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Izutsumi’s arm is red and throbbing. A burning pain thumps in her skin, only made worse by Marcille’s prodding. For the third time in the last ten minutes, she hisses and tries to yank away, but Marcille keeps a firm grasp on her.
“Ow! That hurts!” Izutsumi complains. She’s one wrong poke away from giving Marcille a mean scratch across the face.
“I’m sorry, but I need to examine this!” Marcille says. “Sit still.”
“You’re being annoying! Let go!”
“You got bit by a Naga, Izutsumi! I’m not being annoying, I’m being reasonably worried! Now stop squirming!”
The party had been minding their own business, and travel was going surprisingly smooth. They were idiots to think that things would actually be easy for once, but this hell hole dungeon was just full of surprises!
One of those surprises that was sprung on them was a Naga.
The human-faced snake fuck came out of nowhere. One moment, they were peacefully strolling through a grand stone room that looked like it belonged in a castle, the next, they were all scrambling out of the way of a very large serpent, which had gracefully slithered out from a crack in the wall.
It was surprisingly fast for such a big thing, scales as verdant green as tree leaves in summer and long fangs like knives.
Those fangs managed to find purchase in Izutsumi’s arm.
She had been trying to slash at the sensitive scales beneath its neck, as she was the quickest and nimblest one in the party. Not quick enough, it seemed, since strong jaws snapped down on her left arm before she could skitter back out of reach.
The pain hit instantly, and she swore she could feel the pointy end of the fangs scratch against her bone. Her whole arm tingled with a fierce burning sensation, fur standing on end. Then, the Naga whipped its head to the side, and she was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, landing roughly on the ground a few feet away.
It’s dead now, slain beneath the heavy blade of Senshi’s axe, but its presence lingers in Izutsumi’s blood.
She can feel it inside of her- the venom. It’s like a caustic sting beneath her skin, slowly spreading throughout her whole body, and she’s already beginning to grow dizzy and feverish.
Marcille seems to catch this because she lifts a hand and presses it to Izutsumi’s forehead. She had already been frowning, and she somehow manages to frown even more. “You’re getting warm already,” she says.
“Just a little,” Izutsumi grunts.
Marcille looks over her shoulder at the others. Senshi is slicing up the Naga’s body to make a meal, while Laios works on making an antivenom with the venom extracted from the Naga’s fangs, and Chilchuck crushes up some garlic to use as a natural disinfectant.
“How’s the antivenom coming along, Laios?” Marcille asks.
“It’s, ah…” Laios pauses, then weakly offers, “It’s being started?”
Marcille releases a breath. “Alright, well… Just focus on that. We need to get this venom out of Izutsumi as quickly as possible.”
Marcille had explained that Naga venom wasn’t always lethal, unless absolutely no action was taken to treat it or the venom was injected near the heart, in the throat, or in an open wound. As long as some care and medicine and/or herbs were given, it would dissolve within a few days.
But Izutsumi really didn’t want to be sick for a few days, hence why they’re trying to make the antivenom as quickly as possible.
The bad news is that none of them really have any expertise on making antivenom, so the process is slow.
Chilchuck comes over with the garlic paste. “Here.”
“Thank you,” Marcille says. She takes it from him and, using a cloth, applies it to the swollen bite mark on Izutsumi’s arm.
“I’m gonna smell like garlic,” Izutsumi whines, but she doesn’t pull away. Her head suddenly feels very fuzzy, like someone has stuffed cotton up her nose and ears.
“I know, but it’ll help,” Marcille says. “Plus, garlic smells good!”
“I don’t like it,” Izutsumi grumbles. She’s starting to sway on her feet.
Marcille seems to notice this because she says, “Let’s get you sitting down, sweetie.” She helps lower Izutsumi to the floor.
“I’m fine,” Izutsumi tries to protest, though she makes no move to resist Marcille. The stone floor feels quite nice beneath her, if she’s being honest. “I’m… Mmmnnnngggg…”
It’s like someone has just dropped several bags of rocks all over her, her limbs heavy and aching, and she’s violently not warm. Beneath her fur, she can feel sweat prickling like needles. There’s a faint ringing in her ears. Everything is starting to spin around her, colors and light bleeding together like wet paint on a canvas, so she closes her eyes to spare herself from the dizzying array.
