The Sword Saints

21. A New Path

(Shu)

"Following the familiar paths can be safe and pleasant, but they can lead to complacency. Sometimes you need to have the courage to change course and turn down a new path, one far less trafficked."

- The Book of Bravery: Ch. 11: verse 1.

Shu could hold his alcohol better than before, but that wasn't saying too much. He was able to have a couple more gulps before unconsciousness felled him. He awoke to Asha hovering over him, her smile radiant. She was repeating his name over and over, faster and faster, like a child calling their mother to wake up. Sometimes that was exactly how he felt with her; she acted very much like a child a good amount of the time.

He didn't want to get up. His head pounded, and his stomach twisted. He had a sinking suspicion that once he sat up, he would have to vomit. That was an act he rather liked to avoid if it was at all possible. Asha came to the same conclusion.

"Throw it up, Shu. You'll feel better." He groaned and shut his eyes from the light. That wasn't the answer he wanted. "If you vomit, you can purge the alcohol from your body. It's healthy."

Shu rolled onto his side. It was then that he realized that he was lying on the floor. He groaned again, his head hurting worse and his vision swimming. Asha put a soothing hand on his shoulder, her fingers tenderly stroking him. He supposed she meant it as a comfort, but it didn't help the nausea. He opened his eyes once more. The light streaming through the windows seemed almost blinding.

"Let it out, Shoemaker. Be a man and puke out your guts!"

He squeezed shut his eyes again. Curse you, demon girl. He knew he didn't have a choice; he could feel the bile pushing its way to his throat. He pointed to a bucket in the corner and watched as Asha hastily retrieved it. She placed it in front of him just in time. Shu grabbed the rim with both hands and hurled. He hurled and hurled for minutes until it felt as if every fluid in his body had been drained from him.

Asha simply knelt beside him and rubbed his back, comforting him with encouragement. She chuckled often. "Good boy," she cooed. Shu wanted to curse at her, and he would have, but... the vomit.

When Shu felt sufficiently better, he let go of the bucket and rolled onto his back, taking in deep breaths. Asha smiled down at him. "You're getting better, Shu. you need more practice, but one day maybe you'll be able to handle your consumption."

He made a very rude hand gesture towards her. She clasped her hands over her heart, laughing at his insult. "How could you make such a gesture towards a lady such as myself?" Shu didn't dignify that with a response. Asha got up, crossed the room, and returned with a wet rag. She wiped his forehead and then cleaned the vomit from his lips, chin, and the bits that spilled down his neck and chest.

"Thank you," he managed to say. His head still hurt but all the severe symptoms dissipated after a while. Asha sat with him, rubbing his stomach and chest and keeping him company while he sobered up.

Eventually Shu was able to sit up. The effects of the hangover were mostly gone, but he still doubted he could stand without help. Asha gave him her hand and helped him to his feet, then led him to the bed. She sat him down and stood in front of him.

"You seem a lot better," he said. Asha was all smiles and cheerfulness, and Shu couldn't spot a single ounce of pain.

"I am!" She lifted the shirt Shu had given her to reveal her bare waist. The bandages were gone, and in their place, were three thin, white scars. His mouth fell open. He reached a hand out and touched the scars. Asha flinched and sucked in a breath as he traced his fingers along the scars. They appeared as if they were years old, not ugly, red, or new. He couldn't fathom how she had healed so quickly.