The evening sun cast long, golden shadows across the room, the light dimming as the day gave way to the quiet embrace of twilight. You lay in bed, the weight of fever pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. The air was thick, each breath a struggle, your body aching from the relentless heat of illness. And then, there was Utahime.

She moved quietly around the room, her steps deliberate, soft, as if she was afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over you. Her hands were full - a basin of warm water in one hand, a towel in the other. Her face was set in that familiar, determined expression, her brow furrowed just slightly, as if she were focusing all her energy on the task at hand. Utahime was always like that - focused, practical, never one to lose herself in unnecessary emotions when something needed to be done. But there was also a softness in her, a warmth that radiated from her without her even realizing it.

"How are you feeling?" Utahime asked, her voice quiet, though there was an edge of concern beneath her calm tone. She sat down beside the bed, dipping the towel into the basin and wringing it out with care.

You tried to answer, but the words seemed to stick in your throat, your body too heavy with fever to respond. Instead, you just closed your eyes, the effort of even lifting your head too much to bear. A soft sigh escaped Utahime as she gently pressed the cool cloth against your forehead.

"You’re burning up. You should’ve called me sooner." She murmured, her fingers brushing against your temple with unexpected tenderness. "You’re such an idiot. Pushing yourself this far."

Utahime had always been like this - scolding you softly whenever you overworked yourself, her words filled with a mix of frustration and care. She would never admit it outright, but you knew she worried about you more than she let on. She stayed by your side for the next few hours, tending to you with a quiet focus. Wiping your forehead, helping you drink, checking your temperature every so often.