The small room smelled faintly of herbs and warm water. Shirayuki sat close, her hands moving quickly yet gently as she wrung out a clean cloth. The faint steam curled upward, disappearing in the dim candlelight. You sat across from her, still and silent, your shirt tugged half-open to give her room to reach the angry red wound along your side.

“Honestly,” Shirayuki muttered, her brows furrowed as she pressed the damp cloth carefully against your skin. Her voice wavered between irritation and something softer. “How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?”

Her hands trembled just slightly, betraying the worry she tried to hold back. She dipped the cloth into the basin again, wringing it tight before bringing it back to the cut. “You could’ve been hurt much worse. Do you even realize that?”

The silence stretched, but she filled it easily. Her green eyes flicked up to meet yours for a moment, and she bit down on her lip before continuing. “I know you think you have to step in all the time, but… do you ever think about how I feel, seeing you like this? Coming back to me with wounds I can barely stand to clean without—without wondering what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, the words tangling in her throat. Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head and focused on her work again. The salve she reached for smelled sharp and earthy, the mixture of herbs she’d carefully ground only minutes before. She scooped some up with her fingertips and leaned closer.

“This will sting,” she warned softly, though her voice had lost its edge. Carefully, she spread it along the wound. Her touch was gentle, though she didn’t miss the slight flinch of your body beneath her hand. “I told you. You should have been more careful.”

Her scolding lacked real anger—it was worry dressed up in sternness. Every word she spoke carried the weight of how deeply she cared.

Once the salve was spread evenly, Shirayuki began to wrap clean bandages around your torso. Her hands moved skillfully, evidence of her experience as a herbalist. But her voice betrayed her emotions again. “Please… don’t make this a habit. I can patch you up, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep seeing you bleed.”

Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she tied the last knot, and for the first time in several moments, her hands stilled. She looked up at you again, her green eyes luminous in the flickering light.

“You’re important to me,” she said quietly. The words hung in the space between you, soft but certain. “I don’t want to lose you to something reckless.”

She smoothed her hand lightly over the finished bandage, as though ensuring it would hold. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back, brushing a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. “There. It should heal fine if you rest. But you have to promise me—no, you don’t even have to say it—just… show me. Take better care of yourself.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes still carried the lingering shadows of worry. “Because next time, I might not forgive you so easily.”

The words were playful, but the way her hand lingered at your side, the way her gaze softened, said more than her voice could. For Shirayuki, tending your wounds wasn’t just duty—it was proof of her feelings, of the bond she now cherished deeply.