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Tengu biology is a blessing and a curse. It allows Sara to perform tasks with enhanced physical strength and reflexes, which are extremely sought-after traits in the military, but it is also the thing that marks her as different from the humans she tries to blend with.
She will never be fully human, as Takayuki once said, and she truly thought she made peace with that fact a long time ago. She will be ostracized, but she will also be treated as an irreplaceable asset in the army, with constant contradictions that she must only bow down to and ignore, contradictions she will avoid continuing to do her duty as the Shogun's most trusted general.
But, with blood dripping down her back, wings spread and black feathers drifting down to the wet dirt, hands shakily holding her bow, she realizes now that indifference towards their animosity is not what she desired.
Her attackers are from her squadron, men she trained, ones she let retire from injuries or sickness, ones she congratulated and fought with side by side on the battlefield, and who she thought she had good relationships with. Their faces twist into snarls as they see her get up again, and again, fury making them strike harder, faster, doing anything in their power to make her kneel and see her fall. Her gloves are torn, and she digs her fingers into the earth as a kick sends her off balance, her knee hurting as it makes contact with the cold mud. She feels another one approach from behind, and she rolls away before the blade kisses the skin on her back again.
The rain is pouring, making streams of water slide down over her eyes. They mix with the saltiness of her tears, anger, betrayal, and so much sadness.
"Why?" She croaks out to them, dodging an incoming swipe from a sword.
They only laugh.
She asks again. "Why?"
"Your wings fetch a pretty price on the market, general. No hard feelings, right old friend?" He grins widely, his lips stretched cruelly over his teeth.
She growls at his words. "Friend?"
"Why, yes! Ah, if only I knew your worth in Mora back when I was in the Shogunate's army, I would have sent your wings as a peace offering to Sangonomyia myself!" He cackles. "And I would have secured myself a good future too! Alas, I figured I'd rectify my mistake." His boots dig into the ground, polearm at the ready.
"Honestly, it's a shame to keep such pretty wings to yourself," another one adds, casually giving a shrug. "I'd rather like them on my own wall, but the money is too good to pass up, you know? So come on now," he twirls his swords, steel shining in the moonlight.
"Give us those lovely feathers."
A knot forms in her throat, and her eyes burn.
And yet they laugh, and they laugh, and they laugh.
Her heart twists painfully. She swipes at another man's legs, and he stumbles. A decisive stomp on his chest, a cracking sound, leaves him on the ground, lifeless. Her breaths heave, and
the pain in her chest starts to twist into something angry. Something unsightly.
Her vision crackles under her fingers. Her knuckles are white and she feels her hair rise as the lightning curls around her bow, swiftly centering an arrow with the throat of an assailant.
(He was one she would share the occasional drink with; she would listen to his inebriated rambling about his home life and admire the fire in his eyes- they are void of feeling now.)
She releases.
Her face is blank as she watches him gurgle on his own blood before he collapses.
They freeze. Weariness takes root in their eyes and their postures tense.
She grabs her vision and her hand burns. She calls upon the lightning of The Shogun and her eyes are cruel. "You are all a disgrace to Inazuma." She sneers back at them, wings unfurled and voice low. "I am ashamed to have fought alongside you and called you brothers in arms. May the gods have mercy on your soul," her crow-feather fan feels familiar in her hands as it materializes. "Because I refuse to."
Their expressions darken, and they charge toward her in an uncoordinated mess of anger.
They are fast, but she has always, always, been faster.
Before they can reach her, she brings down bolts of electricity, shrieks of pain deafening as they crumble to the ground in heaps of pathetic cowardice. Their demise was short but painful, and the thought of them living long and healthy lives should they have never decided to fight against her inevitably crosses her mind.
She stands, alone, in the middle of the bodies. Her vision spins, and her knees buckle. She falls over, hurling. The smell of seared flesh digs into her lungs, and she tries in vain to spill it out as every breath she takes only lets it slither right back in.
Getting back up is a difficult task, but she manages, digging her fingers into the rough bark of a tree. Her back is burning, and she feels herself lose a substantial amount of blood. She's in too much pain to fly back.
She drags her feet back to her quarters at what she can tell is nearly morning, the sky starting to pink from the rising sun, shoulders sagged and eyes heavy, alone. She tends to her wounds, wrapping bandages across her back crudely, alone. She smooths her feathers, seared from lightning and frazzled, alone.
