As Hiroshi works on the swelling along the left side of Aramaki's face, he gradually realizes that Aramaki's eyes have been unfocused for quite some time.
"Hey, Aramaki. You still with us?"
Aramaki blinks and finally looks at him, showing that he had at least heard the voice, if not every word.
Hiroshi lets out a short laugh. "If you keep zoning out like that, don't blame Ryoma when he throws the towel in for you."
The joke lands badly. Aramaki's expression immediately hardens. The tiredness disappears from his eyes, replaced by something far more serious.
His jaw tightens. "No. Don't you dare."
Ryoma blinks. "What?"
"I know my condition," Aramaki says. "I'm not stupid. But just this once, promise me, Ryoma. You don't touch that towel until I take that belt from him."
The request is serious enough that he doesn't answer immediately. For a few seconds, Ryoma simply holds Aramaki's gaze, weighing the words, understanding exactly what they mean.
