Cut From A Tattered Cloth

🌺Chapter 28🌺

Melia woke up to the sound of something tearing.

She sat up in her bed, bleary-eyed and disoriented. A part of her wondered if she had imagined it, when she heard it again. A long, sharp, ripping noise. As if someone was shredding an old sheet to braid a hip band.

She frowned. That couldn't be right. Most people in Zaram didn't even know what a hip band was, let alone how to make one. There was only one person she could think of who would be making a sound like that.

Oyaji.

Still blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she swung her feet out of bed and padded out of her room. The noise grew louder as she entered the living room. With the Rude Woman and her attendants gone for the night, the place was empty. The only sound came from Oyaji's room.

She knocked on his door. "Oyaji?"

He didn't answer. Melia pressed an ear to the door. She heard fabric tearing. Oyaji sounded like he was...what? Talking? Whimpering? That couldn't be right.

Melia listened for a moment longer. She didn't want to intrude, but something about this wasn't right. If she didn't know better, she'd think Oyaji was having a nightmare.

"Oyaji?" she tried again. "Are you alright? Is someone in there?"

The thought of that terrified her. What would she do if someone had snuck into Oyaji's room? What if it was that–that horrible man?

She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. "Oyaji! I'm coming in."

She threw open the door.

Oyaji's bed sheets were shredded. They floated around him in long, winding strips. Some of them snapped at his skin, leaving welts. Others tied and untied themselves around his hands and feet, leaving deep marks like a tourniquet.

Melia stared. Her first instinct was to think another cloth mage was in the room, attacking him, but no one was there. Even though she was seeing it, she still didn't know if she believed it. Oyaji was having a nightmare. His head lolled back and forth, brow furrowed as though he were in pain.

Alarmed, Melia snatched the fabric binding his legs. The strips went limp in her hands. She tossed them to the floor, then grabbed the ones whipping his shoulders.

"Tsu–tsubaki," he muttered. "A...a yame."

There were those words again. Tsubaki and yame. Oyaji had been muttering them ever since he got hurt. He would ask Melia for a tsubaki–whatever that was–and when Melia asked him to clarify he'd say, "yame." Stop it.

The first time he asked for a tsubaki, Melia thought it was important. But, since he kept asking for it on repeat, she assumed it was part of his condition. If he was still thinking about it, did that mean he wasn't healed yet?

A tear slipped out of Oyaji's eye.

Melia froze. Somehow the sight of that terrified her more than anything. Oyaji didn't cry. Oyaji didn't even get sad. She was the emotional wreck that needed his help keeping it together. But if he was falling apart now...

This was wrong. She shouldn't be here. It was a mistake for her to intrude on him like this. What would Oyaji think if he knew she'd seen him crying?

She averted her eyes, ashamed of herself.

Three long strips twisted around each other, making a rope. Melia watched the rope tie itself into a noose, then fasten itself around Oyaji's neck.

"No!"

Melia grabbed the noose, wedging her fingers around and making a fist so that it couldn't close all the way.