Chapter 4: Through Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares
Hannah's sunburnt cheeks couldn't keep the smile off her face as she wiped the sweat from her brow. It had been two days since the rain finally stopped, and the auburnette intended to soak in every last ray of sunshine.
Unlike the dreary skies of Berkshire, the outskirts of Tokyo were primarily humid forests and subtropical climate, though transitioning from winter to spring made the weather unpredictable. Following Hannah's arrival to Jujutsu High, the last two days were nothing short of a torrential downpour.
When the young woman woke up to the pitter-patter of raindrops, for the briefest moment, she believed herself back in England and all had been a dream. The drab colored walls of her dormitory told her otherwise. There was no waking up from this. No turning back. No Mother Superior peering over her catlike spectacles to say in precise Latin, "Pack your belongings, girl. It's time to go."
Three days since the wedding and her new life had to take hold.
"Permanence" was a relative term in Hannah's vocabulary. Since her sixth birthday, the mixed-blood lived her days as a wandering nomad, or a circus act depending on how she was received by her caretakers, most of whom were nuns. Always moving from one stay to the next; Four months with a bunch of French Carmelites in the countryside of Provence. Another six with the Dominicans of Luxembourg. An entire semester in an obscure boarding school somewhere along the Baltic coast.
Once in a blue moon did Hannah return to her native homeland, never staying at Wasserton House for more than a few nights. The twenty year old could count on two hands the number of times she'd stepped foot in the estate, and for that she was thankful. A gilded cage could never be a home. Wasserton had every makings of a prison. She hated those marble hallways with every fiber of her being. At least the nuns were friendly. The servants, not so much. Only the company of her mother's portraits made the visits bearable.
Her favorite hung in the east library between two grand bookshelves. Gowned in a gold taffeta confection and glittering jewels, Elizabeth Thames' crystal baby-blues and raven black hair tore every reader away from their books, utterly besotted with the pretty lady in the painting.
After Hannah's birth, Lord Thames removed his sister's name from the portraits, so no one would claim her identity except the close friends and relatives who knew her.
A stab of bitterness pierced her heart at the thought. Now half a world away, she would likely never see the portraits again. Her uncle hadn't bothered gifting her a photograph. All the daughter had to honor her late mother was the necklace.
Arrows of sunlight streaked through the clouds, forcing her to blink.
The cool marble hallways of Wasserton vanished and ginkgo trees and tall pines remerged. A bush warbler serenaded the land with his "hoohokekyo" in search of a female. Worker bees and other insects buzzed excitedly around the neighboring flowers, ignoring the auburn haired woman kneeling on the ground, hand trowel in her lap. A red wheelbarrow full of other tools and opened bags of fertilizer lay beside her.
She was back outside.
Upon her request for gardening supplies, Mr. Ijichi was more than willing to show her the school greenhouse, which, much to Hannah's delight, wasn't far from her living quarters. The glassbox conservatory was stocked to the brim with just about every tool and instrument one could imagine, from pruning shears to watering cans, including a bevy of mulch and fertilizer to last the school a year. She would want for nothing.
Now that the rain had stopped, Hannah was eager to test out the hardware for herself. Though muggy and humid, it couldn't be a more beautiful day.
With newfound enthusiasm, she pulled her gardening gloves back on and grabbed the trowel on her lap. Positioning the tip into the soil, she pushed the steel blade into the ground, and with surgical precision plucked the little green arteries from the dirt. The invaders hidden within the dry bed would have to be carefully uprooted, one by one, or else contaminate new growth.
She continued the regiment for the next hour, sifting through mud and grime for traces of horsetails and stinging nettles.
Taking a moment to catch her breath from weeding, she seized a water bottle near her tools, and guzzled the refreshing liquid down her parched throat. The contrast of the drink cooled the hot blood pumping in her veins. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she withdrew the bottle to breathe. Her t-shirt and jeans clung to her perspired skin. The sun was turning brutal. A second pair of hands would make this go faster, she thought.
Hands.
A second pair of hands.
Large hands belonging to a towering physique with gossamer hair and ocean blue eyes.
Prying off her gloves again, Hannah reached up to touch where callused fingers once caressed her chin. His thumb pressed to her lips, forcing her to stare into the maelstrom of his eyes. The virile warmth emanated from his body. The sweet fragrance of his breath. A free hand stroking her collarbone, sliding purposely down her chest so his thumb and index finger could cup the underside of her...
The cool water bottle juxtaposed the flush of her cheeks.
