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“Hey!” A shrill voice pierced Kagami’s eardrums. Too loud. “You stay awake, do you hear me?”
Kagami blinked open her eyes, summoning all her energy into a glare that didn’t land—Marinette wasn’t walking in her line of sight, and Kagami couldn’t be bothered to look for her. Plus, she’d mostly just succeeded in going cross-eyed.
She wasn’t sure how long Adrien had been carrying her through the forest, but it felt like too long. Each additional second dragged a little further into eternity, and her sluggish thoughts could barely process a thing aside from the persistent stinging of her mid-thigh.
Slowly, and only partially out of spite, Kagami let her eyes drift closed again.
Dying—or, as Marinette insisted, not dying—was exhausting. Kagami’s limbs felt like lead, weighed down by the bulk of every unfortunate decision that had led her to this moment. Her riding breeches were sticky with blood. Her wound throbbed below the tourniquet, seeming weaker than before.
Maybe that wasn’t a great sign.
“She’s drifting off again,” Adrien noted, his voice wobbling in a way most people would have missed. He could push back almost any emotion, but Kagami knew him too well. His uncertainty was as obvious as it had been three years prior, on the night he told her he was leaving.
Leaving home. Leaving his duties. Leaving her.
Disloyal, she’d called him. Delusional. Dishonest. How could he have thought deserting his people to join the Spellcasters—those who were responsible for ruining their lives—was a good idea?
Now, her life was somewhat literally in his hands. And Marinette’s. Two people who’d both shattered Kagami’s heart in some way or another, and one of whom—despite Kagami’s best efforts—still had a tight hold on the fragments.
“We need to hurry,” Marinette said. Her words were brisk. Efficient. But she couldn’t hide her fear either.
When they were kids, Kagami and Adrien used to sneak across the stream to play Ladybug, Cat, and Dragon with the baker’s daughter, before magic ruined everything. Marinette was always Ladybug, because she always had the best plans. Adrien was always the cat, because at six years old he was obsessed with an irritable black stray that roamed the alleyways near his home. Kagami was the dragon, because…well, she didn’t really remember. It just felt right.
Those memories were from another lifetime, but Kagami could never truly escape them. There was a reason she’d kept sneaking out to see Marinette for years after the schism, even once Adrien had given up on convincing Marinette to join the Resistance.
Even if Kagami had known Marinette wouldn’t budge, that Marinette was just biding her time and hoping Kagami would shift her allegiance, it didn’t matter so much if they could sit together for hours under their favourite tree in the orchard, talking about a million different things as their heads fell onto each other’s shoulders until the sun set, casting shadows over their intertwined pasts.
But in the end, Kagami couldn’t give up on her convictions. She was loyal to her beliefs, to her family, to her regiment. Adrien was the one who’d abandoned everything. He was in the wrong.
The sound of grass squeaking underfoot gave way to a gravel pathway.
“She’ll need a transfusion,” Marinette said.
“She can have a pint of my blood,” Adrien’s voice sounded farther away than before, though Kagami was still nestled in his arms, wincing as he readjusted his grip. “Two, if she needs.”
“Your blood won’t match hers,” Marinette replied. “Mine is the same sort, and I have some preserved in the ice box.”
“But that was for—”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s more important.”
Footsteps crossed over onto a wooden surface, then stopped. A key turned in a lock. A door was wrenched open, and Kagami was moving again, engulfed by warmth as they entered a room doused in the smells of herbs, flowers, and melted wax. A fire seemed to crackle in some corner, its irregular pops suggesting it had almost burnt out.
Kagami whimpered as Adrien set her down on a hard, flat surface, the movement jostling her wound.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His hands slipped away from her body as he set her head down gently, then he grabbed one of her hands gingerly and squeezed. “You’ll be okay.”
More sounds filled the air—pots clanging and furniture being shifted. Kagami tried to open her eyes but was blinded by a light hanging above her. Amidst the turmoil, Marinette gave more orders. “You can unwrap the bandage, but carefully. Don’t disturb the tourniquet.”
“I know,” Adrien said with no hint of irritation.
