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Takkan had never known this kind of excruciating pain before. As he had grown up, he had insisted on being trained exactly as any other sentinel—much to his mother’s distress—which meant he was no stranger to the occasional injuries that came with the profession. But this was unlike any other state he’d ever reached before. He supposed it was a luxury that he was even able to think so. But between his shaky breaths, his violent shivering, and the blood he felt draining from his body with every feeble beat of his heart, he couldn’t seem to muster any gratitude in the moment. His head felt light and yet his body felt heavy. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but even if they were, he was sure they’d be nearly blinded from the pain.
Amidst the pain, he became vaguely aware of being moved onto someone’s lap. A new pair of hands, too small to be Pao’s, started putting pressure on his wound. They pressed down relentlessly on his chest to the point where he almost saw stars from the pain, but he knew that if not for that pressure, he’d be losing even more blood. Whoever this person was didn’t make a single sound, but, somehow, he could still feel them willing him to live. Water was dribbled onto his lips. A rough-skinned yet gentle hand brushed his hair out of his face and patted his cheeks, keeping him from following the siren call of a tempting but never-ending sleep in the realms of Sharima’en.
Takkan wasn’t sure if hours or minutes had passed when suddenly the pressure disappeared. He heard the all-too-familiar sound of a sword slicing through the air. Bodies collided and hit wood. A struggle broke out. He opened his heavy eyes with great effort and saw two figures grappling with each other. Another assassin. The smaller figure, a girl, had something covering her head. Before Takkan remember why the silhouette looked so strangely familiar, the smaller figure’s movements started to grow weak. With a final pulse of adrenaline, Takkan groaned and kicked whatever he could reach towards her before his eyes slammed shut from the pain again. Whatever he kicked, it seemed to work, because soon the sounds of the struggle ceased.
His breaths shortened. Moving had caused his blood to spill out even more vigorously, and this time, pressure wouldn’t be enough to slow the blood flow. His mystery savior began to pull him back onto her lap, but Takkan willed his body to obey him and weakly opened his eyes. Maybe he was half-dreaming, but it looked like the girl from the inn, back in Tianyi Village. The one with a bowl on her head. This time, something white fluttered over her shoulder, about the size of a butterfly. But it couldn’t be. Whoever it was, he reached for her small hand and gasped for her to close his wound.
The mystery person must’ve understood. For a moment, she left his side, but when she came back, she started to sterilize his wound as best as she could. Takkan felt like his chest was on fire. He jerked and whimpered, but her hand found its way to his and squeezed his fingers. Somehow, he drew strength from this. As his savior’s shaking hands started to pull a needle through his skin, he gritted his teeth and swallowed his groans. The needle and thread passed through his skin again and again, and each time, he thought he’d pass out. Maybe he did at some point. But finally, he felt a knot being tied and a hand placed gently against his steadying heart.
Relief and exhaustion set in. As Takkan’s consciousness began to fade again, he promised himself to repay this person. His silent savior with rough-skinned hands.