Dream

Through half-opened eyes and glazed eyesight, he saw hands, silver tools, and white bandages all floating over him.

Through a half-awake, half-asleep state, he felt the pain of medicine and needles—or swords, who knows—sticking into his body, but he couldn't move a muscle.

Through what seemed like a dream, he felt warm fingers dressing his wounds, caressing his face…or was that part ultimately a dream?

When he woke, he felt utterly lost. He thought he was in heaven but a lesser version of it since it looked only like the inside of a tent. Perhaps, the paradise he gets to go to is an inferior kind because of the sins he has made in his earthly life. However, he knew he wasn't when he lifted his body. He flinched at the pain in his abdomen. He was secretly thankful for the pain he felt, for it reminded him he is still alive and has more time to right his wrongs.

"Hey, don't move just yet! Stay in bed!"

He turned around and observed the man approaching. 'He must be a doctor.' He thought and obediently laid himself down as slow as possible, but he said nothing and kept cautious. His head raced with thoughts, and it seemed like as each second passed, there were only more questions.

The doctor pulled a chair and sat beside him, "How are you feeling?"

He answered, "Where am I?"

The doctor chuckled, "First, you need to answer me. How are you—"

"Who are you? Where is this place—where is my sword!?" He sat up and searched the room for his sword. His sword had engravings of his name and role—his identity, things that he cannot simply share with anyone. Not to strangers.

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

He twitched as he sensed that sympathy. It felt disgusting for him. He wanted to erase those kinds of smiles just as he fancied to erase sympathy itself from this world. He frowned, "I demand answers."

The doctor took a sharp breath of air in and blew it out with a sigh. "Before anything else, I'd like to introduce you to myself. My name is Kazuki—"

His eyes narrowed at the mention of that name. It could be any Kazuki, but the enemy's son's name claimed the name. He quickly lifted himself, but his body winced in pain. He hid all signs of discomfort from his face and was good at hiding emotions, anyways. Kazuki helped him back on the bed, but he shoved the man's arms away. The man backed off and sat on his chair. He sweated, hurt as he slowly sprawled on the bed. He glared at Kazuki, "A Suira, aren't you?"

Kazuki sighed, then nodded, "That is my last name, indeed. I wasn't going to tell you that, but you had already guessed it." He smiled, "And I know who you are. Your style of clothes, your armor, your headdress, your sword—most especially your sword and the engravings on it gave your identity away. Royal Heir, Prince Hiroi Yoshiro of the North Kingdom." He chuckled, "You Northerners shouldn't engrave your identities on your swords."

He scowled, but what was he going to do? Wounded and hurt, he struggled even to move. Nevertheless, there should be somehow a way for him to escape—but how? What are they going to do to him? He gulped, "What now, Southerner scum?"

"You're under my care."

He disliked those words. He disliked being in anyone's care. He treasured his independence more than anything else.

Kazuki understood Yoshiro's expressions. He assured him, "I mean it, Prince, because I am a soldier and a prince as well. I stay true to my word. Yes, I have duties to kill my enemies and protect my country. But, I am also a doctor, and my duties as one go before anything else. As long as you're healing, no harm will come upon you. I promise that."

"What happens after I'm done healing?"

"You may leave my side and return home."

Yoshiro frowned, "That simple?"

Kazuki nodded, "That simple. Besides, I don't fight dying men. I am a doctor, after all. I fight healthy men who carry swords and threaten the borders of my country. You certainly don't fit this description." He examined Yoshiro, "At least, not now."

Yoshiro had so much pride in him but has decided to swallow it down. At least for now…and for the sake of his life. Kazuki noted his submission but said nothing. Instead, he announced, "I'll be getting your food," he stopped and observed Yoshiro's reaction. The man was cautious. He smiled, "And this food shall not be poisoned or anything. It will be wholesome, good for your healing body. I promise that."

"I'm back."

Yoshiro turned to the tent's entrance and noticed Kazuki enter with a tray full of food. He suddenly realized how hungry he was the moment he caught a whiff of the food's aroma. He reached out to the tray, only to retract his hand, kept it to himself, and blushed.

Kazuki chuckled, "You need to eat something, you know." And stopped himself from saying, "Put your pride aside," because Yoshiro, a prince, would never put his pride aside.

Yoshiro didn't bulge, but despite being a prince, the man was easy to read, and Kazuki liked that. He wanted to snicker, but he understood it was damaging to the Prince's pride. He put the tray on Yoshiro's lap.

Yoshiro stared at the food. He wanted to grab at it, but his pride did not allow it. He was almost drooling at the sight of it. He gulped and slowly and furtively wiped his saliva off his mouth with his sleeve.

Kazuki thought Yoshiro couldn't move his arm, so he picked up the spoon to feed him with soup. When he presented it to Yoshiro, Yoshiro glared, his eyebrows knit together, but his face was cherry red. It was at that moment Kazuki understood what Yoshiro wanted: his privacy.

He smiled, "Well, then, I'll be back to check up on you."

The man exited.

Yoshiro, unable to resist any longer, gulped. With no eyewitnesses to the shameful acts he was about to commit, he indulged in the food. He started with the soup first. He carried the bowl with both hands and drank it that way.

Kazuki heard the sounds and peeked through the tent's slit. He chuckled, "I cooked that."

Yoshiro nearly gagged but managed not to. He slammed the bowl down the tray and looked the other way. "Would you please…leave me alone—"

"How was the soup? Aren't we Southerners so accommodating to our guests?"

Yoshiro wanted to reply, "You mean, your enemy." But that would get him in trouble, so he shut his mouth. He dodged the man's eyes.

"Hey, what about a little thank you? It doesn't hurt thank the one who cooked your meal, right?"

"Don't push your luck, Southerner!"

Kazuki laughed and left Yoshiro in peace to eat his meal. Yoshiro cautiously ate his food. He started nibbling at the bread. He took a bite, checked at the door for any intruders, then took another bite, the cycle repeats.

When Kazuki returned, Yoshiro has finished the meal. Yoshiro felt a little surprised that he was still alive and that the Southerner did not poison him.

Kazuki cleaned up after him. When he was about to leave, Yoshiro mumbled, "Thank you."

He looked back at him. The man hid under the blankets and turned his back.

He smiled, "My pleasure."