“Shh,” Marcille hushes her.
“Don’t try to act like you’re perfectly fine,” Chilchuck says. Even with her eyes closed, she can hear his arms-closed tone. “Because we all know you’re not. You can’t act all tough after being used as a chew toy by a literal Naga. ”
“Wasn’t a chew toy,” Izutsumi mumbles. “It was one biiii…” The words die like embers on her tongue. Her whole mouth feels like a burnt-out fire, ashy and bone-dry. She really needs some water. “Mmmmmm…” She lolls her head back.
“That’s what I thought,” Chilchuck says.
“Be nice,” Marcille chides.
“I’m just saying,” Chilchuck says. “She doesn’t need to act like she’s strong all the time.”
Izutsumi wants to snap at him for that, insist that she is strong and tough and totally okay, but all that comes out of her mouth is, “I think ‘m gonna be sick…”
And then, before anyone can react, she hunches over and vomits.
On herself.
It’s hot and putrid. She can feel it soaking into her fur. She doesn’t know what makes her feel even more sick: the sensation of it on her skin or the horrible smell of it in her nose.
There are gasps and shouts all around her, but she’s too weak to open her eyes. Not that she wants to see their expressions, as she’s sure they’re ones of disgust and hatred.
The moment she realizes what she’s done, she braces herself. For an angry shout. For a slap across the face. For a mop to be thrust into her hands and an order barked at her to clean up the mess.
There’s a touch on her face, lifting up her head, and she tenses. But instead of being hit, a cool rag wipes her mouth and chin.
A gentle voice speaks to her, “It’s okay, it’s okay… You didn’t mean to.” It’s Marcille.
…That isn’t how this is supposed to go.
She’s supposed to be hurt. She’s supposed to be berated. She’s supposed to feel horrible about herself.
But that’s not what happens.
Marcille continues to murmur assurances that it’s fine, she’s fine, nobody is mad at her. Izutsumi feels a second touch on her body- is someone cleaning her?
“She’s gonna need a bath,” someone says. It’s almost hard to recognize who it is with her fever making her so woozy, but then she realizes that it’s Chilchuck.
Izutsumi’s ears flick. “Noooo…” she whines.
There’s soft laughter from both Marcille and Chilchuck.
“Seems like she’s cognizant enough to recognize the word ‘bath,’” Chilchuck says. “Though, that’s to be expected.”
Marcille chuckles. “I’m sorry, honey, but we gotta clean you off. It’ll be okay.”
The next thing she knows, she’s getting her clothes removed and then being scooped into someone’s arms as though she weighs nothing. It can’t be Chilchuck or Marcille holding her, so Laios must have been called over to help. Then, she’s placed into water, and at first, she squirms with all her might, but she quickly calms down when a hand begins to stroke her head.
“Easy, easy,” Marcille says. “Just sit still, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”
She weakly tries to protest, but all that comes out is a whimper. The water feels soothing on her skin, and the touch is so incredibly gentle that it’s hard to believe it’s real.
It can’t be real. It can’t be. There’s no way. This must all be a hallucination conjured up by her fever.
Oh how she hopes it’s a hallucination because this gentleness being the truth is too scary to stomach.
But even as she tries to deny it, the evidence is right in front of her. She’s being washed like she’s some kind of precious being, not a disobedient pet. There’s soothing talk, there’s warm water and gentle touches, and there is not a single word of scolding. She can hear Marcille and Chilchuck cooing over her, telling her that she’s doing so well, that she’s being so brave.
How would an animal, with its claws and teeth, react to being touched like a fragile thing?
The answer is simple: it will attack. It will bite. It will scratch. And it will maul.
But for some reason, Izutsumi doesn’t react. She doesn’t fight back. She doesn’t do any of those things, even though she is an animal. She knows she is one, at her core. Maybe it’s her fever or her weakness, but she doesn’t feel threatened by their touches. She feels...safe.
Safe.
The word doesn’t seem to fit in her mind, as if it’s too foreign of a concept for her to understand.
And yet, that’s what she feels. She feels safe, and that scares her.