She lays in bed and cries until her throat hurts, alone.
So, so bitterly alone.
---
Morning -or rather, afternoon- finds her sleeping, the sun slithering through the window and blinding her when she opens her eyes. Her head throbs, and she curls into herself, away from the painful light. This action, however, makes her back muscles tense, and a pained grunt escapes her. She reaches behind her and touches the bandages, bringing her hand back to see blood on her fingertips.
She reopened the wound. She bites her lip, eyes dry, mind already swimming with her duties and how much she risks by taking a day off. She rises slowly, the pain making her wince, careful not to stain the sheets and aware not to jostle the wound anymore, lest she bleed on the floor. Her eyes flash to the doorway as she hears footsteps approaching. She tries to fix her posture as best as she can, wings twitching in pain.
The door opens and inside steps one of the maids, who bows respectfully. "Miss Kujou, your presence has been requested by your brother." Her voice is gentle, and Sara vaguely appreciates that. A silent thank you is given to her in her mind.
The sheets crease under her hands. She has duties to attend to. She must do what she is being asked to do, or else her worth decreases by the second. She feels the sting of the cut in every breath she takes, and it makes her indecision grow.
She knows that doing anything in this bad of a state will only set her up for bigger consequences in the future, but her sense of duty and anxiety at leaving everything without supervision is tugging at her battered body, pushing her into making the responsible decision of getting up and working as she should.
Moments pass and the maid eyes her curiously, probably confused at why her Miss doesn't answer as quickly and decisively as she used to. Sara also feels herself growing restless, but her hurting back keeps her still.
She inhales, holds that slippery breath in her lungs for five seconds before releasing it, and ultimately comes to a conclusion: "Tell him that I cannot participate in any activity today. I have fallen ill." A half-truth is the best course of action, she decides. "I will recuperate for a time in my room."
The maid's eyes widen, and she hastily straightens her posture. A hand reaches to rest on her chest, slight panic whirling in her gaze. "Do you wish for me to call a healer, Miss?"
Sara shakes her head, wanting to instinctively raise her hand to placate her worry, but flinching when she tries to move it. "No need." She sees the eyes of the maid focusing on the bandages around her shoulders, and she can't quite find the strength to sit up straighter. "It will pass on its own. Tell him I apologize for the inconvenience and that I would like not to receive visitors for the time being."
The maid's eyes roam over her posture, eyes furrowed with doubt. They soften, and Sara uses an impressive amount of willpower not to stiffen under her gaze. "... As you wish, Miss."
She bows again, the door slides closed, and she is yet again, alone. A sigh escapes her lips as she stands, and she proceeded to grab bandages from her bedside drawer and change them.
Her mind drifts, hands working methodically, slower than she usually does, using a frankly absurd amount of effort because of the sharp pain she feels from the gash on her back. Her shoulder isn't feeling any better, even if it is only bruised.
(The dark purple and green that spread like a fungus across her skin render her eyes unfocused, days of training and the sound of a belt buckle spearing through her mind.)
Her neck snaps to the side, tension releasing with several pops and she leans down slowly, taking another roll of bandages.
She thinks about her wings ( horrible, terrifying things that make the humans scream when they see her outside of her cage- abnormal, monstrous ) as she smooths the feathers back down, and gently plucks the ones out of place with weak fingers. They seem relatively undamaged, so she leans down to put the rest of the medical equipment back into the drawer. Her eyes drift to the mirror opposite her as she straightens to asses her body. ( She doesn't admire herself no, admiration of oneself was disciplined out of her long ago, as it was a privilege only for other people of higher status amongst the shogunate's men- she has left pridefulness as her body was made for battle, molded for war. )
Her bandage work leaves much to be desired, and she empties her lungs with a sigh. Her hair is messy, dark locks still dirty with filth after foregoing to clean herself last night, her lip is split, her skin is pale, her clothes are wrinkled and she is in desperate need of-
( Something.
Of what?
Comfort?
As a youkai? As a spoiled, vicious tengu? Comfort for just a measly pair of wings attached to the body of a filthy creature? Or is it the wings that make her the "creature"?
