaline rush.
nothing should be alive in this environment. the fire was spreading and the entire building was collapsing in on itself. it would only be a successful mission if he survived, so he rushed towards the next staircase and booked it down. he just needed to get out alive; everyone should be out already. seventh floor. sixth floor. fourth floor. cccreak ā¦ SSHING! oh, that was odd ā¦ that felt odd. he covered his mouth and coughed again, much more violently than the other times, and he felt something wet soaking his glove. he pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked down,
ā¦ down towards his bloodied glove, dripping red onto the rubble, and towards a metal pole running through his shoulder and torso, into the floor. michizÅ stood there, trying to process the fact that he was just severely impaled, and only once he coughed again did he realize he needed to get out, now. it was an absolute pain to move, and he groaned as he tried his best to rush down and get to a safehouse nearby. it didnāt hurt yet, but that was sure to be because of the adrenaline.
along the way, the red-head was suddenly reminded he was an ability user. he hadnāt used it in a while to keep his cover from being blown, but it shouldnāt have been enough to make him forget. he reasoned that it was probably the pain and smoke, and once he confirmed that nobody was around, manipulated the metal pole to wrap around the wounds and prevent further blood loss. and so, he stumbled-ran his way towards the nearest safehouse that he knew of. with the exhaustion seeping into his bones, it felt like such a long way. his legs were shaking so, so badly, and he just wanted to sit down.
as he came closer to the little door in the alleyway that led to an underground bunker, he finally started feeling it. the sharp, agonizing sting that was starting to sink very, very quickly into his muscles, and he couldnāt help but freeze and painfully tense up āøŗ
he needed to get inside, immediately. before he bled out to death in this dark alleyway, where the rats would eat up his body before anyone else found him. the mission is only successful if heās alive.
tachihara lurched forward towards the handle, and thankfully landed his hand on the doorknob. the door had a passcode instead of a lock, thank god because keys are irritating to carry, and immediately punched it in. his legs nearly gave out on him, but he threw himself onto the couch, thankfully close to the entrance. god, god, god. this was one of the days where he really wished gin and hirotsu were here. he usually never wished for it; he didnāt need to. they were always ā usually ā there alongside him.
gin, despite being a creep who constantly lurked in the shadows and never talked, was much faster and more efficient than tachihara was in cutting ropes with their knife. they were a quiet assassin who did their job almost perfectly. he thought that, in a sense, the assassin wasnāt really cut out for raids and should have been doing more discreet jobs instead. hirotsu was old, but he was reliable. and despite gramps threatening gin and tachihara to stop fighting, he was definitely a comforting figure to be around in a fight.Ā
he was going to bleed to death if he didnāt get up to bandage himself together, but he was so exhausted. the other two black lizards would have made sure he didnāt pass the hell out, or at least brought him back to the mafiaās hospice. hell, he probably wouldnāt have needed to come to a safehouse and bleed his guts out on the couch if they were here. sorry boss, he was probably leaving this safehouseās couch stained with blood.
with the last strength of energy he had, michizÅ sat up and pathetically limped his way over to the bathroom, where he then plopped himself on the floor by the bottom cabinet full of first-aid. nobody was here, and there were never cameras in a safehouse, especially not a bathroom, just in case the footage was leaked and locations were revealed.Ā
he pulled his right knee up and hugged it with his elbow as he prepped. needles, stitches along with two rolls of bandages on the floor. he braced himself, counted three, two, one āøŗ and manipulated the pole onto the floor with a loud CLUNK!. he immediately hissed in pain, fuck fuck fuck, this HURT like a BITCH, but threw off his jacket and shirt to fix the wound, which had immediately started spurting blood over the floor.
he instantly grabbed the needle to stitch himself up, but immediately decided not to ā he couldnāt necessarily stitch the back of his shoulder by himself ā and he slowly felt out the wound and used his ferrokinesis to sew himself up. on days like this, he was thankful he still practiced, albeit rarely, using his ability. it was painful, and time went by so slowly. couldnāt he just skip to the part where he was treated already?
once the mafioso sewed himself up, he exhaled deeply and ran his hand through his amber hair. just a tiny break. he wanted to just lay down on the floor and pass out, but there was blood everywhere and frankly, he wasnāt the best at stitches. they would probably snap, and heād bleed out on the bathroom floor. people would find him shirtless and bloodied the hell out. what a pathetic way to die.Ā
so no. if tachihara was going to treat himself, he was going to treat himself properly. at this point, he couldnāt even care about the dried blood on him, so he just jumped straight to bandaging. he couldnāt necessarily wrap his hands around his body; it was inefficient and would be messy. so he took the metal clipping for the bandage, stuck it on, and used that to go around his body without much movement. tachihara bit his tongue, but still groaned every time the bandage grazed the laceration. never, never again. he needed to be more careful, because this was more trouble than worth.
but everyone was saved. everyone was saved, and the task was completed. the mission is only successful if heās alive, so he finished binding the wound. he immediately lowered his upper body to the ground elbows first, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief once it was done ā no, not done. the port would contact him for sure, though. if not to make sure he was okay, definitely for his report or the next mission. but that could wait just for a little while longer. heād sleep just for a little bit, and then go back to base.
yeah. that sounded like a plan. michizÅ balled up his bloodied clothes to use as a pillow, and closed his eyes. thank god for sleep, he thought, and promptly passed out. the mission is only successful if heās alive. mission accomplished.
