[ Nao listens intently as he speaks. When he slips his fingers between hers and gives her hand that weak little squeeze, she grasps his hand and holds it tightly as if the very act might be enough to keep him grounded there with her.
He's scared and she's scared and this is... this is all she can do? Is this really all she can do for him? It's more than that person could do at that time for anyone, but this isn't then and she isn't that person. She isn't so small and so weak and so powerless. She is more; she can do more. She has to do more, be more, be enough to help him break through the disease's stranglehold before it's too late.
Focus!!
A family of monster hunters whose name is proudly distinguished by their sword techniques. A martial clan that dates back to the Warring States period at least. She and Hoshina may not be from the exact same Earth. She isn't sure, but she is sure that any beings humans dub "monsters" and hunt that are worthy of a defense force in modern times ("'gram," he'd said, like an idiot) would flourish in times of conflict and war. That's when the blade is best trained, skills best honed, and a style of swordsmanship may make its name and that of the clan that bore it.
The signs of such a clan are there: proud, competitive, disparaging of any talent judged lesser with a cold determination to turn him from the sword to save face, traditional, secretive, focused. The whole family should celebrate and support the person judged their best, the heir. Bow your head or they'll break it.
It hits too close to home.
They didn't break him.
She wasn't made for giving up.
His secret must rest with his family. From the way he spoke, his obvious pride about his occupation and position, she doesn't think the Hoshina clan makes up the entirety of the Defense Force or even a considerable number. He would've said something. He's feverish and in pain and too raw speaking of his life like he is, like -- like he's really going to die.
There is so much doubt and stress and pain and fear, so much weight bearing down on his soul. She sees it, feels it, him, with every shallow breath, every irregular beat of his heart beneath her hand. In this moment, he's weakened, but he is strong, so strong. A lesser man would surely have succumbed by now, perhaps even years ago under the thumb of his clan before this parasite could even touch him, but Hoshina, he's a fighter. He's resilient, and she? Fast.
Grasping every thread, every piece, pulling, crossing, placing --
Is she fast enough to beat the god of Death? Doesn't matter. She has to be.
Nao squeezes his hand, runs her thumb lightly along the back of his knuckles to call his attention to her. That's all she needs, to beat Death itself and Hoshina speak his truth and the parasite that's killing him die. In that instant -- between her masterful use of psychosomatic illusions, which by definition grant her control of the mind and senses, and her ability to create, channel, shape, and otherwise manipulate spiritual energy -- she can prompt his immune system to act and his body to begin properly healing in earnest. She's already in direct physical contact, already intensely focused on him. Seeing, sensing, feeling --
no subject
He's scared and she's scared and this is... this is all she can do? Is this really all she can do for him? It's more than that person could do at that time for anyone, but this isn't then and she isn't that person. She isn't so small and so weak and so powerless. She is more; she can do more. She has to do more, be more, be enough to help him break through the disease's stranglehold before it's too late.
Focus!!
A family of monster hunters whose name is proudly distinguished by their sword techniques. A martial clan that dates back to the Warring States period at least. She and Hoshina may not be from the exact same Earth. She isn't sure, but she is sure that any beings humans dub "monsters" and hunt that are worthy of a defense force in modern times ("'gram," he'd said, like an idiot) would flourish in times of conflict and war. That's when the blade is best trained, skills best honed, and a style of swordsmanship may make its name and that of the clan that bore it.
The signs of such a clan are there: proud, competitive, disparaging of any talent judged lesser with a cold determination to turn him from the sword to save face, traditional, secretive, focused. The whole family should celebrate and support the person judged their best, the heir. Bow your head or they'll break it.
It hits too close to home.
They didn't break him.
She wasn't made for giving up.
His secret must rest with his family. From the way he spoke, his obvious pride about his occupation and position, she doesn't think the Hoshina clan makes up the entirety of the Defense Force or even a considerable number. He would've said something. He's feverish and in pain and too raw speaking of his life like he is, like -- like he's really going to die.
There is so much doubt and stress and pain and fear, so much weight bearing down on his soul. She sees it, feels it, him, with every shallow breath, every irregular beat of his heart beneath her hand. In this moment, he's weakened, but he is strong, so strong. A lesser man would surely have succumbed by now, perhaps even years ago under the thumb of his clan before this parasite could even touch him, but Hoshina, he's a fighter. He's resilient, and she? Fast.
Grasping every thread, every piece, pulling, crossing, placing --
Is she fast enough to beat the god of Death? Doesn't matter. She has to be.
Nao squeezes his hand, runs her thumb lightly along the back of his knuckles to call his attention to her. That's all she needs, to beat Death itself and Hoshina speak his truth and the parasite that's killing him die. In that instant -- between her masterful use of psychosomatic illusions, which by definition grant her control of the mind and senses, and her ability to create, channel, shape, and otherwise manipulate spiritual energy -- she can prompt his immune system to act and his body to begin properly healing in earnest. She's already in direct physical contact, already intensely focused on him. Seeing, sensing, feeling --
Got it! ]
Do they know?
[ She almost coughs, almost. ]
The Defense Force, do they know about your clan?