Chapter Text
He wakes up when the painkillers and heavy sedatives are starting to wear off.
The burning sensation in his right side is constant, growing with every second, a white-hot fire that seems unable to be put out.
Cold sweat is beading on his forehead, his head throbs, and his hands clench at the bedsheets as the pain in his side starts to return in full force.
It is then that he notices he is not alone. A girl, long black hair falling across her face, is asleep in the chair beside his bed, her head resting on her arms near his legs.
She stirs and looks up as he lets out a low moan of pain. Her eyes fly open, and she quickly reaches for a small remote tucked at the side of the bed. She presses the button, releasing painkillers from the pump next to the bed into the IV drip inserted into the back of his hand.
Shishiba slumps against the pillow as a cocktail of opioids quickly floods his nervous system, inhibiting the pain signals. His breathing slowly returns to normal, and when the haze of agony finally lifts, he realises that she is gripping his three fingered left hand tightly in hers, tears trickling silently down her face.
‘Osaragi,’ he says, thickly, his tongue heavy and unused to speaking. How long has he been out anyway? ‘Stop crying. I’m not dead yet.’
‘S-Shishiba,’ she sniffles. ‘I thought you would never wake up.’ She gives his hand another squeeze, and he winces.
‘Not so hard…’ he rasps, and she reluctantly lets his hand go.
She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand.
‘You didn’t wake up for four whole days. The doctor said your injury was really bad. They said that if you hadn’t been quick enough, you might have…’
She can’t bring herself to say it, chokes back another sob.
‘It’s…it’s all my fault, Shishiba-san. I should have been there with you. I’m s-sorry…’
‘Eh, don’t cry. I’m still here. Can I have some water?’
Osaragi pours him a glass from the jug on the bedside table, and helps him to sit up. She holds it to his parched lips, keeping it tilted until he has drunk his fill.
Feeling better, he lies back and takes a look around. He sees that he is in the JAA building’s in-house hospital, in the private suite reserved specially for VIPs and Order members.
Gotta keep their top employees in good condition, he thinks, wryly.
Osaragi is showing him the small white remote. ‘The nurse said to press this button whenever you feel pain,’ she said.
‘So I should keep it constantly pressed?’ It is a feeble joke, but she takes it seriously.
‘Are you still in pain?’ she asks, anxiously. ‘I can call the nurse…’
The white hot fire has died down into a mild discomfort, and he gingerly touches the bandages on his right side, beneath the green hospital gown.
‘I’m better now. I was just joking.’
‘You shouldn’t joke when you’re in hospital, Shishiba-san,’ she says. Her large dark eyes meet his, and he notices her bottom lip wobbling, tears threatening to spill once more.
Relenting, he holds a hand out to her and she takes it wordlessly, cradling it against her cheek. He feels the wetness of her tears slide down his remaining three fingers, and gently, he brushes them away.
‘Guess we should’ve eaten katsudon before that mission, eh?’
Another bad, no, terrible joke, and evidently it’s the wrong thing to say, because she dissolves into more tears and buries her head in her arms, shoulders heaving. He rests his hand on the top of her head, stroking her hair, trying his best to soothe her.
When finally she raises her tear-stained face to look at him again, her voice is full of remorse.
‘I won’t let you get hurt again.’
‘Osaragi.’ His voice is quiet. ‘I chose to do what I did. And even though the pain is bad, I don’t regret it.’
Her tone is accusatory, a little angry. ‘But you always said not to do that sort of thing. You should take your own crappy advice, Shishiba-san.’
He sighs. ‘If it helps, Amane’s not a random civilian. He’s Yotsumura’s son.’
Comprehension dawns in her eyes. ‘I almost killed him. I thought he and that other man had hurt you.’
‘Lucky I stopped you, then.’
He sees her clench her fists. ‘But it’s still my fault. I should’ve had your back.’
‘Where were you, anyway?’ he asks, curiously.
She puts her head back in her arms like she doesn’t want to answer the question. Her confession takes a few moments to come.
‘I….I saw a ghost and went to hide in the toilet.’
Shishiba grins weakly, he should’ve known that only something like that would stop her from coming to his side.
‘I thought you had gotten over that after Kinugawa Onsen.’
‘I thought I had too! But that guy, he just disappeared right in front of me…’
‘Must’ve been some kind of special gear.’
‘…..Oh.’
Her last word is punctuated with shame, and Shishiba’s hand moves to her shoulder, squeezing it.
‘Maybe we should take another trip back to Kinugawa Onsen. Visit those kappa friends of yours.’
‘No thank you. And kappas aren’t ghosts.’
‘They’re kind of the same, aren’t they? Supernatural beings.’
‘But ghosts are scarier, because you can’t see them.’