A simple sword slice would have been enough. )
She rips her eyes away from the mirror, teeth clenched. Instead, she looks out the window and her eyes fall onto the Sacred Sakura Tree in the distance. Her heart sends a pang of longing into her body, something akin to a knot building in her throat and she faintly wishes the Guuji would be here with her. She hasn't been able to visit the shrine for a long time now, and she misses the talks they would have while drinking tea. Whenever the lull of their conversation would draw to silence, Sara would listen, eyes closed, basking in the steady breathing of the woman sitting near her, the chirping of the birds, the movement of the grass, all while the smell of tea would pass by her, the feel of the cup warm and comforting. She knew that whenever she indulged in such a way, the Guuji would watch her. However, Sara would forever be unaware of what expression she was donning, for when she would open her eyes to see, the sly fox would have an equally sly grin, teasing her.
"My, my quite sleepy are we? Overworked much?"
Her heart beats once, painfully, at that memory. Regardless of that, her thoughts wander, lightly tracing the windowsill, feeling the wood texture under her fingertips.
The first time the fox maiden offered to pour her a cup, she instantly refused; she didn't want to spend unnecessary time at the shrine after she finished the purpose of her visit: a simple report and a message from their beloved archon. She remembers, how she shook her head, pink hair falling from behind her ear ( her fingers twitched at the time; she wondered how would it feel to touch it ) smiling a weirdly tame smile, a crinkle to her eyes she never saw until them.
"Whatever you wish, dear tengu." she had said. "You will always find me here if you need me."
( If she needed her? Her wording, even back then, was categorized by Sarahas peculiar. What would she possibly need the Guuji for? The only times they interacted was when she had urgent messages to deliver, and even then it was brisk, straight to the point. Why would Sarah ever need her for anything?
Sara felt her wings flex, shaking from the strain. Her bed felt awfully cold now. )
But she never stopped asking, even after that. Sara learned that determination came in many forms thanks to her, and she took up the offer, begrudgingly, frustration taking a toll on her judgment after many attempts, wary of the way the shrine maiden's grin widened at her words of acceptance. She had beckoned her immediately, guiding her to the roots of a sakura tree, where a blanket and a basket lay. A shrine maiden was swiftly called as they sat, and within a few minutes filled with questions about herself that Sarah gave half-hearted responses to, tea was presented to them. The Guuji had offered sweets at that time, saying that they worked wonderfully with the drink, and Sara had tasted only one of them, just out of simple politeness.
She had found it palatable but declined any further attempts at "trying out" others. She vaguely recalls mumbling about not being a big fan of sweets, and noting with suspicion how the ears of the kitsune had twitched, even as her face showed no indication of hearing that information. They drank their tea in relative silence, occasionally broken by the personal questions the Guuji would ask. Sarah answered clipped, but only because she lacked satisfactory answers. ( She was only a general in the army, made to serve and protect. Why would her hobbies matter? )
She had bid farewell after their cups were empty, mind full of sakura petals for reasons she couldn't fathom.
The next time she accepted, she found no sweets, but flavorful foods. When the dishes were plucked out of the basket and placed upon the blanket, Sarah could only eye them with distrust. She didn't fare well with spice, and she was on high alert every time she took a small bite of food, fearful of a cruel joke. Among the dishes though, was a small batch of onigiri, which, in her attempts to keep her eyes on the woman at all times to avoid any tricks, she had been unknowingly nibbling on until they ran out. Even if the fox saw her eating from the others, the fact remained that the onigiri plate was empty. She had silently sipped on tea after that, its delicious taste a merciful distraction from the slight embarrassment of finishing an entire plate of food without even asking the other woman if she wishes to eat from it as well. She was aware it couldn't possibly go unnoticed, but the kitsune had simply eaten in silence and sipped her tea with grace until the time for Sarah to depart had come.
She had expected teases from the other woman about her "bland tastes" the next time she visited, but only a bigger batch of onigiri was pulled from the basket when she sat down. She looked at the plate in slight confusion, awfully aware of the unusual silence of the other woman.
"Where... are the other dishes?" she asks with hesitation. It seemed odd to only have one type of food when all the other times there had been a variety to choose from.
Guuji Yae had smiled then, not teasing or mocking; just a small twist of her lips as she spoke. "I brought them to figure out your favorite amongst them. I hope I guessed correctly?"
