Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! I have no idea what really took so long... but this one is longer! Mmyup Anyway, let's see how many reviews we can anser. Not too many, just some essential question that need answering. It's 1:19 AM as I write this people. Please, spare me.
Jenvaati: Ep 44, eh? I think now as I write this, you've finished the series, according to your fic… 'strangles ep 45' That sucker was one hell of a viewing, wasn't it? Berserk Kish freaked you out:) Took me a while to get used to, but I'm good now. He reminds me of my character Mishou in that state 'glomps Mish'. So anyway… ep 45 is possibly the biggest I must kill Ichigo ep ever. It converted my friend Toni. I may use it to convert Sheeba. Yay!
BlackWingedGabriel: Hehe.. prolly not. And I'm not even known for my fluff… ah well. It's about to get fluffier.
Dust-in: Hiyas :). You ask about where to get eps? I grab em off the IRC channel #honobono, but you have to know IRC to use that… e-mail me. I've already taught my friends.
DarkStarPhoenix: I know… so little good grammar on this site. Drives me nuts. Thanks for reviewing.
Mestophilies: Oh, I shall continue. Heck yea. Gives me something to do in biology class.
Everyone else: Thanks so much for your reviews, and sorry again for the long wait. Now, without further ado…
Disclaimer: Still don't own it. See? Look at ep 45. Look at the extremely sad Kisshu at the end of ep 45. Would I do this? Hells naw.
Ichigo had a habit of talking herself through difficult situations, and today was no exception. She rummaged through the medicine cabinet, frantically checking labels on any bottles that came within her reach.
"Lesse… Tylenol… that should help. Motrin? Isn't that the same…oh, but this is children's. Erm…"
She let out a frustrated growl. "Why do we have so many of these things?" Was it too much to ask to have a damned bottle saying "I will cure fever"? She stared at the impressive collection of medications, ranging from ibuprofen to salicylic acid, palms growing sore as her nails dug into them.
Ok. Hold on. I have to calm down. This isn't helping.
Taking a deep breath, the girl closed her eyes, trying to bring her thoughts into order. Almost immediately, the exact opposite happened, and she found tears threatening to run down her cheeks. She set one of the bottles down to wipe her eyes, but it was too late. Once one tear escaped, stopping the rest was futile. Unable to control the feelings that had been building up for so long, she hung her head and began to cry.
What if he dies? What if he dies and it's all my fault? He came to me, me, thinking that I could help him when no one else would, and I've…I've… She sobbed, clapping a hand over her mouth, suddenly aware of the fact that she did not want him to hear her.
It's hurting him, and I did it all… all of it… how could I have been so stupid? I shouldn't have yelled at him. I shouldn't have even invited Aoyama-kun in! How could I have been such an idiot?
He came to me… he came to me like that because… because…
Because he had chosen her over his mission. He had… he had chosen to save her life. All of their lives.
He was always saying that he wanted her, that he loved her.
A sudden thought came to her, the harsh and shocking equivalent of a slap in the face.
What if… she had never considered it, never been faced with a situation that allowed her, or forced her, to analyze it carefully… he meant what he said?
What if he wasn't possessive for its own sake?
Again, that battle, those eyes, that desperate voice, flashed through her mind. The tears stopped as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.
What if when he said he loved her… what if he…
She shook her head and wiped her tears. I have to get back.
She gathered the bottles in her arms and hurried back to her room, all the while trying to ignore the irony of the urgency of the situation helping her avoid the delicate subject. As soon as she set the bottles on her night table and took her place at the bedside, she was able to temporarily forget those thoughts.
Temporarily.
It was always temporarily.
What would happen when there was nothing to distract her, no rescue?
Again, a firm shake of the head as she reached out, placing a hand on the alien's forehead. His eyes, closed when she came in, slowly opened and settled on her.
She prayed, suddenly very nervous about the fact, that he didn't notice that she had been crying. Ichigo did not want to cause him any more anxiety; she gave him what she hoped was a light, comforting smile. He said nothing, though whether this was because he truly did not notice, was too weak, or did not want to worry her, she did not know. Thankful for that small relief, she did not really care.
"You're going to have to sit up, ok? And you have to tell me whether you can take any of these or not."
The boy complied, slowly propping himself up on his elbows, gingerly pushing himself up into a sitting position as she watched, ever alert to catch him should he falter. Some of the anxious tension within her was released when he leaned back against the headboard, looking rather tired, yet still fully alert. He even gave her a small smile, though it was only for an instant. A rough cough quickly took it back, and Ichigo was swiftly reminded of her duty.
