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You’re pretty sure you’re coming down with something, if the persistent full-body ache, sore throat, and fatigue that has tormented you the past few days means anything. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to fulfill your duties aboard the Alcor, so much so that others are starting to notice something’s wrong. You know if you asked Captain Beidou for a few days of rest, she’d grant you permission in a heartbeat—she has always been kind to her crew, and nothing would change now—but you refuse to do so.
It’s just a cold, you tell yourself. You’ll just sleep it off, it’s no big deal.
And yet, as the days draw on, it becomes harder to drag yourself out of bed. The rocking of the ship makes you dizzy, you hurt too much to pick up anything heavy, and you can barely get through a sentence without breaking into a coughing fit. Put simply, you’re miserable.
Your crewmates’ worry has increased tenfold as you’ve gotten worse—though, no one seems quite as worried as your partner, Kazuha. Even when you’re well , the samurai is never far from your side—now, it seems he’s practically glued to you, despite reassuring him that you’re fine.
You can tell he doesn’t believe you, his mouth pressing into a thin line and his brows drawing just barely downward each time you brush off his concern. You appreciate it, really, but you’re not going to let a little cold get in the way of your work, at least not more than it already has. Despite your stubbornness, Kazuha helps where he can. He wakes before you to fetch breakfast, granting you a few extra minutes of rest; he finishes his work as fast as possible, so he can assist you with yours; he speaks soft—softer than usual—to keep your headaches at bay.
The other crew members help, too, claiming the more strenuous tasks before they fall to you, watching to make sure you drink enough and take breaks when needed. You suspect someone spoke to the Captain behind your back when your workload lessens for a few days, but you can’t find it in you to be upset.
And so, through the gentle, subtle care of everyone around you, you start feeling better.
It’s warm today, the sky cloudless and a bright, bright blue. You’re not fully well yet, still plagued by headaches and a soreness you can’t seem to shake, but hey, breathing no longer hurts! The scent of sea salt is heavy in the air as you take a deep breath without coughing for what feels like the first time in months, stretching your arms high above your head.
There’s a laugh behind you. “Someone’s looking rather chipper today,” Furong, one of the Crux Fleet’s sailors, calls. You turn, flashing her a smile.
“Feeling a lot better,” you say, raising an arm to playfully flex. “Almost as good as new.”
She snorts, waving a hand as she walks away. “Just don’t overdo it, now.”
You shake your head. Your tasks for the day are rather simple; take inventory of the ship’s supplies, do a bit of cleaning, and move some crates below deck. Everything will take you a few hours at most , there’s no way in Celestia you’d “overdo” it.
Inventory is easy enough. You sort the stored supplies—food, medicines, cleaning and repair materials—tossing out anything that looks damaged, spoiled, or otherwise useless, and then count what’s left, scribbling the numbers down to report to Juza later.
Tucking the note into your pocket, you fetch the broom, and begin the tedious chore of cleaning the storage hold. Your efforts will have gone to waste in a matter of days, you’re sure, but it’s better to not let the mess build up. You scrub the now-empty shelves, wiping away any sign of dirt and dust. You sweep, reaching far beneath any obstacles to get the areas everyone else seems to forget.
It’s as you’re dumping water over the floor that you hear soft footsteps behind you. You glance over your shoulder, spotting Kazuha in the doorway. He grins and gives you a little wave as you grab the mop.
“I was told I’d find you here.” He leans against the frame, cocking his head. “Working hard?”
With your back to him, you nod. “Are you done for the day?” You’re careful not to splash your shoes as you begin to mop, spreading the water around before you really start washing the floor. Inventory took a bit of time, but surely you haven’t been below deck for that long. Kazuha laughs—a light, airy little sound—as though he knows what you’re thinking.
“I only had one errand to run today,” he says. “So I figured I’d see if you wanted any help.” You scrub harder at a spot that doesn’t seem to want to come off, frowning.
“I could use help bringing some crates down here.” The stubborn patch is finally gone, and you pause to take a breather. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Of course not.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, Kazuha watching as you work. Your arms are starting to tire, and you can feel the beginnings of a headache behind your eyes. Nevertheless, you continue—there will be plenty of time to rest after you’re done.
It doesn’t take long for you to finish; Kazuha gingerly steps out of your way as you join him in the doorway, hands on your hips as you assess your work. You let out a satisfied sigh, brushing your hands off—everything is clean.
Leaving the mop outside while the floor dries, you motion for Kazuha to follow you up to the deck. He trails behind you obediently, reaching forward to hold your hand as you walk. You smile at him over your shoulder and squeeze his hand in yours.
The sun is just past its peak when you step on deck; you have to shield your eyes, unused to the brightness after spending several hours tucked away in the storage hold. It worsens your headache, sharpening the dull pain—you’re not one to rush your work, but being done is sounding better by the minute. Squinting, you scan the deck until you find Juza, sauntering over to hand him your inventory report. He thanks you as he pockets the report, directing you to the pile of crates you need to move.
