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You’re making a mistake, Mumen thought to himself.
The voice in Mumen's head often told him things like this. It would rise up when he was doing something borderline suicidal, like throwing himself into a fight he couldn't win, or diving into rushing rivers in fifty pounds of body armor, or going out on a night like this at all. Right now it was as easy to ignore as ever.
Not much of a choice, he replied, to himself. Not willing to die without making some effort. Mumen squeezed his side, though he'd lost the feeling in his fingers. He wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or the cold. Neither answer was a good one.
He could still hear the growling and scraping. It sounded like it was coming from all sides, but the voices among the growls sounded confused. Questioning. They hadn't found him yet.
In the dark buildings all looked alike, but Mumen had come by this one at odd hours before. Its shape was distinctive – half the roof had fallen in – and there was only one door with a person behind it.
It seemed to take far longer than it should to cross the cracked and overgrown parking spaces. The apartment he wanted was on the ground floor. Smart, the upper one probably wasn't safe. No car, either, and Mumen found himself wondering idly whether the occupant had ever had driving lessons. The light-headedness was making him loopy.
Mumen summoned up as much strength as he could and knocked on the door before the voice in his head could stop him. His knuckles left a smear of blood on the surface.
There was scrambling on the other side. A muffled swear. Then the clicks of locks being undone, and Mumen straightened up (more or less) and started trying to think of how to explain. How to ask for help from someone he hadn't spoken to since-
The door opened, and Garou squinted at him. Mumen saw his eyes widen in surprise as he took in what he was seeing, and Mumen cleared his throat to begin.
His vision swam. The pain drained away and Garou's doorway slanted as Mumen's knees gave out.
“Help,” he managed, as he felt Garou's arms close around him, and then everything went dark.
When Mumen woke, everything hurt. Which was a good thing, all things considered, though at the moment it was hard to remember why. He felt his first breath hiss between his teeth, noted that he could smell soap more than blood, and when he reached over to put pressure on his wounded side he found clean bandages beneath his fingers.
“You're awake,” a voice said.
It was a statement, not a question, but Mumen answered, “Yes.”
“You dyin'?”
That one was a question. Mumen touched his head gingerly, checked his fingers and toes, felt the bandage for damp spots.
“Not today.”
The voice snorted. Mumen pushed himself up on his elbows, just in time to be offered a steaming mug.
“Drink slow.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
He managed to get up a little higher. The room was gloomy, lit by a single bare bulb, and Garou was keeping his distance. But he was here, and uninjured, which meant he must have dealt with the monsters… somehow.
Mumen took a sip of what he expected to be tea, feeling his face scrunch up at the flavor.
“It's beef broth,” Garou said. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“I… I see.” A second sip, now that he knew what was coming, was delicious. He understood why Garou warned him to drink slow; his body wanted to chug it. “Thank you,” Mumen said, belatedly. “For everything. Did you- Those monsters, are they-”
“Dead,” Garou said, flatly, and nothing else.
“Thank you,” Mumen said again. “I'm sorry for the trouble.”
Garou stayed on the other side of the room, watching him with wary eyes. It reminded Mumen of when he tried to feed stray cats. They wanted the food, but didn't trust him, so they'd hang back and wait for something to spur them one way or the other.
He looked around, awareness slowly sinking in as he replenished fluids and iron. It was a tiny apartment, spotlessly clean, but there were garbage bags and a couple cardboard boxes waiting by the door.
“Is it trash day?” Mumen asked. He felt foolish as soon as he said it, but he didn't know how to act right now.
“They don't pick it up here anymore,” Garou said. “I'm leaving.”
“Because of the trash?” Mumen heard himself ask.
Garou gave him a look that said 'are you an idiot?' in the way only a look from a teenager could.
“Because I found you,” Mumen answered in his place, guilt washing over him.
“Partly,” Garou said. “How'd you do it?”
