He was surprised to find her awake when he retired long after the moon began its descent. The door had barely slid closed when she flew into his arms, a death grip around his neck.
She drew her breath in ragged gasps, and her cries silently shook her body as she clung to him.
"You should be asleep." Silently, he swept her up and walked her over to her futon, carefully setting her down and shedding his weapons and outer kimono.
"My chest hurts," she whispered.
He lay down, drawing her to him. "That is why it is called heartache."
