Another day had passed, and Masurao had yet to leave Yuzuki's bedside. She was still asleep, her breathing shallow and barely audible. She had made no signs of waking up quite yet, and Masurao had felt a fear growing inside of him. Was she ever going to wake up? Would she stay sleeping like this? He hadn't even left to get food or properly change. That didn't seem to matter to him though. He wasn't going to leave until someone else showed up to watch over her. Makoto had not returned from his meeting with Nobunaga, and Masurao had only assumed that the War Lord had sent him on another hunt. But something about that didn't sit quite right either. Yujin had said he spotted the Hanyou a few hours after he had left Masurao's side, but that was the last he heard of it.
He just hoped Makoto would be okay with whatever mission he was sent to do. He turned back to Yuzuki, holding her small hand in his, brushing his thumb over the top of her hand. It seemed so frail and breakable, and he had had the urge to pull his hand away, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. "You'll wake up soon, right, Yuzu?" he questioned in a soft voice. A small smile had managed to warm its way onto his face, however; it didn't quite reach him. He couldn't bring himself to actually smile, not while she still looked like this. It was killing him, slowly, to see her still in this state, and he still blamed himself for it. He wasn't so sure that anything anyone said would make him stop.
"I'm sorry, Yuzu. I hope you can forgive me... for breaking my promise to you," he spoke, running his free hand across her forehead, parting her bangs from her face.
Yuzukiâs unconsciousness had been far from peaceful. For a time she could not measure, she had felt like she was just⊠trapped, floating in something dark and sticky that made it hard to breathe even as it seeped into her pores. It felt wrong, worse than the time sheâd been poisoned, even, and it burned thick and sickly, like tar or pitch, but slower. She felt like she was choking on it, her whole body trapped and defenseless. And she dreamed of things that made little sense to her, people whispering to her in beautiful voices from very far away. No matter how hard she strained to hear them, she could never make out the words, only a soft murmur. She drew close to death many times, and its touch was like a cold finger on her cheek, one she instinctively shuddered away from. But⊠why?
She had always told the families of those that died that it was nothing to fear, that the gods would safeguard the spirit of a loved one as it passed from this world into the next. But she felt no gods here. The only thing she was keenly aware of was the sensation of being herself, only she wasnât entirely certain what that was supposed to be. It was hard to think, easier to only feel, but after a while, even that began to wear, like her skin was being rubbed raw and vulnerable. She felt sensitized and too tender, like everything was just one step away from hurting so painfully she might not be able to take it.
And just when she was certain she could no longer resist the call of death, there was relief. Something soothed her, or perhaps it was many things, and the voices grew to resemble those she knew, and with a final mighty push, she drove that toxic corruption away, reaching with everything she had towards life and the people she loved.
Waking was not an easy process even so. As she came to, she was aware first that her entire body hurt, a dull fire stoking in her abdomen. Sheâd been hurt there, she thought, but it was hard to remember for certain. She made a small noise, more a soft, whispery groan than anything, and her eyes, blue-green and bleary, cracked open, slivers of color between dark auburn lashes. Everything came into focus slowly, but she registered in time that there was something warm and rough over her hand. It took her a bit to place it, but she recognized it for another hand, a large one. Her cracked lips parted to speak.
âMao?â Somehow, she knew it was him.
He didn't know how much time had passed between the moment he uttered those words, to the moment he heard his name, soft as it was, exhaled from Yuzuki. His eyes immediately found her form, and a light, once extinguished, returned to them. A look of worry crossed his face as he sat up, immediately by her bedside and holding her hand a little firmer. She was awake, or at least in the process of waking up. He could hear the fatigue in her voice, the sound of something just there, as if all the energy she had was being used just to speak. He cringed at the sound, but his smile did not falter. Instead, he forced it, allowing a genuine soft smile to flutter across his face.
"I'm here, Yuzu," he spoke, calling out to her as softly as he could. He pulled his other hand so that both of his clapsed her small one, leaning forward slightly on her bed frame. "Don't... don't try speaking yet Yuzu, let me get you some water," he spoke, letting go of her hand just for a few seconds. Already he could feel the cold stinging his hands as he released her. Odd, he hadn't realized they were so warm. He shook the thought from his head as he left her room, coming back in the just a few seconds to bring her a small cup of water. He placed it on the side and went to her, lifting her up as gently and slowly as he could so he wouldn't harm her in the process.