"These are for fever. They're all made with ibuprofen. Do you know if…?" she trailed off, eyes boring pleadingly into Kisshu's as she waited for what she hoped was a favorable answer. So vicious was her anxiety, that for a moment, she did not even want an answer. What if it was the wrong one?
Taking a few steadying breaths after the coughing spell, Kisshu closed his eyes as he thought, feeling the draining effects of illness even after the long sleep he had just woken from.
"I dunno," he mumbled, all of a sudden aware of a crippling exhaustion. He wanted to answer her, even recognized her own terrible worry, but could only focus on it in a dim corner of his mind; he was simply too exhausted, too ill to think clearly.
The reply was anything but what Ichigo had been hoping for. She clenched her fists, throat tightening as she prepared to unleash her nerves upon the boy in an angry outburst. This time, she managed to catch herself, eyes widening in an ashamed shock, teeth firmly biting her lip as she desperately calmed herself down.
Of course he doesn't know; he's an alien. And even if he normally knows, it's not something he'd remember now…he's barely awake.
What now? Could she risk it? Give him the pills and hope they worked?
For a moment, she considered it, actually began to reach for the bottle of Tylenol.
The next moment saw her giving herself a sharp mental slap.
That sort of gamble was sheer stupidity.
She had already made mistakes here. Already, it was worse because of her. Leaving further room for error was idiocy.
Even so, the final verdict inspired a wave of despair in the girl. She hung her head, nails digging into her palms as she tried to reason with herself. A minute later, she rose, assured Kisshu of her quick return, and retrieved a cloth and bowl of cool water from the bathroom.
Once back, she told the boy to lie back down and gently placed the cold compress on his forehead, brightening as he gave a murmur of pleasure at its temperature; perhaps this would be enough? She watched as she closed his eyes before mumbling a soft "Thanks, koneko-chan" and drowsing.
Left with nothing to do but worry, she made another attempt at her math homework. An hour of this ended in an exasperated sigh as she left the failed problems to change the cloth.
As soon as she bent down to examine the boy, her face fell; a pang of icy fear stabbed at her heart. It was plain to see that his fever had not fallen; if anything, the bright flush on his cheeks and his labored breath hinted at a rise in temperature.
For a minute, as Ichigo robotically changed the compress, she felt close to tears once again.
She had to do something, but what? If medicine wouldn't work, then what—?
An idea struck her so abruptly, she almost dropped the cloth. Not wasting any time, a light blush colored her cheeks a second later.
No. No, no, no! I can't be that way… I have to do this…
Chiding herself the same way she had before taking Kisshu into her arms, she resolved to carry through with the only plan she could think of. All that remained was waking the boy up and hoping that he could manage the trip to the bathroom.
"Kisshu. Kisshu, wake up." She shook him cautiously, afraid of causing him any more discomfort, until his eyes fluttered open. He took a moment to focus on her, and when he did, he responded with a raspy, rather indignant "What?" If the situation hadn't been so urgent, the annoyance lacing his voice at the rude awakening could have inspired some amusement. As it was, Ichigo simply pushed forward.
"You have to get up. I'm going to—"
She was interrupted by a cough and a pleading "I'm too tired." Swallowing both anxiety and impatience, she went on gently.
"We have to get your fever down, Kisshu."
The urgency in her voice must have reached him, because he began to lift himself into a sitting position. This time, however, he nearly fell back, only to be caught by Ichigo. The fact that this happened only confirmed her terrors; he was weakening.
Pushing that frightening thought back, she sat him up, pulled the covers back, and waited as he swung his legs over the side of the bed before helping him onto trembling legs. For a second, she almost lost her balance as he put most of his weight on her.
After recovering, she took the first steps forward, encouraging him on with soft murmurs as they moved down the hallway, stopping to lean against the wall every so often as a cough seized him. Finally, they reached the bathroom. Kisshu leaned against Ichigo as she opened the cabinet and pulled out a low stool, dropping it onto the floor and kicking it so that it stood against the tub. That done, she allowed him to sit on it, resting lightly against the porcelain bathtub while she gathered a few cloths, soaked them in cool water, and, almost as an afterthought, gathered some more bandages before sitting down to her task.
She already knew that giving the boy a full bath would have been impossible; her feminine sense of modesty destroyed all chances of that. Even if that sense had not existed, she could see that getting the poor boy undressed and dressed in his current condition would have been overly difficult and tiring for both of them.
