Sweat beaded along Kagome’s brow as she and Souta tried to carry him down into the hidden room. Both were young and small, and unable to carry the man in such a way that didn’t aggravate the wound. It has been a long, tedious night constantly bathing him in cool water to keep the fever at bay while she removed the knife to stitch up the wound. It was serious enough that it should have killed him, she remembered thinking when she had felt the blood seep out onto her hands as she pressed down. Yet, nearly twelve hours later, the strange soldier remained alive, though not conscious. Souta had him well in hand for the time being. For twelve hours, through the darkness of the night, she had not slept, wishing to remain by his side to ensure that the worst of wound was over.

And it bothered her that he hadn’t tried to wake up yet.

Her fingers clenched around the wood of the brush she held in her hands, ignoring the splinters she received from the rough treatment. Her own hand was bandaged and wrapped tightly within cloth, the faint scent of herbs coming from beneath. She needed to excuse the blood on her floor that would not wash away, and the simplest excuse would be an action falling upon her. She had smashed a small bowl and left the shards of pottery around for any visitor to see. Still, there was a large amount of blood for a simple cut, and she knew that the more astute members of her village would see through her deception.

The bucket of once clean water had grown red as she rinsed the brush once more before placing it back on the ground. Her weight was thrown into her movements, pushing her arms down even further as she swept it across the floor and back to herself. The once vibrant red pools were no longer there, but the floor was spotless. They would serve as a constant reminder as to how she gave up her Chinese honour. The once benevolent village leader, Kouga, who was all bluster and no actions would never regard upon her the same way again. He would find out and demand a suitable punishment for such an injustice. She would be flogged, if not worse.

And if he caught Souta the punishment would be even worse simply because her initial lie would have been found out. As it was now, he was packing a satchel of clothing and food rations and he was going to make his way out to his aunt’s village. A neighbouring friend was heading that way with a small wagon of goods. They were sneaking their own children out of the village and Souta was welcome to join them. She had no choice. Harbouring the enemy was endangering both. She could not go against her nature and her training, but she would not allow harm to come to her brother. She was fortunate enough to be able to do both today.

“Kagome, the blood has set into the wood.” She looked up to see Souta packing some dried meat into his bag, as well as several fruits and a couple cups of rice. She stared at the floor finally accepting the inevitable. She would not be able to wash the stain away. It would serve as permanent reminder of what she did today. “Ma left a small rug she had procured in her bedroom. Move it to cover the stain. We can make it a welcome mat.”

She sat back on her haunches, stretching her arms and relaxing them as she considered her brother’s words. How was it that he was that intuitive at such a young age? “Are you almost packed?”

“I am leaving in two minutes. The wagon is packed and I just have to climb in. We’re waiting until the supper hour when most people will be inside.”

Her scrub brush fell to the ground with a clatter that echoed throughout. The journey would not be easy with a war being fought around them. She prayed silently for their safety, hoping that bandits or Japanese didn’t attack their wagon in hopes of goods and food. She was taking a great risk already sending him away. “Write to me when you arrive so I know you’re safe. Send a message the very minute you get there. I want to hear from you.”

He smiled a small smile, more of a quirk of his lips really and it was more reassuring than she thought he knew. “The first thing I’ll do is ask for a piece of paper and something to write with.” Three knocks could be heard on the side of the house and she knew that was his signal to go. There would be no male living with her now. She would be alone in her house with an enemy soldier resting beneath the surface. If allegations of treason don’t become prominent, surely the allegations of lust and whoring would. This was not the world she wanted anybody she loved to live within. “Be safe, Souta.” She watched him nod as he snuck out a window and across the back of the next hut over. He was quick and was out of sight almost instantly. She already missed him. Kagome lifted the bucket of reddened water and hefted it out of the window behind him and let the ground soak it in. The floor was still red, though it had dissipated from a bright red to a dull maroon. She dug through the back for her mother’s rug and hoped that it would do well to distract those who came to her door.

She hoped, at least for a little while, that everybody would stay away.

A second bucket of cool, clean and clear water sat near the door and she poured some into a small bowl before heading to the back of her house. Her patient’s fever continued as he shook beneath the trap door. Carefully, she held it with one hand as she climbed down the small ladder and found the latern so she could have some light. Sweat rested upon his brow as his body twitched in both pain and illusion. Every now and again a moan would escape his mouth. “You’re too pale,” she murmured as she dipped a cloth into the cool water before pressing it against his face. She hoped it was merely exhaustion and shock that brought on the fever and not infection.

