You drift in and out of a restless sleep. You're vaguely aware of the door to your room being flung open, of footsteps approaching, people trying – and failing – to rouse you into wakefulness. Your limbs, your eyes all stubbornly refuse to cooperate. Your tongue feels heavy, weighted down.
Their voices all sound very far away.
"– She isn't waking up, what do we do –"
"Is she dead?"
"She better not be, the Exchange is in a week."
"No, she's still breathing, look –"
" – I'll stay with her, Toge, you go get Shoko-san –"
"Katsuobushi."
"Okay, okay, don't glare like that. Someone else go get Shoko-san –"
"Should we bring her to the infirmary? She's burning up –"
"Better call Gojo-sensei –"
You feel pain and gentle hands, but the rest of the day slides by in an oblivion of hot water and reassurances.
You struggle to surface from sleep. You'd been buffeted about by a multitude of frightening dreams, and you awaken still tired and fractious. As you open your eyes to the day, you see with relief that the curtains at the windows have been drawn and the sun streams in. A pair of golden orioles perch in the branches of the tree outside; an orange butterfly hovers against a blue sky.
For a moment, you forget about what's happened, but your body makes its objections known with a fresh wave of aches and pains when you try to sit up, making you draw in a hissing breath.
Squinting in the bright light, it takes you a moment to realise that you've been brought to the infirmary. The four white walls are a familiar sight to you from the many hours of cleaning and scrubbing, and furniture in varying shades of brown are scattered around the room.
"Gojo-Sensei?" They're the first words you've uttered in what seems forever. Your throat is raw, your voice hoarse. You think you dreamed of him carding his fingers through your hair, scooping you up and carrying you back to your room, tucking you in as though you were a small child. "Where –"
"Mission." It's Ieiri who answers, briskly entering the room and pushing you gently back onto the bed. She presses a cool hand to your forehead, and her lips twist up into a frown. A fever patch is quickly smoothed onto your skin, and she draws up a chair to sit at your bedside. "He asked me to stay when he needed to leave. It's good to see you conscious, kid. You gave your friends quite a bad scare."
You force your lips to move. "How long?"
"Two days."
Two days.
Panic seizes your chest. Your throat closes and you look down at your hands.
"I'm not surprised after that stunt you pulled." Ieiri says. Her tone is neutral, and try as you might, you can't detect any hint of displeasure. "I would like to know why you did it, though."
"I –" You hesitate for only a breath. "– I just thought they deserved to go home to their families. And –"
Ieiri waits as you struggle to form the words clawing at the back of your throat. The words stick in your throat, but you force them out. " – And what that Curse did wasn't right. How could anyone have such little regard for a human life? People are more than just tools for his amusement."
Ieiri is silent before she replies, as if debating how she should answer. "You should be careful."
"What?" You ask, bewildered.
"If word gets out about what you've done –" Ieiri trails off, shrugs. You worry at the deepening strain on her face.
A thought rises in your mind, already taking shape. "Are you saying that the Curse might come after me?"
"Anything's possible." Her voice is taut as a wire.
The thought of being a target of a Curse should fill you with fear, but instead, a strange calm spreads over you. Bring it on. You should not be calm, but you are. Closing your eyes, you exhale in a rush, the tension leeching out of your body.
Ieiri watches you make yourself more comfortable, melting back against the pillows. She smooths your crumpled covers. "You aren't gonna ask about Toge?"
"What?" All your thoughts run together, as thick as honey, but the mention of Inumaki seems to sharpen your focus somewhat. "What happened – Is he okay, is he hurt –" Your chest cramps at the thought.
"He's fine." Ieiri points out the bouquet of flowers on your bedside table. You don't know how you'd managed to miss them before. Bright yellow sunflowers, and frothy white baby's breath. Their fragrance envelops you in a soft, cool mist. Your hair tie is there, next to the bouquet; you reach for it with a trembling hand, tugging it back around your wrist. Already, the weight upon your skin is a familiar one, soothing you. "He's been here a lot. In fact, I was surprised to find you alone when I arrived this morning."
Your face feels strangely hot.
When you next wake up, you're confused. Disoriented, like the strange sensation of waking up in a bed that isn't your own and then struggling to remember where you've fallen asleep. You close your eyes on a sigh, remembering that you're in the infirmary. The curtains are still open and flutter lightly in the cool breeze. Outside, the sky is dark velvet and studded with thousands of diamonds.
"Tuna mayo?"
Turning your head, you find that Inumaki has claimed the seat close to your bed. He's close, closer than you think he would dare if you were anywhere else. There's a few inches between you, but even that space feels like the air in the second before lightning strikes.
"Sorry for worrying you." Your voice is hoarse; it cracks.
Inumaki shakes his head. "Mustard leaf?"
"I'm fine. Is everyone okay?"
"Salmon."
"That's good."
You lapse back into silence, but it's a comfortable one. Talking with Inumaki feels as natural to you as breathing. You stare at your hands, twisted up with clear tubes. Ieiri's stuck you with needles after all. You make a face, trying – and failing – to hide your grimace. Thanks for having my back, Gojo-Sensei.
"Tuna?"
"Needles." You say, gesturing at the tubes. You try not to think about them. "I don't like needles. I used to hate hospitals, too."
"Mustard leaf?"
"It's alright." You say, trying to find yourself underneath the mound of blankets. "I'm not scared anymore."
Inumaki appears unconvinced. His eyes are serious, and they ask you a question. In response, you hold out your hand. The simple gesture leaves you dizzy. You wait. One breath. Two breaths.
And then, he takes it.
You manage to find a smile as Inumaki cups your hand tenderly. "This hospital isn't so bad. The company's good. It's nice. This is nice."
"Salmon." He shyly averts his eyes. Somehow, you know he's blushing.
At some point, you're vaguely aware that you're drifting into sleep. Your thoughts turn dreamlike, becoming disjointed and fuzzy and hard to hold on to. You don't fight it; your body welcomes the rest, along with the warmth of Inumaki's hand clutched in yours.
"Stay?" Your voice is slurred. You can feel yourself slipping away.
"Okay."
The word is soft, so soft that you think you've imagined it. A fever dream. But then his fingers tighten around yours, and you know that this is real.
