Days seemed to melt into each other, minutes seeming to trudge by slowly, hours passing within the blink of an eye. Time seemed to slip through your fingers like sand. The darkness of the night bruised your vision, shadows dancing across the bare walls. The room was scarce of furniture, an antique bed sitting in the heart of the room, with a bedside table and a lamp. Water and food somehow seemed to appear on the bedside table after you woke every now and then, just enough to make sure you weren’t dying.

It must’ve been a week, maybe two. Time had escaped you, days impossible to decipher from night. There were no windows, and the door didn’t budge an inch no matter how hard you threw yourself at it.

The room smelt too sterile, disinfectant burning your nose. Somedays it felt like a fever dream, the isolation, the lack of sun, nothing to tell you the time, the day. It wasn’t as if you were particularly remarkable, only being an assistant for Shoko, aiding her with injured sorcerers, or their corpses. Somehow, some way, you had been plucked from your routine by the curse user Geto Suguru. Or, at the very least, the nervous system parading around as the dead man. Your nails dug into your palms, leaving behind crescent indents in the calloused skin.

The sound of the door groaning open was like a gunshot, and fear paralyzed you. Light didn’t spill in from the door, somehow only inky darkness. “Ah—You’re awake.” The smooth purr hummed. When the lights switched on suddenly, a hiss escaped you. Your eyes burned at the sudden light, a dull ache buzzing behind your eyes. “Quite the timing.” The ebony haired man smiled charmingly. His zōri sandals made nearly no sound against the hardwood floor as he moved to stand in front of where you had been curled up on the floor.

You didn’t know what he wanted, what he was looking to get from you. He only smiled at you, as if he hadn’t taken you here against your will. In Kenjaku’s eyes, you were quite the pawn, a perfect window for him to see into the sorcerer’s world. So perfectly unremarkable. Though, being a healer of sorts would be helpful with his stitching along the curve of his spine. “I’m glad to see you have held up just fine these past few days.” As he moved, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring down at where you were curled on the hardwood floor.