Chapter Text
In her time on the battlefield, Aki had seen her comrades in strength and in strife, and every shade in between. Largely, the mood among the pegasus knights was one of hope and determination: they spearheaded missions by surveying the terrain and traveled quickly to bring a wave of support from behind, all while harmonizing with each other and with their equine mounts. But sometimes, watching her allies retreat while carrying the injured, or while injured themselves, even without their pegasus—gods forbid—the pang of powerlessness that wracked her heart hurt as much as any physical blow.
It seemed logical that, therefore, she would become a healer. But in some ways, her decision to graduate into a Falcon Knight only worsened the pain. More often, her duty became about tending those injuries, rather than leading the charge, which could be a relief for a shy personality such as Aki. But she hadn’t considered the very personal proximity from which she now so often cared for those battle wounds, or the weight of the now even greater responsibility that she shouldered for them.
On days that the stables had already been tended to, she dedicated her time to the infirmary, studying among the other healers: practicing her spells where she could, and shadowing the more grave and difficult cases. Conflict with Nohr showed no signs of abating—especially now that the long-lost Corrin had reappeared in Hoshido—and there was typically a steady flow of patients, which tested Aki’s stamina both physically and emotionally.
Thankfully, today was a quieter day. As Hoshido’s leadership took their time to calculate their next move, visitors to the infirmary consisted primarily of patients with ongoing ailments that required continued observation, rather than new cases. Donned in her blue and gold Falcon Knight robes and armed with a festal to amplify her magic, Aki kept watch over the entrance to the infirmary, and lent assistance to the more experienced mages in the back where needed.
She finished neatening up a few of the beds in the front room and then followed a short hallway to emerge into the clear air outside, the midday sun blinding her for a few moments. She had found that healing required respite as much as fighting, and for not entirely dissimilar reasons. She still clutched her festal in one hand, careful to hold its mirror out of the path of the direct sun. But stepping outside the building into another space allowed her to obtain a few minutes’ rest.
Aki took a deep breath, feeling her lungs draw in the clear forest air and then release it again. Blues, whites, and crimson reds mingled together in her vision as the fort’s occupants went about the day’s activities, heading out to the shops or perhaps tending to more internal matters. Though she’d have to return to her post before long, Aki took in the sights for as long as she could; having seen the horrors of battle only made her all the more grateful for those interludes of peace where she could see faces familiar and unfamiliar passing by in joy, or at the very least, mundane business, rather than being contorted in pain or grief.
As she basked in the sunlight and then turned to retreat back into the infirmary, her ears caught the sound of footsteps, the nature of which she didn’t recognize—almost. Aki stepped to one side as she entered and then spun to meet the owner of the sound. Having just been engulfed in shade, her eyes took a few seconds to readjust to the bright outdoor light. Nevertheless, the figure’s bright reds and golds and their robust silhouette were nearly unmistakable among the Hoshidan army’s members.
“Rinkah?” Aki hadn’t meant to shout the other’s name, but the arrhythmic footsteps had caught her off guard--the Flame Tribe warrior was usually so sure-footed. And as far as Aki knew, no one among her close allies had been dispatched on that day’s patrol. So what would cause an injury that serious…?
At the Falcon Knight’s raised voice, Rinkah shot a glare towad her, and Aki’s throat clenched as if her voice had been stolen away. But when Rinkah’s eyes wavered, consumed by a fog after only an instant, the cold feeling only lodged itself deeper into Aki’s heart. In all the times she had watched her in battle, even when fielding an enemy’s attack, she had never seen Rinkah’s eyes lose focus like that.
But there weren’t any obvious wounds, and Aki didn’t notice any blood, either. “Are you injured?” Festal in hand, she rushed toward her ally, who took another intentional but visibly unsteady step into the infirmary. No response except gritting her teeth. In spite of Rinkah’s lack of focus, her eyes were narrowed and pointed, making Aki glad that she would never be a Nohrian soldier on the receiving end of an attack from the other’s club.
Aki clenched her own jaw, left clueless on how to move forward. What little experience she had so far lay mostly in first aid, and in healing readily visible injuries like scrapes and cuts, maybe broken bones. She hadn’t the faintest hint where to start with an ailment she couldn’t see.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated in a lower voice. She had unconsciously drawn closer to Rinkah, examining the other for any signs that might offer insight in how to start a healing spell.
