Tanjiro's Broken Fingers Novels & Stories

Marcus' pov Saturday 21st December 2019 ************************************* I'm finally going home today. The doctors are happy enough that I won't try to kill myself if I go home. Nathan and Cole won't leave me alone anymore anyways, so they don't have to worry. My hands are still shaking and I still can't pick up heavy things but the physiotherapist is happy with my exercises. I have to touch my thumb to each of my fingers but I find even that difficult. I know what I want my hands to do but they just don't listen fast enough or strong enough. I keep getting frustrated but Nathan or Cole would calm me down and manually move my fingers like Jamal said to do.

Tino asked, clearly confused. Matteo chuckled and gently ruffled his hair. “There were some things that needed to be sorted out first.” “Are they sorted out now?” Renzo asked seriously. Matteo glanced at me for a brief moment before looking back at them. “Well… not completely. But I promise you something.” He pulled them closer. “Nothing will ever tear us apart again.” Tiziana smiled brightly and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. Watching the scene unfold made a painful knot form in my chest.

A rasping, dry sound, brittle as parchment rubbed together. Mirra rose and placed her hands against the trunk. “Easy, old one,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’m here.” She poured her energy into the oak, threads of green light slipping from her fingertips, seeking to soothe the ancient roots. The response came like a knife. A sharp pang drove through her palm, slicing into her flesh though the skin remained unbroken. Mirra gasped, jerking back. It wasn’t just the oak’s pain. It was her own.

I sighed, stood up, and without hesitation, delivered a vicious kick to his jaw. The sound of his bone breaking echoed in the room as he fell onto his back, blood spreading beneath him. He didn’t even try to get up, not that he could. His tendons were cut, and his hands were broken, twisted, and completely useless. He was a mess, a broken, helpless body, just waiting for the end. I crouched beside him, my voice low and rough. "Open your mouth." He whimpered, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Smash! Alex suddenly raised his hand, lifted the ashtray, and smashed it heavily on Chase's left hand. With a "crack", the bones of his left index and middle fingers shattered, and the bones of his ring finger were also broken. His three fingers were incapacitated. If he immediately went to the hospital, he might still be able to fix them. The problem was that Chase would not be able to leave for a while.

Hanzo repeats letting my leg go and watches me in concern. “I’ll heal,” I cry into the link as I writhe in pain. “Can you shift back?” Hanzo asks, I shake my head afraid of the pain. ‘We can but it will hurt a lot,’ Reika reassures me and I shake my head with more vigor. ‘I can stay like this till it heals,’ I argue knowing the bone breaking with the injury will be extremely painful.

Despite this, I must admit that I sort of liked the attention I was receiving from him. Our journey was filled with no significant difficulties, and the scenery was breathtaking. Rolling hills and snow-covered forests surrounded us, and the air was crisp and clean. The sound of birds singing provided a calming backdrop to our travels. However, my broken hand was a constant reminder of the danger we faced. It lay flat on a piece of wood, kept still with lashes of woven cotton, and small splints held each three fingers straight to prevent them from flexing. Diana said that I would need to keep the splints for some time until my fingers healed, and after that, we could start with small exercise

He couldn't have cared less about the couple of broken bones in his body! That's what very much like, Bowen moved down the steps over and over. Very soon, he was on the principal floor. At that point, just Bowen's skull had stayed in salvageable shape. All the other things in his body was broken. The leftover three fingers on his right hand were completely broken. Like a tree limb that had been run over by a vehicle, they were contorted in three distinct bearings. The finger bones penetrated out from the center and adhered to his shaking hand. His skin was holding tight the outer layer of his hand, and it appeared as though it would tumble off whenever.

His eyes are filled with what seems as regret , sorrow and disappointment with himself. My crying has stooped , it is just us staring intently at each other. He just looks deep into my eyes , as if everything he has been searching for is in it. He starts to slowly retract his arm from the broken wall , pieces of stone and paint are left on his jacket. When his fist comes into my line of sight , I can not help but gasp. His entire hand is crimson red with his own blood. I am not a doctor but I am pretty sure his fingers are broken.

I just got more used to it. But the one on my arm was too tight. It wouldn’t give. My fingers had already gone numb. “Damn thing…” Muzan grunted, trying to cut the rope. “Leave it,” I growled. “What?!” Crunch. “Oh, you son of a…” I twisted my arm at the elbow and yanked it free, severing it completely, hollering in pain as I did. Blood poured, hot and fast. Muzan stared, stunned, but I was already on my feet, turning toward the next wave of enemies. My sword was slick in my remaining hand, but my grip didn’t falter.