Welcome to yet another chapter of Knight of Rot & Ruin. I'm so excited to share it with you all! It's about time we get some much-deserved nezushi content, so I hope all of you have prepared yourselves for it!

CHAPTER THIRTY

Shion drifted back into consciousness as someone rapped their knuckles against his bedroom door. He blinked into the unnatural darkness of the drawn curtains, his eyes adjusting to the light slowly. His eyelids were heavy and sore, his head muzzy from hours of deep sleep. He stretched his legs out, untangling the sheets from around his ankles, and stared at the blank wall less than an inch away from his nose.

He eased himself onto his elbow, pushing his bangs out of his face. The strands were sharp and sticky with dried blood and sweat; there was a tiny puddle on the fabric of his pillow where his hair had smashed against it last night, the still-wet carnage staining and ruining the stark-white material. He was grateful it wasn't his, but disgusted that he'd fallen into bed with it at all. He'd need to throw the pillowcases out—or burn them. Burning seemed like a better idea. He'd love to see the remnants of the night prior go up in smoke.

"Shion?" His mother's voice drifted through the paper-thin slab comprising his bedroom door. Her knuckles knocked against it again, and she sounded far too cheerful as she said, "It's two in the afternoon. I know you're tired, but you can't just sleep the whole day away."

Shion groaned. He dragged his hand through his hair, wincing at its stickiness. He didn't even want to imagine what he must have smelled like. His nose was stuffed and sore from crying; he counted it as a blessing, because there was nothing left in his stomach to expel if he got sick. He stretched his legs out, his spine creaking from the effort. Shion winced as the muscles in his ankles strained, all ten of his toes shifting.

The knocking continued, though a bit louder. "Shion?" Karan's voice sounded just a bit strained, as if she were beginning to fight against the suggestion that'd been forcibly pressed into her mind. "Are you awake?"

"Y-yeah," he called back softly. "Just a second, Mom."

Shion scooched to the end of the bed. He could have rolled over the side, as he'd done every single morning for as long as he could remember, but that would require sliding over Nezumi, who lay curled on his side with his face half-buried in the pillow, and Shion didn't feel like waking him up just yet, if he could help it.

The silver-eyed boy apparently hadn't moved from beside him all night, his chest rising and falling softly as he dozed. He didn't make much sound; Shion had to strain to hear the soft puffs of breath assuring him that Nezumi was still alive, that sleep had finally arrested him from the world and the terror that lurked beyond the safety of the bakery.

The brief thought of Nezumi's solid body beneath him—their hips sliding together the way they had in the Unseelie Court as Nezumi calmly recited poetry to him in order to distract him from the drunken haze clouding his mind—made Shion's cheeks burn. He could feel the warmth of Nezumi's body at his back, could remember the taste of his lips and the sensation of his hands against his skin.

He shook the dangerous thoughts aside, muttered "keep it together, Shion", set his feet on the tan carpet, and pushed himself upright.

Shocks of fiery pain lanced through his skin. Shion yelped and flinched back. His hand landed on the mattress, steadying himself. The cotton slab creaked beneath the sudden addition of his weight, and Shion winced at the loud shriek of the metal springs. His knees ached, prickles of sensation shuddering through him. He eased the pressure off his right foot, where the worst of the pain radiated.

Nezumi quickly lifted his head from the pillow. His eyes were slotted with sleep; as he spotted Shion, his features smoothed into a gentle layer of muted concern. "What's wrong?" he mumbled. His voice was thick and syrupy with exhaustion.

"My feet," Shion said, wincing as the ache refused to dissipate. He was accustomed to muscle aches first thing in the morning, the result of a bad nightmare or an uncomfortable sleeping position. This hurt far worse.

He glanced down at his legs, and his stomach dropped. Dried blood smeared across the tops of his feet and between his toes. The sheets beneath his hand, where his legs had been the night prior, were sticky with it, ruined to the point where Shion was certain it'd seeped all the way through to the mattress.

Nezumi slowly rose from the mattress into a sitting position. He looked strange, dressed in Shion's tee shirt and sleep pants. His long, dark hair was down, his sharp ears knifing through the bloodied strands. He glanced over at the door as Karan knocked again, insistent, and a look crossed Nezumi's face that assured Shion he understood what to do.

