Chapter Text
"His condition is stable now, I think. Hang on, let me get his vitals one more time."
Rikka rushes back to the table where she put the supplies and takes Ira's heart rate for the umpteenth time. It's finally mostly consistent. She checks his breathing for the same thing, and while it's shallow it's not as bad as before, when he was hardly breathing at all.
Rikka shivers. She doesn't know what happened to him to cause this, but it is bad . Respiratory problems, heart palpitations, a fractured scapula with a connected broken arm, twenty-three stitches in his leg, but that's not the worst of it. The worst of it is the smell of burning flesh, the jagged lines of crimson red, the countless rips and tears caking his skin that make him appear corpse-like, the torn and weathered state of his right wing. It covers maybe a little less than a third of his body and seems to be mainly localized on the right side near the upper torso and arm.
Now that he is stabilized, she can ponder the cause of it. There are admittedly a number of things in her world that could have caused this. However due to the timing and circumstances, she can rule out a few possibilities.
There have been no reports or talk of explosions nearby, and Ira was unconscious on the beach so he couldn't have been too far from here. Also this town is relatively safe and away from hostile borders, so she doubts it was another human or manmade explosive, but by the injuries and skin irritation it seems to have been some kind of sudden thermal burn.
The patterns suggest electricity, which could have originated from a number of things. The thunderstorm last night might have shorted something but anything with that much electricity has defenses and failsafes against storms, and again there hasn't been news of anything...
Wait. Thunderstorm. The lines on the skin...the timing...burning flesh...
Ira didn't get hit by lightning, did he? And if that were the case, he would have been waiting there for hours before Rikka found him. Lying there, sand in his wounds, for at least four hours-
She needs to take his pulse again.
Raquel interrupts her, entering the room with his favourite comfort candy and trying his best not to look at her patient. "You're done with all the stitches and cleaning stuff, right?" He asks nervously. Rikka sighs and hums in confirmation.
"There aren't any more gross bits anymore, at least until his bandages need renewing. Thanks again for finding those by the way." She hums again. Raquel offers a small 'sure' and sits on the armrest of her chair.
They say nothing for a long time, just sitting and watching Ira's chest rise and fall, until Rikka chokes out a tiny sob.
Instantly, Raquel panics. He's a newborn pixie, he doesn't know how to deal with crying Cure Warriors! Still he tries his best and flutters about Rikka's head, saying things like, "Hey- no- it's okay! He's okay, you saved him!" and, "You're a Cure, you need to be strong! You've faced worse than this!" but Rikka just cries more intensely. Finally he is freed of his panic when she grabs him and holds him to her chest in a firm embrace.
She utters softly, "I don't know what to do, Raquel," her breath hitches, "I've never treated anyone properly before, and his wounds are so serious. He could really die, and I'm not ready." Her crying quiets but does not cease or slow. "Just remind me that you're here for now, okay? Not- not laying helpless on a beach suffocating."
Raquel's eyes widen at the implication, and he tries his best to hug her back. "I'm okay," He promises, "I'm not going anywhere."
They stay like that until Rikka cries herself to sleep.