The hands evaporated like mist.
It had only been three days, yet the bride couldn't escape the daydreams. Hannah didn't mean for them to turn so…venereal, but how could she not? He was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. She was twenty years old. There was more pent up hormones swimming in her bloodstream than was deemed emotionally acceptable. Although, the whole affair seemed utterly ridiculous; someone like her, paired with a demi-god like him?
The sorcerer in question hadn't returned from his mission. Mr. Ijichi assured her during the car ride that Satoru might be gone for several days, so it was too soon to fret.
Not that I'm worried about him or anything, she thought indignantly. No, far from it. Satoru was the least of her concerns, considering Hannah had gone three whole nights without a single dream.
Yes. For the first time in fourteen years, there were no needle-like teeth grinning at her. No stench of decaying bodies curling her nose, or blood curdling screams catapulting her from bed in cold sweat. Not even a flicker of scarlet eyes, watching behind the carnage. Nothing. All had been dreamless sleep.
The much needed rest was almost too good to be true, but the anxiety was surmounting. While she agreed to cooperate in locating the Sukuna fingers (not that she was given much choice), the woman began to question her resolve. Afterall, she was no heroine. She harbored as much courage as a petrified goat, which was beside the point since she couldn't control The Sight to begin with. She attributed the Louvre to luck, not certainty.
"Only pain and suffering await such a future. It would bring this country to its knees."
Hannah's throat constricted at the memory of Father O'Malley's sad eyes. It gave her pause. Until last week, all she ever had to worry about was herself. Now it felt as though the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. Should she cave into fear - and Hannah was very much afraid - millions would pay the price and die. She wanted, no, needed this to be a success. Use her visions to find the fingers and prevent Ryomen Sukuna from returning.
It would be a waiting game now. She just had to be patient.
Drinking the last of her water bottle, Hannah squished the malleable plastic under her sandals. Stray locks of auburn hair tickled her lips and cheeks as she crushed the carton. Her barrette kept sliding off.
She twisted her long hair, and refastened the butterfly shaped clip into the base of her bun, hastily. Three prongs were missing from the clasp, but Hannah thought the barrette too pretty to throw away. It would do for now.
Putting her gloves back on, Hannah uprooted the last of the weeds. Then picking up a large shovel, she scooped some fertilizer from the wheelbarrow, and began generously spreading it around the dirt bed. Once it was blanketed by a layer of compost, she traded the shovel for a long hand tiller, twisting the two minerals together. The dry dirt cracked like glazed frosting, revealing the soft wet soil underneath. After the dirt was sufficiently mixed with fertilizer, the flower bed was complete.
Old became new.
Without delay, she dug a hole deep enough to cover the "step" of her shovel and whisked out a familiar scented envelope from her other pocket.
Opening the little packet with an exposed fingernail, she gently shook the paper bag. Little black seeds, smaller than the size of ants, landed on her outstretched palm. Cupping her hand so they wouldn't spill over, Hannah kneeled back down and scattered several seeds into the man-made ditch. Then, clutching a handful of bone meal from a bag, she sprinkled the plant food on top of the seeds, filled the hole back up with dirt, and poured an ample amount from her watering can onto the mound.
Now things got interesting.
When one spends fourteen years stowed away in convents, they ought to pay attention. Nuns were fastidious in many professions, horticulture being one of them. The sisters loved sharing their knowledge and Hannah soaked up their words like they were the third installment of the Bible. Everyword.
One convent's lessons in particular.
Hannah stretched out her palms over the mound of dirt and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were random and scatterbrained for a moment, eventually merging into focus. Her breathing slowed. Birdsong and other flying insects were rendered mute. Her skin no longer felt hot and sweaty. The outside world faded away.
After a few meditative breaths, a sense of warmth engulfed her chest like a shot of whiskey. The pleasant calidity burned and festered for a moment, gradually ventilating throughout her body. A bright pulsation of energy coursed through her veins. Her fingertips tingled. She held her hands in place for a second longer, until the warmth dispelled and faded.
She opened her eyes.
Where once was a pile of stacked dirt, now grew a healthy rose shrub. Tiny thorns and leaves covered its stem.
Hannah smiled.
"That's a neat trick."
Mater Dei!
Hannah visibly jumped. Her butterfly clip slipped from her hair as she completed a full one-eighty.
Their eyes met.
