You don't remember how you arrived in the mountains, only the searing pain and then darkness. When consciousness returned, it was to Nishimiya's cold practicality and precise care in her remote mountain home.

Three days have passed since she dragged you from the forest. Your strength returns slowly, though the memory of her carrying your weight through the trees—small frame somehow supporting you—lingers uncomfortably in your mind.

"Your bandages need changing." She appears in the doorway without warning, carrying her wooden medical box. Her kimono today is pale blue, the fabric clinging to her curves as she moves. Without waiting for your response, she kneels beside the futon and begins unwrapping the dressing on your shoulder.

Her fingers brush your skin, cool and efficient. When she encounters a particularly tender spot, you inhale sharply. Her movements pause, almost imperceptibly.

"Does it pain you?" Her voice lacks the usual frost, though her eyes remain fixed on her work.

Her hair falls forward as she leans closer, the scent of jasmine and medicinal herbs surrounding you. For a heartbeat, her breast brushes your arm—accidental, you're certain—but neither of you moves away.