"You had me worried," he spoke, a light, melodic tone to his voice. He was glad she was finally awake.
Yuzuki coughed slightly, groaning as he helped her sit up and taking the cup in shaking hands. She was incredibly thirsty, but she knew it was a bad idea to drink it too quickly, so she forced herself to take small sips, still blinking to clear her vision. His face resolved into better focus, and something pulled uncomfortably at her heart. âH-how long have I been out?â She felt uncomfortably weak, like she hadnât eaten or moved in a very long time. That wasnât her real concern, though, because judging from the state of him, heâd been here, with her, the entire time, and what she really wanted to know was how long that had been. Her eyes searched his face, concern evident in them.
She could feel the dark thoughts about what had happened to her shrine circling the periphery of her mind, but she really didnât want to think about it right now. It was too much. She would have to examine that grief in time, she knew, but it may well be that time was a luxury they did not have right now. Her shrine had been destroyed, and she was supposed to be dead. Her friends had fought to defend her, and she knew someone like Nobunaga would never allow that to go unpunished. The thought filled her with the leaden weight of guilt, but she tried to remind herself that it wasnât really her fault. Nobunaga could easily choose to be less cruel, but he never did. That was no fault of hers, nor of theirs.
She set the water back down, moving as if to pull her knees to her chest, but the motion was far too painful for her to complete, and she was forced to sit with her legs straight in front of her instead. âNngh,â She clamped her mouth shut to prevent any worse exclamation of pain, even though it was bad enough that she really wanted to cry. She wanted to cry for a lot of reasons, actually, but this wasnât the time for that. âEveryoneâeveryone else is okay, right?â That was her biggest fear right nowâthat what had happened to the shrine had somehow hurt the others as well. She knew that Tatsuki had been seriously hurt by Sakakiâs ki manipulation technique, and she needed to know the other girl was okay.
Masurao's face contorted when she tried to move, moving his own hands out so that he could try and lessen her movements to something more manageable. He didn't want her to cause herself unnecessary pain, and from the expression that had fluttered across her face, she was still in a lot of pain. He frowned slightly, adjusting himself so that he was sitting more or less on the bed to help her. Once he was adjusted properly, and she in a more comfortable position, he released a short gust of air through his nose. He cracked his eyes open, when he had closed him, he hadn't realized, and glanced down at her.
"You've been out for four days," but to Masurao, it felt like an entire week. It might as well have been a week with as long as the days had passed. Even now, he could feel the time ticking by slowly, almost as if edging him on and prodding him to do something, however; he kept himself calm, for the most part. Her next statement, however, had him smiling just a bit wider. "Everyone is fine. Tatsuki... she's healed for the most part, though her arm is still broken. Yujin and I were not hurt, so we're fine," he answered, glancing out towards the window. Yujin and himself were lucky to be what they were, even if he himself was only half. Their regeneration worked better than humans.
"Besides, you know Tsu-Tsu, she'll be healed in a matter of days. She's... able to heal a lot faster than most people," he added as an after thought. Her own healing abilities were a little more than average for a human, however; he didn't suspect anything of it. It just meant that her body was able to take a lot more, however; that also meant that her life was probably shortened... just a bit. Cells only regenerate so many times... he pushed the thought out of his mind and turned to stare at Yuzuki. "Don't try to exert yourself Yuzu, you're still not fully healed," he continued, worry laced in his voice.
Breathing too much was still difficult, as it pulled uncomfortably at her stitches. Everything seemed to pull, really⊠Yuzu wasnât sure she wanted to know, but she had to see⊠Cautiously, she lifted the hem of her gi, exposing the abdominal wound that she had, and choked back a sob. It was⊠the wound was jagged, the stitches demarking the way the blade had been torn out her left side. The wound was angry and red, though she could tell that it would fade to white. Since the sword had gone through her entire body, she knew the wound wrapped halfway around her back as well, just as ugly there. The redness would fade, but the scar it left behind would not be a pretty thing.
Yuzuki did not consider herself a vain person, not really, but you didnât have to be vain to mourn a little for that kind of thing. Especially when she considered what it meant, how close to death sheâd been. She didnât doubt that someone, quite possibly Mao, had needed to hold in her innards just to give her a chance at survival, and something about seeing the evidence of that overwhelmed her more than the memories themselves. Some part of this would always be with her. She would only need to see herself to be reminded of just how fragile she was. Of just how much she needed rescuing. Of just how badly sheâd failed to protect the shrine.