He’d always had more patience for the way Marinette liked to take control—particularly in a crisis. Kagami had always enjoyed challenging her, and the smiles that used to slip through their bickering proved that Marinette had enjoyed it too. Sometimes Kagami won, and sometimes Marinette did. Their squabbles were usually forgotten by the next morning and laughed about some time later.
“Grab the wine first,” Marinette said. “We need to sterilize the wound.”
He grunted and dropped Kagami’s hand. Fog seeped further into her mind after that, obscuring any further exchanges of words. Someone tugged at her bandages and ripped the fabric of her breeches. Her boots were removed. They thudded to the floor.
Kagami hissed when someone poured liquid over her wound. The pain brought her back to reality somewhat, but it was hard to remember details by that point. These people were hurting her, but who were they again? The air smelled of cloves and of lavender and of dozens of other things Kagami couldn’t name. Of magic.
Panicking, she tried to sit her up. A small hand forced her chest back down while another cradled her head. Fingers teased through strands of her hair and warm breath tickled her ears.
“Shh, Mimi. You’re okay.”
The voice was reassuring. Familiar. The voice felt like fingers pressing into her shoulders, holding her tight. It smelled of yeast and sugar. It tasted of honey apple spreading sweetly across her tongue and biting sharply into her cheeks; Marinette had always offered Kagami the first bite before cutting a slice for herself. The voice didn’t look like anything—Kagami could only see stars marring her vision—but it should have resembled puffy clouds and rainbows and fields of flowers that stretched on for days.
The voice was safety, and Kagami wanted to return the favour. “M-mari—”
A finger pressed over her lips. “I’m right here, alright? I’ve got you.”
Kagami relaxed—or maybe that was just the fog dragging her under again. The next thing she registered was a series of sharp pricks to her thigh, but she must have only caught the tail end of the suturing process because soon Adrien squeezed her hand again.
“She’s done, Kagami. You did great.”
I was unconscious, Kagami thought drily.
“She did,” Marinette agreed. There was a final tug—a thread being tied off?—and then a chair slid back against the floor. Footsteps. Marinette’s fingers in her hair again.
Kagami hated how much she enjoyed the contact.
Slowly, Kagami forced her eyes open. A needle stuck out of her arm—the one Adrien wasn’t holding. It was attached to a blood bag that hung from one of the rafters. It had been years since she’d seen such a thing; blood outside of the body was too vulnerable to be trusted. Too likely to have been manipulated by magic.
She suppressed a shiver.
The fingers in her hair moved down to her chin and tilted her head sideways. That brought her face to face with Marinette, who leaned over her worriedly. Marinette’s eyes were darkened by the late afternoon shadows, and Kagami wished they’d catch a glint of sunlight—she wanted to know if they were as blue as she remembered. Instead, Kagami settled for admitting the gentle curve of Marinette’s lips and the rosiness of her cheeks.
And then she had to remember how to have a conversation.
“Hi,” Marinette whispered. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Kagami croaked. She swallowed, wanting to say more, but her throat felt stuck.
“Hand me the water bowl, Adrien?”
The bowl was passed over Kagami’s torso by a shaking hand and placed on the surface by her shoulder. On the table, Kagami now realized. They were in a small room that sort of reassembled a kitchen, but Kagami couldn’t see any food. Their spell room, then.
Fear sparked through her. There was no way she could go back home after this—her people would know she’d been tampered with. They’d find the traces of the magic. And Kagami couldn’t stay here after she healed, either. She couldn't learn magic, not when it made her skin crawl.
Not when it reminded her of her father’s death.
She didn’t put any of those feelings into words just yet, waiting instead for Marinette to dip a clean cloth in the water and squeeze some liquid between Kagami’s cracked lips. She licked up everything she could and swallowed, clenching her teeth when she’d had her fill.
Only when she was certain she could get her words out without wavering did Kagami speak again. “You should have left me.”
Marinette gasped. Adrien dropped Kagami’s hand.
“Are you kidding me?” Adrien said. “You know they would have left you to die, right? Enough with the pride, Kagami. This is—”
“Adrien,” Marinette snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Why don’t you go find Luka? Tell him we’ve got company. I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure?” He seemed unable to decide if he was angry, or worried, or relieved. Then again, Kagami’s feelings were a mess as well.
