Chapter Text
Golden rays of sunlight dappled the mossy undergrowth of the forest. The forest was filled with the sounds of animals rustling around, lively bird calls, the creek’s playful burbling, and a light breeze blowing through leaves. The fragrance of spring filled the air, the delicate aroma of budding flowers paired with the musky scent of wet wood and dirt. You walked through the woods, black rain boots stepping quietly and deliberately down the familiar path to the creek. The rushing of the creek grew louder as you reached it, cuing you to set down your basket and prepare to pick some berries growing by the creek bed.
As you set the basket down, you noticed a red splatter in a sandy patch near the creek. Upon closer inspection, you determined it was most likely blood. Thinking an animal had been injured, you searched for similar drops of blood to lead you to the animal. After all, it wasn’t unusual for a chicken to go missing once in a while. You suspected wolves, although they had never ventured close enough for you to see them.
You continued down the creek, following the irregular trail of blood, before noticing a tall, white haired figure slowly walking down the creek, grasping their abdomen through a bloody shirt. Panicking, you froze, before rushing forward to catch them. Reaching around the figure, he looked at you dazed, before collapsing onto you. Well, crap. He certainly wasn’t light, and you struggled to arrange him so you could carry (well, drag) him back up to your house.
After trudging back up the creek and the path, you finally made it back up to the flat, grassy clearing of your cottage. You continued forward, into your home and bedroom, lifting the strange man onto your bed. You bolted to the bathroom, opening the cabinet under the sink and pulling out the health kit. Returning to the room, your hands shook as you examined the bloody mess on his chest. He was wearing a button-up shirt, albeit ripped and bloody, so you carefully unbuttoned the shirt and peeled it from his chest, gagging slightly as blood gushed out of the wound. Lifting him up lightly, you finished removing the shirt and focused back on the wound, taking a rag to try to clean the mess. With most of the blood cleared away, the wound itself did not seem too bad, it was quite large, but not very deep; he had likely collapsed from blood loss, as he was incredibly pale. After sanitizing the wound, you wrapped it tightly, keeping pressure on the wound.
With that out of the way, all of the nitty gritty details popped up. First of all, you just brought a strange man covered in blood, sweat, and mud into your house, and now he's on your bed. His shirt was too ripped to salvage, and his pants were damp and covered in mud from the creek and then being dragged. Sighing, you left the room to pick up a pair of your late father’s sweatpants. You brought them back, before removing his boots and carefully removing his pants. You blushed heavily, the reality of the situation hitting you like a frying pan to the face. He wasn’t bad looking by any metric—he was well built, and his face was actually quite handsome. Somehow, that just made this all much worse. You didn’t have any spare men’s underwear, so despite his being blood stained and sweaty, you kept them on, to your relief. You used a soapy towel to wash his legs before drying them and sliding on the sweatpants. They were a bit small on him, but you had no other alternatives. You then used another soapy towel to wash his face, and brushed his hair, unable to wash it without bringing him to the bathroom.
With that done, you went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water to put on the nightstand, in case he woke up while you were out. With that, you left and went about the ranch, finishing your chores. After finishing your dinner, you went back to your room and read in the bay window, glancing over at the man once in a while. At around 10:00, you grabbed a blanket from the closet and curled up on the bay window to sleep, slightly cramped.
In the morning, you woke up with the sun streaming through the window you slept under. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table—6:15, right on time. As you looked up from the clock, your eyes caught on the strange man in your bed. He was still deeply asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, in the same position you had left him. You quickly got up, groaning slightly as your back cracked from your awkward sleeping position. After doing some light stretches, you got dressed, adorning yourself in a brown, long-sleeved turtleneck shirt tucked into a mid-calf length matching skirt with stockings, before pulling on a pocketed white apron.
After making your way down to the kitchen, you fixed up a plate of fresh eggs cooked to your preference, a protein rich breakfast to keep you energized throughout your busy day. With that, you grabbed a large container of old, refrigerated rice and a basket, before slipping on your work boots and making your way down the familiar path to the chicken coop. You opened the latch and slipped through the gate, as a wave of chickens surged towards you, running as fast as their legs could carry their plump little bodies. You dug out chunks of the rice, scattering them into the crowd, slowly wading through the sea of chickens towards the coop. Entering the coop, you went nest to nest, gently lifting up the hens to grab their eggs.
After collecting all of the eggs, and dodging most pecks, you dropped off the eggs in the outdoor kitchen area before walking back past the chicken enclosure to the goat gate, preparing to milk them. You had a full day ahead, but the fresh, fragrant mountain air and rising sun made it all worthwhile. Beyond your small ranch, the woods swayed gently in the spring breeze, draped in lichen and moss. You were content.