Sheâd wanted to leave it until later, but that dark cloud of thoughts descended in full upon her now, and she shuddered. âIt was my whole life,â she murmured brokenly. âThe shrine⊠protecting it, serving the god there⊠it's the only thing I know how to do. How can IâŠâ She trailed off, letting the hem of her gi fall back into place. How could she trust herself to look after her masterâs old shrine when she couldnât even protect her own? When it was defiled now with her blood and the taint of dark purpose? âWhat am I supposed to do now?â She could hardly call herself a shrine maiden without a shrine, but⊠she could not put the other one in danger by staying there. The yakuza wanted her deadâperhaps they even believed that she was.
But she could not help but believe that she was failing the townspeople somehow, who needed her help. She turned her eyes, damp with unshed tears, up to Masuraoâs, as though pleading with him for answers she could not rightly expect him to have. Her father was gone, her lifeâs purpose had been brought down around her ears, and she was utterly lost in their absence.
Masurao wasn't so sure he could answer those questions she had asked. Even as he stared at her, noticing the slight moisture in her eyes, he could not bring himself to say anything. He didn't want to say something that would make it worse, yet, if he said nothing at all, it would make it worse. He was torn in two directions, and he couldn't choose. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling a deep breath, and opened his eyes once more. He had to try at least. It was the only thing he could do for her, and if he said the wrong things, he would have to deal with the consequences. Though, if those consequences caused her to shed unwanted tears, it would eat him up inside.
"That's not true, Yuzu. You don't know how to only be a shrine maiden. You know how to be someone's friend when they need one, to be a smiling face when everyone else can't. You know how to be there for someone in their time of need, without ever giving regards to how you might need someone to do the same for you," he spoke, his voice cracking just slightly. She had been many of those things for him, to him. She was so much more than just an ordinary Shrine Maiden. "You know how to be a sister, an Aunt to triplets," he continued, unsure of any of the things he was saying were reaching her properly.
"And most of all, you know how to be you. A shrine maiden is just a title, Yuzu. You are Yuzuki, someone who has a lot to offer and give, even to someone unworthy like me," he lowered his gaze momentarily. "I have failed you, twice, already," he spoke in a low voice. He had failed the first time in protecting her father, and the second time... he failed to protect her. "Are we not part of your life too? If we are, your whole life isn't gone. We're still here," he wasn't sure what else he could say.
She felt like she didnât even know who she was anymore. Sheâd learned to be kind and cheerful and help people because thatâs what shrine maidens were supposed to do. Sheâd existed to help people, to serve them in this one specific way. She could see what he meant, but he didnât seem to understand that it all came from what she had been from the moment of her birth. Her ki type had set her destiny before she could walk, and she had never really minded. It suited her well enough, and in time, it came to define her. Could she still be whatever she was without it?
Perhaps the answer was in the way she leaned sideways to take his hand, encircling it in both of hers. âYouâre not unworthy of anything, Mao-Mao,â she said softly. âIâm still alive, after all. Iâm still here, even though there was a very strong oni who wanted me to die. Who tried to kill me. If you and the others werenât there, he would have, so⊠it seems like you havenât failed me at all.â She moved her thumb in circles against his palm, taking comfort from the nearness of someone she cared for a great deal. It was enough for now that he was here, and though she still felt keenly the pain of her injuries and her failure both, what he said had made her feel a little better.
She still had her family, and she still had her friends. As long as she didnât lose them, she would be all right. âHey, Mao-Mao?â she asked tentatively, looking up at him through her lashes. âCan you⊠can you promise me something? Promise me you wonât leave?â She didnât think she was strong enough to lose anyone else, but⊠especially not him, somehow. Right now, it felt like he was something strong and steady that she was leaning on when her own strength faltered, and she wasnât sure she could get by without that support. Not right now, definitely, and if the future carried even half as much difficulty as the present, probably not ever.
She was still alive, so that had to count for something, right? He offered her a small, broken smile, in return. Perhaps, he had only failed her once, and almost failed her a second time, but he did not. She was still alive, barely back from the edge of death, but she was still alive. But that didn't cause the feeling of unworthiness to stop plaguing him. He wasn't worthy of the friendship she had given him, nor anything else she had extended to him. Even this, what she spoke, what she was doing now, he was unworthy of, however; he could not deny her. There was just something that pulled at him, slowly causing the broken smile on his face to smooth out into something more genuine, and he wrapped his arms around her. He cradled her softly against him, laying his head on her shoulders and whispered softly to her. He meant every word he spoke. For whatever life he may have left, he would keep this promise to her.