“I… I saw you.” He hesitated to admit where, but guilt ate away at him as Garou stared in silence. “At my apartment complex,” Mumen said. “You were moving someone in. I didn't think you noticed me.” Few people did, out of uniform. “So I… I followed you. I followed the truck all day and then followed you home.” He swallowed, mouth dry, but didn't want to go back to his soup yet. “And for a few days afterward too.”
Garou's expression gave nothing away, but he said, “Creep.”
Mumen winced. “Yes, I'm sorry.”
“Did you learn what you wanted?”
“I... I did. Yes.” Mumen raised his head and looked Garou in the eyes as best he could from across the room. “I think you've changed.”
Garou said nothing, though his eyebrows rose.
“You- you were always on time to work. And all I ever saw you do outside that was exercise and go hiking on your days off.”
The eyebrows came back down as Garou scowled. “Training. I went into the mountains for training, not hiking.”
“Oh... well... Still. It's a long way from picking fights.”
“Then why'd you go and drag me into one?” Garou growled.
Mumen gulped, and shook his head.
“You decided I'm different, so you thought I'd help you? Why-”
“No,” Mumen said. “It's not that I came here to ask you specifically, I just...” He took a swallow of the already cooling broth. “I got in over my head. You were the closest person that I knew could defeat all those monsters. That's all.”
“Huh.” Garou snorted again. “So I was just convenient.”
“Yes. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” Garou straightened up and started fussing with something in the corner. “It was time to go anyway. You're not the only one who tracked me down. And I got fired the other day.”
“Oh? But- but why? You looked like you were working hard, and-”
“Doesn't matter,” Garou said, flatly. “But if my ex-boss talks, no one else in this city will hire me. So it's time to go.” He let out a breath. It was almost a sigh. “Keep tryin' to outrun my past, I guess.”
“Do you... think you can?”
“No.”
Mumen frowned down at his mug. Garou had taken Mumen in, bandaged his wounds, made him soup.
“Do you think you have to?” he asked.
“Who knows? Maybe eventually people'll forget.”
Garou dropped a pile of cloth next to the futon, and Mumen picked up a piece to find his own clothes. He couldn't have been unconscious that long – the blood was still damp in places. As Mumen sorted through it, he suddenly became aware of just how much of his skin was bare beneath the fluffy blanket.
Lifting his own blood-stained boxers, Mumen asked, “You took off all my clothes?”
Garou shrugged. “They were all stuck together. And I had to get 'em off to see where you were hurt. There was too much blood to be sure if it was just your side or your legs too.”
“I... I see...” Mumen tugged the blanket a little higher.
From the tilt of his head, it looked like Garou was rolling his eyes. “Oh come on. Y'ain't got nothing I haven't seen before."
“It's just a little awkward, is all.”
“No fun lookin' when you're bleeding all over me at the same time. I liked that shirt.”
“I'm… sorry.” It seemed like the thing to say, though apologizing for being injured was a hair too far for even Mumen's honed sense of politeness.
“ Finish that and get dressed,” Garou said, gesturing at the mug in Mumen's hands. “I'm taking you to the hospital.”
“Oh.” He might be upright and talking, but Mumen was still exhausted. All he wanted to do was lay back down and sleep. As long as his injuries had stopped bleeding it should be fine. He just needed to rest and replenish. “You could leave me here,” Mumen said. “Since you're going anyway. Where are you going? Do you have a place to-”
“No arguing.” Garou pointed a finger at him. “Soup. Clothes. Hospital. Clothes are the only optional things on that list.”
“I'm naked.”
“I'll wrap you in the blanket.”
“And what? Just leave me outside the Emergency Room?”
“That's the plan even if you do get dressed.”
Mumen tugged the blanket a little higher and sipped his soup. Tired as he was, Garou was probably right. A hospital was a good idea. Blood loss wasn't the only problem – he'd been clawed by more than one creature with dubious hygiene, and it was possible he'd cracked something without noticing. It wouldn't be the first time he'd discovered a broken toe only after he took his socks off.
