Short Stories 10: Based mostly from my long story.

Awahime arrived at her own apartment, her hand injured and wrapped with bandages. dried blood spilled despite the intensity of the magic she had put in. Beside her was a young girl with two leaves budding on the top of her head, through her messy hair, stained with dark and reddened liquid.

The girl looked at the dark evening around them, guarding her from any threat that might follow, as Awahime struggled to take out her key. She swore a few words as the key kept escaping from her hands, but the girl was quick to notice.

“I got it!” she whispered as a key was inserted quickly.

She pushed the door in with her body, both walked in and removed their shoes, while Awahime was busy strengthening the wrench. The girl kept standing still beside her; kept making her feel worried, the girl’s eyes were too vacant and tired.

The girl continued staring at her after resting her bag beside the wall. She put her head over her leaves and started scratching slowly.

Awahime kept glancing over the girl. As she tightened the wounds, her feelings leaked over on her face, a tense and painful one. But her focus was on the other.

She was more scared of the glimpse of fear and resignation in the girl’s eyes.

After a long silence, Awahime turned over and flipped her arm to fasten the cover when the girl finally asked, “What do you want me to do?”

Awahime flinched, “Just sit on the chair and wait for me a bit,” she put hers down and walked inside.

“Dad told me not to sit in a stranger’s house.”

Awahime lost her words. What should she even tell the girl, whose name she wasn’t even sure of, to do as she commanded, like the same thing they did to her when they discovered?

“I… allow it.”

The girl quickly sat. Awahime felt a sense of… strangenessin her actions, how she talk and just looked emotionless. She wanted to ask more, to explore whatever person she brought home with was like her when she was still at the same age, as a Tsugumono, even though she saw no resemblance, but her spiral thought was interrupted by the intense heat along her face.

“Your nose…” the girl tried to tell, blood pouring from Awahime’s.

This is bad, she thought, and quickly put herself beside the bed, and bent down as she couldn’t form words.

The girl hopped beside her, worried flooded over her face contrast to recent emotions. Her hands and eyes were shaking. Awahime looked up, brushing blood out and gently raised her face.

“Girl, your name’s… Satoka, right?”

She nodded.

“Could I call you by that?”

Satoka scratched her head again, “I… think so,” she whispered, her hand clenched.

“You don’t have to worry about me, just tell me about your symptoms.”

Satoka remained silent for a while, looking at her as if she had ignored the question.

“I’m tired and scared.”

Awahime quickly patted her back, “Don’t be… don’t fear, I’m here with you now.”

But her thought betrayed her. How should Satoka not be scared? Even she was more scared than her. Just a high school intern, and the girl’s a grade 8 kid, both of them were even ready to drink alcohol or cure themselves.

“But you… kept bleeding,” Satoka whispered.

“I know, but… yours were more important right now!” Awahime tried raising her voice, but only a whisper was allowed; she trembled as pain kept lingering.

She tried again, “Even if you might not bleed yet, those waves could have killed… hurt you! You’re very weak right now!”

“I’m weak for a long time,” Satoka said. She retreated and leaned against the bed as well, tired.

Awahime’s eyes locked with hers, “No… It’s not about how long you’re… sick, no, no, you’re just not good at physical… as others, I… mean your injury.

Satoka avoided eye contact, “I know.”

“Just…” Awahime struggled to speak, “I was also… weak…” No, no, she thought, I shouldn’t compare her to me, I’m too foolish.

The air grew tense between them. Awahime, after finishing her wound, quickly made her way to the small vault beside her desk, fridge-like, inside was a stock of liquid in a clear vessel.

She slowly retrieved it, “I’m sorry, but the thing on your head… was… grafted??

The girl processed for a while, then nodded.

“I have this medicine my friend made and stored in this thing. I must admit I’m a fool of this kind of knowledge. But she told me twice this could stabilise the… thing inside you.”

Awahime picked the small bottle, the size of her hand, and rushed to the bathroom and opened the tab.