Ichigo could, however, cool him down by washing his upper body, at least. It also gave her a chance to finally change his bandages.
Taking a steadying breath, she sat down to work.
Kisshu's initial reaction was a sharp gasp at what must have felt like ice water to him, and Ichigo could not restrain herself from placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she pressed the towel against his skin.
"It's cold," he mumbled, to which she nodded, replying in a voice trembling with anxious apology, "I know. I know, Kisshu, but it's for your fever."
The last words dwindled into a whisper as she bit her lip to fight the tears that threatened her. It hurt, she realized. It hurt, seeing him like this, feeling the tremors running through his body, the heat in his skin, the pained rasp of breath that rattled his chest. It hurt terribly, because she knew what she saw and sensed was absolutely nothing compared to the suffering he must have been enduring.
It nearly drove her to new tears, and all she could do to fight them was concentrate on being as tender as possible with her ministrations.
As she worked down his back, he was seized by another coughing fit, and at its end, he could not hold himself upright any longer. He took to leaning fully against the tub, and Ichigo cringed as he shivered at the porcelain's perpetual coldness. Without the slightest questioning thought, she gently pulled him towards her, allowing him to lean back against her instead.
She continued with his front, dabbing gingerly around the edges of the bandage before finally deciding that the time had come to change it. With him still laying against her, she began to undo the knot she had tied. A soft gasp from him, a signal that she had accidentally pressed against an injured area, compelled her to abandon the bandage for a few moments, one arm encircling around his torso as she moved him so that his head rested on her shoulder.
"It's all right, Kisshu. Just a little more, ok?" He answered with a weak nod, and she lay her cheek against his tangled hair, giving him a reassuring squeeze with one arm while undoing what remained of her knot with the other. As the bandage fell away, she grimaced involuntarily; there was little that could have prepared her for the angry red flesh that stared back at her.
Thankfully, mercifully, she saw that it wasn't infected. Relief flooded her; at least that hadn't gone wrong
The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. She realized that to keep it that way, she would have to do what her mind equated to torture. Struggling to keep sobs from escaping her, she used one hand to pour some of the antiseptic onto a fresh cloth. Then, teeth clenched in sudden fear, she prepared to press a corner of the thing against the red flesh, but stopped. Such an approach was senseless. Now, a soft sob breached her failing defenses.
"I'm sorry, Kisshu," she whispered into one of his long ears, unconsciously tightening her grip on him, pressing her cheek against his head, clenching her teeth before pressing the towel against the entire gash.
Nothing, no horror movies, no hospital dramas, simply nothing, could have prepared her for the scream he gave, and nothing would ever be able to erase it from her memory.
Just a few days ago, she would have never believed that she'd do what she did next. She would have scoffed at anyone who suggested it, even been offended by the thought.
All of that evaporated when she felt him convulse against her in agony and had that ragged scream settle into her ears.
She dropped the cloth, wrapping both arms around the alien boy, holding him with such ferocity, that she totally immobilized him. All the while, she was crying, now struggling not to prevent tears, but to avoid hysteria.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kisshu," she sobbed into his ear, her voice slowly dwindling into soft whispers of his name as she rocked him back and forth.
She was aware of five points of pain on her thigh; his nails had dug into her skin, even through her pajamas. At this moment, feeling his shallow breaths, his trembling, she welcomed that pain, embraced it as the only bit of fairness present in the whole ordeal, even wished, in a hysterical delirium, that he'd draw blood as some sort of payment.
How long they stayed that way, Ichigo could not tell. It was probably only a few minutes, but to her, it seemed as if hours passed, hours of softly hushing the alien's whimpers as the unimaginable pain died down to a dull ache in his chest, hours before she had gathered herself enough to unwrap one arm and grab a fresh towel to dry the boy's torso.
Carefully patting him dry, she froze in surprise when Kisshu's voice broke the silence.
"You don't have to cry, Ichigo. It's ok."
She dropped the towel in utter shock, eyes snapping to the alien's as her lips parted, but no voice came out. His small smile, the gentle look in his eyes, the way he relaxed against her, still trusting her, after all of this… she could hardly keep new tears away.
A smile lifted her lips, a smile of gratitude, of pure relief. She brought a hand to his forehead.
"Your fever's gone down."
