damned_institute | Nightshift 37: F1-F10 Hallway

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Nightshift 37: F1-F10 Hallway

As far as dinner shifts went, that one had actually been enjoyable. It had been nice to have somebody to talk to, to show off for, and Sen hadn’t seemed to mind all that much. Except for that one teeny-tiny little slip, just after Yuffie’d revealed that she was a ninja…

What was with that?

Yuffie knew that it was a little unorthodox to be quite so ‘open’ about what she did, both back home and here in Landel’s. She had her reasons, though; logical reasons, no matter what anybody else had to say about it. And those reasons had a lot more to them than a simple love of showing off.

Maybe Sen was going to be another one of those who underestimated her, then - the woman had seemed to soak up everything she’d said like a sponge, hadn’t refuted anything, but… Yuffie couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off. Sen seemed so normal and, yeah, totally defenseless - but as far as she could tell, Landel had a weird fetish for kidnapping fighters, or people with some kind of ability or significance...

Ugh, maybe this place was just making her paranoid. Besides, now wasn’t the time to be cross-examining and mentally dissecting her roommate! She had places to go, people to see, and a Turk to interrogate! With that in mind, after a quick double-checking of her ’equipment’ - a small bunch of pens tucked away in various places, the gardening claw, and her flashlight - the young thief headed out into the night.

[To here]

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Dinner had come with an unexpected surprise. The gift of Miku's own proper clothing. In fact, the little photographer had been so excited, that she'd put the clothing on almost immediately, disregarding the fact it would be chilly outside if they ventured there. For the tenth time, Miku adjusted her stockings and kicked her feet back and forth in their small black shoes.

Maybe Sousuke would be pleasantly surprised as well! It felt so nice to be in clothing that she was familiar with, and most certainly had boosted the little photographer's morale. With her pillow-case bag ready beside her, Miku laid back on the bed and sighed contentedly. Tonight, she was sure, was going to be a good night.

There was something pulling at her heart, telling her to follow something. Confused, and perhaps a bit dazed, Miku stood up and left a note hastily written on her desk, next to her meal, picked up her bag and flashlight and padded out the door.

"What's calling...?"

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/517557.html?thread=42595765#t42595765)]

[Skipping some halls from here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/522796.html?thread=43198508#t43198508)]

Sousuke swung Miku down gently onto her bed and immediately went for the sheets on the other bed. He could bandage her properly now, and then tend to his own wounds as well.

Her sheets were going to get dirty with dried, sticky blood, her logic dictated as she watched Sousuke prepare to go to town on Lust's bedsheets. Her head had swam as they rushed back to the room and she'd closed her eyes to keep from getting sick.

The time between had helped her get her voice back, though it was still quiet in the dark. "Are you alright, Sousuke...?"

"Affirmative," Sousuke said, even though he was wincing lightly from the pain as he tore the sheets apart with his knife. Worrying her right now wouldn't do any good. She needed rest.

Sousuke moved over to Miku and began cutting away the remains of her tights. They would only impede the process of bandaging her properly.

She didn't believe him, but knew arguing would work like getting a hole in the head. Miku turned her head as he worked, and winced when some of the sticky blood tore away with the dried fabric of once-adorable stockings.

"It's sad these were ruined so soon," she murmured, looking at her desk chair and breathing slowly. If she were more well, this would've been embarrassing.

"We might be able to replace them someday," Sousuke said, trying to soothe her. Talking about unimportant things was probably the better way to take her mind off of the injuries and the woman. The sergeant began carefully wrapping her leg gently, making neat wraps.

"Is it too tight?"

Maybe they would be replaced, but still... a loss was a loss, and she was used to taking care of her things.

Miku shook her head, "No, I'm fine." Tomorrow night would be different. It would have to be. She tried hard to not let that decision show on her face, he'd get suspicious immediately. Miku kept her eyes on her desk, and didn't look at anything but Sousuke's hands now. Her body throbbed and ached from her bruises and cuts. It was as though someone had beat her with a bag of spiked oranges, timed by ten.

"Where... Where did you get that outfit?"

"It was in my closet. This is the suit I wear while operating my unit." He paused, continuing to wrap Miku's leg down to her knee. He started on her calf.

"Where did you get these clothes? And why did you wear them out of your room?"

Miku winced, "They're -- ow! -- what I wear at home.." Miku wasn't sure why she'd chosen to wear them, exactly. She gripped her sheets to keep from making any more pain-noises and kept talking, "They were in my closet, too, even my shoes."

Her brows drew together and she eyed Sousuke, deciding that -even though she hurt everywhere, and they were in this ridiculous situation- he was the one in the funnier attire.