“Careful with her ears,” Marcille is saying. “We don’t want to get soap in them.”
“I know, don’t worry,” Chilchuck says back. “Tilt your head back a bit, Izutsumi. Good.”
“You’re doing so good, honey,” Marcille says. “Just a little bit longer…”
Safe. How can they make her feel safe? She’s never felt safe before, not once in her entire life. She doesn’t even know what safety feels like. She’s always been on edge, always expecting a blow or insult or punishment.
But here she is, feeling safe. Safe and cared for and maybe even…loved.
No. That’s not what this is.
They’re not doing this because they love her. They’re just cleaning a sick person, that’s it. They’re just being kind to a sick person, that’s all. It’s all just common decency that they would give to anyone. She isn’t special.
But the thought doesn’t make her feel any better. Perhaps even worse, because there’s a part of her that wants them to love her.
She tries to shake that away. She’s never been loved before, and she never will be. She’s not worthy of anyone’s love, not with her curse and her temper and her sharp tongue.
The bathing continues, Marcille and Chilchuck whispering to her like she’s fragile, like she’s important enough to be treated this way.
“Good girl,” Marcille coos. Her hands glide through Izutsumi’s fur, washing away the sickness stained there. “You’re doing such a good job! I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, you’re doing amazingly, Izutsumi,” Chilchuck agrees.
It’s not real. It’s not really happening.
Because how could someone like her be worthy of anything more than scraps and hostility?
Careful hands coax her up to her feet, helping her out of the water, keeping her steady when she sways and nearly falls back down. Someone else wraps a towel around her and begins to dry her off.
“There we go… Good, good…” Chilchuck says. “Almost done…”
“You’re so clean now, Izutsumi,” Marcille says. “Let me get you some new clothes, then you can lay down and rest.”
She’s helped into fresh clothing, and from the scent of them, they’re her usual pajamas. Then, she’s guided over somewhere to lay down, settled atop her bedroll. A blanket is draped over her. A hand comes to rest on top of her head.
“How are you feeling?” Marcille asks her.
“Mmmmm…” is all Izutsumi can answer.
There’s a soft laugh from Chilchuck. “Yeah, I expected as much.”
“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” Marcille says. “The antivenom will be done in no time, and you’ll start feeling better soon once you have it in your system. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Izutsumi doesn’t resist, and sleep claims her quickly.
A gentle hand is lifting her chin. Something is brought to her lips.
“Drink,” coaxes a soothing voice. It’s not a command or a demand. Just one simple word, urging her with gentleness and care.
So, she listens. She drinks.
She’s never obeyed so easily before.
White-hot agony courses through Izutsumi’s veins, and her body arches against heavy restraints, her muscles taut as she writhes and struggles. She looks down, and she sees that she’s covered in chains. Hazy figures circle around her, holding whips and crackling staffs. They’re shouting at her, and she can feel their anger as much as she can feel the pain they’ve inflicted upon her.
She blinks, which she didn’t think was possible with her eyes being closed, but the people disappear from her vision, swapping out with bright whiteness.
Then, through the haze of light, she thinks she could see a woman. She’s faceless, but something deep inside of her tells her that that is her mother. Her real mother.
“It’s alright now, my sweet girl. Mommy’s here. This must have been so scary for you, but don’t worry. It’s all over. Let’s get you home, safe and sound. Where you belong. I love you so much, Izutsumi. I’m never going to let you go.”
The world is white, and then blood is oozing in, deep and dark and red. Her mother’s empty face is blotted out by the gore.
“M…Mama… D-don’t…don’t leave me…please…”
“Oh, darling. I would never leave you. Not again. I’m sorry I took so long. I’ve been looking for you. I’ve never stopped looking for you. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. All of those cruel people are gone, and I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be safe with me.”
But even as this is said, her mother is drifting away in the flood of blood that spills through Izutsumi’s consciousness. Izutsumi tries to wade against the current to get to her, but she can’t move. The carnage is thick and heavy, and it weighs down on her like a waterfall pounding over her back.
“No, no… Mom… Mama… Come back… Come back…”
Through the red, she thinks she can begin to see something else. The edges of a dim room, a single light flickering somewhere. Warmth.
