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Chapter 10

The Healer

While she was generally inclined to respect, even like the young prince, this was not doing him any good in her eyes. Unohana Retsu was a healer, and perhaps people expected her to have compassion for everyone and a desire to alleviate suffering. The fact that she had no such motivations was a very well-hidden secret. Compassion she may not have, but a simple code of decency to living creatures that were not enemies, that she did have, and she clung to it as the last shred of humanity left to her after a life no one would envy.

She knew where she was, and that meant her patient was the prince's mistress. To walk in and find this small boy, what seemed to be a child, would have been bad enough. To see the youth lying on the bed with chains restraining hands and feet, well, she had enough experience of bedroom games and slavery to not find that too shocking, but again, this wasn't a mistress but a child.

The reality was even worse, and she froze as she took in the scene. The crumpled form on the floor, blood starting to soak slowly through one sleeve, tangled in chains and bedding . . . and he looked so frail and seemingly manic, curled in on himself and laughing as he clutched the bleeding arm.

The prince had moved immediately, pulling away the fallen curtain and kneeling to scoop up the injured child and place him on the bed. The boy's laughter cut off abruptly when the prince knelt, but he did not struggle or seem afraid of the man. Still, Unohana 'tsk'ed as she shook off the shock and strode forward. The child had beautiful eyes, and they were fixed on the prince who was moving the sleeve back on his arm. She shot the man a glare of disapproval and was gratified when he stood and backed off a step.

Interestingly, the boy's eyes remained on the prince until she touched his arm. Blinking slowly, he turned his face to her with a look of complete confusion. Then his eyes closed, and he groaned as his other hand slowly groped for the injured arm as if he was just remembering the pain. She reached to stop him, pulling back the sleeve to reveal only a cut and redness that would likely bruise, nothing serious enough to cause such a strong reaction.

"Be still now, child. I'm here to help you."

Retsu turned her head, looking for her forgotten assistant who stood timidly in the doorway. The youth rushed forward with her bag of supplies. Before she could retrieve antiseptic and bandaging materials, the poor child on the bed spoke one word, 'master,' in a faint voice, a look of concentration on his face like it was hard to form words. She felt familiar rage when she realized what all the signs were pointing toward, the dazed look, the difficulty moving, the hysterical laughter. Chained up and drugged! What had this child been through?

She had thought better of the prince. Similar scenarios she had seen, and much worse. But she had not expected to see it here, at the hands of this particular young man. The prince was a killer, like his father and almost every man, woman and child in Las Noches including herself. But she had judged him more honorable than most. Incorrectly, it seemed.

"Master . . . I need . . ."

The prince had stepped forward anxiously when the child spoke, but was apparently too worried to think clearly and see what the boy was asking for. Worried? Well, that was something, anyway.

"Highness, please remove the restraints so I can escort the child to the bathroom."

She spoke with just a hint of the disgust she felt, and he noticed. Retsu didn't care, the consequences of pissing off royalty or anyone else were not really a concern, or so she thought. The prince turned to look at her slowly, something dark and very sinister in his eyes that made her reconsider her nonchalance for just a moment. Then he was moving to remove the chains, leaving the silver bands in place. She moved her bag off the bed and started to reach for the boy, but halted when she saw the pale arms lifting, clearly reaching instead for the prince.

Without a word or another look in her direction, the prince lifted the small body and walked away, closing the bathroom door with his foot. Retsu thought while she waited. There was nothing she could really do to save the child from this, and really, she had seen much worse fates. But it did not sit well with her. It seemed rather absurd suddenly. If she had walked in to find a grown man or woman in the same situation, she would not have batted an eye. This was a brutal, merciless world, and she had long known that children were not exempt to its evils. She busied herself getting things ready to take care of that cut and examine the child, and she was ready when the door opened.

"Place him back on the bed, please, highness."

She looked up from her preparations to see the boy completely relaxed, his head on the prince's shoulder and hands lightly holding the front of the man's shirt. The child didn't want to let go when the prince set him down, but laid back quietly when a large hand was placed on his small shoulder, those big eyes never wavering from the man's face. There was room for doubt about the boy's treatment by the prince, she decided, and she would proceed with a little more self-restraint.

"You may wait in the hall, highness, until the exam is complete."

"What? No, I'll be staying here."

"Then I will take my leave, highness."

