Meeting of Families

[Eidolon]

 

Kiyohito was solicitous, which only seemed to amuse her brother. “Of course.” He glanced at Eido as she passed briefly from view, but she did not deign to match his expression. Doubtful that he had considered how this would look, even if Kiyohito was too polite to ask. It would be remembered, though. When she returned she perched on the edge of the couch, the box on her lap. It was nothing ornate, but it was certainly old, and smoothed with repeated use as she flipped the clasp and pushed back the lid. She lifted a small bowl for the detritus, placed on the cushion beside her, then arranged what she would need. 

Meanwhile Kōta was openly examining their quiet guest over her head, his arm relinquished to her care. She batted his other hand away from soiling the cushions. She would not be pleased to spend an hour scrubbing blood from the fabric. His clothes were his own responsibility though.

He had attempted some remedial repairs, which accounted for the dried blood. A tourniquet bunched at his elbow. The slash itself was into the meat of his forearm, like he’d raised it in hurried defence. She began to cut away the fabric, carefully depositing the mess into the bowl. This was not a common ritual for them. At least, not for many years. It stirred some memory in her, the ease with which she settled into old norms, as ingrained as the making of the tea. She gave it the same kind of dutiful focus.

Of other memories she was more careful.

Dreyken, she would guess. Fortunate it hadn’t nicked an artery, but she imagined by now his arm was throbbing. Kōta flinched at the first swipe of antiseptic, then gave a surprised laugh for his own reaction. When his attention arrowed down the question in her expression was quite plain. Was it dead?

“I would not have left otherwise,” he said of her pointed glare. “There is a Western saying about birds and bushes. I forget it. All gloriously in hand.”

“Were you distracted?”

“Ah, no. Just unlucky. I had something of an overambitious thought. Well, nevermind about that, mm?” He grinned down at her, egregiously careless, but she recognised the sting of sibling bait. She wouldn't have asked what he meant even had they been alone, but her expression did soften. He was her older brother by a good many years, and had always worn the mantle of protector. It was the root of her second greatest sin, yet the biggest contradiction was how she was not sure she could ever survive losing him. Evidence of his mortality was not well received. Once the blood was cleaned she tried to ascertain if it needed stitches, but sight of the injury so plain settled fluttery in her chest. She tried not to remember how Yua’s body had twitched before breath returned and her wings launched her skyward.

“Are you okay?” He leaned down to whisper it, concerned.

“Yes, of course.” She breathed carefully. It hadn’t happened in six years. It wasn’t going to happen now. Steri-strips would do.

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” he added, but she only frowned. It was not like Kiyohito did not have ears whatever the quiet volume of their conversation. His emphasis on discretion suggested he would extend them the same courtesy, and she did not think he had been sent by hunters, but she also thought he would be like a sponge. Absorbing everything. He spoke of honour, but she was not convinced it meant the same thing to one of the gokudō. Her own life was an ephemerally held thing, but Kōta’s life would not so easily be spent. Eido wouldn’t risk it in the same way.

“You know, I tried to take care of the worst. In case. But expedience seemed important.” He wiggled his fingers as she released the band and blood rushed a return down the limb. The wound oozed a little between the neatly placed strips, but did not begin bleeding.

“Maybe. Stop talking.” Her look was pointed, but brief. A small smile replaced the ire, tolerantly exasperated. The message she sent had indeed intimated some urgency, only she had imagined it would pull him away from a meeting of business, not a hunt. If those things met in a crossroads she did not want to know. And maybe she was wrong here, but she trusted Kōta’s judgement over her own. She had no right to judgement at all. “Go wash your hands, and attend to your guest.”

He did so while she began to pack things away. Blood tinged her own hands, but she did not seem to mind. When her burden was balanced neatly in her grip, she stood. Her eyes did not reach to find where Kiyohito stood, but she turned to his direction.

“Thank you for waiting.”

The rest of the clean up was completed in swift silence. Eido used the kitchen sink while her brother was in the bathroom. When Kōta returned he’d stripped the ruined shirt to the plain tank underneath. Various scars decorated his arms, but no other tattoos than the small snake; at distance, it looked like little more than two overlapping circles. His hair was still in a knot on his head, but she thought he had at least run a wash cloth over his face.

“Formality is it? I can do that.” He shrugged a little, but smiled warmly. An open hand gestured that they should all be seated then. “Your patience is commendable, Koraii-san. I thank you for it. I feel much refreshed, and am at your service.”