A woman stood before her. Her chocolate eyes, lined with heavy dark circles, made it difficult to guess her age. Although, Hannah guessed she was no older than her. She wore a blue ribbed-knit turtleneck under a professional white lab coat, paired with navy pants and beige pumps. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind an ear, revealing the beauty mark on her right cheek.
"Whoops. My bad. Didn't mean to scare you like that." A small smile graced the stranger's lips.
Hannah rested a hand on her chest as if recovering from a minor asthma attack. The woman caught her completely off guard. Even in her former state, she should've noticed the woman's presence. All the more reason not to trust her.
"Um…Not to sound rude, but who are you?" Hannah inquired softly, sitting criss-cross on the ground to better read the lady's intentions.
The woman said nothing, twirling a strand of brown hair between her index and middle fingers. Her eyes darted back and forth from Hannah to the newly grown rose shrug, which didn't go unnoticed by the young gardener.
Please tell me she didn't see everything, Hannah thought. The woman already admitted to witnessing her "neat trick," but just how much did she catch?
The stranger refocused on Hannah. Dark chocolate eyes looked ready to dissect the gardener's brain like a medieval inquisitor. But instead of bombarding her with questions, the stranger straightened her posture and dropped her hand to her side, ending her scrutiny.
"Fascinating," was all she said, turning her back toward the auburn haired girl, but not before handing her a fresh water bottle. Condensation covered the plastic. "Stay hydrated, Hannah."
Hannah stared at the water bottle for a bewildered second, then realized she hadn't given the lady her name.
"W-Wait?!" she cried, but it was too late.
The woman was gone.
...
Ieiri Shoko's heels clicked down the hallway and out of the mortuary. The basement had no windows. She hadn't seen proper sunlight in days.
She stifled a yawn and brushed back the sleeve of her lab coat to look down at her watch.
Ugh. Another autopsy at 3 P.M.
Looks like I'm not gonna make it home in time to feed Ghost, she thought gloomily. She was glad to have given him two scoopfuls of kibble this morning instead of one. Mangy fur ball.
Oddly enough, it had been Gojo's idea that the doctor get a pet. Devised some cockamanie bullshit about "stress not being a good look on her" and that she needed an "emotional support animal" to help cope. Obviously, Shoko's protests did nothing to dissuade him because not even two days later her former classmate banged on her office door to plop an eight week old kitten on her lap; completely white with blue eyes. "So you can always think of me." He grinned, and flew out the door before she could tell him no.
Shoko sighed. While she wasn't fond of the cat initially, the Russian White steadily grew on her, but lately she'd become too busy to properly feed him. Hence the reason she gave him two servings at breakfast. There was no helping it, though.
"The dead just keep piling up," she whispered dullfully.
And boy did they ever. Her three o'clock appointment would be the sixth corpse to land on her table that week. A female this time. 35 years of age. 162 centimeters, weighing 74 kg. Had the misfortune of falling from a 25 storey building with the terminal velocity of 50 mph. Transected the cervical part of her spine so her heart could no longer supply enough blood to her body, but the impact wasn't what killed her. It was a curse, naturally. Pushed her off the balcony once it was done "toying" with her. A shame, yes, though not the worst case imaginable. Shoko would make good use of her.
Normal necroscopies usually took two to four hours, but corpses with cursed energy? She'd be trapped in this bunker for an additional five hours if she was lucky. Never mind the stacks of paperwork sure to ensue. One fake report to hand over to the NHI, (which she bullshitted) and another for the school database listing the actual cause of death. It was grueling work, but necessary. The cursed energy couldn't remain in the cadavers for more than twenty-four hours without spawning something dangerous.
Still so much they didn't know about cursed energy and its effects on the human body.
The doctor grabbed a water bottle from the vending machine. She needed a break, some fresh air. So when she saw Gojo's new wife in the garden during her little mid-day stroll, she couldn't resist a closer look.
Shoko was too busy to attend the wedding. She'd yet to see the bride for herself. What she found was most intriguing.
Hannah's records indicated she was unable to manipulate cursed energy, and yet the doctor watched as the younger woman willed the little seed into a young plant. There were only two people she knew who could do that, herself included. The Reverse Cursed Technique was incredibly complex and difficult, but Hannah seemed to pull it off, no sweat.
That wouldn't explain the gold light emanating from her hands, though.
Fascinating. Very fascinating.
The doctor deliberately withheld her name from the gardener. Not for any particular reason other than it was hot outside and she needed to get back to work. There'd be opportunities for proper introductions later. The bride looked too tired to answer questions and spooked easily.
