-Ronin's pov-

I didn't really notice my own injury, even when Konosuke's tachi suddenly tore out of my soft flesh.

What really hurt was when the blade pulled out of Toklata's chest. If her eyes had looked startled before, there wasn't even a word to describe how they looked now. I think she felt the surprise more than the pain, so that was one thing to be thankful for.

Konosuke looked ready to give an explanation, but I just didn't have the time or the patience to listen "I'll be back for you later!" I snarled, kicking him hard in the head, hard enough to make him pass out. I found my discarded cloak, wrapped the steadily worsening Toklata in it, and took off back to Konosuke's house at top speed. I knew Leigh was also attempting to follow, but I couldn't stop and wait.

Toklata's eyes were steadily dimming, like turquoise paper lanterns. The rest of her face showed that she was finally starting to feel the physical pain—scrunched up and tear-streaked. "Will I die?" she asked softly. I put off answering, and she didn't ask again. Instead, she continued with other random things. I expected she was half delirious, the way she was yammering on. – "Do you know where I left my flute? Mama'll kill me if I've lost it." She coughed a few times, and then kept going. "I like gardening. Especially flowers." She went on with this for quite a while, getting each new topic out in only two sentences, her voice growing steadily softer.

Soon, her eyes were fluttering dangerously, and she passed out just as I reached the back door of the small house and kicked it open. My cloak was sickeningly wet with her blood. It had even leaked out onto my hands, but I simply wiped it on a towel hanging in what I assumed to be the kitchen and took Toklata into the nearest room, which, out of sheer luck, was the bathroom. I slammed and locked the door behind me. It's not that I didn't think Leigh couldn't help; it was just that I didn't want her to see me cry.

I flung open the cabinets below the sink, ripping them right off their hinges, and frantically emptied them, finding some gauze and bandages. Toklata's breathing became startlingly shallow—but she was breathing, that was good. The sword had gone through the right side of her chest, so she had had a fighting chance, but now…she had lost so much blood…

I heard Leigh pound up the back steps and call for me. I snarled a nasty string of curses, not at her in particular, and she ran down the hallway and stopped outside the bathroom door.

"Is…she…um…"

"Get me some blankets," I commanded, and, for once, she obeyed without bickering. I continued my work on Toklata, getting rid of her bloody shirt and pressing gauze on the wound. After I had staunched the flow of blood (not by much, I might add), I rubbed spit into it. For such a gaping wound, it didn't do a thing.

Leigh came back with the blankets, and I opened the door just wide enough to rip them from her hands, not enough for her to look inside.

"Go try and find a needle and thick thread," I snapped, with a little more rudeness than I anticipated. She didn't look too happy, but knew that it wasn't really the time to argue, and took off.

To the sound of her fading footsteps, I wrapped most of Toklata's right side in bandages and then laid out the thick comforters for her, carefully lifting her onto them once finished with the makeshift bed. I put the back of my hand to her forehead; I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe impulse. It was sort of warm, though, which somehow made me worry more.

The thick layer of bandaging was still slowly leaking through. I laid more pressure on it, while I tried desperately to think of something; anything. Luckily, Leigh had been able to find a thick needle. She didn't have any thread, but some strong, clear stuff she called fishing line. I figured this was better because of its durability, but Leigh wasn't too quick to hand it to me.

"Are you trying to stitch her up with this stuff?"

"No, Leigh, I'm using it to do her hair." On that note of sarcasm, I again grabbed the supplies from her hands and slammed the door in her face. I heard her hit her head against the door in exasperation. Well, it had been stupid question.

I threaded the needle and unwrapped Toklata, starting to sew the wound as soon as I could get to it. My hands got even bloodier while doing this, but I eventually got it decently sewn up, and I heaved a sigh of relief for that.

One thing to keep worrying about was the blood loss. Well, not worry over, just to regret; it was already too late, I was sure. She had lost too much to survive.

Of course, there was always that other option. That other cruel option that could only ever be a last resort. I remembered promising to myself not to let her die. That other option…

--

-Leigh's pov-

Pacing. That's all I remember doing until Ronin slipped out of the bathroom, weary-eyed and depressed looking. His hands were all covered in dried, flaky blood; blood that wasn't his own this time. Naturally, I assumed the worst, and tried to think of something to say to comfort him.

"Ronin…this…I mean, it wasn't your fault…you did everything you could've done to help, but…"

"She's not dead," he mumbled, head down. He didn't look very happy admitting this, so I figured he was just denying the girl's death. I put a hand on his shoulder (well, tried to, anyway) and hugged him. He pulled me off of him and locked gazes with me. It was kind of scary: his eyes now looked more "sickly yellow" than "proud gold," and, if possible, he looked even paler than usual.

"She is not dead," he repeated, and headed for the broken back door.

"Ronin? Where are you going? You're not leaving—"

"I've promised to continue my fight with Konosuke. If she starts to bleed again, I'm counting on you to sew her up." His voice was weary, ashamed.

"You'd better come back, or I'll track you down and beat you," I joked nervously. He didn't smile or make any snide remark. In fact, he replied with a completely serious and completely baffling (to me) comment.

"I have to come back. It's my obligation. She's my obligation."

Then he disappeared into what would soon be the dawn, by what I figured. Maybe he meant he had to come back and bury her or something? I might've checked a clock if I wasn't afraid for Ronin's sanity, but instead, I creaked open the bathroom door. It was completely dark, there wasn't even a window in there to let in light during the day, and I did quite a bit of searching the wall before finally finding the light switch and flipping it.

The tile floor was smeared with blood. I almost fainted right then and there, but somehow managed to stay upright after a deep breath. I didn't see Toklata anywhere, but then noticed the closed shower curtain and reluctantly pulled it open. Ronin had cleverly stuffed the comforters into the large bathtub to make an almost comfortable looking bed for Toklata, and had laid the girl peacefully on top of it.

God, she was alive.

Her breath was hitching, she was unconscious, black, and blue, but she was alive.

I stood there simply marveling over Ronin for quite a while, before my shop keeping instincts told me to go find a mop and clean the place up. It wouldn't be a pleasant task, but I wanted to sit in there and keep an eye on Toklata until Ronin came back, and it would be even less pleasant to be slipping all around the bloody floor.

-

After making the bathroom completely spotless and pulling up a chair near the bathtub, I started to slowly nod off, until I bolted awake to the sound of loud, painful whimpering. Toklata was awake, and apparently, she was hurting. She wasn't clutching her chest, though, but her hands.

"Toklata…what..."

"My hands feel like they're gonna burst!" she howled pitifully. "What's wrong with me! My head hurts too!"

"Let me see what it is," I said softly, leaning towards the tub and taking her unsteady hands. There didn't seem to be anything wrong in particular, just…it was a little strange…

Each one of her ten fingertips was dotted with a small, identical scar.