He’s glad he’s distracted her enough to stop the tears and self-blame, but he’s grown weary after their conversation and he feels his eyes closing.
‘Osaragi, I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll go back to sleep…’
‘Okay. I’ll be here.’
‘Leave me and go home,’ he says. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Mm.’
She’s stubborn as usual, and obviously staying where she is. He’s too tired to argue, so he leaves her be, the girl who saved his life, and falls asleep once more.
The dreams that fill his head are frightening, filled with blood, fire and pain. In his head he relives the moment he is hit by the fiery sabre, the twist to the side that saves his life but leaves a gaping wound and an unimaginable pain like he’s never felt before.
‘Shishiba?’ A hand is shaking his shoulder, willing him to open his eyes.
He wakes up with a jolt, heart racing, not daring to close his eyes again. He puts a hand to his side, his mind expecting to find charred flesh, but all his fingers touch are a thick layer of bandages.
‘You were shouting in your sleep,’ Osaragi’s worried voice says.
The room is dimly lit, illuminated by the side lights and the electronic devices by the bed. The curtains are drawn, it must be night outside? He can’t tell the passage of time anymore, but the clock on the wall says 3.30.
There’s something about the dead of the night, when the world is quiet and still, something that makes him feel terribly weak now that he’s stood at the gates of Hell.
The nightmares seem all too real, the memory of singed flesh still lingers in his nose, and suddenly he can’t bear to be strong any longer, he reaches for her hand.
She knows what he wants, she takes his large, three fingered hand in her small one, lacing her fingers between his.
With her other hand, she smooths the matted blonde hair back from his forehead.
But just the touch of her hand isn’t enough, his body, broken and in pain, is crying out for something more.
‘Osaragi,’ he says, softly.
‘Mm?’
‘Can you…come closer. Please.’
He doesn’t have the words to tell her what he wants, can’t articulate what he’s trying to ask, but she understands.
She stands up and leans forward, putting her arms around him. She feels him lean into her touch hesitantly, and she knows this man who’s always looked after her is finally giving her a chance to look after him.
The position is awkward, and she decides to test the waters, to see how far he’ll let her go.
She lets go of him, and reaches over, switching the side lights off. Only the glow of the electronic medical devices is visible now, their hum audible in the background.
She kicks her slippers off and climbs into his bed, careful to avoid any sudden movements. Lying on her side, she drapes her left arm over his chest, hand cradling the right side of his face while he lies on his back.
Eyes closed, Shishiba imagines what someone opening the door might see. They would see a man, lying in a girl’s embrace, broken. An admission of his vulnerability, his weakness.
But he’s past the point of caring.
His body, pushed and stressed to its limits, has been crying out for comfort, for touch. And from her, only from her.
Her body is soft and warm against his, her physical presence a panacea for the heavy weight in his heart, a shield against the flames that threaten to burn him up in his dreams.
She feels him relax against her, let out a long, shaky breath. She sees their long hair mingling together, dark and light, golden strands interspersed with black.
There’s no need for words, they are alive, they are together, and that’s all that matters.
Then, he does something unexpected.
Turning his head towards her, he looks her in the eyes, before catching her left hand in his right and brushing his lips against her fingertips in an intimate kiss.
Shishiba, I love you.
The words are at the tip of her tongue, clamouring to get out, but she stops herself just in time. Maybe he’s not in his right mind, maybe the drugs are too strong and he’s not acting like himself.
One might do things one doesn’t mean, under the cover of night.
But there’s nothing more, though his head stays turned towards hers. His eyes close, his breathing has slowed to an even rhythm, he’s fallen asleep again.
Osaragi waits till she’s sure he’s asleep, before she presses a kiss of her own to the bare skin of his arm, below the sleeve of his hospital gown.
He’s always played it cool with her, never saying anything beyond what a senpai would say. But his actions have always betrayed him, in the way he remembers what she likes to eat and drink, the way he’s always looking out for her, the way he gets anxious when they’re apart.
When he thinks they’re getting too close, about to cross some imaginary line he’s drawn, he steps back and masks it with a brusque manner, so unlike how he normally is with her that she knows she’s gotten under his skin.
Now she doesn’t know what’s come over him, to suddenly want her like this, but she knows that she wants to give him what he wants, and more.
Her arm is starting to get stiff, but she thinks she might never get the chance to hold him like this again.
She knows that his body will heal, he’ll draw his lines again, pretend like nothing happened between them. And everything will go back to how it was before, just like it always has.
So she decides she will take what she can. Etch it into her memory and never forget.
Though it may turn into something else beneath the scrutiny of daylight, buried under more walls and more pretence, for now his body is warm in her arms, his breathing deep and steady.
And her heart is at rest, believing that they will never be separated again.