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The bandages are terribly uncomfortable.
He used to love the way that bandages protected his skin from unexpected feelings, the way they hid his hands from view and kept his scars private. Now he wishes he could tear them off.
Maybe it's that he doesn't have a choice now. Before, bandages weren't necessary. Now they are. Now they chafe against his burns every time he dares to shift. Now they cover his entire body, a reminder of his death. Catered to him. Catered to his sins.
Korekiyo shudders. He vividly remembers the blinding pain of being bound and boiled alive, the way his skin blistered and bubbled, the way that warm blood streamed down his overheating face. The sting of cleansing salt raining down on his ghost.
He's nearly brought to tears every time the salve is lathered upon him, the sharp pain so familiar. Too similar to that of his exorcism. With every application, he's shot back in time to when that damned bear and Sister rained salt upon him (and was that her? Was she even real? If she is, then he really has a dead sister that he killed for, oh he feels so sick to his stomach, nearly a hundred women lost their wonderful lives to his twisted love, twisted devotion that he thought was pure, but no love could ever cause that much suffering, no love would drive someone to kill just to please– but he wasn't pleasing, was he, if that was really her? If she didn't want him to kill for her, then all those lives were cut short for no reason, and did Sister even deserve the devotion that he gave her after what she did, dear lord what she did to him is sickening, how did he ever mistake that for love–?)
The doctor leaves, the bandages entirely covering Korekiyo. His burns sting lightly as he lies back down, dark hair splaying out on the white of the bed. He rests one hand on top of the other, unable to do much else in his current state. He itches to have a book in his hands; one thing he knows the simulation didn't fake was his love of anthropology, all-consuming and bringing him so much joy it made his chest ache. But any entertainment in this dreary place would be welcome. It's better than being left to ruminate over all that he's learned in the past week.
As if on cue, a knock sounds at his door. Korekiyo sits up despite the pain.
Kaede is one of the last people he expects to visit him at seven past noon, but she's a welcome surprise. She waves, her cheeriness a stark contrast to their matching gowns.
"Good afternoon, Kaede," he says, uncomfortable with filling the silence but aware she can't do it herself. "Are you here for some company?"
She crosses her arms and shakes her head.
"Oh? Do you have something to show me?"
She smiles and nods. Then gestures to the door.
"I have to get up to see it."
Her smile fades. He knows that, if her throat wasn't terribly mutilated, that she would apologize for making him walk on scarred feet and with a damaged nervous system. But as she is, she gives him an apologetic look and offers him a hand. He stands, wincing at the pain but taking her hand anyway. The warmth of her skin somehow seeps through his bandages. It's comforting.
Kaede walks on her toes all the way there, having to hold her free arm out for balance, yet she doesn't seem inconvenienced at all. Korekiyo holds onto her hand like a lifeline, and it may very well be. He hasn't started physical therapy yet like many of the others have, his injuries far too vast and complex. He's barely even stood in days, let alone walked anywhere. Yet there is no light without dark, no pleasure without pain, so he bears the suffering and keeps walking.
After a short elevator ride and another excruciating walk down a hallway, they arrive at a large room. There is a piano in the middle of it. Korekiyo blinks.
"I wasn't aware something like this could be in a hospital." And he would know better than most, he thinks bitterly before shaking that thought away.
Kaede giggles, immediately grimacing and putting a hand to her neck. She points at a chair on the side of the room, then walks quickly to the bench in front of the piano. He sits and simply observes her – it is what he does best.
She stretches out her fingers, doing a number of motions that involve not just her fingers, but her whole hands. Kaede's fingers are clearly nimble, not very long like you might expect from a pianist, but it's clear she has years of experience to make up for it. Still, she's hesitant as she touches the piano.
Korekiyo cannot blame her. He's sure he'll be cautious around hot water for the rest of his life. She plays a simple scale. Then another. Then what he assumes must be a warm-up. As she adjusts to the feeling of playing after so long, she grins. Her pink eyes have never looked more alive.
Those pools of endless joy are suddenly aimed at him, and a jolt goes through him. This is some kind of a pivotal moment for her, he realizes. The thing she loved so much, used to torture her to death. Her throat still has the scars, both internal and external. The scars on her mind must be much worse. But she still plays. She dives back into the piano, even though it would be perfectly reasonable to never want to see one again. And she's letting him bear witness to this moment.
She sought out him specifically. No one else. The beauty of it makes him shiver.
She scrunches her face up in concentration, as if she's trying to remember something. Her fingers swiftly find their places on the piano keys. Her smile grows as she presses down, her bare foot working the pedal to the rhythm of her movements.
It's a beautiful song. Slow, contemplative. Yet almost otherworldly. Korekiyo doesn't have much experience with music beyond studying it in relation to culture, but the piece still moves him. The metric bassline and the gentle melody makes it sound peaceful; when the song grows louder and dissonant, it becomes tragic, then mournful in the aftermath. However, there's a hint of hope in the melancholic tones when her movements speed. To have memorized something so complex, so entrancing and to be able to play it at a moment's notice… Yes, she truly is wonderful.
Kaede ends with a tear streaming down her face. Her hands move from the keys and into her lap, resting against her stomach, tense.
"That was beautiful," he says. Her eyes snap to his, and she wipes her tears away with a smile. "Thank you for allowing me to listen."
Slowly, she gets up and walks to his side. She kneels in front of him, grabbing one of his hands with her own. It barely even disturbs the bandages with how tightly they're wrapped around him. Her eyes are shiny.
To his surprise, she opens her mouth. "Reverie. By Debussy." Her voice is rough from disuse, as well as her ruined vocal chords. He's surprised she can make a sound at all, even after the surgeries performed on her throat. "It represents a dream-like state. I think it's… calming." He studies her face. Her mouth tilts up at the corners, yet there's something undeniably painful in the creases of her forehead. So much emotion, all of it unidentifiable. Beautiful.
"I found it mournful. The dissonance was like a shocking event, one that plunges you into the ocean, before you slowly come up for air. The initial plunge is the most painful, but the creeping pain is almost worse. Still, the ending sounded hopeful to me; bittersweet, but looking forward."
She huffs a laugh. "Of course, your analysis is–"
He puts a finger to her lips. Her eyes widen. "You shouldn't speak more than a few sentences at a time." A strong blush covers her cheeks. Korekiyo smiles, though she can't see it.
Kaede nods before standing, hoisting him up with her. He stumbles, much to her amusement, and leans on her the whole way back to his room. She's warm, but not the scalding warmth of a boiling cauldron. She's the warmth of a warm breeze on a cool spring day, the warmth of a blanket in the dead of winter. A comfortable warmth. A calming warmth.
She sits on the bed next to him, silence settling between them. Somehow, he feels infinitely better. He's sure the song choice was deliberate. Just as before, she always wants to give others hope. Yet she doesn't know that her simply existing gives him hope. And he knows that he's not the only one that feels this way.
A strong desire for something rises in his chest. To reassure her. To express to her how much they need her, especially after all they've been through.
He taps her on the shoulder, pulls down his mask, and leans forward. His lips press gently against her forehead. "Thank you, Kaede. You may not have much in the way of encouraging words at the moment, but your presence is encouraging enough. Your playing gave me hope. Thank you."
She stares at him, stunned. As her cheeks flush, she puts a hand to her chest and grins. She nods, before bumping her head into his shoulder. Tentatively, he puts an arm around her.
She melts. The tenderness between them, one that Korekiyo has seldom ever felt, washes over him. Maybe now is not the time for love, to court her properly like he wishes to, but even just the feeling is enough. It's another way she's giving him hope.