Her fingers had curled in the blanket. Her tongue had felt dry in her mouth. Her teeth suddenly too heavy for her jaws, Sara merely nodded.
She had taken each bite slowly after that, appreciating the taste of the rice. On her way back, she asked a shrine maiden what the Guuji prefers to eat regularly. The maiden was rightfully confused but answered honestly.
Since then, she always made sure to bring a serving of the appropriately named "Kitsune Udon" -if the big fox head symbol on the food gave any indication- whenever she would be called for tea, which the pink-haired woman accepted with much delight the first time she received it.
"My, my, you must truly appreciate your onigiri if you brought this delicacy along with you. Worry not, my little bird, I would have kept giving you food regardless."
Sara squeezes her pillow to her chest; something about the words that were said back then make her ache painfully.
A knock on her door jerks her back to the present, the warm feeling of contentment vanishing as she rises from the bed. Her head throbs with a sudden headache at the effort. She tries to walk, but a twinge of pain shoots up her leg, so she wobbles as silently as she can to answer the door. She thinks back to her brother, who had come at some point during her hours-long reminiscence, an interaction she barely remembers through a haze of pain and tiredness, and her swift dismissal of his concern. He told her he would try to bring her some medicine, denying her attempts at refusal. She grits her teeth, frustration and annoyance seeping into her voice as she opens the door; he probably went through with his idea anyways, damn him.
It is an oversight that she simply assumes who is behind the door before opening it. "Masahito, I told you I don't want-"
Her words die in her throat, eyes widening, as she views who stands at her doorstep.
Right in front of her is Yae Miko, high priestess of the Narukami Shrine herself, holding a basket ( -of food, she realizes. It gives off the most enticing smell, her mouth watering at the thought of ending the hunger she has been made aware of. ) and sporting a frown that enhances the confusion in her lavender eyes. They flick up and down two times in quick succession and that confusion quickly turns into something darker as she takes note of the bandages along her torso and arm that peek under her night clothes. Sara shuffles nervously, unknowingly digging her fingers into the door.
"You're not sick at all, are you, Miss Kujou ?" she hisses, and Sara feels the hair at the back of her neck stand up, feathers ruffling. "Or rather, you must be, with the state that you are in."
And she's right of course, the tengu knows she looks like death rolled her under a boulder and she crawled her way out - not in the slightest passing as the mere flu - but she still tries to come up with some kind of excuse. It feels unimportant to her that she is wounded, and regret sets in that she took a "sick day" if this is how things are turning out. Making the Guuji come all the way from the shrine to her abode, at this hour of the night? Sara would kneel with a thousand apologies if she needs to.
Sara stutters a response, shame growing in her stomach. "Apologies, this is not...I didn't think that-"
The fox shakes her head, putting a hand on her uninjured shoulder, pushing her back inside the room, making sure the door slides shut with a swift push of a foot. "Yes, you didn't think . I am aware of this foolish tendency of yours." She fixes Sara with a glare, pointing over the tengu's shoulder to the mattress.
"Now get on the bed and eat while I look at your wounds." There is a thud as the basket is dropped to the floor, the fox already working on removing the long sleeves of her shrine attire.
Sara fumbles, taking one step back. She eyes the basket. "But I already had-"
"I know you didn't eat anything today," the woman snaps. Her tone is dangerous and bordering on angry as she finally shrugs the sleeves of her hands, kicking them away as she grabs the basket."So you either do what I told you or I'm telling our dearest shogun about your impressive statue collection that you love oh so very much."
She cocks her hip, waiting. "What will it be, dear general?"
Sara worries her bottom lip, hands grasping at the hem of her nightshirt.
She sits, slowly, hands spread on either side for support. She dismisses her wings, and her back feels much colder without the warmth of them.
An amused smile graces the other woman's face before it's wiped straight off as she steps around to the other side of the bed. The basket is unceremoniously thrown into her lap, a yelp escaping Sara's throat as she grasps it quickly. She is given a command to eat before she feels a weight dip on the bed behind her. The Guuji takes a hold of the hem of her shirt, lightly raking her nails upward as she lifts it, getting a full view of her injuries while setting off goosebumps to rise on Sara's arms. She feels more than she hears the sigh that escapes from the mouth of the other woman when her warm hands recede and the shirt falls over her back again. A poke is delivered, this time on her wounded shoulder, and Sara swallows a grunt from escaping. "Eat, I said, and give me the bandage rolls from your drawer while you're at it."