“Positive. I’ll call if I need help.”
Adrien and Marinette stared at each other across the table. The room grew so still that even the dust moats floating by the hanging lamp seemed to freeze.
“We’re taking a risk here,” Adrien said slowly. “She’s still one of them.”
Kagami glared up at the lightbulb, deciding Adrien didn’t warrant eye contact. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“She has a point,” Marinette said. Kagami’s stomach fluttered at the approval.
“She could lead them right to us once we let her go,” Adrien argued. “If the Siphoners knew we had a house so close to the border, then—”
“She won’t betray us.”
Marinette was right—if only because Kagami couldn’t return home to betray them. Had Marinette been counting on that? Probably not—she wasn’t that calculating.
Unless the magic had changed her.
“Trust me,” Marinette said.
Adrien let out a long breath. “You know I do. It’s her I don’t trust. It’s them.” He spat the last word before he rounded the table, stopping by Marinette’s side without sparing Kagami another glance. “Just be careful, alright?”
He kissed Marinette on the cheek—something that made Kagami’s gut curl angrily—and left the room.
Before Kagami could say a word, Marinette withdrew her hand and walked over to the cupboards. She rifled through a couple shelves, eventually pulling out a small green pot like the one the nurses back home used for treating cuts. Marinette fiddled with the lid as she walked back, another thing that echoed of familiarity—she was always fidgeting with something.
“I need to apply a healing balm to your wound to ward off infection,” Marinette said.
“Is it magic?” Kagami asked.
Marinette rolled her eyes as she sat back on the stool by Kagami’s feet. “It’s medicine.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that Marinette hadn’t actually answered the question, but Kagami supposed it was already too late to fret over that.
For a while Marinette worked in silence, smearing something that seemed to be honey-based over the wound. It actually did smell a lot like the antibacterial spreads Kagami was used to, so maybe it really was free of magic.
Eventually, Kagami could no longer handle the silence. “Adrien seems angry.” And he never used to be.
“I know.” Marinette sighed as she closed the pot and wiped her fingers off on a patch of her pants that weren’t stained with blood or dirt—there weren’t many of those left. “It’s been a rough few years.”
Kagami could only watch again as Marinette went back to her storage area and pulled out some strips of white cloth. Marinette seemed on the verge of saying more when she sat back down, so Kagami figured letting her squirm might urge her to open up.
“You’re not helping him by being so…stubborn,” Marinette finally said as she applied the first strip of bandage and began to wrap it around. “Trying to refuse magic that might have been needed to save you?” She tucked in one edge of the bandage. “It’s the same way his mother died.”
“Magic killed his mother,” Kagami protested.
“That’s not the whole truth. And however they’ve brainwashed you over the years, I know you’re smart enough to know that the Siphoners—”
“Don’t call us that.”
“—that your people aren’t telling you everything.”
“Does it matter?” Kagami asked. “Magic is dangerous.”
“It can be. But so is bias,” Marinette said, flashing a grim smile. “Guess who taught me that?”
“Please. I told you that so you’d stop letting Adrien win at cards.”
Marinette huffed in amusement, but her eyes were downcast. “You still can’t admit he was better than you, can you? But that’s beside the point. It’s just like Adrien said—you’re blinded by your pride.” She paused. “I used to think you were smarter than that.”
Ouch.
“You’ve changed,” Kagami said.
Marinette’s smiled sadly. “I like to think I haven’t changed that much. At least not in the ways that count.”
And maybe that was true. Because although neither of them said another word as Marinette finished dressing the wound, removed the transfusion needle, and helped Kagami remove her armour and change out of her bloodstained clothes, Marinette’s movements were gentle in a way that made Kagami’s heart ache. All the memories of Marinette she’d tried her best run from over the years rushed back in full force, and Kagami was rendered useless by each and every one of them.
Marinette tucking flowers into her hair in an overgrown meadow. Marinette sneaking into her bedroom with cookies while Kagami recovered from some ailment or other. Marinette holding Kagami the night her father died, being the only person with whom Kagami felt safe enough to let down her barriers.