Satoka followed her to the door, closely observing her washing over the used veil.

“You… will inject it into me?”

Awahime flinched. Her head kept suggesting lying, but she couldn’t; her eyes averted. She stood silent, the water washed her dry hands as her own reflection taunted her. Her skin suddenly started to peel off a little, revealing her wound from before.

“I… knew the drug, I knew it would hurt.”

Awahime looked inside the mirror in front of her instead of the girl. She saw only her messy and wounded face; beside were Satoka, walking only a bit inside the frame, her head resting beside as she couldn’t tell her to turn over, her leaves were surely full of holes; both of them saw each other’s inaction perfectly.

She knew she should be gentle, she should calm her and treat her. But the only thing she felt was that she couldn’t perform all of this. She put water on her face and looked back.

But she couldn’t find a word to speak. So the air remained silent.

Awahime nodded finally, quickly turned away to mix and set the veil up. She turned to the set of small machines beside her toothpaste and slowly put her head up to look over and control the flow. She tried to sense her own power, if any was still there; the green light pulsed slowly but dimly, sensing an above-average quality of the drug in terms of contamination.

She turned over. Satoka already knew what had to be done; they walked over to the bed.

“You don’t have to hold it,” Awahime said, “It's okay to tell me if it’s too painful.

“I won’t scream… senpai.”

“You’re too patient...Alright, I think the drug is usable.” Awahime told her, yet keep looking for more angles. Satoka stared at her through the veil.

Awahime quickly got back on track, “Sorry for being a perfectionist,” she whispered, her arms completely pushing the drug in, as she glanced over Satoka’s face, and she swore she could feel her eyes being even more fragile to the light.

As the small lid was removed from the bottle, reveal tens of tiny veil for putting the liquid in.

Awahime looked over the readied drug, “Wait… I could put some water in, to…”

“No,” Satoka whispered, “You’re being too gentle, feel it badly once is better to feel it again.

Awahime nodded. She felt like crying; she already cried, but the girl in front of her sat and was still holding her pain even as the liquid flew in, and Satoka’s hand convulsed, making her feel like she needed to be her anchor now.

Slowly, she continued to inject her. Awahime’s hands were quick to hold her; the small hands were warm, yet she couldn’t feel any movement.

“So… warm, the leaves on your arms.”

“You’re… too,” Awahime whispered as the two leaves slowly met her skin.

It seemed like the plant was trying to keep itself alive, Awahime thought, even though they don’t have lives.

“Your hands, did the plant take over? I saw the parasite xylem… And your head…”

“My dad just redirected the blood flow out.”

“Why!?”

“He didn’t tell me, but he was not doing anything with the thing on my head.”

“Maybe he did the right thing. Did he tell you about the drug you often used?”

“He wasn’t the one who gave her medication.”

“Oh, so the doctors did, and they don’t tell you.”

She nodded, and her arm swiftly caught Awahime’s hands; her left arm was about to inject another drug, sharper, a closed veil.

“I… don’t need that.”

“No, how could you…”

“Senpai, I knew you were trying to comfort me.”

Awahime loosened her grip, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to make you feel better about everything.”

“But that drug you got, you should take it instead. If you don’t survive, I’ll feel very guilty, and I’m just not worth the shot.”

“You're worth every shot to be saved, Satoka,” Awahime whispered as Satoka bent down from the pain from the leaves. The closed veil hit her shoulder.

Felt pressure to refuse, Satoka tried to put them out, “No…”

Awahime suddenly pushed the power upon her resistance, “Not like that, you’re in more grave danger, I… see you scratching, it’s infected, the plants. I couldn’t let you take it without letting you suffer after what I did.”

“But…”

“I want to care about you, and if you wake up and again and I didn’t, just… forget it.”

“This is… wrong,” Satoka whispered, before the drug’s effect on her, putting her on a slumber.

Awahime put Satoka’s two buds in front of her, putting her aside to lean on a soft pillow, and wondered if she would break more than her if the next night were nearer than another morning.