Hajin woke on the eighth morning and dragged in a breath that found no knife under his ribs.
'Zero stabbing, barely a twinge, holy shit, did that draught actually finish the job overnight?'
An evening of food and enforced stillness let yesterday's shared draught finish its work somewhere before the dawn bells rang. Tenderness lurked beneath the fading warmth in his side, so he wanted a physician's look before showing Juna another stunt.
'One nice breath, you reckless bastard, so get it checked before some monster admires it.'
The apothecary's physician jabbed two fingers under his raised arms, hunting for a wince.
"Ow, okay, that one's on me, I flinched on purpose to keep things interesting for you."
"Ordinary walking," the physician said, pressing harder, "and if the sharp pain returns, you come straight back here instead of treating one good breath as permission to throw yourself at whatever looks interesting across the street."