“Are you comfortable?” Marinette asked as she tucked a pillow behind Kagami’s head and helped her ease back down.
Kagami closed her eyes, fighting back a wave of dizziness. “I‘m fine.”
There was no answer, but she heard Marinette drag her stool closer, stopping somewhere near Kagami’s head. She grabbed Kagami’s hand and circled a thumb over the back of it.
“Why did you even bring me here?” Kagami asked. “After everything…” Why bother?
“Why do you think?”
Kagami thought she might know. Part of her hoped she knew. Hoped Marinette was as affected by their proximity as she was. That Marinette dreamed the same dreams of an impossible future.
“I don’t know,” Kagami said. Hope was but another dangerous thing.
Marinette hummed in response. “Perhaps I don’t either.”
She squeezed Kagami’s hand before releasing it. The stool scraped back against the floor. Marinette’s footsteps faded, disappeared, then rose anew. A soft blanket was draped overtop of Kagami, tucked in around her by small, nimble hands.
The last sensation she registered before drifting off were fingers brushing gently across her cheek. And, although there were a hundred reasons she should have been wary or mistrustful or angry or anxious, the only think Kagami really felt as she drifted off was safe.
Kagami groaned. She was drenched in sweat, but couldn’t stop shivering. She passed her tongue over dry, cracked lips and shifted so the sunlight would stop burning through her lids. Even so, she had to squint when she finally forced her eyes open, dodging sharp strands of morning light that rippled through the wooden blinds.
Panic muddled her heartbeat as she struggled to remember where she was. But soon she noticed callused fingers resting on her forearm. She turned her head to see Marinette, seemingly asleep, hunched over the side of the table. She sat on the same wooden stool she’d dragged into place the night before.
Some kind of emotion caught in Kagami’s throat, making her swallow and blink back tears. Had Marinette been there all night?
She shook away the feeling as soon as it had come—she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She had to focus on getting better. On escaping.
“Mari-Marinette?” Kagami croaked, barely making a sound. She cleared her throat and tried again, and the second time she succeeded in rousing her…friend? Captor? Caretaker?
“Hm?” Marinette stirred, blinking rapidly then squinting as she sat up all the way. She let out a long yawn and stretched out her arms. “How is it morning al—” Her eyes latched onto Kagami’s. “Mimi. How are you feeling?”
Kagami tried her best to relax, to stop shivering. But it was no use when Marinette’s soft eyes hovered over her—they were very blue in the daylight, sparkling like tiny oceans that would be all too easy to drown in.
A cool hand cupped Kagami’s cheek.
“You’re feverish,” Marinette said. Her free hand tapped quickly against the table. “I mean, just a bit. And that’s normal after an injury like that. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about. I’m sure it’s fine. You’ll be fine.”
Kagami got the impression that she was mostly trying tor reassure herself.
Marinette bit her lip and stood, readjusting the blanket around Kagami. As she retreated to cupboards along the wall, Kagami dozed off a bit, stirring when a wet cloth dabbed against her forehead. She shivered again.
Marinette smiled weakly. “Are you hungry?”
Though she hadn’t registered the feeling previously, Marinette’s question drew attention to the hollow feeling in her stomach. Not entirely trusting her voice, she nodded.
“That’s a good sign,” Marinette said, glancing out the window. “I imagine the boys are up by now. Shouldn’t take too long for me to grab you something.” Her fingers settled on Kagami’s arm again. “Would you like some help sitting up?
Kagami wanted to refuse, but with her injured leg propped up at an awkward angle along a row of pillows and her body trembling persistently, it seemed easier to give in.
“Please.”
The shivering worsened as Marinette slipped an arm behind Kagami’s back and helped her up. Once seated, Kagami just wanted to lie back down. The blanket had fallen down to her waist, and she was definitely cold now. The sides of her head pounded dully. She was too overwhelmed to process the fact that she wore nothing but her underclothes, at least until Marinette spoke again.
“Here,” Marinette said, her voice muffled as she pulled a dark, wool sweater over her head. “You can have this.”
She tried to help Kagami put it on, but Kagami yanked it free. She couldn’t handle this much of Marinette right now.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
Marinette’s expression hardened. “Fine.”