Sara moves quickly, as she always does when receiving orders, but gets halted in her movements when a sharp pain strikes against her back, and she hisses, freezing. Immediately, a warm hand rests on her arm, words being spoken right next to her ear: "Not that fast, you fool. Damn it, you just ripped open your wound."
There's a frustrated growl as the fox lady steps around the bed again, crouching down in front of her drawer and plucking out the bandages. She shoots a murderous side-eye in Sara's direction. "You're just ill, huh? Then what about that little scratch on your back that's bleeding enough to fill a bucket? "
The tengu can't look her in the eye, deciding instead to examine the basket's craftsmanship thoroughly. Her stomach growls loudly.
Her shame climbs up to her ears, staining them red, and she is yet again instructed to eat before her embarrassing statue collection becomes known by the whole Inazuma this time.
Sara opens the basket in delicate silence, the creaking of the wood being the loudest sound in the room besides their breathing and the occasional short ripping sound of the gauze. She can't help how her mouth waters at the sight of what she finds inside; onigiri, along with what she realizes is fried shrimp placed neatly as a side dish. She practically inhales the first one, rice warm on her tongue, before moving on to the next one, and the one after that. They're gone in the blink of an eye, and she is left regretful, nibbling on the shrimp. She should have enjoyed it more and should have eaten slower, but she hadn't realized how hungry she truly was until the first bite.
She forgets about the other person in the room for a few more seconds, until fingers ghost the nape of her neck and she jumps, almost dropping the food in her hand.
"Apologies," she mumbles around a bite of shrimp, faster than Yae could have uttered an "I'm sorry" herself.
She yelps as Yae tugs sharply at the hair on her nape, before lightly scolding her. "Don't apologize for this. I scared you, so I'm the one who's supposed to say sorry."
"Sorry- I mean, yes. You're right. Yes." She fiddles with the bandage on her forearm, before she catches herself. She leans to place the empty basket at her feet, stomach now full and her fingers tighten into fists as she rises, scolding herself internally at the lack of composure. She is a general who participated in the war, and yet she struggles with light pain?
Warm hands and gentle fingers are upon her again, lightly tracing the white strips of gauze that peek around her neck and Sara hears a sigh from behind. "You must learn not to apologize for existing, little bird."
Sara says nothing.
Has no words to say anything, really. How could she respond to that?
"Now," Yae murmurs. "I'm going to replace this bloody mess on your back. I don't have a blade to properly cut it, so I'll use my hands. Tell me if I nick you." She gently pulls up her shirt enough to gain access to the bloody mess that is her bandages.
Something sharp is pressed against the gauze and when Sara inhales, there is a ripping sound, before the tightness around her chest loosens and the gauze falls away. She removes it completely by lightly tugging, a furrow in her brows as she sees the shreds, bathed in copious amounts of blood. The cut is clean, surprisingly so. You'd think that ripping cloth with your bare hands would be harder, but Yae did it effortlessly.
"The injury looks clean." A finger is pressed against the outer part of the slash wound, and Sara notes absentmindedly that the nails feel... Longer. "You did a remarkable cleaning job. You're lucky it's not that deep, but it might still leave scarring if you opened it multiple times-" she stops, then huffs. "Something I'm guessing you've probably already done, this one time included."
Sara shrugs one shoulder in response.
"With that out of the way," Yae shuffles behind her, and Sara can see her pink hair swishing in the mirror opposite her. "I need you to open up your wings, little bird." Red-tipped nails reach for the sky as the other woman stretches languidly behind her, a relieved exhale slipping past her lips. "I need to make sure the gauze is applied accordingly, so everything heals nicely."
Honestly, it's a shame to keep such pretty wings to yourself!
She squeezes her eyes shut. She inhales deeply, five seconds, before letting it go, another five.
"Sara?"
There's concern in her tone, and the tengu shakes her head slightly. "Yes, I'll do it. Just... Give me a moment."
With another deep breath, her wings spring forth, stretched in their full glory over her naked back. She hopes that Yae pulled her shirt up enough so it wouldn't rip.
