***Taisho Shopping Mall (abandoned), Upper-Town Taisho.

  Daigo has yet to return after over two long hours had passed, so Haiji eventually decided to go back outside again, rejoining the restless, milling crowd of other Mercs that constantly threw themselves at any recruiters that happened to come by.

  After several more frustrating hours of wrestling and struggling for a paying spot, Haiji still wasn't pulled into the back of any truck.

  And for the two times he was actually picked from the crowd, he was then

  unceremoniously let go again, immediately after they 'felt' out that he is an E-Grade Evolve.

  After almost 3 full hours of this demoralizing, fruitless struggle, a cargo truck eventually pulled up a bit close to where the main mob of Mercenary Guards still stood, with Haiji still stuck right there in the disheartened yet struggling mix.

  This particular truck, however, isn't here to take in any new day-hitters.

  Instead, it seem its purpose is to drop off the ones they had taken out earlier.... or, more accurately, what's left of them anyway.

  Its ominous arrival drew only a very few, cursory glances from the crowd; Haiji, however, was one of those few who watched.

  When about 5 or so of them slowly got down from the truck bed, the driver of the cargo truck immediately ignited the loud engine and then drove off quickly, just as usual, without a backward glance.

  Haiji still stared intently at the small, wretched bunch as the truck dropped them off.

  He clearly saw that all of them were completely covered in a thick layer of ash, black charcoal dust, and wet, glistening blood.

  Their clothes were now even more ragged up, torn to shreds, than your typical, everyday hoodlum's already tattered attire.

  It was incredibly hard to tell from a distance if they were bleeding from their own wounds, or if it was someone else's blood staining them... or even, perhaps, something else's blood entirely, as they all just silently walked, or rather, stumbled, into the dark maw of the mall, looking like rotten corpses of the undead.

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  Haiji soon recognized a familiar face amongst them, or at least, a small, grimy speck of one, to be perfectly honest.

  Though this particular person's clothes were now tattered almost beyond any recognition, the person's distinctive gait, even if it's currently incredibly slow and very, very lazy, was a dead giveaway.

  "Daigo…" Haiji whispered softly under his breath, as he immediately started walking towards that person, quickly increasing his pace as he did so.

  Haiji couldn't help but feel that something was very, very fuckin' off with him.

  Daigo walked with his head hanging low, his eyes looking half lost and half asleep, as his entire body moved sluggishly, like some kind of lazy, broken zombie version of his usual self.

  Haiji then began to run, roughly pushing aside anyone that happened to be in his direct way.

  He had no fuckin' thought in his head at that moment of whether the people he just forcefully shoved aside were D-Grades, or literal demons.

  The only thoughts currently racing through his head were, 'What the hell is wrong with Daigo right now?', 'What the fuck actually happened to him out there?', and 'Why is fresh blood still fuckin' dripping from his damn hand?'

  Daigo staggered badly as he walked, with each successive step seeming visibly weaker, more unsteady, than the previous one.

  Haiji finally reached his side, and then hurriedly, but gently, grabbed Daigo's limp left arm, carefully putting it over his own neck and shoulders.

  He then wrapped his own left arm around Daigo's shaking back, placing his hand firmly under Daigo's armpit to try and support his weight.

  "It's alright now, Daigo… you are alright, man. Just take it slow, nice and easy," Haiji softly said as he slowly, carefully, started to carry Daigo towards their usual, secluded spot deeper within the mall.

  "Haiji… man, you look… you look fuckin' awful today," Daigo commented weakly, as he slowly, painfully, turned his head just a little to his left, a small, yet incredibly weak and pathetic, smirk forming on his blood-streaked, grimy face.

  "I do not look awful," Haiji replied, his voice flat and unamused, not recognizing, or perhaps just ignoring, the faint hint of sarcasm in Daigo's weak, trembling tone.

  The sight of the fresh trail of dark blood that Daigo had already left on the dirty floor, even in the short little distance he had managed to cover on his own, caused even the usually stoic Haiji to slightly, inwardly, panic... Just slightly, though, as he still appeared as outwardly calm as a still, undisturbed pond on the surface.

  He gently, but also very hurriedly, dragged Daigo the rest of the way to their usual, relatively safe spot in the vast, echoing mall.

  Once there, he quickly dug into his own backpack and then brought out the small, remaining remainder of that potent healing potion he had luckily found just a few days back.

  "What..what da fuck… is that…?" Haiji quickly poured the glowing, viscous potion down Daigo's throat before Daigo could even finish asking what that weird-looking, unfamiliar tube he was suddenly bringing up to his face actually was.

  Daigo naturally, instinctively, tried to reject whatever strange substance Haiji was now forcefully feeding him.

  But he simply didn't have enough strength left in him to effectively pull his head back from Haiji's firm, insistent grip, and so he could only just weakly swallow down the strange gassy concoction.

  After Haiji had managed to force the whole thing down Daigo's throat, Daigo then jerked violently forward, coughing uncontrollably, almost violently, with a small, concerning amount of thick mucus and fresh, dark blood following each wracking cough.

  Haiji knew next to nothing about properly handling any kind of serious medical emergencies, especially one like Daigo is currently, clearly experiencing right now.

  So, all he could really do was just gently, awkwardly, massage Daigo's heaving back as he coughed hard and painfully, all the while silently, desperately, hoping that this stupid fuckin' healing potion was truly some kind of miracle drug, just like all the rumors always say they were.

  When Daigo was finally done with his violent coughing fit, and began instead to just pant heavily, his breath ragged, Haiji gently made him rest his aching back against the graffiti-ridden concrete pillar that stood beside them.

  They just sat there together in silence for a while after that, with Daigo's eyes now closed, and his ragged breathing gradually, thankfully, returning back to a more normal, steady rhythm as the minutes slowly passed by.