Thirty Seven || Warrior Spirit

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I woke up that night with pain exploding in my body like a horrendous firework. Fire lanced through my skeleton, curling and thrashing in the pit of my stomach like some kind of wild beast. A thousand invisible knives drove into me and my eyes bulged and a shattering scream broke out of my mouth. It didn't sound remotely human. It didn't sound remotely like me.

Distinctly, I heard the shoji door slam open and the brief loud and frantic thumping of footsteps and then someone dropped to their knees besides to futon.

"Suzuran! Hey! Suzuran!"

I knew that voice, but it fell nearly deaf on my ears compared to the agonized screams of my own.

God...God...this was absolute hell...

"It hurts!" I choked on the words--even talking was a strenuous effort. Like my vocal chords were violently gnashing against each other. "Oh God, it hurts!"

"Sano, what's wrong?"

"It's the rasetsu blood in her! Look at her hair!"

I twitched as the horrible pain continued to burst like miniature fireworks all over my body. Despite that, each bit of movement hurt. The jerk of my head felt as if I'd been guillotined halfway. The small kick of my leg felt as if my joint had been snapped apart.

The ceiling blurred above me and my ears rejected all noise at last. Distinctly, I saw a smudge of auburn and brown, specks of amber as well. My hand found another--large and familiar, yet icy cold. Automatically, my fingers wrapped around it, driving its tips into the flesh so that I felt the solid muscle. I clung onto his hand until my own felt numb, my chest rising up and down with each pained breath.

Lord have mercy.

***

In the morning, I found Sanosuke sitting asleep besides me, his head lowered and chin resting between his collarbones, the wispy red tips of his hair falling over his face so that I could just catch narrow glimpses of his sleeping expression between the smooth strands. Despite being in a resting state, he looked tense, with his mouth in a thin line and his eyes darting about underneath his eyelids.

I wonder what he's dreaming about.

"You look better at peace, Sanosuke," I murmured as I reached out a hand to brush against his cheek. At the sight of my hand, I grimaced.

Thin yet mountainous bones stood up on the back of my hand, pushing up against the near-translucent skin. Fingers were spindly like a spider's legs, and there was not even a hint of pinkness to the salt-white skin. When I turned my palms up, I saw faint red crescent grooves denting the smooth skin. It must had been from last night when I'd driven my fingers into my palms to help bear the pain.

Sanosuke stirred, and his eyelids lifted up as he raised his head. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes and his amber eyes looked particularly dull.

However, at the sight of me, energy seemed to shoot through him and he grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Suzuran," he breathed, his voice hoarse. I cracked a weary smile at him.

"Good morning, Sanosuke." My voice had a bit of a rasp to it, and speaking any louder made it feel as if I'd lose my voice.

He exhaled, looking as if he'd aged ten years in the past five or six hours. I felt a pang of guilt as I realized that I had been the reason for that. My pain, had most likely also been his. Because of our ties and our love for each other, one's suffering was also carried by the other.

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