She began packing her bag, ignoring a startled squeak from her apprentice that told her she was receiving another threatening glare. Retsu was not deliberately seeking to antagonize the prince; she was not suicidal. But she did insist on respect for her skills, and when it came to her work she would not yield an ounce of her authority.

"Fine."

Entitled, dangerous, but somewhat reasonable, just as she had always thought. She started unpacking items again, but paused to look over her shoulder when she heard him speak. He was bent over the bed, hand on the boy's cheek and a smile that was the complete opposite of the displeased frown adorning his face a moment ago.

"Unohana is a healer, she won't do anything to hurt you. I'll be right outside the door, pet."

The prince straightened and gave her a flat stare before turning and walking out the door. It was clear the words were not just to comfort the boy, but to warn her. She would have scoffed if he hadn't intimidated her just a little. She was hardly the one the child needed protection from. The boy on the bed watched him go with an unfocused gaze and almost no readable expression other than that general air of disorientation. It seemed to take the child several seconds to even realize she had approached to examine him, and he flinched when she reached for him, moving him to sit up.

She motioned Hanataro to hold the boy where she positioned him, and then pushed off the robe to see what had caused the pained reaction to her handling his left arm. Retsu swallowed a sigh. The cruelty of humans knew no bounds. The brand was recent, the symbol of two chain links indicating a slave. If the child was born to his condition, the brand would have been given when he was a babe, long faded and small. It was likely the boy had recently been free, and she felt something close to sympathy as she began treating the wound on his elbow before tackling the more painful job of cleaning the brand.

Her tenderhearted assistant was close to tears as he held the boy still. Hanataro would make an average healer at best, good enough to help with day to day injuries and illnesses. It wasn't a lack of intelligence, but a lack of nerve that would hold him back. It had been her own weakness that landed him in the profession.

Hanataro had been the first babe she had delivered, and she had tended to his needs in infancy and childhood along with the rest of the village. At four years of age, he was small, timid, and prone to injuries due to absentminded clumsiness. Everyone in the village knew when his mother took him out into the dunes and left him to feed the wolves. The last of her hope that there was any good in any human died, and she left the village in the middle of the night.

It seemed to be fate. She could have ridden in any direction. He could have died long before she stumbled on him. He could have been crying, and she would have passed him by. When she spotted the boy, he was laughing and playing, throwing stones up to watch them roll down the moonlight-soaked dunes. And now here they both were, tending to a boy even smaller than Hanataro, less likely to survive in the desert than was a snowflake.

No, it wasn't sympathy invading her thoughts as she lifted her hand to clean the tortured skin of that thin, pale shoulder. It was pity.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Life had become a series of humiliations, one following hard on the heels of another. Not for the first time, Toshiro was oddly thankful for the fog filling his mind and numbing his body. Healer or no, this woman was a stranger and he resisted, as much as he could which was not much at all. And the quiet but unnervingly attentive youth in the background did nothing to add to his sense of security as the woman brusquely sat him up and pushed the robe off to his waist. She called her assistant over, and he climbed right on the bed with Toshiro to hold him upright.

He flinched as the young man put his hands on him, and flinched harder when the woman cleaned the small cut on his arm and bandaged it. That was nothing compared to what came next, a cold, stinging, scraping cloth against the throbbing flesh of his left shoulder. He hissed and struggled, though so weakly that the youth only a little bigger than him was able to hold him easily. She was not gentle at all, or his skin was so sensitive that any touch was unbearable. The strokes of the cloth might as well be made by the edge of a knife, and he had to fight to keep from screaming.

The torment ended briefly, then resumed as she smeared ointment on the raw wound and firmly pressed a large bandage over the area. The pain faded a bit, nerves pulsing in time with his fast heartbeat. As the robe was pulled back up over his shoulders and the man eased him back down onto the bed, he closed his eyes in relief. He realized he had been crying, yet another blow to his battered pride, when one of them wiped his face with a damp cloth.

"I am sorry, child. A brand is not a wound to leave untended. With daily care, it won't be so painful to treat again. It would be helpful to know, can you tell me how long ago was it done?"

He opened his eyes, the pain giving him some clarity of thought.

"Four weeks . . . maybe."

She leaned forward, shining a light in his eyes that only served to aggravate his pounding headache. Her hand pulled his chin down and fingers pressed into his jaw, forcing his mouth open. The light and her attention focused on his mouth as she turned his head, examining him like livestock. She could have simply asked him to open his mouth instead of using force. The doctor who tended him all his life would have been appalled at the rough, disrespectful handling.

