Chapter Text
There was a distinct memory in Asahi's head of being impaled. In fact, it was the first thing he could remember. Looking over his sister, boasting in front of the Warrior of Light, only to have two blades driven through his body. And his final words to the damnable Warrior..
So why, and how, was he awake and sore all over? If he was truly alive, he had little left in him to live for much longer, and there was hardly a chance for him. Not that he had much of a choice, unable to move as he was.
He had to admit, it was a fitting way to go. Suffering, sore, his limbs burning as if he's dunked them into hot oil. And yet the birds chirped, and clouds passed overhead, shading him briefly.
The Ambassador closed his eyes, face scrunching up in pain as he tried to simply, well, die.
It seemed the kami had other plans, as he opened his eyes again.
Two blue eyes peered back. Two distinct ones, that he'd learned to loathe with every fiber of his being. "You-!" Was managed out, before the pain hit full force, and the most the Warrior received was a garbled, closed-mouth scream of agony. And the Warrior stared, uncomfortably quiet. Or at least uncomfortable, if Asahi could truly feel it through the absolute pain he was currently in.
He was in enough of it to not notice the Warrior gently scooping him up, the tender embrace something one read in books. An arm on Asahi's back, another tucked under his legs, holding him just close enough that his head fell where Ambrose's shoulder met his chest.
Not a word of protest- Asahi couldn't manage it. This would simply have to be accepted, whatever it was. Perhaps a more personal execution?
How humiliating.
__
The walk, and subsequent ride by boat was a strange, quiet span of time that Asahi decided to immediately ignore the moment it was over. With the added surface of the boat, he found his wounds dressed with bandages found somewhere in the Warrior's endless pockets and bags.
Why?
/Why?/
Had he not made his intentions clear? Were they planning to try to make him turn against his lord? The possibilities were endless, and infuriating. And they only increased, as he heard the barest bits of conversation between the Warrior and his friends.
His gods damned friends.
Consciousness flickering, wavering like a candle in the breeze, Asahi felt himself lowered onto a futon, cushions against his back. There was a moment, where he felt comfortable for the first time in a long time.
..But only a moment.