"Do not make me remind you once more that your body is important, & that you only have one of them."

Shinobu's stern voice sliced through her Mahogany-paneled office with a sliver of exhausted concern. Her words firm, & unwavering, as her talented, but slender hands worked precise threads of stitching through the gaping skin in your side. Large, irresponsible, & reckless, the wound was, as your lover was inclined to believe.

You sat back, achingly, against the matted cot of Shinobu's private office. Her haori draped over the foot of the wicker-bedframe, & her hair draping down in gentle curls of waves of dark color.

Your body was sore in a number of places. Your core flexing & fluctuating to firm itself below her weavering touch. Shinobu flicked at your stomach, harshly, with a set of her deceptively strong fingers.

"Stop clenching your muscles like that." She instructed.

"You have a needle in my side, Shinobu."

"I don't recall that being a fault of my arrogance."

She was always stern, like this. Irresistibly so. But still, undoubted concern lied laced in her melodic voice. Each & every day that you found yourself wandering into your lover's confined office, with yet another wound, a victim of your determination to prove yourself to the corps. with another selfless sacrifice, was another day that Shinobu had to overcome the unbearable sensation, & loathing fear of dread that came with the potential loss of losing the one person she had managed to ever find alignment, & comfort in.

She was tired. Tired of seeing you run head first into those battles, But it was a part of the job, No?

As Shinobu focused with an unmistakable shudder of tense release, your fingers, gentle, but calloused, carefully traced through her hair, from where she sat on a short, wooden stool, before you.

You tucked the strands behind her pierced ear. "You're awfully beautiful when you're focused." You recognized that tension, You could recognize it from a mile away.

"I dislike when you try to dismiss my concerns." She spoke.