He was too stunned to do more than let out a loud, startled yell when she grabbed his hips and pulled his body sideways on the bed so that his feet were facing the edge, then lifted and parted his legs. The robe was his only clothing, and he was fully exposed to that prying gaze. The shock lasted only a moment, then he was kicking and squirming. Again, he was far too weak and slow for it to make any difference, but after less than a minute she had let go. All he could do was glare at her as she looked at him speculatively.

"He has not violated you, child?"

He nearly choked, and he knew his face must be red with anger and embarrassment after what had just happened. He didn't even stop to think of what might happen if he said yes, if he begged for help. She would not help him, she who handled him so callously as he endured the pain she caused on top of drugging, molestation, and chains. The questioning, the accusation, and especially the pity in her voice pissed him off and he gathered his will and thoughts to speak clearly, angrily.

"Not your concern, and I am not a child."

"Are you finished, Unohana?"

The prince must have come back when he heard the shout, which meant he had heard the healer's question and his sharp response. The man's face was calm, but the overt menace in that smooth voice made him shiver. The healer, still looking at him, did not seem affected, but her assistant skittered off the bed so quickly he nearly fell. He looked up, and met eyes that held both concern and murderous fury simultaneously. He sighed and relaxed, only briefly wondering why he should find comfort in such a threatening presence.

The healer straightened and turned to face the prince. He could no longer see her face, not that he cared to.

"The brand on his back must be treated twice a day, it is in danger of infection from days of neglect. Brands can take many months to heal. Worse, he is severely dehydrated. He should be drinking several ounces of water every waking hour. Highness, can you tell me what drugs were given to him and when?"

"Yesterday, likely in the early evening. I do not know the specifics as it was not my doing, only that it is supposed to take one day to start wearing off, two days to recover and I was instructed not to give him food until lunch today."

Suddenly he had a timeline. He was drugged yesterday. Sometime tonight, then, he might be able to think more clearly. He hoped that was a good thing, but he doubted it.

"With respect, highness, if you do not wish him to become ill then he needs more attention until he can care for himself."

There was a note of blame, of condemnation and he expected the man to lash out at her. Instead, the prince smiled though his eyes were still full of warning.

"My thoughts exactly. I did not have any notice to plan for his care, and as you say he needs assistance and someone skilled in medical needs would be ideal. Would you consider loaning your apprentice to me for a few days while I make arrangements?"

Given what he knew of the monarchy of Hueco Mundo, he suspected that the request was a politely veiled command. There was another squeak from beyond the curtains at the foot of the bed, and he snorted lightly in a mix of amusement and derision. The prince's eyes flicked to his, and the smile reached those eyes for just a moment. He had calmed down enough for his thoughts to start getting hazy again, but he recognized that this entire episode of shame and absurdity might have played out in his favor.

"Of course, highness. Should he plan on taking the attached servant's quarters?"

"That will do nicely. Hanataro, isn't it? Please stay a bit before retrieving what you need. Lunch is on the way and I must dine with the king. If you could make sure he eats before anything else, I would appreciate it."

Toshiro nearly rolled his eyes. He recognized the sweet talk, the bit of false gratitude shown once everyone in the room realized they had no choice but to obey anyway. He had been taught to use such techniques himself, a touch of sugar to dull the bitterness for those who lost. The adrenaline was gone, the insecurity never gone but receded enough to allow him to relax. The promise of an end to hunger was the only thing keeping him awake.

"And plenty of water, Hanataro. I'll send medical supplies; change the dressing and bandages as close to 12-hour intervals as you can manage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, Unohana. And since it seems to worry you, he is 15 years old. I would show you the bill of sale and pedigree, but as it isn't your business anyway I will just leave you with my word."

He was glad he was still awake enough to hear that. Amusing, this prince, and not a man to be crossed in any way. What was meant by a bill of sale and pedigree, he would have to consider another time. It might be a lie, but suspicions were already growing in the back of his mind as his attention faded.

Parting words were said, the healer departed. The prince returned to the bedside, and he cooperated as the man adjusted his body and the blankets to make him comfortable. He hummed in exhausted contentment and felt warm lips briefly on his before the prince left him with the youth who had been silent and frozen in place, forgotten.