Sousuke drew back for a moment when she expressed pain. Had it been something he'd done? He evaluated her wounds again and, seeing that things hadn't changed much, he continued to bandage her, but a little more gently.

"So both of us found clothes we use regularly at home in our closets tonight." Sousuke felt a little strange about that.

Miku gave him a long look before she murmured, "That's regular wear?" She sat up to pull her bloodied over-shirt off and bit the inside of her cheek when it pulled on the marks. The rope burns were all over her arms, as if she'd been wrapped in them, and the feeling of the dirty fabric rubbing over them had bothered her.

"This happened... last week, too, I remember..." Perhaps a little longer than a week ago, but close enough.

"Don't sit up, Miku," Sousuke said, worried. He tried to guide her back down. "I can cut your shirt off, there's no need for you to hurt yourself more."

The sergeant looked at her arms and hands, frowning deeply at the rope burns. How strange. He'd felt a rope around his neck as well.

"Here, are the sleeves bothering you?"

Miku put a hand over his, and looked at him sheepishly. She hadn't meant to worry him. "The shirt is, it's rubbing. It will just be easier to slide off, Sousuke, really," Miku tried to assure him.

Really, she just didn't like the idea of a knife being wielded so closely to her skin. "You don't have to cut it off."

Sousuke didn't like how it pained her, but if she was nervous, he could understand that. Civilians didn't use knives to cut clothing, and while this was an emergency situation, Sousuke didn't need to get it off her in such a great hurry.

"Alright," he moved behind her and lifted her up, trying to support her on his chest. He could slip her out of the shirt more easily that way.

Miku scrunched her face up as Sousuke pulled the shirt off, and her breath stuttered. The parts of her back revealed by the shirt spoke the same story that her arms and upper chest had - as if she'd been wrapped up in the ropes. "Does it look very bad...?" she questioned, staring at her knees.

Sousuke frowned at the marks. It did look very bad, but fortunately, he was in the habit of lying to soldiers. Telling them it didn't look so bad when he knew things were not looking good.

He gently ran his fingers over her back, careful not to hit any bleeding or bruised spots that would hurt terribly bad. "No. You look fine. Very... nice."

Miku turned her head to look at the damage. It felt bad, but... maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt. Her neck pulled as she tried to peer over her shoulder, and looked at a splotchy mark. Well, it didn't look... terrible.

Her eyes turned from the mark to him, "Promise?"

Sousuke reached around, his hand gently resting on her cheek and trying to turn her head back to a more normal, less painful position.

"You're alive. That's beautiful."

Miku's head moved from side to side, weighing his words, and lifted her hand to place it over his. "I'm just lucky, I guess. I was more worried about you." She felt bad that he kept getting into these undead situations with her.

Her ability needed to go away and never come back, like it had before. Miku pulled his hand down and set it in her lap.

"There's no problem," Sousuke said automatically, resting his hand on top of hers.

These instincts he was having... they were wrong. She was injured, he should be bandaging her. Not thinking about her in that red coat, realizing how close she was, or anything like that. He shouldn't be.

He stared at her knees, drawing her into him, holding her close. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I am apparently harder to kill than we both thought," she murmured, tone light as she could manage. It had been horrible, those images, those feelings, but even worse had been the absolute terror of watching him attack the ghost not once, but twice.

Miku rested her head against his and sighed, keeping her voice quiet and intimate, "I promised you I wouldn't leave you. I keep my promises."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, gently, but firmly enough to convey how possessive he felt--how protective.

"I know. But... tonight has shown me that I am an inadequate source of protection. Especially from the dead." This next part was harder to say--which was strange, considering his biggest fear was being unable to protect her. That had already come true. "You need to train with someone. I trust Sanosuke's judgment. His friend... should train you."

There, he'd said it.

She stiffened, and wrinkled her brow. "Sagara-san wants me to train...?" she wasn't sure just how she felt about physical training. Miku knew her limits - she was slower than people, weaker. That's just the way it was, the only way she outshone anyone was through her abilities, and even that was a dull, sad thing.

"But why? We... we knew that we're powerless against the ghosts." She reached up to find his hand and laced her fingers with his, thankful they were the only parts of her anatomy not suffering. "And I can't hit anything." Was this revenge for hitting him with the slipper?

"Because I can't protect you alone," Sousuke replied, squeezing her hand gently. "We are powerless against the ghosts, it seems, but against more physical threats, you need to be able to defend yourself."

He stroked her cheek absently with one thumb. She seemed as resistant to this idea as he had been. "Not everyone can hit something their first try, but considering the circumstances... I think it is necessary."

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