"I promise."
He just hoped Makoto would be okay with whatever mission he was sent to do. He turned back to Yuzuki, holding her small hand in his, brushing his thumb over the top of her hand. It seemed so frail and breakable, and he had had the urge to pull his hand away, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. "You'll wake up soon, right, Yuzu?" he questioned in a soft voice. A small smile had managed to warm its way onto his face, however; it didn't quite reach him. He couldn't bring himself to actually smile, not while she still looked like this. It was killing him, slowly, to see her still in this state, and he still blamed himself for it. He wasn't so sure that anything anyone said would make him stop.
"I'm sorry, Yuzu. I hope you can forgive me... for breaking my promise to you," he spoke, running his free hand across her forehead, parting her bangs from her face.
Yuzukiâs unconsciousness had been far from peaceful. For a time she could not measure, she had felt like she was just⊠trapped, floating in something dark and sticky that made it hard to breathe even as it seeped into her pores. It felt wrong, worse than the time sheâd been poisoned, even, and it burned thick and sickly, like tar or pitch, but slower. She felt like she was choking on it, her whole body trapped and defenseless. And she dreamed of things that made little sense to her, people whispering to her in beautiful voices from very far away. No matter how hard she strained to hear them, she could never make out the words, only a soft murmur. She drew close to death many times, and its touch was like a cold finger on her cheek, one she instinctively shuddered away from. But⊠why?
She had always told the families of those that died that it was nothing to fear, that the gods would safeguard the spirit of a loved one as it passed from this world into the next. But she felt no gods here. The only thing she was keenly aware of was the sensation of being herself, only she wasnât entirely certain what that was supposed to be. It was hard to think, easier to only feel, but after a while, even that began to wear, like her skin was being rubbed raw and vulnerable. She felt sensitized and too tender, like everything was just one step away from hurting so painfully she might not be able to take it.
And just when she was certain she could no longer resist the call of death, there was relief. Something soothed her, or perhaps it was many things, and the voices grew to resemble those she knew, and with a final mighty push, she drove that toxic corruption away, reaching with everything she had towards life and the people she loved.
Waking was not an easy process even so. As she came to, she was aware first that her entire body hurt, a dull fire stoking in her abdomen. Sheâd been hurt there, she thought, but it was hard to remember for certain. She made a small noise, more a soft, whispery groan than anything, and her eyes, blue-green and bleary, cracked open, slivers of color between dark auburn lashes. Everything came into focus slowly, but she registered in time that there was something warm and rough over her hand. It took her a bit to place it, but she recognized it for another hand, a large one. Her cracked lips parted to speak.
âMao?â Somehow, she knew it was him.
He didn't know how much time had passed between the moment he uttered those words, to the moment he heard his name, soft as it was, exhaled from Yuzuki. His eyes immediately found her form, and a light, once extinguished, returned to them. A look of worry crossed his face as he sat up, immediately by her bedside and holding her hand a little firmer. She was awake, or at least in the process of waking up. He could hear the fatigue in her voice, the sound of something just there, as if all the energy she had was being used just to speak. He cringed at the sound, but his smile did not falter. Instead, he forced it, allowing a genuine soft smile to flutter across his face.
"I'm here, Yuzu," he spoke, calling out to her as softly as he could. He pulled his other hand so that both of his clapsed her small one, leaning forward slightly on her bed frame. "Don't... don't try speaking yet Yuzu, let me get you some water," he spoke, letting go of her hand just for a few seconds. Already he could feel the cold stinging his hands as he released her. Odd, he hadn't realized they were so warm. He shook the thought from his head as he left her room, coming back in the just a few seconds to bring her a small cup of water. He placed it on the side and went to her, lifting her up as gently and slowly as he could so he wouldn't harm her in the process.
"You had me worried," he spoke, a light, melodic tone to his voice. He was glad she was finally awake.
