Ink Stained

77: for you*

あなたのために

It was difficult getting to the infirmary while supporting Shin when he was heavier and much taller than her. She could tell he was trying not to lean on her too much, but it proved more than impossible for him to walk on his own when every step induced a pain that had him doubling over, barely able to breathe. She had her arm wrapped around his waist, her other stretched across her body as she held up his shoulder, following the bobbing purple kitsunebi ahead of them and trying to walk him along as straight as she could – the only way he could stand without the poison in his wound hurting him.

They made it, somehow.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled apologetically when she gently laid him down on the closest bed. He groaned in both pain and relief. "I'm sorry, I'm – "

"It's fine," he managed shortly, shutting his eyes as he shifted just enough that he was comfortable. His breathing wasn't so raspy and laboured as it had been on their way here, and she took that as a hopeful sign. "It's not your fault."

It is, she thought miserably as she watched his eyes wander over the ceiling, glazed over in pain. I couldn't tell the Oni was there, I got you to this point, I went to him, I made the deal, I got us here. It's all my fault.

Pushing aside her guilt and worry, she forced her emotions away. Kuniumi, silent, was there to help keep them from rising up like ugly serpents rearing up to bite her. She needed to be calm and collected if she was going to deal with his injury, just like Kanou was when he treated any of the Daitengu who got hurt while they trained. Emotions were messy and complicated. That was the very last thing she needed to be.

She reached over and, ignoring her hands slick with Shin's blood, her clothes stained a red darkening to rusty maroon; she pressed her fingers to his neck, looking for a pulse. She didn't need to do it, she could tell Shin was breathing – but at the same time, she did need to, if only for reassurance's sake. That was something she was in desperate need of at the moment.

It was there, drumming abnormally fast. His skin was pallid and clammy, but when she laid her hand on his forehead, she was glad to find that he didn't have a fever. He was hot, though, and she didn't know if that was because of his being Hengen, or because of the poison working through his system.

He brought his eyes down to look at hers. His pupils were dilated, the blue irises but a line surrounding the black. "Can you treat it?" he asked, voice tight and controlled as even now, he tried to mask his pain.

She pressed her lips tight together and nodded. "Yes. Kanou-san showed me some things. But..." she glanced down. "It will hurt. I don't know how to give injections for anaesthetic. It will hurt a lot, especially if it's infected." She prayed it wasn't.

"More than now?" he grunted sarcastically, grimacing when he pulled on the wound. "It's fine. Just do it."

She hesitated, then shoved any and all thoughts of modesty and reached for Shin's shirt. She slowly peeled it away to reveal the bloody mess underneath. She had to fight not to physically recoil at the sight of the thick blood congealing around his wound. When she peered closer at it she was gratified to find that the wound was neat, no ragged edges anywhere.

Kanou once told her that stab wounds could be made with minimal force. Once the tip of the blade penetrated clothing and skin, it was easy to follow through and make a deeper wound with remarkably little force. Treatment came from visually noting the depth of the wound, and if possible, what shape the blade was and if it was rusted and dirty or not. She needed to see how deep the wound is, to know if she needed to treat it with herbal concoctions Kanou and Yukiji taught her to make, or if she just needed to clean it out and stitch him up.