The Grim Reaper, his heart thundering in his chest, watched as Hajime ran off in a frenzy, the creature hot on his tail.
Quickly, Nagito shot toward the ground, pulling out his scythe as he scooped up his jacket that lay discarded against the asphalt.
He heard a yelp and a shriek of terror as the dark purple substance descended the hill a couple of meters in front of him.
Wasting no time, the albino extended his wings and beat them hard against the wind, propelling himself forward at an alarming speed. He was just in time when he saw the brunet curled up in a ball on the ground, the shield that he had placed around him about to shatter into shards as the monster tried to force itself through.
Calmly, as if he'd seen and done this many times before, he landed in front of Hajime, his heels meeting the dirt. A gale of wind erupted from his weapon when Nagito swung it at the creature, causing it to coil back in fear.
It wasn't a Wanderer, he thought while slashing at the creature. It was something much worse, an omen that had taken the form of a monster. Nagito bent his knees so that he was crouching, then using all his leg power, launched his body up into the air with his scythe positioned above his head.
The purple blob lashed out instinctively at the messenger of Death, its tentacle-like arms stabbing the air, trying to hit the albino. Nagito merely cut them in half.
Swinging his blade in a wide arc, the Grim Reaper ended the supernatural being's life.
A screech of pain erupted from it as it writhed under the blade, particles of its body already vaporizing.
Nagito let his wings vanish when he witnessed the agonizing departure of the purple substance, falling gracefully to the ground and landing on the balls of his feet.
He jogged over to Hajime, panting slightly. The white-haired boy shook his shoulder softly, murmuring the brunet's name.
"Hajime? Hajime?"
A tanned hand slapped over the shoulder Nagito was shaking, a strangled hiss escaping Hajime's throat. Then, a fist came at his face. Nagito stopped it with his palm, his eyes glued to the mafia leader.
"Come on," he spoke blandly. "Let's go back. You require medical attention."
He attempted to lift the brunet, but Hajime just wouldn't let Nagito assist him.
"Like hell I'm going back." Hajime snarled.
Nagito sighed in irritation, internally groaning. Why can't he listen to him for once?
"Stop wanting everything to go your way," the messenger snapped. "Life isn't like that."
Despite the struggling, the albino wrapped his arms around Hajime's waist and lifted him up. The brown-haired male squirmed in his arms.
"Put me down!" He yelled, twisting and kicking.
"Oh for the love of- Can you just shut up?" Nagito had had enough. Using the butt of his weapon, he knocked out the flailing boy, rendering him unconscious.
Finally.
Some peace and quiet.
~
Nagito had immediately gotten to work when they arrived back in Hell, grabbing medical supplies from his cabinets. Hajime had apparently sprained his shoulder when he tumbled downhill. What an idiot.
Hajime had neglected to obey Nagito's orders, and now he paid for it. The albino snorted to himself. He hoped that the near-death experience would at least change the brunet's personality a bit so that he would be sensitive about the topic of Death.
The Grim Reaper was fed up with him brushing off the concept of the Afterlife like it was dust on clothing. Hajime needed to change. He was always so cold, so bossy and pushy. The exact opposite of what Nagito liked. This annoyed him even more.
Nagito stared at the steaming cup of tea in front of him, his face reflected on the surface of the green liquid. The steam was turning his glasses foggy. Speaking of change, he too needed to revert his personality back to the way it was before.
"You're getting softer, more compassionate. That's how souls of the dead can see you now," Kirigiri had told him.
How had he not noticed it before? There were frequent heart aches when he saw someone die in front of him, something he had never experienced before.
Nagito snuck a look at Hajime, who was resting peacefully in his futon.
It was all his fault.
It was Hajime's fault everything happened. He was the one who changed him. He was the source of all his troubles. That brown-haired boy who was unfazed by death. The one that he wanted to spark hope in. All his fault.
"Komaeda? Why are you staring at me?" Hajime's voice broke Nagito's train of thought.
"Why can't I?" He snapped with more hostility than he wanted to.
"Didn't I say that I didn't want to go back to Hell? You should have just let me die there." Hajime's eyes narrowed.
Nagito rolled his eyes.
"Why should I listen to you when you never listen to me?" He retorted. "I'm the superior one here."
"Why are you suddenly so rude?"
"Says the one who's always giving a cold shoulder when I'm trying to help you."
"Well, at least I'm not a lowlife servant who's bound to the freaking Afterlife."
"Yes, so what if I'm a lowlife? It's my duty."
"Lowlife. Useless, pathetic, dead human being. A boy with skin as pale as death itself. What did you do? Drown yourself?"
That was it. He had enough. Verbal insults were okay, but the cause of his death was a whole other level. The cage around his rage unlocked, and a rush of heat coursed through his veins. He felt the urge to punch something.
Nagito slammed his hands on the table, spilling his green tea onto the carpeted floor.
"You," He stomped toward the glaring brunet. "You little-"
Nagito attempted to bend over and haul Hajime up by his tie, but before he could do so, a searing pain snaked up his back.
The Grim Reaper gasped in pain, collapsing halfway onto Hajime's lap. His hand flew to the small of his back, and he was suddenly aware of a jagged hole torn in his jacket. His hand surprisingly remained steady as he placed it at eye level. It was stained with red, the liquid sinking into the lines of his palm.