It took Kagami far too long to actually pull the sweater on—every movement was somehow exhausting. By the time she managed to drag her second hand through its sleeve, Marinette was walking back into the room, wearing a new sweater—a blue a few shades darker than her eyes.
She set down a bowl of porridge with berries and a cup of water by Kagami’s side. As she passed over the cup, her fingers wrapped around Kagami’s shaking fingers until they found a steady hold. Kagami didn’t have the energy to fight it that time, so she let Marinette help guide the cup to her lips.
Kagami refused to admit that she missed the contact when Marinette pulled away.
After a few sips, the cup was exchanged for a bowl set in Kagami’s lap, and Marinette settled back onto the stool as Kagami pushed steaming gruel around with her spoon.
“I could…assist with the healing process,” Marinette said. “I could make it go faster. If you let me.”
Kagami stared up from her bowl. “I would have thought you’d have done that already.”
Marinette crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t do that without your consent. No matter how stupid I think you’re being…it is your choice.”
Kagami bought herself some time to think by taking a few bites of breakfast. It felt strange to swallow at first—she hadn’t had such a common breakfast in years, and she’d never quite liked the texture of oats. But in the end her rumbling stomach made the decision for her, and she forced it down.
Her curiosity got the better of her. “How would it work? Healing me with magic.”
“You’re considering it?” Marinette gasped.
“No. This is hypothetical. They would test me for magic when I returned. I’d be executed.” Kagami tried to ignore the way Marinette winced.
“They’re just killing people to spread fear, you know. The magic is an excuse.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Marinette said. “You can’t just sense magic in the bloodstream—that’s not how it works. Magic is energy. It’s everywhere, not just some specific particle you can test for—at least not without actually using magic. Spellcasting is really just…bending the Universe to your will, which is exactly why it’s dangerous. If you’re not careful, you’ll take in too much, more than any one body can handle. It takes years to master where you can safely draw powers from—certain plants and precious stones, mostly. If you try to just take it in blindly, it will consume you. But it doesn’t have to.” Marinette stood and began pacing.
Kagami narrowed her eyes and swallowed another bite of porridge. She suspected Marinette was taking this time to speak her mind because Kagami wasn’t able to respond efficiently while she ate, but there was no use calling her out; at the end of the day, Marinette would do as she pleased, and Kagami had never been good at getting her to stop talking.
There was a time that somehow didn’t feel so long ago when she’d never wanted Marinette to stop.
“Magic is…possibility,” Marinette continued. “It requires patience, trying to help the world along without forcing anything. I can make a plant grow faster, but not if the right ingredients aren’t there. For the sake of medicine…I can make skin knit together faster. I can make a wound clot faster. I can create new connections. Adrien prefers the opposite approach—he could undo the segments of a bone improperly healed, or target something causing an infection. The destruction leaves energy for me to create with, and creation makes it so magic doesn’t build up too much in one place. It’s all just balance at the end of the day. And there are other schools of thought, too. Luka thinks about it more like…playing with time.”
She stopped, facing Kagami with sharp eyes. “As for the blood tests your people conduct, that’s a complete farce. They test for an herb that commonly grows on our side of the river, that’s all. It technically exists on your side of the border too, it’s just harder to come by. But we don’t use that herb in this house, so anything I provide you with is safe.”
“I only have your word for that,” Kagami said, though she didn’t really think Marinette would lie. Even years later, trusting her was instinctual. Kagami just couldn’t show that. “I’m supposed to be the enemy—why would you want to help?”
“Because the Spellcasters have never been against the people of the Resistance. We’re against the deception and the lies. We’re against having our homes attacked for no reason. And even if I did wish harm on the rest of the Resistance…they’re not you, Kagami. I care about you.” She lowered her voice and walked back to Kagami’s side. “No matter how much I sometimes wish I could stop.”
Before Kagami registered what she was doing, she set down her bowl and reached for Marinette’s hand. “You were always too nice. Even that one time Chloe spilled sweetberry juice down the front of your new dress on the first day of school…you walked into class the next day, handed her a macaron, and said no hard feelings.”