It was all she could bring herself to answer with, yet it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded, but winced slightly, and Ichigo realized she had yet to re-bandage the wound. She did so with the utmost care, finishing with a firm yet gentle knot.
That done, she discovered that the alien had nearly fallen asleep on her, and she shook him awake again.
"Don't sleep here," she murmured, allowing some relieved amusement into her voice, "back to bed."
More weight lifted off her chest as Kisshu gave a soft snicker at what he would have, had he been healthier, exaggerated into some suggestive comment. It was a far cry from his usual snide remarks, but it was something. It was a sign that the illness was receding, and Ichigo found a light spring in her step as she led him back to her bedroom, her face far more relaxed as she helped him lie back down and pulled the covers up over him.
He's better. He can talk again, and he's breathing better, and his skin isn't so warm, and…
Her thoughts trailed off into merciful respite from the stress of the past day.
A few minutes later, Ichigo was seated in her chair, mind focused on her remaining math problems, while Kisshu slept once again.
Her sudden happiness was really quite funny to watch; her foot tapped against the side of her chair, she hummed softly, a shameless smile on her face as she tackled the exercises with renewed vigor.
The last time she had been this happy was when Aoyama had confessed his love to her.
It was quite lucky that she was so caught up in her joy; seeing that probably would have brought about a whole slew of nasty thoughts that she was forcibly saving for later. Later, after she was sure Kisshu wouldn't die on her. Later, when she knew what she was doing.
For now, she was content to bask in the relief offered by the fall of Kisshu's fever.
Hours passed; Ichigo finally closed her math book and placed it wither finished English and history assignments before deciding that a quick temperature check would be good. At the moment she rose, however, Kisshu interrupted her departure with a sudden coughing fit, waking himself up and startling her.
It also ended that peaceful feeling, for Ichigo immediately knew that something was wrong. The coughing lasted for a disconcertingly long time, and when he finally quieted, Ichigo could see that he was shivering rather badly. Her smile faded in an instant, replaced with a tight-lipped frown and wide eyes swimming with concern. Sitting down on the bed beside him, she placed a hand on his chest, grabbing his attention before speaking.
"Kisshu? Are you all right?" It came out trembling, frightened, and for a moment, Kisshu hesitated in his response. He did not want to see her cry again. It had disturbed him before, even in his own suffering, when tears fell from her expressive eyes. He could make her angry, make her frightened. He even enjoyed the emotion in her face, in her gorgeous eyes, when he managed to do that. He loved her spunk.
But he couldn't, under any circumstances, watch her cry.
So he hesitated, perhaps would have given her a small lie, had a chill not seized him so suddenly, forcing a violent shiver from him right before her eyes. There was no use in lying now.
"I'm just a… a bit cold, koneko-chan."
Ichigo, while known for being slow at times, recognized his attitude immediately. Had the issue not been so pressing, she may have been intrigued by it. Already, in some far corner of her mind, the information was being stored away, waiting for its turn to be examined.
As it was, Ichigo bit her lip and brushed back Kisshu's messy bangs to feel his forehead again, and was met with unnaturally warm skin.
Her mind fell to paralysis.
Again… again… it's back, even after…
After all of that, it was back. She felt… she felt like crying. Again.
"Kisshu," she whispered, drawing her hand back and placing it in her lap. "I…"
She was at a loss. What else could she do? She had no medicine, and she could not force him back onto his feet. The growing flush on his cheeks warned her of another violent bout of fever, and she did not want to drain him.
What, then? What could she do?
Her nails dug into her palms as she desperately searched for a plan.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was nothing she could do.
It was enough to nurture a sob in her throat, and she fought to keep it from escaping. She was suddenly aware of what she had realized just a few moments ago, that Kisshu did not want her to cry, and this took on a new importance in her psyche.
Swallowing, the girl turned back to the alien.
"I'll go turn up the thermostat, ok?" He coughed lightly, but managed a nod, so she did just that. As an afterthought, she stopped by the hall closet and grabbed more blankets, spreading them over the boy and drawing them up to his chin. That done, she returned to his side, what she hoped was a comforting smile on her face.
"Is that better?"
Kisshu tried to nod, but it was rapidly sabotaged by a cough, and Ichigo faltered. She swallowed again, that panic getting ever more difficult to keep down, but managed to call back that smile.
"Try to go to sleep again. You'll feel better if you rest."