Kazuha follows you silently once more, only offering a tiny nod to the Chief Mate as the two of you walk away. You roll up your sleeves—paying no mind to the subtle trembling of your hands—surveying the situation. There’s six crates in total. If you and Kazuha each take one at a time, it’ll take you three trips down to the hold to finish the job. You’ll be done within half an hour.
And then you can go collapse in your bed.
You turn to your companion. “I’ll take one and you take one, yeah?” Kazuha hesitates, his brows drawing downward.
“Perhaps we should carry each one together,” he suggests, head tilting. “So it’s easier.” You scoff at his suggestion—though it lacks real hostility—waving a hand flippantly.
“I’ve done this hundreds of times,” you say, beaming. “And we’ll finish faster this way.” Granted, those other hundreds of times your head wasn’t pounding and you weren’t shaking. But really, how hard can it be? You’ll be fine.
You tell Kazuha as much, and with your reassurance, he relents; you can tell he doesn’t fully believe you, crimson gaze glued to you as you make your way to the first crate of the bunch. Down and up, you tell yourself, taking a deep breath. That’s all it is.
You choose to ignore the wave of lightheadedness that washes over you as you bend down to pull the crate into your arms. You pause before you hoist it up, rising back to your full height. Easy , you think. This is easy.
Until you take a step and your vision goes dark, numbness crashing over you.
Distantly, you hear a shout of your name, the call high and sharp in panic. There’s a clatter of something heavy, and then you feel like you’re falling. You land on something warm and soft, and in the haze of your fading consciousness, you instinctively draw closer to it. Your head is buzzing—a sensation you both feel and hear, and you feel like you’re twitching all over, out of control.
The first thing that returns is your hearing; it’s fuzzy, and your mind isn’t working fast enough to understand what they’re saying, but you can hear voices all around you. In your half-awake state, it’s overwhelming, the sounds all blending together. It makes your head pound .
The next thing that you register is someone’s hand stroking along your back, gentle against your shaking form. It’s soothing, even as you fight to open your eyes and regain your vision.
“... some space. Step back.” Finally, you hear a voice clearly—you recognize it as Juza’s, bold and commanding. The sound of footsteps follows, retreating away from where you lay, collapsed. You groan, shakily raising a hand to rub at your eyes, trying to blink away the remaining darkness. Someone calls your name again, and you can feel the sound against your cheek.
Oh.
It takes more strength than you’d care to admit to crane your face upward; you’re greeted with Kazuha’s mere inches from your own, eyes wide and darting across your form before he draws his gaze back to yours.
“Are you ok?” He asks in a harsh whisper. A few seconds pass in silence as your brain registers his question. You give him a small nod in response, and he lets out a sigh of relief, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. The action takes you by surprise—Kazuha normally keep his displays of affection private—but you suppose he’s too worried about you at the moment to care about much else.
“Do you think you can walk?” Another question, another nod. Kazuha helps you sit up before he stands, offering his hand to drag you to your feet. Your entire body screams in protest, and he has to catch you again as you stumble. He lets you lean against him, draping one of your arms around his shoulders, and one of his around your waist.
The rest of the crew has gone back to work, but Juza approaches you as you take your first unstable steps. You open your mouth to apologize for the unfinished job, but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry, you just go get some rest,” he says, lightly shoving your shoulder. It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order .
You toss him a weak grin, and give him an even weaker salute. “Yes, sir.” Kazuha chuckles beside you as he leaves.
“Alright, my love. Let’s get you to bed.” His arm squeezes around your waist, and you mumble a “yes please” into his shoulder.
It takes a considerable amount of time to get to your quarters. You have to stop several times to let a dizzy spell pass, leaning against the wall so you don’t fall to the floor again.
But… you make it.
And immediately collapse face-down on your bed.
Kazuha leaves your side for a moment to fetch a glass of fresh water; he’s back at your side before you really even notice he’s gone. He coaxes you to sit up again, letting you sip your water as he works to get your shoes off. They hit the ground, one after the other, with a muted thump . Kazuha takes your glass from you, setting it on your little bedside table as you crawl under the covers. You don’t bother changing out of your dayclothes, too exhausted to really care about comfort. Honestly, you could probably fall asleep on a pile of bricks with how tired you are.
Through a yawn, it’s your turn to ask a question. “Can you stay?”
Kazuha huffs, smiling softly as he nods.
The back of his hand brushes over your forehead, followed by his lips. “Of course.” The bed dips as he sits next to you; you pull one of your hands from beneath the blanket, reaching to grab his. He meets you halfway, intertwining your fingers, stroking his thumb across your knuckles.
He’ll chide you for overworking yourself later, you’re sure, but for now…
You let the gentle rocking of the ship and the sound of his voice lull you into a much-needed sleep.