“Adrien made me forgive her,” Marinette said. “I’m not that nice.” She shook her head, the hint of a smile playing across her lips. “How is she these days, anyways? Adrien wonders sometimes.”
“Chloe?” Kagami couldn’t help the smirk that stretched over her face. “As insufferable as always.”
Marinette laughed, and it was a lovely sound. Her laughter was magic—the sort she described as having endless possibility, not the kind that sucked the life away from someone.
But that was the thing. Kagami couldn’t forget all that. No matter how soft Marinette’s eyes were or how gentle her fingers. No matter how much a part of Kagami just wanted to wrap her in a hug and never let go, to breathe in her vaguely floral scent and lose herself in the memories of before.
She couldn’t trust a Spellcaster.
“I would prefer to heal naturally,” Kagami said.
Marinette pulled her hand away. “Suit yourself.”
On her third morning post-injury, Kagami was irritated to see Marinette sitting at her bedside when she awoke—in the actual bedroom they’d moved her to after the first night. Marinette had barely spoken to her since that first morning. She came by twice a day to check on Kagami’s wound, and sometimes she brought along a meal or helped Kagami to the washroom, but normally she left the latter tasks to Adrien or Luka.
It was another morning of porridge. Kagami glared at Marinette while she picked through it, but Marinette simply sketched something out on her notepad and acted like she didn’t notice until Kagami set her bowl down.
“I want a bath,” Kagami said when Marinette reached for the tray.
“You can’t have one.” Marinette set the tray on her lap. “Not with an open wound. Haven’t you ever heard of germ theory?”
That was a low blow, because of course she had. Adrien had been fascinated by all things science as a kid—he probably still was—and Marinette and Kagami had spent countless afternoons during their childhood sitting in a circle with him as he leafed through textbooks, sharing whatever details he found most fascinating as he read. The girls had spent much of that time goofing off, or watching the way he sunlight sparkled off of his golden locks, or secretly plotting to sneak away for an impromptu wooden swordfight, but of course they’d listened sometimes.
But if Marinette was going to be snippy, Kagami could respond in kind. “The wound’s closed now, is it not? Isn’t that the whole point of sutures?”
“You know that’s not how it works.” Marinette tilted her head. “But then again…it would be closed by now if you’d let me help.”
“No,” Kagami snapped.
They glared at each other for a long moment. and Marinette was the first to give up, slouching back against her chair.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
“Don’t you?” Kagami said.
“No. I…” Marinette reached across the bedspread and grabbed Kagami’s hand. “I don’t want to fight.” She glanced away. “I just wish things could be he way they used to be between us. And I know that’s stupid, but…”
Kagami wished she could deny that. But it was foolish. There was too much history. Their differences were too pronounced.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of Marinette’s hand.
“I could still help you clean up a little,” Marinette said. “If you’d let me.”
“What, are you offering me a sponge bath?”
Marinette ducked her head. “Something like that.”
Kagami swallowed, half-wondering if her fever had suddenly returned. Because the other possible explanation as to why her cheeks suddenly felt a little too warm was…well, that was stupid. This was just a matter of practicality; there was no reason to be flustered.
Except it was Marinette.
“Alright,” Kagami said.
Marinette’s eyes went wide—she’d never been good at hiding her emotions. She’d never really tried to hide them; Marinette had never seemed bothered by the way the rest of the world perceived her, and Kagami thought that was foolish.
But sometimes she envied it.
“I wasn’t expecting you to say yes,” Marinette said.
“I don’t like being dirty, that’s all.”
“Understandable. I will…go prepare, then.”
She smiled timidly as she lifted the tray and left the room, her floral-patterned pink skirt swaying as she went. Kagami’s heart clenched when she disappeared from sight—even though she was angry, and even though she knew Marinette was coming back, it always hurt to watch her walk away.
When she returned, Kagami was distracted from her fantasies by the pain in her thigh as Marinette helped her hobble to the bathroom. She couldn’t put much weight on her right leg yet, so Marinette bore the brunt of every step she took with it. There were no complaints, though, only gentle encouragement. Eventually she settled Kagami onto a stool beside the bathtub and propped up her injured leg on another chair.
Then came the awkward part.