Best to keep her abilities a secret for now, thought Shoko. Until I know what we're dealing with.
The muscles around her mouth curled upwards.
Oh, if only she hadn't quit smoking last year.
She could really use a cigarette.
...
Streaks of gold and indigo painted the twilight sky. The sun was about to set.
So entrenched in her gardening, Hannah chose to skip dinner. By the time she was finished, four healthy rose shrubs dwelled in the flower bed. Two more would fit, but they'd have to wait until tomorrow.
The lady in the lab coat hadn't returned. Why was everyone at this school so damn cryptic?
The young woman rose from her crouched position to stretch out her arms. Tiny pops traveled up and down her spine as the vertebrae separated. Oi, She was going to feel that in the morning. The kneeling pad did little to take the pressure off her weight. Thankfully, her knees didn't feel too bad.
The bruise she sustained two days ago was completely healed.
Massaging her lower back, she chucked her tools and trash into the wheelbarrow, and steered the wagon towards the greenhouse. Arriving at her destination, she hung all the tools back on their respective racks, throwing the torn poly-bags and plastic bottles in the recycling bin. Using a garden hose, she washed off a layer of grime from her hands, cooling her slightly sunburnt arms. She desperately wanted to peel off her clothes and take a shower.
By the time she finished cleaning up, the sun dipped well below the horizon. The street lanterns flickered around the many ginkgo trees, their silhouettes twisted into shadows like phalanges ready to grab her. It was dark. Hannah gulped.
Suddenly experiencing a case of the heebie-jeebies, the woman ferreted the shelves for a flashlight with no luck. Apparently, flashlights weren't essential to gardening.
Great.
An inckling of half-familiar, half-dreamt terror washed over her. Acid coated her throat. Her stomach coiled. No matter how she told herself to move, the muscles in her legs wouldn't budge; clamped up like a mollusk.
Hannah felt like something was out there.
Waiting for her.
With a white kabuki mask and needle like teeth —
Oh, come off it, Hannah! she chided herself angrily. Nothing's gonna get you. That curse was exorcized long ago, remember?
And with shaky breath, Hannah propelled her rubbery legs forward, and slowly, oh so gingerly, departed the safety of the greenhouse into the stillness of the night. Her sandals clicked the pavement as she dashed past the zen gardens, up the flights of stairs, and under the black torii gates.
The drop in temperature made the sweat on her skin feel like ice water. Wind rattled the trees to the tune of little spiders scurrying behind her, chasing her. Her scalp prickled as gooseflesh surged across her skin.
Keeping her head down, Hannah's pace quickened, transitioning to a light jog. She was so close.
Almost there, Hannah. Just make this right turn and you're Scot free!
The woman rounded the corner towards the final flight of stairs, leading to the veranda, but immediately came to a grinding halt.
The corridor was pitch black. No lanterns illuminated the stairway. Parts of the handrail were visible from the outer light, though the rest of the steps were swallowed in total darkness. An abyss.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach like an anchor. There were no alternative routes. The only way to her quarters was down these stairs.
No sense in waiting.
Her clammy hands gripped the handrail tightly, stretching the skin and turning her knuckles stark white. Just when Hannah's sandals landed on the first row of steps, a loud metallic sound screeched from behind her like a gunshot.
Hannah's head whipped around so fast, she nearly twisted her arm, hand glued to the railing. Her heart rammed wildly in her chest. She looked up from her shoulder towards the sound.
One of the lanterns, hanging on a squeaky hinge, swung on its steel rod like a pendulum. The sound was akin to rosined fibers gliding across a stringed instrument; high and shrilly. Shivers ran down the length of Hannah's spine.
Then something moved in the shadows.
She sucked in a breath.
She wasn't alone. There was something here with her. It was hiding just behind the light post.
"M-Me-Megumi?" quivered Hannah, amazed that her voice still had sound. It was barely audible amongst the screeching of the lantern.
He was her last hope. The boy might be out with his wolf-dogs. She was waiting for him to pop out of the bushes and escort her back to her room, just like last time, but the boy never showed.
Instead, a predatory growl rippled through the night like cracks of thunder, low and guttural.
Hannah's muscles went taut. Her tongue stuck to the hard palate of her mouth as the putrid stench of ammonia and rot ambushed her nose like a bomb. Her insides churned. The cursed energy constricted her chest. Phosphorescent residuals littered the ground like smudges on a page, mapping a trail to the thing that put them there.
