Chapter 12 {Y/N}

I bite in a yelp as that girl bumps hard into my shoulder. The impact instantly inflicts pain on my wound. I press my hand to my chest and turn around as the door shuts.

Shinsuke goes to sit on the window sill, leisurely looking out. He's dressed in something different. A pale rosy yukata that makes him look rather gentle. His head is bare, no bandages are wrapped around his eye anymore. Most of his wounds seem to already heal, though just now I catch a glimpse of white at the division of his collar.

"I hear that you helped me," he says to the window, "while I was unconscious."

"Oh, hmm." I wring my hands together. "I was so worried, but I'm glad that you're all right now."

He turns to me. My heart aches at seeing his whole features for the first time. "Would it make any difference anyway, to you?" he asks, a corner of his lips curled. "Or did you perhaps do it to gain a favor?"

I try not to bristle. "I have already gotten the favor," I say, my voice surprisingly soft. Before I can stop them my legs move over to where he's perched by the window, and remain an arm's reach distance from him, again. "Thank you, for the books."

He seems lenient at my approach and doesn't respond. When he stares out the sea the late afternoon sun casts a warm glow on his face. The light reflects in his eye and makes it come alive.

"Does your wound still hurt?" I ask, looking at the wrapped part of his chest. He seems to entirely ignore the question. So I boldly reach out to touch his chest and press hard at the bandaged part.

A sudden flash of pain passes his face. "What are you doing?" he snaps, startled, as I take my hand away.

I suppress a smirk. "You won't answer, so I thought I would just check myself." I look outside, feeling his glare at the side of my face. Part of my mind warns me that I'm being a little too comfortable with him. But I'm at the point where warnings are as good as trying to convince that man to stop his cause. At this rate I'll dance to the will of my heart, even if it'll burn up in the flames of the future.

"Being ruthless won't always come good," I mutter, more to myself, and startle when he speaks.

"Regardless of how it comes, I will crush everything in this country." What dreads me more is not what he says, but how he says.

I turn to him with a grimness. "Even at the cost of endless lives? You would throw yours away into your cause as well?" When he says nothing it becomes difficult to endure. The emptiness of his face as he stares ahead, the turmoil in his eye. The gentleness of his features. All those alarming contradiction is what leads me to this spot, fighting against my better judgement to drown in an attempt to understand. I raise my hand and cup his cheek. The contact stifles the air in the room. He burns me with his gaze alone.

"If you, the commander, collapse," I whisper, words thickened with emotions. "Who would guide and lead? Your men need you." The unspoken rises up to my throat, begging for release. My lips will not open. I pry them apart, but the words are different. "So please, don't...go anywhere."

For a moment he doesn't move. The sun fades below the horizon, it's final brilliance washed over us. I trace my thumb lightly over his skin, wanting to be engulfed in the sense. In a second I think I see a slip of emotion behind the coldness of his look. But it's gone too fast.

He brings his hand atop of mine. My breaths slow at the warmth of his touch. But he only removes my hand away. I look up to him as he stands, pained at the refusal.

"Apparently," he states, "I neither need nor want anything to protect." His gaze lingers on me a second longer. Then he heads to the door and leaves.