The Universe's Mixer

Rufio had a problem. An embarassing one, too. He'd been battling a group of thugs when one had pulled a knife and glanced his side. He was an expert swordsman, yet somehow the street scum had gotten in when he was running another thug through, and he'd just barely dodged in time.

Finishing the group off quickly wasn't hard. After he'd killed two the rest took off, and the youth stopped, breathing heavily and looking at his side. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was long, running just below his ribcage. And there was a lot of blood.

He sheathed his still bloody sword and took off into the air, flying to the hospital. He knew what it was for, but the idea of just strolling in there and having them take away his sword was inconcievable. Instead the boy flew around till he found a window in the back which looked into a store room. Breaking in was easy enough, he was still small enough to slip through a window pane that would keep out a grown man, even if he did leave a fairly obvious blood smear across the pane. Inside the small closet he looked around, searching for bandages. He could mend himself without the help of any grownups, he'd only lost enough blood to make his head a bit foggy, after all.