In an instant, the air around him glittered. Nezumi's hair darkened to an unremarkable shade of slate-black, and his skin gained just a bit of color. Not enough to be too jarringly different from his normal appearance, but enough to look healthy by human standards. The natural paleness of his faerie skin made Nezumi look anemic and washed out, a beautiful wraith fluttering through a graveyard dressed all in black. The tips of his ears rounded out, and he shoved the blanket aside and let it pool on the ground.

There was dried blood smeared on his cheek, too, and Shion panicked for just a moment until he remembered where it had come from. He watched as Nezumi held a finger up to his lips, silently assuring Shion to let him handle it, and then he crossed to the door.

"What are you—," Shion rasped, but Nezumi held his finger up again and yanked the door open.

Karan stood in the hallway. She wore a loose blue turtleneck, khaki slacks, and a bright white handkerchief wrapped around her hair. She reeled back in surprise as Nezumi opened the door, but as soon as she laid eyes on him, a soft smile crossed her lips. Her brown irises were still glassy, unfocused, and just a bit red, as if she'd just woken from a wonderful dream.

"Oh," she said brightly, ignoring the blood caked across Nezumi's cheek and the bridge of his nose. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Nezumi said rustily.

"I'm sure you are. You two got in late last night. I've just put some coffee on in the kitchen, if you'd like some..." She trailed off and cocked her head to the side, tapped her lips as if she were trying to remember something important. After a second, she gave Nezumi a sheepish look and said, "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble placing your name."

"Nezumi."

"Nice to meet you, Nezumi." Karan looked over his shoulder at Shion, and her brow furrowed. "Are you all right, Shion?"

"I—," Shion choked.

"He injured his foot," Nezumi interjected. The fatigue seeping into his voice made the statement sound casual enough not to be questioned, even if Karan hadn't been influenced by her enchantment. "I didn't want to bother you, but would you mind getting a bath started so we can get it taken care of? We don't want the injury to get infected."

Karan nodded slowly, understanding blooming on her features. "No, definitely not." She looked over at Shion and gave him a relaxed smile. "I'll fill the bathtub with some hot water. After your feet are taken care of, you might want to take a shower, sweetie. You look a bit wrecked."

"Yeah," Shion murmured softly.

Karan turned and hurried to the bathroom. Nezumi pushed the door shut. He turned and concealed a yawn with his hand. It was a bizarrely mundane response to exhaustion, and Shion couldn't help the manic smile that spread across his face. He was still over-tired, and all his thoughts bled and twisted together into a mishmash of thick, bitter soup that he couldn't seem to push through. Everything was too hot and far too difficult to comprehend.

Shion tried to push himself up off the bed, but piercing pain bolted through his legs. He flinched and sat back on the mattress, biting his lower lip and sucking back a hiss.

"Come 'ere," Nezumi mumbled, dragging his hand through his hair and ruffling his bangs. He wiped the heel of his hand across his eyes, as if he could erase the exhaustion from his features with just the simple gesture.

In his sleep-deprived state, his words slurred together to the point where it sounded just a bit like drunkenness, and Shion couldn't help the little laugh that burst from his throat. God, he hadn't slept well. His body felt heavy and weak, trembly and much too warm. He must have picked up a cold somewhere between the Unseelie Court and the bakery. He prayed it wasn't an infection. He couldn't afford a trip to the hospital.

"What do you want me to do exactly?" Shion asked. He removed the weight from his wounded foot, but he didn't think he was going to be able to stumble his way to the bathroom unless he used the wall to keep himself steady.

"Here." Nezumi reached Shion's side and reached out to grab his wrist.

"I—," Shion began, suddenly embarrassed. "No, wait, I can do it. Just... just give me a second to—"

"Just come on," Nezumi said, sounding only a little bit aggravated. He took hold of Shion's arm and crouched down beside him. He helped guide Shion's arm up and around his shoulder, giving him something to hold onto while they walked. "All right," Nezumi murmured, shifting Shion's weight so he could support him easily, "here we go. One, two, three." He stood up, bringing Shion with him.