Wait.
She can feel again, feel as if through the fuzz of downy blankets. Waves of nausea come next, then smothering heat in her head. She moans.
“Mom? Mom, is that you?”
Garbled sound comes from beyond. It’s like she was trying to listen through static. Where was her mother?
“Mama?”
Opening her eyes is difficult, and waking up feels like wrestling her way out of a hot, smothering butterfly cocoon. Her senses slowly gather, and her eyelids flutter.
A face appears, blurry and indistinct at first.
“There you are.”
No, that’s… Not her mother. Her mother is gone.
But the words are so kind and sweet and so, so familiar that she can’t help but react to them. Izutsumi tries to focus in.
It’s Marcille. Marcille kneeling beside her, one hand on her forehead.
Izutsumi struggles to make sense of what’s happening. She feels dizzy and weak and hot and confused. But Marcille’s hand on her head feels so good, so nice, she can’t help but lean into it.
“You were having a nightmare,” Marcille says.
The elf’s hand continues to pet Izutsumi’s hair, and Izutsumi can see her ears droop in concern. Marcille looks at her with such affection, it almost makes Izutsumi want to cry.
“You were calling out for your mom.”
The words trigger a faint ache in Izutsumi’s chest. She tries not to show it, but she’s sure Marcille can see the pain in her eyes. The pain that comes with remembering a long-lost mother.
So, Marcille switches the subject.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
Izutsumi can only stare blankly. She’s feeling a whole lot of things at the moment, all of them too overwhelming to put into words. She doesn’t know how to describe the ache in her chest, the pain in her head, the emptiness in her heart.
She shakes her head weakly, tears prickling the edges of her eyes.
“Feel bad…” is all she manages to mumble.
Marcille smiles gently. “I bet you do,” she says. “You’ve had a pretty high fever for the past few days.”
Days? Izutsumi tries to process that information, but her head is too fuzzy. She’s been sick for days?
Marcille seems to see her confusion because she says, “It’s been a few days. You’ve been in and out of consciousness. The antivenom took longer than we would have liked to be made, but it’s okay! You’ve drank it, and you’ll start feeling better really soon. Your fever is already starting to go down!”
Another voice then joins the conversation, “Is she up?”
Marcille turns her head to someone Izutsumi can’t see. “She is.”
Footsteps approach, and then someone is kneeling on the other side of Izutsumi. It’s Chilchuck, holding a bowl of something that’s steaming and smells amazing. “That’s good. How are you feeling, Izutsumi?”
“Mmmmm…” Izutsumi whimpers.
Chilchuck nods. “Understandable. Think you can eat something? Senshi made soup.”
Just the word ‘soup’ is enough to make Izutsumi’s stomach growl audibly, and Marcille and Chilchuck both laugh.
“Guess that’s a ‘yes’ then!” Marcille says. She slides a hand under Izutsumi’s head to lift it up, while Chilchuck begins to spoon feed her.
The soup is hot and brimming with flavor. It fills her stomach and warms her from the inside, washing away some of the lingering nausea.
Marcille and Chilchuck keep a close watch on her, making sure she eats enough and doesn’t choke.
“There you go,” Chilchuck says. She’s never seen him act so gentle before. “Eat all you can. But don’t eat too much. We don’t want you getting sick and throwing up again.”
“But even if you do, it’s not your fault,” Marcille says. “We’ll clean you up.”
Izutsumi eats everything in the bowl, and she’s praised for it. It makes her head spin.
“Why… why are you doing this?” she manages to ask.
Marcille and Chilchuck exchange a quick glance, as if surprised by the question.
Marcille’s the one who answers her first. “Because we care about you.”
Chilchuck nods in agreement. “We want to make sure you’re okay.”
It’s such a simple answer, but it has a profound effect on Izutsumi. The way those words, saying that they care about her, slip so easily off their tongue… It shakes her to her core.
This is real. It has to be.
“Now get some rest, okay?” Chilcuck says. “You need your strength.”
Marcille brushes a strand of hair out of her face, once again being incredibly gentle with her. “We’ll be right here in case you need something.”
What a strange thing it is, to be treated with care.