.
Shinta was ill with achings and fever for a week. He shouted in his delirium. He flinched away from the servant girls who tried to tend to him. He didn't recognize them.
He opened his eyes one morning and knew that his fever had broken. The nightmare had ended.
.
Sempai came to visit him. His smile was as stupidly gentle as ever, but he was weak and pale. Mirine, pulling aside the breakfast tray, whispered sternly to Shinta not to tire him.
Shinta wondered, seeing the haggard weariness of the older boy. "Senpai, did you see... Do you remember? In the snow..."
"You were dreaming, Shinta."
He smiled, gentle and meaningless, while his gaze drifted toward the shoji door, toward the courtyard, where snow still dusted the earth.
.
Shinta did not press any further, not then or in the days that followed, as he regained his health, resumed his duties and acquired new ones. He no longer assisted Kiyosato-sempai, because Kiyosato-sempai no longer trained.
The shadows lingered under Akira's skin, and as the snow melted, the older boy grew even weaker. He talked less and less. He began to cough.
But it was none of Shinta's business what demons Sempai got into his head or into his soul.
Even if he had been there.
Even if he had witnessed it.
Shinta remembered her eyes.
.
Akira never spoke of it, even if once, more than once, Shinta had heard him sigh, sitting on the porch nursing broth or tea, "She is so lonely."
Shinta would not acknowledge it. He would not admit to his fear.
Shinta was learning to fight. His skills had drawn the daimyo's attention, but the old man would not send Shinta to guard the borders of their land while Akira might still recover.
Akira told him, "You can't imagine what it is like to feel so alone," mildness in his voice, darkness in his eyes.
Shinta turned his gaze away and walked out into the yard - to build his strength, to hone his skills.
To escape Sempai's eyes, watching him or watching nothing.
.
Akira died before the summer solstice.