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The tea was nice, gentle on your sore throat — a stark contrast to the rough bandaging applied all over your body. It wasn't done by Shinobu's expert hand, but rather the handiwork of a rattled Kanoe. The wounds were too deep, too dangerous to wait for a medic to arrive. Still in bed, the window to your left open, a breeze was wafting in. The view outside was lovely — hyacinths as far as the eye could see.
It was no longer night. It had already passed on, long though it felt. You stared at the garden outside, reminding yourself of this fact over and over. The sight should have calmed you, yet your body, far exceeding its limits, had yet to relax. Not even exhaustion could calm your racing heart. The events of the night were still too fresh, too clear and red against the forefront of your mind. You thought back to the fight; slowly, painfully retracing the steps in your mind.
The battle was nearing its end by the time the other swordsmen arrived, and you, against your higher thinking, against your experience — against your very instinct — let your guard down. Stance slackened, your sword lowering for but a moment — but that was all the demon needed to strike.
Just then the door opened. Your heart beat painfully at your ribcage as you whipped your head up as if expecting the very thing that nearly took your life to be standing there. But that wasn't the case.
Shinobu's face was soft but unreadable. "How are you holding up?"
You mouthed her name before trying to say anything; you couldn't trust your voice not to shake. You eventually sputtered out the word "okay," but the scratchiness, rawness of it immediately gave you pause. How much had you screamed last night? Not wanting to think about it, you tried to push the thought down and away; so busy were you that you didn't notice the way Shinobu seemed to float into the room. It wasn't until you felt the slow dip in the mattress that you realized how close she was.
She sat beside you for a time in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. You took a shaky breath in, wanting to apologize for everything, but you were almost immediately stopped.
You couldn't even remember holding a cup until Shinobu took it from your unsteady hands and placed it on the bedside table. She then took your hands in her own. She was as careful as ever not to jostle your injured arms. You looked up, meeting her unwavering stare. Her lips, usually curled at the edges, were pursed tightly. "It's okay," she whispered, gently dropping your hands to hug you. As she did so, she placed a slow kiss against your temple. "You're safe," she added, her voice quiet, tight. But relieved.
You quickly burrowed your head in the crook of her neck, as the tears that threatened to spill out finally did.
You would explain yourself and apologize later. Right now, you just needed to be held.