His socks were still on, actually. Apparently they hadn't stuck to his pants when Garou stripped him. Or, if they had, Garou had put them back on to keep him warm.
The thought of himself being undressed like a doll suddenly sunk in, and Mumen found himself holding back manic laughter as he tried to drink.
“Yeah you're definitely going to the hospital.”
Mumen nodded between giggles.
He finished the soup. He got dressed. He started bleeding again in the middle of it, to little surprise, but kept pressure on the worst of it and Garou didn't seem to notice. Getting to his feet made his head swim, but Mumen resolutely put on his helmet and goggles despite that. Mumen Rider showing up at a hospital covered in blood wasn't newsworthy.
Garou had put on a hoodie and sunglasses, and pulled a cold mask over his mouth when he saw Mumen buckling his helmet.
“Fireman or princess?” he asked.
Mumen made a face.
“How's your side?”
Mumen tried to figure out how to lie without actually making it worse, but Garou must have taken his silence as an answer.
“Princess carry it is.”
Without waiting for a response, Garou scooped him up in his arms as if he weighed no more than a sack of laundry. Mumen didn't feel much like a princess. Unless princesses were habitually embarrassed and dizzy, which was certainly possible in certain time periods.
Garou kicked the door open, putting them both back out on the dark street, the scent of battle (blood and feces mostly. Not even monsters were free of the indignity of the bowels releasing after death.) filling Mumen's nose. He really had killed all those monsters, though Mumen decided to spare himself the extra stress of seeing the state their bodies.
“Where's the closest one?” Garou asked.
“What?” Mumen asked, clinging to Garou's neck and turning so the sides of his goggles blocked what Garou's chest didn't.
“Hospital, koala boy. Where is it?”
“Oh. Um.” Koala boy? “North 49th street. It's near the exit to the highway.”
“North, four, and nine? That's some bad luck,” Garou said, conversationally. He was already walking.
“I didn't take you for the superstitious type.”
Under his breath, Garou muttered, “Criminals are a superstitious cowardly lot.”
“Is that... Batman? Are you doing Batman?”
It was hard to tell in the dark, with his goggles on, but Garou looked flustered enough that Mumen thought he might be blushing. “Shut up. Conserve your strength.”
Mumen chuckled, though it came out more like heavy breathing. “Well you're not a criminal anymore. And I doubt you were ever a coward.”
“I said shut up.”
“I will, I will, just one more thing.”
“I'm gonna drop you.”
“No you won't.”
Garou picked up speed as they got out onto the main road. It didn't surprise Mumen at all that he could run faster than Mumen could bike.
“Just want you to know,” Mumen said, the blur of streetlamps overhead and the distant whizz of traffic and the comforting strength of Garou's arms, “you're my hero.”
Garou slowed down, and Mumen wondered for a moment if he really was going to be dropped, until the brightness of the lights made him look up and see the hospital. Okay, it was a little surprising that Garou could have run a dozen blocks in the time it took Mumen to get that sentence out, but it put the pile of monster corpses in a new context.
“Didn't catch that,” Garou said.
Mumen opened his mouth to say it again, but Garou deposited him on his feet and he had to be careful not to bite his tongue.
“Get in there,” Garou said. “Don't care what you tell 'em, but I'm not going in with you.”
“Okay. I understand.”
He walked a couple steps, to test his knees, but they were holding for now. Honestly he probably could have walked the whole way, though he'd saved himself some pain tomorrow by letting Garou carry him.
Speaking of Garou, Mumen should thank him one more time. He turned, and saw that in the few seconds it had taken Mumen to walk two steps Garou had already vanished.
Mumen sighed. “Doing Batman,” he muttered, and turned back toward the welcoming lights of the hospital.
Just another night on the job.
And in the back of his head, that familiar voice said, Told you.