— — — — —
Killua’s POV
I blinked awake, light flooding my vision. Groaning lightly, I brought my hand to my face, body aching and sore. Shifting slightly to get up, a sharp twinge of pain shot through my abdomen. Looking down, my blurry vision focused on what appeared to be bloodied bandages wrapped around my chest. My head pounded, forcing me to lay my head back.
I looked around at where I was. I was laying in an unfamiliar bed, but certainly a quite comfortable one. I seemed to be in a small bedroom, rather plain, the only distinguishing characteristic being shelves of books lining the walls and piled up on the floor. The bed was pushed up against the wall, right below a small, curtain lined window. Natural light illuminated the room, making me estimate the time to be around one in the afternoon.
The door in the opposite corner of the room clicked and swung open slowly, a figure emerging from behind it. My eyes slowly focused on it, realizing it was a young woman clad in brown looking right at me. She squeaked in surprise, rushing forward to me. I tensed up as she started to speak.
“Oh my goodness, you’re awake! Hello! Um, would you like some water? I bet you’re pretty thirsty,” she blurted out quickly. I nodded lightly, and she started pouring water from a pitcher on the bedside to my left.
“Where am I? Who are you?” I croaked out, my throat parched.
“OH! Sorry, I’m y/n, you’re in my house right now. I found you by the creek, and you collapsed right as I got to you, so I carried you back here and tried to bandage you up,” she said, raising the cup to my lips, one hand supporting the back of my head as the other slowly poured the liquid into my mouth. “You’ve been out for about a day and a half now, likely from blood loss. The wound was wide and bloody, but not that deep or severe. But, now that you’re awake, do you mind telling me what the heck happened? I can’t imagine it just happened from being in the forest, and no animals would leave a wound like that. Also, what is your name?” She inquired as I finished the water, wiping off a droplet that escaped.
“Killua,” I responded, voice still weak. “I shouldn’t get into what happened, but thanks for your assistance.”
“Oh, well, I don’t want to pry. Ah! You’ve gotta be starving by now, stay here and rest and I’ll come back with some warm soup. After that, I’ll change your bandages, okay? Now rest up,” She said, gently putting my head back and patting my cheek.
I closed my eyes, and some time later a delicious scent wafted into the room, my mouth watering in anticipation. Y/n came in a few minutes later, bowl of soup in tow. She set it on the nightstand, before dragging over a chair and sitting down.
“Open wide,” she instructed, putting the soup on the edge of the bed and carefully bringing the spoon to my lips. I complied, feeling the warmth and flavor of the soup spread across my tongue.
“That’s really good,” I told her as she got another spoonful of the soup ready. She thanked me, bringing the spoon back to my mouth. She was intently focused on this task, sparing no effort for conversation. That was fine by me; I couldn’t very well speak while eating. Instead, I focused on the person before me. She wasn’t bad to look at, soft h/c hair framing her face. Her e/c eyes shined with friendliness and warmth, and her lips lay in a soft smile, radiating tenderness.
She made eye contact with me as I made this assessment, blushing lightly and smiling more. She continued to feed me, much to my appreciation. After finishing the soup, she put the bowl back on the nightstand, before reaching below the bed to pick up a small box, which she opened to reveal bandages.
“This will likely hurt, do you want a tranquilizer along with your painkiller?”
“Yes please,” I winced, after trying—and failing—to get up.
She carefully put two pills in my mouth before pouring in some water, and I swallowed them eagerly. She then filled up an oral medicine dispenser with a deep purple liquid, which she poured into my mouth. I swallowed it quickly, coughing at the rancid taste.
“Water,” I croaked, and she quickly gave me some water while apologizing. She assured me that it would only be a few minutes before I would be unconscious. I hoped this was true—my resistance to poisons included tranquilizers, but hopefully the combination of tranquilizer and painkiller, along with injury-related exhaustion would at least make me delirious enough to not feel as much pain. Of course, I could just grit my teeth and bear the pain, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my 21 years of living, it’s that there is no point to being in unnecessary pain.
Indeed, my hopes came true, as within a few minutes I was in a delirious state of disconnection from my body. While still conscious, I was severely out of it. Y/n started unwrapping the old bandages, tensing as the wound was revealed. She hovered over it, examining it for infection, and once she determined there wasn’t one, she used a clean rag to clean up the wound and administer an antibiotic cream. Once she was satisfied with the results, she rebandaged the area with clean bandages. I heard her mutter under her breath something about how fast it had healed. I smirked slightly, knowing my abnormally fast healing ability was working its magic. I slowly drifted back to sleep.