𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢 | 守り [ENG VER]✓

愛好。

✶

When Kanae reopened her eyes, the infected patient was just a few centimeters from her face, his teeth sunk into the pale flesh of a muscular arm.

A drop of blood slid down her cheek.

The pillar barely had time to blink when a calloused hand covered her eyes.

"Don't look," Sanemi's hoarse voice ordered near her ear, giving her goosebumps before he covered her eyes with his other arm.

That touch, so rough yet so delicate at the same time, took the young woman's breath away. She didn't even flinch when her patient was hurled against the wall with a single blow.

✶

"Ara ara, Shinazugawa-kun. That wasn't a very smart move," the raven-haired woman murmured, tightening the white bandage around the wound. The fabric immediately soaked up tiny drops of blood, which multiplied until they formed a large circular stain. "Now you'll have to stay here until it's healed."

Sanemi didn't say a word, merely checking the dressing absentmindedly.

His gaze shifted from his arm, still wrapped in Kanae's slender hands, to her butterfly haori.

She looked like a butterfly ready to take flight, despite being trapped in such a horrible and despicable world.

His eyes climbed higher, tracing the shiny raven locks until they settled on her face, twisted in a concentrated grimace.

The blood from the infected patient had remained on her cheek, like a cyclamen in the snow.

Not hearing a response, the young woman looked up, meeting two brown irises fixed on her. She restrained herself with all her might from blushing like a fifteen-year-old, maintaining eye contact with Sanemi.

The wisteria in her eyes mingled with the darkness in Sanemi's, creating a dance of death known only to them.

The wind pillar's scarred hand lifted from the bed covers, gently touching Kanae's cheek with extreme delicacy.

"Don't forget this," the albino murmured, rubbing his thumb against the girl's cheek, wiping away the blood.

✶

Night enveloped the Wisteria House, only to be defeated by the first light of dawn.

Sanemi hadn't slept much that night, too busy tossing and turning in bed due to the pain from his wounds and the persistent thought of two beautiful wisteria-colored eyes.

It was all that woman's fault.

Her being so kind, so gentle towards him, drove him crazy. Couldn't she avoid him or be afraid of him like everyone else? It would have been much easier.