Finally she saw it.
It had the bare faced skull of a horse, with long sharp incisors, and saffron bulges for eyes. Standing upright on its haunches, the curse's body looked like a cross between a man and an emaciated feline. Every ridge of its spine and pelvis were visible, down to its forked tail, coiled like a whip. Oily black skin coated its skeletal frame, rendering the phantom almost invisible to her mixed-sorcerer eyes.
Though it stood hunched over roughly eight yards away, Hannah could catch salt and iron commingling with the rancidity of its breath. Claret liquid dripped from it's jowls, steaming into vapours from the coolness of the night.
Blood.
Human blood.
Her eyes honed on the red pulp in its talons, bubbling and squelching as it bit off another chunk and chewed. Squinting, she could just make out the pearly splinters of bones and pink flesh shining in the semidark. Tufts of what looked like hair and shredded clothing.
It was the broken remains of a body. A rather small body. Little limbs dangled in its clutches. Her eyes widened.
Oh, God.
The twenty year old keeled over to retch, but nothing came up except the sour tang of acid. She hadn't eaten anything that afternoon.
A child. It had to be.
The curse was eating the remains of a young child. Right in front of her. She almost sank to her knees.
No! Please, I can't do this. I just can't!
She'd watched this movie countless times. Always with different beginnings, but the same macabre ending. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. Another vision triggered by The Sight. But, of course, if it were a dream, she would've woken up by now. The carnage never lasted this long. The fear never tasted this real. She hadn't remembered falling asleep in the first place.
The terror of dying from wolf-dogs was poultry compared to this.
The emergence of adrenaline shook Hannah so violently that it became difficult to feel her heart beating in its ribcage.
The beast hissed and groaned, tearing off another mound of flesh. It's food supply was running low. A few more morsels and there'd be nothing left for it to eat.
Except me.
Despite her dry-heaving, the curse seemed too preoccupied with its meal to notice much larger prey standing within a few yards. Another reason why Hannah hadn't bolted the moment she laid eyes on the wraith. They were too close. Its back wasn't facing her. The shadows could only hide her for so long. All it would take was five long strides from its gaunt legs and it would have her in its grasp.
A pitiful cry welled up and died in Hannah's throat.
No, she couldn't afford to make a sound, remember? She needed to concentrate. Stay quiet. Stay hidden. Find a way to escape. If she messed this up, then she'd be next on the menu. It's not like she could do much else. She hadn't the faintest idea how to fight curses. Her mixed blood status didn't permit her to study such endeavors.
It was nothing short of a miracle that the ghoul hadn't lunged for her yet, although that alone was unusual. Cursed spirits didn't solely rely on sight and smell like humans did. Hannah was probably secreting copious amounts of cursed energy from fear alone. Enough so that the phantom should've "sensed" her the moment she reached the stairwell, but by some miracle it hadn't.
She was still breathing. Still alive.
More than enough reason to make herself scarce.
"Time is of the essence."
Yes. Time to go.
She stealthily walked backwards towards the route she came from, tip-toeing so as not to let the heels of her sandals click. She silently began to pray, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil...
But St. Michael must be a sadist because just as Hannah made it past the stairwell, round the bend, the butterfly clip lodged in her hair slipped from its hold, ricocheted off the pavement,
and descended down the flight of stairs.
Tap...Tap….Tap…..Tap…Tap…...Click.
Run!
Fear and survival intervened. Like a bat out of Hell, Hannah sprinted down the concrete slabs, legs numb with adrenaline, not looking back. She wasn't exactly an athlete. Her heart threatened to explode from her chest with every stride. Her lungs were on fire.
A malefic shriek trailed not far behind like a cadence of harpies, rattling the bones in her ear to the point she was sure they were bleeding. The ground shook underneath her, or maybe it was her knees that shook? She couldn't tell.
Another shriek.
It was coming closer at frightening speed.
She ran harder.
The pathway swerved right, then veered left. Soon, she lost sight of the concrete all together. Darkened trees closed in on her like a whale's mouth. Her sandals were atop blades of grass. Where was she going? Another shriek. What did it matter?
If I could just warn —WHAM. Hannah was unable to finish the thought. A force strong enough to rival a steam locomotive sent her hurling through the air. Twigs and sharp branches scratched her cheeks and arms as the momentum carried her forward.
She heard the impact before she felt it.