Shion flinched as his legs straightened out, but he didn't need to apply much pressure to his right foot. Nezumi guided his arm around his shoulders, helping Shion support himself without having to put his weight on the wound. Droplets of scarlet dribbled onto the carpet; now that Shion became aware of it, he could see the footprints smashed into the floor, leading a macabre trail from the doorway to his bedroom.

What did the rest of his house look like? What had his mom thought, waking up and seeing his bloody footprints leading to his bedroom door?

Nezumi took a step forward, and Shion hopped along beside him. His right foot was far more wounded than his left, but the process of moving across the carpet send prickles of agony spiking through his veins.

Shion clenched his jaw and hissed. He hadn't noticed the injuries last night. With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he hadn't noticed much of anything. He felt as if he were stumbling across a road crafted of sharpened swords, and it took every ounce of strength in his body to force back tears.

He didn't want to cry. He hated crying. He'd done more than enough of it in the past two nights that he wasn't certain anything would come out if he tried—but with each step, the urge increased until it became overwhelming.

Nezumi paused in the middle of the bedroom. They hadn't gone too far away from the bed; Shion's heart tightened at the realization that he still had half a room, a hallway, and the bathroom to navigate through before he could sit down again.

Nezumi made a sound in the back of his throat. It didn't sound like a sigh or a groan, but it made Shion self-conscious all the same. He turned his face away and stared at the empty wall of his bedroom, widening his eyes and hoping he could keep the tears at bay until he was alone again. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Nezumi scolding him for his weakness.

"Here," Nezumi said, shifting his arm so that it rested across the back of Shion's shoulder blades. "Put your other arm around my neck."

"What—"

"Put your arm," Nezumi said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child, "around my neck."

Shion complied, wrapping his other arm around Nezumi's body and anchoring himself on his shoulder. It was an awkward position, his hips aching from the way he twisted his body. He opened his mouth to ask what exactly Nezumi wanted him to do now—and then Nezumi placed his other arm beneath Shion's knees and hefted him into the air as if he weighed nothing.

Shion seized in his arms. Heat burst through him, his vision buzzing at the edges. He gripped Nezumi's shoulder as he moved forward without difficulty, crossing the room in several long strides before navigating carefully through the door frame and carrying Shion to the bathroom.

Karan knelt beside the squat white bathtub, running the water and testing the temperature with the back of her hand. She looked up as Nezumi entered, easing Shion through the narrow wooden frame, but if she thought there was anything strange about him carrying her son like a damsel in distress, she said nothing about it. In fact, she seemed almost amused by it.

She turned the water off with a flick of her wrist and rose carefully to her feet. She'd injured her knee last winter, and standing still caused her a bit of pain. "It's all set," she said with a bright smile. "I'll go get some bandages and iodine."

"Thank you," Nezumi replied.

Karan side-stepped them and bustled into the hallway. Nezumi nudged the door shut with his foot and sat Shion on the edge of the tub.

Shion winced as the bathwater touched the scrapes and cuts across his feet. Karan had filled the bathtub just enough to reach his ankles. As soon as the hot water touched his skin, it turned a pale shade of pink. The dried blood flaked off Shion's toes and drifted across the surface.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of the warm water seeping into his skin, easing the pains out of his muscles. He could feel Nezumi hovering beside him. He'd perched on the side of the tub, too, and Shion was grateful that Nezumi wasn't towering above him anymore.

For a little while, Shion just let the steam drift around him. At one point, Karan opened the door and put the bandages and iodine on the sink, giving them both a strange smile before clicking the door shut. Nezumi didn't say much, either. He glanced over his shoulder and watched the water turn pink; his silver eyes glinted in the artificial light, his cheeks flushed pink from the heat.

"How," Shion mumbled a moment later, "did you thank my mom?"

"What?"

"You said 'thank you'. I thought the Folk didn't like to say it."

"We don't," Nezumi replied with an indifferent shrug. "We're not incapable of saying it, though."