"Komaeda? What the-" Hajime's breath hitched as he saw the blood.
"Here, let me help-" He started, about to stand up to get the first aid kit when Nagito pinned him down.
"I don't need help," the albino seethed as he carefully stood up.
He wobbled to the table, shrugging off his jacket to gain easier access to the wound. He lifted his shirt up and took some gauze and rubbing alcohol, starting to clean his wound. Strips of hot white pain traveled up and down his body as he applied the alcohol, and his arms had to recoil every time the piece of cotton met the wound.
All of a sudden, the piece of cotton disappeared from his hand, and his white shirt was being lifted over his head.
"What the f-" Nagito yelled as he felt himself being pulled backward into a source of warmth.
"Stop struggling. You'll make it worse." Hajime hissed, dabbing the alcohol over the wound.
"I- Ow! I said I didn't- Ow! That stings! I don't need help!" Nagito stubbornly said, his arms twisting to push himself off of Hajime.
"Shut up, four-eyes," Hajime spoke in a low voice.
"H-Hey!"
The mafia leader took the Grim Reaper's glasses in one hand and placed the edge of it in his mouth, leaving both of his arms free to restrain the injured male.
He looped his elbows under Nagito's arms, securing the white-haired boy in place while he struggled.
"Stop moving and let me help you, goddammit," Hajime growled through the pair of glasses clutched between his teeth.
Giving up, the male went slack in Hajime's arms, and finally, the brunet could properly dress his wound.
"Where'd you get it anyway?" He asked.
"Get what?" Nagito said as Hajime wrapped bandages around his stomach.
"The wound of course."
Nagito pondered over the question for a moment. Where had he gotten it? He vaguely remembered being hit yet injured by the creature.
"Uh... It must have been when I was fighting off the omen." He drawled out the words, scratching his head.
A moment of silence blanketed the two, and only the sound of scissors could be heard when Hajime cut the bandage off the roll.
"Thanks." Hajime blurted out.
"What are you thanking me for?"
"For... saving me."
Hajime's eyes trailed to the floor, unable to meet Nagito's gaze.
"That still doesn't persuade me to change my mind about you." Nagito harshly replied, throwing his shirt back on.
"I'm sorry."
Nagito froze in his tracks. The greatest mafia leader in Japan was... sorry? Okay. There was definitely something wrong.
"Just get to the point." Nagito sighed. "What do you want? You want me to forgive you or what?"
Hajime clicked his tongue.
"I don't need anyone's forgiveness."
Aaaand, the old Hajime was back again. Perfect. Tsun Tsun hair seriously needed to stop changing personalities so often.
"I just want... a weapon." He finished.
"A weapon?" Nagito cocked his eyebrow in amusement. "What kind of weapon?"
"A taser."
"Why a taser?"
"Just... can I have one? Please...?"
It was so ridiculous seeing the dominant male become submissive. It was practically hilarious that Nagito had to laugh. His back ached with pain, but he couldn't keep it in.
"Stop laughing." Hajime clenched his fists. "It's not funny."
In a flash, Nagito's scythe was placed directly in front of Hajime's neck, a smirk flitting over the albino's features.
"Obviously I can't give it to you. It's prohibited in both Hell or Heaven. Anyone found using a weapon beside me will be sentenced to death." He mused, inching the blade closer.
Hajime didn't flinch nor make any of the slightest movements. He stood there, eyes boring into Nagito's gray-green ones.
"What would you do if I gave you one then?" Nagito tapped his chin thoughtfully.
Oh, the things that he could make the brunet do to receive the thing he wanted.
"Just. Give. Me. One." Hajime glared.
"What would you do? I truly am curious. What are your intentions with the taser anyway? It's not like it's going to harm any souls here. It's practically useless."
Seeing Hajime's face contort into an expression of irritation and anger made Nagito want to laugh until his stomach hurt. He never knew there was a submissive side to Hajime. He should take advantage of that more often.
"Alright, alright," Nagito waved his hand lazily, his scythe disappearing in a shower of gray sparks. "You can have one. Not a taser, but a gun. That's my deal."
Nagito drew a small pistol out of a nearby drawer, tossing it to Hajime. With an expert hand, the brunet caught it with ease.
"Now then," Nagito smiled slyly. "Terms and conditions apply. One. Don't tell anyone I gave it to you. Two. Don't use it unless absolutely necessary. Three. It works exactly like a real gun, so I'm pretty sure you'll manage on your own. Four. You owe me. Twice. One for saving your life and the other for this. Deal?"
Tension stacked on top of the silence as both males continued to stare at each other, none of them saying a word.
"Deal." Hajime finally said, pocketing the gun that Nagito had now given him to keep as his possession.
"Now then, remember this," Nagito's face turned stone cold. "Just because I gave you a form of defense and let you dress my wound doesn't mean I forgive you for your attitude. Until and unless you can change it, I'll still be treating you like this."
Without a glance backward, Hajime flopped onto his futon, drawing the covers onto his body without a word.
It was for the greater good, Nagito told himself. He needed to revert back to who he was before it was too late. He couldn't continue living on sympathizing over this random boy who had waltzed into his life. He couldn't risk it.
It was either his life or Hajime's.
__________________________________
Sorry if this was longer than the other chapters (my horrible writing may have taken a toll on your poor eyes).
I wanted to finish the scene uwu.