He did try to do as she said. Truthfully, he was rather anxious for more sleep; it numbed he pain of his wound and allowed him to forget his illness. Kisshu tried, but this time, the sickness seemed to have totally different ideas. As his fever rose anew, his chills increased, his cough worsened, and within an hour, he had lost all hope of falling into a peaceful sleep.
Ichigo wilted when she saw this.
It's even worse than before. Now he can't even…
Her new thoughts only concerned comforting him, trying to ease his pain enough to allow him the rest he so desperately needed to have any hope of recovery.
As he shivered under the blankets, Ichigo rose and made her way to his head.
"Kisshu," she said his name, for he had been growing less and less lucid as time passed, even while sleep remained cruelly out of his reach. "Kisshu, sit up for just a second. Only a little while." With that, she helped him into a sitting position before sitting down on the pillow and lowering his head into her lap.
Any surprise, any amusement he would have felt was lost in fever and sickness. As he was, he could only turn his head to allow her hand to lie against his cheek; it was the only comfort she could hope to give, and the only he could receive.
Whenever a cough or chill took him, Ichigo hushed him, stroking his hair with one hand, keeping her other on his cheek as a reassuring contact, occasionally caressing his forehead as he relaxed after the attacks. She brushed his sweaty bangs from his face, doggedly keeping her eyes on his all the while, believing somewhere in her mind that it would somehow help keep him with her.
Stay, Kisshu. Please…please… you have to hold on. You have to… after…
After waking her up.
After saving us all. After giving up your own safety for us. After coming here…Kisshu… after giving me your trust. You have to hold on, because, Kisshu... Oh, God, Kisshu… I think… I think maybe I…
Ichigo found her voice rising above the stifling quiet, lilting in a sweet lullaby she remembered from her childhood.
"Nen nen kororiyo okororiyo, boyawa yoikoda nenneshina." A tear trickled down her cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. Her hands stayed with the alien boy, stroking his hair, smoothing his blankets, as she sang, voice low and soft, the voice of a mother comforting a child.
"Boyano komoriwa dokoe it ta, anoyama koete satoe it ta." A cough was silenced by a tender caress of the forehead. Kisshu relaxed against her, turning his face towards her stomach, burying it in her shirt, breathing in her scent. One hand moved to stroke one of his ears, ever gentle, ever comforting, as his breathing began to deepen.
"Sato no miyage ni nani morata, denden taikoni sho no fue. Sho no fue." He fell asleep with a shaking sigh, an unintelligible murmur escaping him befote his muscles fully slackened and he relaxed in her lap. In spite of his slumber, Ichigo continued her ministrations, continued them as her mind slowly wrapped itself around the feelings she was sensing, the sights she saw, the sounds tickling her ears.
Stroking his hair, feeling his hot skin, she suddenly realized what she was doing, and it almost made her laugh. She was caressing the enemy. She was stroking his burning skin, smoothing back his hair. His skin. His hair. His. Kisshu's. The one they always fought, the one she always rejected, the one who was always defeated in more ways than one.
His skin was smooth, tender. His hair, even while tangled and sweaty, was soft. She could see the fragility of his long ears, the veins visible in their nearly-translucent skin. She could see his eyelashes, wet with tears of pain, of exhaustion, long and handsome against intensely golden eyes. All of it, soft, dear, beautiful. All of it so fragile as he trembled under her touch, so drawn and tense in pain and fear.
This was the creature she scorned. This was the one she cursed at, insulted, rejected. That word came again and again… rejected. Fought, hurt, hated.
This was the vile Kisshu.
She closed her eyes, bent down, farther and farther until she felt his hot forehead beneath her lips.
Kisshu…I think I might… I might love you…
Author's Note: Ok… I got the song off some site.. not allowing links, but Google Edo Komoriuta.Translation from the site:
Nen nen kororiyo okororiyo
Boyawa yoikoda nenneshina
Boyano komoriwa dokoe it ta
Anoyama koete satoe it ta
Sato no miyage ni nani morata
Denden taikoni sho no fue
Sho no fue
Sleep, sleep,
little one, sleep.
You¹re a good baby,
now go to sleep.
Do you know
where your nurse has gone?
Gone to her village
she won¹t be long.
What will she bring baby
when she does come?
A flute so lovely
and a thunderous drum.
And a thunderous drum.
No, I don't know if it's right. I don't know Japanese. It's supposed to be a Japanese lullaby, but if it's somehow wrong, dun blame me. I know English, some French, and Polish. I would have put in a nice little Polish lullaby, but somehow I didn't think that appropriate :P. Ok. Read and review, please!