The sound of ribs smashing into solid brick, followed by an unspeakable pain that should've knocked her out cold. Though she didn't know it at the time, the woman bore the brunt of a retaining wall. Her breaths came out like staccatos, desperate for oxygen. Every staggered wheeze felt like a stab wound from a knife. Tears streamed down her face.
Get up. Get up. Hannah's mind commanded. She clutched her side and used her remaining elbow and legs to try and stand, but cold scissored claws grabbed hold of her neck. Her feet left the ground. She cried out in agony as gravity re-stretched broken bones.
A torrent of speckled dots blurred her vision. Hannah strained her eyes to see.
She wished she hadn't.
An equine skull with infected yellow eyes and serrated teeth held her throat like a rubber chicken, its panting wet and ragged. Rivulets of blood and saliva trickled from its jaw onto her cheek. She couldn't prevent the sweet carrion breath from reaching her nose and festering inside her stomach. The curse licked its incisors with predatory glee.
Hannah went limp, paralysed by fear. There was nothing she could do.
She was going to die.
For real this time.
The world began to recede as sandpaper skin clamped tighter around her throat like baling wire. She was losing consciousness. Her chest and body felt numb. The glow of the lamplights became hazy. The shadowed trees disappeared. Death was certain.
You were wrong, Edith, she thought.
The curse pulled back it's head to bite.
A stray tear trickled down Hannah's face.
So terribly wrong.
The earth beneath them trembled. A great wind rushed past the trees, arching their trunks like bows in need of arrows. Hannah heard the whistle of something slice through flesh and bone as a sultry voice uttered the incantation.
"Jutsushiki Hanten, Aka."
Then, in one swift movement, she watched as the cadaverous hand around her throat burst in an explosion of purple blood, accompanied by a deafening howl of pain.
Hannah fell to the ground, rolling her body so as not to cause further injury. She gritted her teeth, locking herself in a fetal position.
The earth shook violently again. Manifestations of red and black detonated around Hannah like fireworks. More slicing of flesh and ear-splitting screams penetrated her ears. She couldn't watch the battle, her periphery only caught darkened silhouettes amongst the bright red cannonading. Everything sounded like it was bouncing off soundproof glass. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat and her body became hot with sweat. The pain in her side was fading, which probably wasn't a good sign. How much blood had she lost?
It was over before it begun. She barely registered the wailing phantom plummet to the earth with a resounding thud, until it convulsed no more. Lifeless.
The curse was exorcised.
Hannah could scarcely believe it. She cheated death for a second time. If she weren't sprawled on the ground like a pile of spaghetti, she would've sobbed in relief. Allowing the adrenaline to exit her body, she felt her muscles relax.
Footfalls fell on the grass next to her. A tongue clicked.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
It's him. Hannah slowly tilted her head.
Sure enough.
Though he wore a smile, Hannah could tell Satoru wasn't happy to see her. She felt like a tiny insect under his skyscraper height. His moiré blue eyes peered down at her behind dark colored frames, hands in his pockets. Remarkably, there wasn't a scratch or blood stain on him. She wished she could resent each well defined muscle that curved beneath his black jacket and pants, but her eyes were barely hanging open. She tried to talk, to say something, though all that croaked out was, "Huuh….currhmmn."
"Hey, now. Let's keep the talking to a minimum, okay?" His voice held a soothing edge. Large callused hands slid under her legs and shoulders, lifting her gently in his arms. "Don't worry, Princess. You can thank me later." She felt him chuckle underneath his shirt, rich and hardy.
Hannah was too tired to blush. She likely resembled a wet rag to him; Gross sweaty skin and tangled long hair, not to mention the broken ribs. Part of her didn't like that, the idea of his perfection soiled by her myriad insufficiencies.1 He was beautiful. A real Adonis if there ever was. Heaven.
This was how Hannah fell asleep that night. Cocooned in his arms where her head rested just under the chambers of his heart, its steady rhythm drowning out her own as her hazel eyes began to close. Her body ached, but none of that mattered so long as she remained in his embrace, protected from harm and all distress. She wasn't sure if she imagined fingers brushing away stray locks of auburn hair or not.
"Sleep."
She didn't argue.
When Hannah awoke the next day, she was back in her dormitory. Her injuries were completely healed.
A stray butterfly clip laid intact on her nightstand.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
For this chapter's notes, please visit AO3 (Same name).
Tumblr: lovedrunkheadcanons
The official GTAW Discord server is on my profile page. Come join us. We'd love to have ya. (Might have to copy/paste the URL from the website and not app).
:)