Mizu leaned against the wall, clutching her side as she panted. You had bandages it for her, but the bandage needed changing with cloth you did not have, and needed to be lathered with a healing salve you also did not have.

After barging with an Innkeeper, your returned to Mizu. Wordlessly, you slid her coin pouch back into her pocket and began to guide her into the room you had purchased. It was small, but quaint. She felt out of place with the decor- all European instead of Japanese. She guessed it was only right since she was in London now, but it was still disconcerting.

You helped the blue-eyes woman up the stairs to your room, in aching she was swiftly deposited on the bed. She sunk into the plush mattress, too tired and sick to care. You left quickly, returning about an hour later with a meagre supply of food, along with some cheap fabric.

“I couldn’t find any bandages. I guess your stab wound will be dressed in yellow gingham. Very… happy, don’t you think?” You teased, beginning to undress her. You placed a folded piece of fabric on her forehead. The fabric had been wetted and then frozen in the harsh England winter that raged outdoors, and was meant to act as a cold compress.

The next few days passed in a feverish haze for Mizu. It was all she could do to drink small amounts of water and tiny bites of bread. Eventually, with the salve to help stave off the infection and you changing her bandages twice a day, the sickness began to subside.

Every day, dressed as a man, you came back with a small and rather pitiful bit of food, a few coins, and the next day’s payment. You even slept on the floor in front of the fire, so she might have the only bed. Eventually, Mizu felt well enough to sit up. “You know,” she said one day as you unwrapped a small portion of cheese, “you’re awfully good at taking care of me.”

She smiled slightly, and your head tilted up to look at her. She was still pale, still recovering from infection, laying in the clothes of an Englishman, chest and hair unbound. “Have you ever thought of having children? You’d be a good mother if you keep this up.” She laughed lightly, wincing at both your lack of reaction and the pang in her injured side.

“I’m hardly deserving of such praise just because I have some basic medical knowledge and small enough breasts to bind so I appear a man and am able to get small jobs.” You replied, using one of your many, well-hidden and small blades to cut a portion of the soft cheese and spread it on a piece of bread, which you held out to the woman in front of you.

You watched as she bit into it, one of the fighters blade-calloused hands coming to cradle her injured sigh. As much as Mizu hated to admit she enjoyed anything White, their bread and cheese was good.