Kyousuke heard words being spoken, but in his current state they didn't register, nor did he try to process them. Soon a gentle, refreshing light fell on him, sinking into his chest and helping repair the wound. It didn't completely heal it, but it took care of the worst of it, patching together the parts that had been cut the deepest, so while his chest remained sliced open, the bleeding slowed considerably. He began to cough up some of the blood he hadn't managed to swallow, but there wasn't enough to be worrying; just the last remnants from a particularly severe penetration that was now (mostly) sealed.

He attempted to sit up, or at least his body did; mentally, he had completely shut down, and seemed to be moving on autopilot rather than consciously. The attempt failed, however, and he ended up laying back down immediately. He was still physically exhausted, and he'd lost a lot of blood, so even trying to lift his head was dizzying to the point of nausea. Even if he made it to his feet again, he'd only end up blacking out.

So in the end, he simply stared up at the ceiling, unnaturally quiet, even for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice telling him to be upset and angry, but he didn't have the energy even for that. He couldn't even think to try to move the body still half on top of him. He couldn't think or feel anything at all, still too stunned to process anything.

... For the most part. For reasons that had nothing to do with his injuries, it was somehow hard to breathe, and he found himself tensing up, still unable to move.