Hooded eyes watch her as she mixes the herbs for his medicine.
The satisfaction he felt was palpable, and its oppressiveness suffocated her. Although she feared, the fact that Aoshi was not there anymore made it better for her. The cold feeling of eyes watching her, assessing her every move was absent.
Kanryu is bed ridden, his skin pale and his features sunken.
No disgusting shivers as his breath travelled her skin, or warmth as his body pressed hers. He looked the way he was inside, rotten and half dead.
He was sick, and it was a perfect reflection of his wasted soul.
It's slow going, but it's getting there. Someday.