His skin was still too hot for her liking and nimble fingers quickly worked the buttons on his uniform

jacket and shirt. Propriety be damned at the moment, she needed to help him. She soaked the cloth once more and placed it along his chest, trying not to look at the clean, defined lines of his physique. “You need to wake up,” she instructed, knowing that he was in no way able to obey at this moment. “I won’t know if you’re going to be okay until you’re awake.”

Regardless, she continued her treatment and soaked the cloth in the cool water again before placing it on his body. Over and over she applied the cloth in various spots, hoping to bring down his body temperature. She stopped for all of one moment to lift the bandage she had placed over the knife wound. She shuddered as she remembered the feel of removing the blade, the way it had made a sickening squishing sound as it brushed against muscles, skin and bones, the way the blood sloshed around it then spurted up the very moment she had pulled it free. Until two hours ago her face had been covered in dried, caked-on droplets. She lifted the cloth that bound him and inspected the wound, pleased to see that the blood had stopped flowing and was clotting. Still, it was an ugly wound and one that had required much work on her part. She was forever thankful that he had not woken as she stitched the wound, knowing that it was painful without the herbal draft she typically brewed for her patients. “Your wound is looking better. It has stopped bleeding and I don’t see signs of infection,” she stated, hoping that he could at least hear her. She poked it slightly and watched him twitch before she reached for her herbal bag and placed more of the salve she had made earlier for it. “This will help it heal faster. I need you to wake up though. You’ve slept entirely too long.”

And yet, he remained mostly still under her ministrations. She wondered if he was trying to hide from the pain and ignore what had happened. However, somehow she knew that wasn’t the case. He didn’t look like he was a man who would hide from pain. She could see the stubborn set of his jaw and despite not seeing his eyes, she knew there would be an intensity buried there. No, he wouldn’t hide from the pain. She poured some water into a ladle and brought it to his mouth, forcing it open and forcing the liquid down his throat. Dehydration would only make things worse for him, not better. She watched the lines of his throat as the muscles automatically pushed the liquid down, and she brought the ladle to his lips once again. She had a draft ready to go that would help with the fever, as well as some tea, but he needed to wake up to take both. The herbal liquid would be too thick for her to simply send down his throat like this.

“Wake up,” she prodded gently, again. The cloth was soaked again and returned to his forehead as she brushed his bangs away. “I will not risk my life so you can die. I would never be able to hide your body. You need to get well so you can leave on your own." A slow moan escaped his lips, parched from not speaking the past several days. It gave her hope. Sound was typically absent in the most serious of cases. She pressed the cloth to his neck, wiping away the beads of sweat as she did so. “That’s it. You’re half there. Now you need to make my job a little bit easier and get all the way there. You only need to wake up once. You can go right back to sleep afterward.”

She watched for several more hours as he came close to waking several times. She had changed her water twice since then, hoping the village wouldn’t wonder why she needed so much fresh, cool water. He had stopped sweating, which was promising and his skin wasn’t so flushed, though his cheeks continued to retain a rosy hue. She wasn’t sure if that was natural or not. He was so pale that it seemed as if he were always pale. Still, despite it all, she continued to speak to him, hoping that he could at least hear her encouraging him.

Kagome jumped though when a vice-like grip fell upon her arm, stilling it as she wiped his brow one more time. Tears formed in her eyes as she struggled not to scream. She would not call attention to herself, not when she was harbouring the enemy. Still, slowly, little by little she could feel the blood being cut off from her arm. His nails dug into her skin and she was sure if he held her with any more force, they would have broken through the skin. She didn’t speak, instead she snapped her head to look down at him, noting the most intense gold eyes she had ever seen. “Please let go,” she whispered, gently trying to pull her arm back. Focused eyes stared back at her, as if they were trying to read deep into her soul. She could feel them digging, as if seeking answers. “You were injured and fell upon my doorway. You have just awoken from a fever caused by your injuries. You’re safe here.”

“You’re Chinese,” he stated, speaking her tongue. It was obvious the man was highly educated, though it didn’t surprise her as he was highly decorated as well. A lowly foot soldier would not have the means to learn her tongue.

“Yes.”

“You should have let me die instead.”