Nashuri Collection (Namor x Shuri)

41 - 42

41. Sick Day

Younger Shuri used to relish sick days. An entire day to work on inventions from bed or watch soap operas from her kimoyo beads had been heaven. As soon as her nostrils were unclogged and the aches went away, being sick had been fun.

Now, things were different. Sickness was triggering to her. Who knew when a routine virus would take her life as it did her brother's? The root cause of T'Challa's illness was murky, but she knew the symptoms that had done him in. It started simply enough with coughing and a runny nose.

A mind as brilliant as hers still couldn't figure out the common cold. And she had tried twelve times, very close but unsuccessful.

Shuri drew her knees to her chest. Not being able to look at him.

Namor coughed harshly. Phlegm rattled in his throat. He rubbed at his watery eyes.

"Princess, hand me the spear."

"Get it yourself," Shuri remarked. He was in his hammock in a battle against fatigue and his pride. "You're no good to anyone like this."

"I'm K'uk'ulkan. My people expect me to provide for them. I must kill a fatted orca for the celebration tonight."

Shuri pulled at her afro puffs, to steady her trembling hands. A welcome distraction.

"Let Attuma or Namora do it. Bast knows one look from her would kill it."

He frowned. Harshness covered his face.

"Why are you here? Surely, you're needed elsewhere." He sneezed. "Rulers should rule and not meander aimlessly."

Wincing, Shuri met his gaze back with a nastier one.

"Your Namora dragged me from Wakanda. I had no intention of coming here."

"That child..."

She took a sharp breath. "She...she said she couldn't stand to watch you grow weak. It's been months, and you're not growing better. I understood her. Because I had that same desperation."

How much it took of his already depleting strength she didn't know, but Namor sat up in his hammock.

"Then, you'll have to nurse me back to health."

Her hands were the only thing she could concentrate on. These hands that could help everyone and create anything, couldn't save anyone she cared about in the end.

Namor continued on, his voice resolute despite the nasally sound. "Namora's intuition is rarely wrong. She trusts your skill as do I."

Shuri covered her face. "I ... I can't do this. I'll make things worse. Nothing I do will change anything."

"Shuri," he said. "I won't tell you what you already know."

"Namor."

"Shuri."

Taking a shaky breath, Shuri reached for the spoon and the cough syrup, heading toward him.

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42. Complicated

Namor spooked her.

Recently, it seems he would be in her thoughts, then physically appear shortly after. Her mother had called him a snake, always slithering to see what crevice he could squeeze himself through next.

They were the only ones in the long corridor of the hallway. Their shadows stretched across the patterned floor. He was dangerously close to her bedroom.