Yuzuki coughed slightly, groaning as he helped her sit up and taking the cup in shaking hands. She was incredibly thirsty, but she knew it was a bad idea to drink it too quickly, so she forced herself to take small sips, still blinking to clear her vision. His face resolved into better focus, and something pulled uncomfortably at her heart. âH-how long have I been out?â She felt uncomfortably weak, like she hadnât eaten or moved in a very long time. That wasnât her real concern, though, because judging from the state of him, heâd been here, with her, the entire time, and what she really wanted to know was how long that had been. Her eyes searched his face, concern evident in them.
She could feel the dark thoughts about what had happened to her shrine circling the periphery of her mind, but she really didnât want to think about it right now. It was too much. She would have to examine that grief in time, she knew, but it may well be that time was a luxury they did not have right now. Her shrine had been destroyed, and she was supposed to be dead. Her friends had fought to defend her, and she knew someone like Nobunaga would never allow that to go unpunished. The thought filled her with the leaden weight of guilt, but she tried to remind herself that it wasnât really her fault. Nobunaga could easily choose to be less cruel, but he never did. That was no fault of hers, nor of theirs.
She set the water back down, moving as if to pull her knees to her chest, but the motion was far too painful for her to complete, and she was forced to sit with her legs straight in front of her instead. âNngh,â She clamped her mouth shut to prevent any worse exclamation of pain, even though it was bad enough that she really wanted to cry. She wanted to cry for a lot of reasons, actually, but this wasnât the time for that. âEveryoneâeveryone else is okay, right?â That was her biggest fear right nowâthat what had happened to the shrine had somehow hurt the others as well. She knew that Tatsuki had been seriously hurt by Sakakiâs ki manipulation technique, and she needed to know the other girl was okay.
Masurao's face contorted when she tried to move, moving his own hands out so that he could try and lessen her movements to something more manageable. He didn't want her to cause herself unnecessary pain, and from the expression that had fluttered across her face, she was still in a lot of pain. He frowned slightly, adjusting himself so that he was sitting more or less on the bed to help her. Once he was adjusted properly, and she in a more comfortable position, he released a short gust of air through his nose. He cracked his eyes open, when he had closed him, he hadn't realized, and glanced down at her.
"You've been out for four days," but to Masurao, it felt like an entire week. It might as well have been a week with as long as the days had passed. Even now, he could feel the time ticking by slowly, almost as if edging him on and prodding him to do something, however; he kept himself calm, for the most part. Her next statement, however, had him smiling just a bit wider. "Everyone is fine. Tatsuki... she's healed for the most part, though her arm is still broken. Yujin and I were not hurt, so we're fine," he answered, glancing out towards the window. Yujin and himself were lucky to be what they were, even if he himself was only half. Their regeneration worked better than humans.
"Besides, you know Tsu-Tsu, she'll be healed in a matter of days. She's... able to heal a lot faster than most people," he added as an after thought. Her own healing abilities were a little more than average for a human, however; he didn't suspect anything of it. It just meant that her body was able to take a lot more, however; that also meant that her life was probably shortened... just a bit. Cells only regenerate so many times... he pushed the thought out of his mind and turned to stare at Yuzuki. "Don't try to exert yourself Yuzu, you're still not fully healed," he continued, worry laced in his voice.
Breathing too much was still difficult, as it pulled uncomfortably at her stitches. Everything seemed to pull, really⊠Yuzu wasnât sure she wanted to know, but she had to see⊠Cautiously, she lifted the hem of her gi, exposing the abdominal wound that she had, and choked back a sob. It was⊠the wound was jagged, the stitches demarking the way the blade had been torn out her left side. The wound was angry and red, though she could tell that it would fade to white. Since the sword had gone through her entire body, she knew the wound wrapped halfway around her back as well, just as ugly there. The redness would fade, but the scar it left behind would not be a pretty thing.
Yuzuki did not consider herself a vain person, not really, but you didnât have to be vain to mourn a little for that kind of thing. Especially when she considered what it meant, how close to death sheâd been. She didnât doubt that someone, quite possibly Mao, had needed to hold in her innards just to give her a chance at survival, and something about seeing the evidence of that overwhelmed her more than the memories themselves. Some part of this would always be with her. She would only need to see herself to be reminded of just how fragile she was. Of just how much she needed rescuing. Of just how badly sheâd failed to protect the shrine.