Kagami easily stripped off the sweater Marinette had provided her that first morning, leaving her in her undershirt once more. The first night when Marinette had undressed her, Kagami had been too out of it to feel embarrassed. Now, she was painfully aware of Marinette helping her slide off the loose trousers she’d been given. Marinette held up a towel so she had privacy as she changed her undergarments, but she still felt exposed once she’d pulled the clean ones into place.
She was exposed—half naked in a cramped bathroom with a Spellcaster who reduced her to some lovestruck schoolgirl version of herself. Frankly, it was pathetic.
Even worse was that when Marinette offered her a wet cloth, Kagami handed it right back. “I trust you.”
Marinette lips parted, but she didn’t reply. After a stunned silence she shut her mouth, nodded, and got to work.
She started with Kagami’s arms. Chills travelled along Kagami’s skin as careful fingers held her wrist aloft and rubbed the cloth up and down. It was all Kagami could do not to melt on the spot, especially at the sharp intake of breath she heard when Marinette traced gently along the scars on one of her shoulders.
Marinette bent down to wet the cloth again, and Kagami stared openly, admiring the way her loosely braided hair settled on her shoulder, and wondering if she still liked to tuck flowers into her hair when she wandered around outside.
Next, Marinette cleaned Kagami’s back. A shiver rippled through Kagami when Marinette pushed up her chemise to clean underneath it, and every brush of her finger was a beautiful agony. Marinette’s breath tickled the back of Kagami’s neck as she worked. Tiny gasps cut into the remnants of Kagami’s composure whenever Marinette passed over a new scar.
As a soldier herself, Marinette was no stranger to getting hurt. But Marinette had always been affected by seeing her friends in pain. And Kagami was fairly sure that, if given the choice, Marinette wouldn’t have wanted to spend her life fighting.
Marinette dipped the cloth back in the bucket and smiled up at Kagami. “You might want to do your midsection yourself. I remember you being ticklish.”
Heat crawled its way back onto Kagami’s cheeks as she accepted the cloth.
When Marinette took over again, it should have been anticlimactic—there was nothing so sensual about legs, was there? At least aside from the inner parts of her thighs, which Marinette had also urged Kagami to clean herself before accepting the cloth back.
But as Marinette wrung out water from the cloth again and knelt beside Kagami’s wounded leg, a lump lodged in Kagami’s throat from the careful way Marinette dabbed around the bandage. She suppress a shiver after that as Marinette extended her uninjured leg and carefully made her way up the shin, stopping at the knee before wiping down the back.
Kagami shut her eyes for the remainder of Marinette’s work, unable to forget the image of Marinette kneeling beside her, imagining it was her lips working their way up Kagami’s legs instead of scrap fabric.
“Are you alright?” Marinette whispered after Kagami heard the cloth drop back into the bucket.
No, Kagami wanted to say, your hand is sliding up my leg and I’m seconds away from abandoning everything I ever believed in for a stupid childhood fantasy.
A fantasy—that was truly all it could be. Marinette had loved Adrien. Kagami had loved Adrien. And at some time or another he had loved them both. But Marinette loving Kagami? Being in love with her? Kagami had never been sure.
So she was about to tell Marinette she was fine, but then she noticed what Marinette was doing. She wasn’t sure Marinette even realized—it was probably just a habit.
But Kagami’s habits didn’t move matter through thin air like Marinette was doing now. Her finger made a stirring motion above the bucket, and the water swirled in response. It was a small thing, but even so…
It was magic.
Marinette looked down to the bucket and froze. The water immediately stopped churning. “Shit. Kagami, I didn’t mean to—“
“I’d like to go back to bed.”
It seemed a bit early for lunch when her door creaked open again, but it was hard to tell time when she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Just leave the tray, please.” Kagami was too busy trying to sort through…whatever she’d been feeling in the bathroom to care much for civility.
“I didn’t bring food,” Adrien replied.
Kagami glared at him. “What do you want, then?”
“To talk.” He carried a pair of crutches over, leaning them against the bed as he sank down beside her.
“Luka finished carving these this morning—we thought you might want a way to get around by yourself.”
“Thoughtful.”
