The 12th Fatui Harbinger

Thirty Six

The crippling fear, anxiety and depression started to hit her like bricks as soon as she woke up. Yuria didn't know how to deal with the overwhelming guilt and shame of yesterday's events. She could have sworn she saw a different blue eyed man before she passed out, and she almost wished Childe was here instead. Yuria's brows furred as she corrected herself. No she didn't. Of course she was glad Ayato came to her rescue. He was an integral part of her plan to topple Inazuma. She should be grateful for his perseverance. It was indeed what saved her yesterday-- all those years he hounded her through Aoki-- he still clearly wasn't over her, and it would have been much worse without him.  

However, with her weakened mental state, Yuria couldn't repress the memories of their toxic relationship and his caustic words. Kamisato Ayato was the man that she loved the most deeply out of all her exes. But he was also the one that hurt her the most profoundly. She tried desperately to resist the bile building in the back of her throat; being this close to him made her want to throw up. 

Ayato never fell asleep. He noticed the pattern of her breathing changing, and he closed his eyes immediately, pretending to sleep. Yuria slowly sat up in bed. He heard her heave a big sigh before she got up from the bed to head toward the bathroom. However, the sounds of her rustling around were followed by a thud as he heard Yuria hiss in pain as she tripped over something. His body reacted before his brain, forgetting that he was supposed to be asleep as he rushed over to help her up. 

Yuria slapped his hand away from her shoulders. "I hate you." She muttered darkly, still not looking up at him. Yuria had meant to pretend to be thankful for his rescue yesterday, to put on her best smile like the doll he always wanted her to be for the sake of her greater plan... but his words still cut into her like yesterday. 

Ayato's hands silently to his sides. "I know." He whispered, his small voice barely audible against her muffled sobs. He could only watch as Yuria suddenly got up and scrambled toward the bathroom as the sounds of wretching and puking filled the air. How foolish he was to think that saving her once would excuse him from the grave he previously dug. Yuria clearly never forgot what he did to her. Just like his past self wanted. 

Yuria avoided him by taking another shower, hoping he would have left when she exited the bathroom. Ayato's touch was more traumatizing than yesterday's events. She furiously scrubbed her shoulder where he touched her just now-- to the point where the barrier of her skin broke and blood oozed from the wounds. Yuria poked her head out of the bathroom door. She didn't hear a sound. Yuria spun around to see a folded kimono next to the door. She was about to rejoice that Ayato had finally gotten the hint and left until his calm voice from the corner of the room interrupted her reverie. "Those are Ayaka's. Let me at least take you back to the Okiya." 

Kamisato Ayato was stubbornness incarnate. She knew better than to interject. Yuria silently shrugged as she quickly closed the bathroom door on him to change out of her towel-- but she felt a force stop her. Ayato had stuck his foot in the door and his dark blue orbs were full of disappointment as he looked at her wound through the crevice of the door reflected in counter mirror. 

"Yuria." He said admonishingly. 

"What?" Yuria snapped as she tried to shove the door shut. 

"Your shoulder." He said disapprovingly. 

In addition to the rope marks around her body, there was now a big patch of missing skin where he previously grazed her right shoulder. 

Ayato sighed heavily as he took out the first aid kit in his drawers. "Just come out as you are with the towel." He said gently. "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before. That needs to be treated." 

Yuria clenched her teeth. "What makes you think I want you to treat me when I did this because I couldn't stand the thought of you touching me in the first place?" She hissed venomously.