Sheâd wanted to leave it until later, but that dark cloud of thoughts descended in full upon her now, and she shuddered. âIt was my whole life,â she murmured brokenly. âThe shrine⊠protecting it, serving the god there⊠it's the only thing I know how to do. How can IâŠâ She trailed off, letting the hem of her gi fall back into place. How could she trust herself to look after her masterâs old shrine when she couldnât even protect her own? When it was defiled now with her blood and the taint of dark purpose? âWhat am I supposed to do now?â She could hardly call herself a shrine maiden without a shrine, but⊠she could not put the other one in danger by staying there. The yakuza wanted her deadâperhaps they even believed that she was.
But she could not help but believe that she was failing the townspeople somehow, who needed her help. She turned her eyes, damp with unshed tears, up to Masuraoâs, as though pleading with him for answers she could not rightly expect him to have. Her father was gone, her lifeâs purpose had been brought down around her ears, and she was utterly lost in their absence.
Masurao wasn't so sure he could answer those questions she had asked. Even as he stared at her, noticing the slight moisture in her eyes, he could not bring himself to say anything. He didn't want to say something that would make it worse, yet, if he said nothing at all, it would make it worse. He was torn in two directions, and he couldn't choose. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling a deep breath, and opened his eyes once more. He had to try at least. It was the only thing he could do for her, and if he said the wrong things, he would have to deal with the consequences. Though, if those consequences caused her to shed unwanted tears, it would eat him up inside.
"That's not true, Yuzu. You don't know how to only be a shrine maiden. You know how to be someone's friend when they need one, to be a smiling face when everyone else can't. You know how to be there for someone in their time of need, without ever giving regards to how you might need someone to do the same for you," he spoke, his voice cracking just slightly. She had been many of those things for him, to him. She was so much more than just an ordinary Shrine Maiden. "You know how to be a sister, an Aunt to triplets," he continued, unsure of any of the things he was saying were reaching her properly.
"And most of all, you know how to be you. A shrine maiden is just a title, Yuzu. You are Yuzuki, someone who has a lot to offer and give, even to someone unworthy like me," he lowered his gaze momentarily. "I have failed you, twice, already," he spoke in a low voice. He had failed the first time in protecting her father, and the second time... he failed to protect her. "Are we not part of your life too? If we are, your whole life isn't gone. We're still here," he wasn't sure what else he could say.
She felt like she didnât even know who she was anymore. Sheâd learned to be kind and cheerful and help people because thatâs what shrine maidens were supposed to do. Sheâd existed to help people, to serve them in this one specific way. She could see what he meant, but he didnât seem to understand that it all came from what she had been from the moment of her birth. Her ki type had set her destiny before she could walk, and she had never really minded. It suited her well enough, and in time, it came to define her. Could she still be whatever she was without it?
Perhaps the answer was in the way she leaned sideways to take his hand, encircling it in both of hers. âYouâre not unworthy of anything, Mao-Mao,â she said softly. âIâm still alive, after all. Iâm still here, even though there was a very strong oni who wanted me to die. Who tried to kill me. If you and the others werenât there, he would have, so⊠it seems like you havenât failed me at all.â She moved her thumb in circles against his palm, taking comfort from the nearness of someone she cared for a great deal. It was enough for now that he was here, and though she still felt keenly the pain of her injuries and her failure both, what he said had made her feel a little better.
She still had her family, and she still had her friends. As long as she didnât lose them, she would be all right. âHey, Mao-Mao?â she asked tentatively, looking up at him through her lashes. âCan you⊠can you promise me something? Promise me you wonât leave?â She didnât think she was strong enough to lose anyone else, but⊠especially not him, somehow. Right now, it felt like he was something strong and steady that she was leaning on when her own strength faltered, and she wasnât sure she could get by without that support. Not right now, definitely, and if the future carried even half as much difficulty as the present, probably not ever.
She was still alive, so that had to count for something, right? He offered her a small, broken smile, in return. Perhaps, he had only failed her once, and almost failed her a second time, but he did not. She was still alive, barely back from the edge of death, but she was still alive. But that didn't cause the feeling of unworthiness to stop plaguing him. He wasn't worthy of the friendship she had given him, nor anything else she had extended to him. Even this, what she spoke, what she was doing now, he was unworthy of, however; he could not deny her. There was just something that pulled at him, slowly causing the broken smile on his face to smooth out into something more genuine, and he wrapped his arms around her. He cradled her softly against him, laying his head on her shoulders and whispered softly to her. He meant every word he spoke. For whatever life he may have left, he would keep this promise to her.
"I promise."