“I’ll pass along your thanks,” Adrien replied, though Kagami was certain he’d known she wasn’t really conveying gratitude. She was still a prisoner of sorts, no matter how nicely she was being treated.
Adrien sat there silently until Kagami lost her patience. “Is that all?”
“Not quite, no. I think that…I mean, Marinette would…no. We—Marinette and I, and Luka—would like it if you came downstairs for lunch. To eat with us.”
“I’ll think about it,” she lied.
There was no way. No way she could face Marinette across the dining room table and want her after having seen the exact reason they wouldn’t work out.
Adrien wasn’t dissuaded. “You should do more than think about it. You could be happy here. You could—“
“I could what? Become a Spellcaster?”
“I mean, you wouldn’t have to be.”
Kagami barked a laugh. “What else would I do, Adrien? I know you’re an idealist, but you’re not naive.”
He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know, I just…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Another familiar thing that hurt. “She misses you like crazy. Talks about you all the time. And sometimes I ask her what she’s thinking about and she says nothing but she’s got that look in her eyes and I know she’s thinking of you. She looks for you every time we go out to defend the borders. We weren’t even supposed to be out there the other day—it’s not our rotation!—but Marinette was worried you would be out there, and she had to make sure you were okay.”
“So, what? You wish you hadn’t gone out to save me?”
Adrien’s face fell. “No! That’s not…”
He reached for Kagami’s hand, but pulled back at the last second, trailing his fingers along the blanket instead. Kagami couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Adrien said. “Trust me, if something had happened…You’re family. I’ll always care about you. And even though the way things ended between us was…”
“Disastrous? Catastrophic?”
He cracked a smile “I was going to say unfortunate.”
“Ah.” Kagami mirrored his amusement. “That too. Although, for what it’s worth, if we hadn’t wound up on opposite sides of this thing, then maybe…”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He paused. “But Marinette…if you stay, I’m fairly sure you have a chance with her.”
Kagami regarded him for a long moment. “I should think you’d want me to leave. So you could have her.”
“Heh. Marinette and I…I’m not sure. It’s complicated. But more than anything I want her to be happy. And I know she’s happier with you in her life.”
Kagami sighed. “She and I have been on opposite sides for…what? Seven years? Longer if you count the time before the Schism. How can she still care?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s just special that way.” Adrien stood and walked to the door, turning back before he left. “But then again, how can you still care?”
Adrien walked away before she had Kagami could respond, leaving her to wonder when she’d become so easy to read.
The second Kagami hobbled into the kitchen, she realized just how much Marinette had shielded her from the role that magic played in their house. A pot stirred itself on the stove. One of the portraits on the wall kept changing images. Adrien sat at the head of the table, frowning down at a book filled with runes. Luka’s hands rested on his shoulders as Adrien traced a rune with his finger. Marinette sat cross legged on the floor of the adjoining living room, playing idly with a few flower petals she kept swirling through the air around her while she scribbled on some paper with her other hand.
She was the first to notice Kagami’s arrival. Her flowers drifted to the floor as she stood up, spilling ink over the rug and waving her hand towards the kitchen. The pot stopped stirring, and several other things Kagami hadn’t realized were moving suddenly stilled. Adrien and Luka made no effort to hide their stares as Marinette approached Kagami.
“I’m sorry,” Marinette said. “I didn’t know you were coming down, or I would have—”
“It’s fine.”
Kagami’s skin crawled. Her heart raced. She wanted to run.
But the look in Marinette’s eyes held her steady.
“This is your home,” Kagami said. “You should do as you please.”
Marinette’s fingers twitched at her side, then reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Kagami’s ear. “I want you to be comfortable, too.”
Kagami balanced on her crutches, carefully stretching out a hand for Marinette to take. Marinette hesitated for a moment before grabbing on and squeezing tightly.
“I think I might be comfortable here with you,” Kagami said.
For the first time in years, Kagami was hit with the full force of Marinette’s smile. She’d only gotten more beautiful over time, and Kagami felt a thrill from the way her eyes sparkled.
Kagami’s resolve crumbled further when Marinette leaned forwards and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Come on in, then. Make yourself at home.”