"Oh." Shion lifted his foot out of the water. Clear droplets rolled off his toes, trickling into the surface and sending a tiny wave of ripples outward. He rolled his ankle and tilted his head to look at the ball of his foot; he could see several deep scratches, but nothing that worried him enough to consider a hospital.

Nezumi stood and grabbed the bandages and iodine from the sink. He fished around in the cabinet for a washcloth. "Do you have plastic wrap?" he asked.

"Plastic wrap?"

"For your feet." Shion raised an eyebrow, and Nezumi shook his head. "After we bandage them, you'll probably want to shower. You shouldn't get the bandages wet, so we can wrap your feet in plastic wrap until you're finished."

"Oh, that makes sense." Shion set his foot back in the water; the temperature had dropped just a bit, enough to be comfortable. "You know a lot about the human world."

"I spend a good chunk of time here." Nezumi sat back down on the edge of the tub. "Here—turn toward me and give me one of your legs."

Shion shifted, putting a bit of distance between himself and Nezumi for easy access. He braced himself on the edge of the bathtub, gripping the lip as he lifted his right leg and extended it outward.

Nezumi wrapped his foot with a washcloth. Now that Shion looked, he realized Nezumi had grabbed a handful of them, the cheap brown and blue ones his mother had picked up from the thrift shop two years ago. He averted his gaze as Nezumi turned his attention to Shion's leg and pressed gently on the washcloth to dry his skin.

As his fingers applied pressure to the wounds, Shion braced himself for pain—but felt none. In fact, it felt better. Like a handful of ibuprofen, Shion felt the sharp aches in the sole of his foot steadily drift away. He could still feel dull pains radiating through his muscles, but now he felt he could stand upright and not worry about stumbling.

Shion sighed. Nezumi quickly dried his foot and then set about dapping iodine on the wounds. He examined Shion's foot for shreds of glass or debris, but finding none, he coated the wounds in antiseptic wash and then quickly bandaged it. He began at Shion's ankle and wound the pale ace bandages around the arch of Shion's foot, his fingertips brushing the bridge and swiping carefully over his toes.

Once finished—so skillfully quick that Shion's stomach did a little flip-flop as Nezumi set his leg down on the ground, gingerly, as if Shion were a precious treasure—Nezumi reached out and said, "Next."

Shion turned so that his back was to the soiled tub. He extended his leg out, resting it in Nezumi's lap, and let him pat the washcloth over his skin.

"How are you doing that?" he asked as the sensation of pain drifted away from him once again.

"Doing what?"

"It... feels better," Shion murmured, looking at the white tiles of the bathroom floor. The one closest to the closed door was cracked; it had been since the moment Shion was born, perhaps even before Karan had purchased the place and started her business. "When you touch me. Like you're... doing something."

Nezumi looked down and focused on the task at hand. Beneath the golden light, his face looked red around the cheeks. "I'm not a healer," he said softly, "but I have some abilities when it comes to soothing injuries. Minor aches and pains. I wouldn't be much help when it comes to major wounds like broken bones or severe infections, but things like this I can handle."

Shion's whole body felt warm, as if he'd been wrapped in a tight blanket. He watched wordlessly as Nezumi bandaged his other foot, then set it gently on the ground beside the other. He leaned over and unplugged the tub, allowing the filthy water to drain out.

"We'll wrap your feet so you can shower," Nezumi explained. "Don't worry about using up all the hot water. I've showered in worse."

Shion flinched; he hadn't even considered the tiny water heater in his apartment. "Oh, well, you can go first if you want. I don't want you to have to shower in cold water—"

"It's fine." Nezumi shrugged.

"But—"

"Shion, seriously, it's fine." Nezumi lanced him with a blank stare; his silver irises flashed like the edge of a blade, and Shion's heart tightened in his throat. "If I wasn't OK with it, you'd know."

Shion's stomach plummeted. He'd almost forgotten that Nezumi wasn't human, too. Sitting in the artificial light of the bathroom, with Nezumi bandaging his foot, Shion had forgotten that Nezumi wasn't human—that he'd never been human. He lowered his head, his face burning as he listened to the sound of the water draining behind him.

To Be Continued...