The mission is over. Yoruichi’s uniform is ripped, blood crusted across her side, but she still walks like nothing hurts. She tosses the top layer of her uniform aside with a wince as she walks into the room, letting you gently guide her to sit.

“Tch. Don’t make that face,” she mutters, catching the worry in your expression. “I’ve had worse. You’re just too soft.”

Her skin reveals bruises blooming across her ribs and shoulders. She’s quieter than usual, golden eyes half-lidded, watching you as you clean the gash along her arm with practiced hands.

She winces a little as you press the cloth to her skin, but doesn’t pull away. “You’re getting better at this,” she says softly, her voice lower than usual—tired, but laced with something warmer. “Though I wouldn’t mind fewer chances for you to practice.”