But Rinkah turned toward Aki, and she lashed out with an arm while lurching back to put distance between her and the Falcon Knight. “Don’t touch me.”
Aki had abided by Rinkah's request on instinct, but confusion whirled among her thoughts. Rinkah’s voice had started as a growl, but there was an unmistakable breathiness to it, as if she had struggled just to get the words out. And as she had staggered back, she seemed to have lost her balance, one hand tensed against her skull. The only answer that Aki could find was that they were dealing with some sort of illness… but Rinkah had always seemed to have the constitution of someone who never got sick. And now Rinkah, who, ever since Aki had first seen her, always stood with her head held high and with a piercing focus in her eyes, was now nearly doubled over in front of her and gazing as if Aki was standing miles away.
For some reason, the image of it was nearly too much for Aki to bear.
Then she heard shuffling from the back of the infirmary, and Aki glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Sakura and a small team of healers emerge into the front room. “Is everything all right?” Sakura called, hands visibly white from clutching her staff so urgently. Countering her short stature and timid appearance, her brown eyes shone with attention as she came to a stop in front of Aki and surveyed the situation.
But before Aki could muster a response, Rinkah had sunken onto one of the infirmary’s beds nearby, as if in defeat. Sakura began to approach her patient, but something urged Aki to extend a hand in warning, and the shrine maiden stopped suddenly. The resolve in her eyes flickered for a moment before giving way to bewilderment.
Aki felt her expression mirror Sakura’s at her own actions, but she took a silent breath before directing her attention to Rinkah, who now sat just beyond an arm’s length away, glancing between Aki and the newcomers. Her broad shoulders tensed as she supported herself with both arms, her head lowered.
The Falcon Knight took a measured step forward, lifting her festal to her chest slowly with both hands. At the movement, Rinkah’s fire-red eyes fixed on her, and Aki paused.
“We need to see what’s wrong,” she explained quietly as she slowly removed a feather-cuffed glove from her right hand.
Rinkah only offered a wordless sigh, but the tension drained from her shoulders and neck as she looked off to one side. As Aki drew another step closer, though, Rinkah glanced back toward her. “I need to feel your temperature,” Aki clarified, forcing herself to meet the other’s eyes.
Aki placed the edge of her hand over where Rinkah’s rough bangs met her furrowed eyebrows. Then, just enough to feel the other’s forehead evenly, she slid her hand upward and flattened her palm against her skin.
Even the heat that she felt radiating from Rinkah was not what she would expect of a typical fever. It was the burning of a body about to give out under its own efforts to fight off an illness. Maybe not deathly—but for a warrior as proud and steadfast as Rinkah, she had been so reduced to a feverish delirium that her suffering must have been beyond intense.
Gritting her teeth again, Rinkah flinched visibly, and Aki realized her hand must have felt unbearably cold to someone with such a temperature. Gingerly, she withdrew, her own brow creased in concern as she brought forward the festal still held in her other hand.
“This… might not be something I can handle myself.” Aki spoke softly and quickly to the other medics behind her, though her eyes remained on Rinkah, who begrudgingly sat still. “And we need to be careful not to exacerbate it further.” Accelerating the body’s natural healing could be dangerous when one already ran a high fever; as desperate as Aki was to help, it would take the refined touch of a seasoned mage—perhaps more than one—to handle the case safely.
Aki figured that her stuttering voice would betray her lack of confidence, and she retreated to allow space for the other healers to take over. Head bowed even slightly, Rinkah looked almost nothing like Aki usually saw her, ivory hair hiding her now-closed eyes. There remained traces of her self-assured demeanor, in the intentional quality of her small movements now that she had stabilized herself on the bed and resigned to allow the healers to approach her. And even as she looked up again to regard Sakura and the others, her pointed eyes still held their sharpness, somewhere under the haze of whatever illness was affecting her.
Still, something in Aki told her it would be best to turn away and tend to other matters for the time being. As badly as she wished to watch over Rinkah, she ventured that doting on her would likely only worsen the situation. So instead, she gave the other her space. And the wedge of ice that had affixed itself to her sternum at Rinkah’s pain-afflicted expression remained lodged there, refusing to be melted away even by the heat of the other warrior’s relentless fever.