Hands expertly apply the bandages to her body, respectful not to touch anything they aren't allowed to, and Sara is silently grateful for the gentleness which the Guuji uses. With one last tug, the bandages are secure in their place, and Sara folds her wings back, pleasantly surprised at how the wings don't tug at gauze like they used to before. A small appreciative hum escapes her lips.
There is shuffling, before a hand rests upon her smaller wings, lightly stroking the inky feathers. Sara's back tenses, and she curls in herself, folding her wings tighter against her. They twitch as the action sends a pang of pain through her body, but she grits her teeth.
"Now, now, little bird," she says, slowly applying pressure between the general's shoulder blades. "Don't do that, they won't heal properly like this."
Sara shivers as her wings stretch back into a proper resting position. There is a curious hum before she feels a feather being plucked out. She must have missed some stray ones while tidying the wounds the other night. "They have a surprisingly healthy sheen. I'm glad you take good care of your wings, Sara."
Give us those lovely feathers.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Sara stretches to put the empty basket in her bedside drawer. "Thank you for the food Guuji Yae. It was delicious. I will make sure to get you something as well the next time I visit."
"Oh, so formal even after all this time." Yae drapes her hands around her neck, and Sara swears she can feel her let out a content purr as she places her chin on the top of her head. The tengu freezes in place, eyes looking straight into her own lap. "I say we're way past that, don't you agree?"
"I suppose..."
Every breath the other woman takes spills upon her head, and her neck is starting to warm up from the proximity. She clenches the hands in her lap, lifting her head slightly to look at the drawer.
"Good bird," Yae says, a tease in her words. "Now, tell me, dear general, how did you manage to get all of -" She taps the bindings on her chest with a finger. "This- to happen to you?"
Your wings fetch a pretty price on the market, general.
She fists the cloth of her pants, suddenly glad Miko can't see her face at that moment. Her teeth gnash together, heart tight against her rib cage.
No hard feelings!
Unfamiliar wetness gathers in her eyes. Emotions pile in her throat, and she swallows them down like bitter medicine to the best of her ability.
She keeps her voice perfectly even as she speaks: "Training accident. Not enough rest made me susceptible to more attacks from my sparring partners. I had reports to file and sign, so I slept right before the sun rose. I was... Sluggish."
Hot tears silently drip down her cheek but her voice does not change.
A truth and a lie. Her lack of sleep made her pay less attention to her surroundings on her way back from work, and she got surrounded and wounded before she could properly assess her situation.
"It was my fault and I should have handled it better."
Unbecoming of a general.
If you weren't my daughter I would never see you capable of becoming anything more than a training dummy for the army. Get up and commence a proper battle, or don't get up at all!
Damn him, her traitorous father.
Silence again, and she swallows down the lump in her throat as tears keep trickling down her face.
I would have sent your wings as a peace offering to Sangonomyia myself!
May the Shogun damn her existence, for her eyes are stinging and her breaths are hard to control. She can feel her lips tremble and the knot in her throat is impossible to swallow down now.
She didn't wish for this.
She had given so much of herself for this, for them- the people of Inazuma.
She didn't want to fight, she doesn't revel in bloodshed, and she is no monster that they can mutilate and burn at the stake.
"I despise seeing you cry like this, dear bird," comes the soft words from behind her.
Sara blinks in confusion, slowly processing the words. When she understands the meaning, her eyes widen in horror.
The mirror.
She forgot about the mirror.
She glances at Yae in the reflective glass, the fox's expression soft and open. She lays her cheek on her head, and her body pushes closer, leaving no space between them, embracing her slowly, gently. Her hands snake down from over her shoulders, feeling every trembling breath the general lets out as her fingers glide over her ribs and entwine over her stomach. "I hate seeing you hurt, Sara." Her lips leave a kiss on the top of her head, soft, caring, tender- and her murmur tickles past her skull and bleeds all the way down to her rickety heart. "So don't hide from me when you need me."
"Let me help you."
A noise makes it past her lips - choked and pathetic - before her sobs become uncontrollable. She clutches at the hands embracing her, gasping air into her lungs.
She whimpers as she's being turned around, and she lets herself be pulled down properly onto the mattress, not caring that one of her wings gets caught under her ribs. She tries to breathe, with greedy gulps and fast puffs to calm herself down, but she finds it extremely hard to do so. She nearly claws at her chest but grips the other woman's clothes firmly instead.
Delicate hands reach across her back and set free the trapped wing, and her pained voice wails a simple name.
"Miko-" but she chokes on her own tears, incapable of uttering even an apology for the ugly view that she must be. "Miko- Miko I'm-"
"Oh, Sara..." She says, kissing her temple and bringing them closer together, sending the tengu back into a sobbing mess of a general. She grips Miko's clothes like a lifeline, awfully aware of how wrinkled they will be.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please-" She chokes again. "I didn't want this Miko, I swear, but they-" she swallows heavily. "They wanted to kill me , Miko they wanted my wings and I couldn't-"
Her head jerks and she rests her forehead on the other woman's warm shoulder. "They would have left me to bleed out there. They-They were my men and they wanted to trade my... My wings for Mora. I couldn't do- I had no other choice." She shakes as her hands coil around Miko's back, curling her whole body into the embrace of the woman, who is looking at her, eyes a mix of concern, fury, and sadness.
The fox ghosts her lips over her ear, her voice low, down to a whisper. "You're alright now, Sara. You did what you could. And while I would have just loved to make skin pelts for my office out of them," her arms tighten around the tengu's body, thumbs running slow, smooth circles across her lower back, mindful of her wings and injuries. "What's important is that you're alive . You're here with me. And that's all that matters."
Sara trembles when fingers card through her hair, nails scraping gently over her scalp and hitching her breath. "You're safe, Sara. You will heal, and you'll be alright."
"So breathe, little bird, for all your sorrows will fade come the morning."
Her lungs expand gradually, her chest feels clean again, not weighted down by her fear, and her heart beats back into its normal rhythm. The smell of sakura petals invades her senses, Miko's fingers still working between locks of dark hair, and Sara feels like her body properly relaxes for the first time in... A long while.
She's slack, malleable like clay in Miko's hands and she exhales one last agitated breath before she lets her eyes blink into focus, only seeing the smooth skin of a bare shoulder and the white collar of her clothing.
She is exhausted and can feel that tiredness spread all the way to her bones, and with each second that she tries to fight off her increasingly heavy eyelids, the more she feels like indulging in a bit of rest isn't such an awful thought. Despite that, with her jaw feeling too heavy for her mouth, she opens it, uttering words of gratitude to the woman that had stayed with her.
She feels the hand in her hair still, before it slides down to her nape and Miko pulls her chin back from its resting place on the crown of Sara's head. Thinking she wants to leave, the tengu grabs her waist firmly, a plea ready on her tongue, but the fox simply leans back in, foreheads touching, breaths mingling.
Sara is aware of her red eyes, rosy cheeks, and tears that still cling to her eyelashes like droplets of dew cling to leaves, but she gazes back into lavender eyes, seeing the moonlight from the window outlining them in a soft, blue glow, that expands to her face and the stray strands of pink hair. It reminds her of the Sacred Sakura's brilliance. The sight is beautiful, a delicate and treasured memory, and Sara can't bear to keep her tired eyes open anymore lest she cries again.
There is a gentle push at her nape, and she sighs when her lips meet softness, fingers resting idly upon Miko's waist. The smell of sakura envelopes her fully, mind and body at ease. The kiss is slow, tired, both of them knowing they will fall into rest's embrace soon.
They part, lingering, barely touching, before a smile forms on the tengu's face. Sara's eyes are open and wanting, but she is fatigued, and with a look of soft understanding, Miko brings her head back to the connection between her neck and shoulder, shielding her from the outside world. Sara barely feels her hand leaving her neck to pull the blanket up to their shoulders, but she eases into her embrace instantly.
---
She doesn't remember when she fell asleep, but she finds herself in a tangled heap of limbs when she awakes, head on Miko's chest and legs entwined under the covers. Sara's hands ended up curling around the fox lady's waist, and in her early morning confusion, squeezed the invading person lightly.
The other woman stirs and grumbles, pressing closer and nuzzling her nose into the crown of Sara's hair, as her tail that the tengu only now noticed thumps behind her on the bed. The sight makes her heart warm, and she sighs, slotting herself more comfortably against the other body.
At least, while Miko is here, she never has to be alone.