an unkindness of ravens

quarante et un

— quarante et un ; forty one —

THE NEXT TWO weeks of his life were, if not the most difficult, by far the most tedious.

Worse than the fear of the punishment from the Master waiting for him, worse than the constant sense of being exhausted and the ache of missing Soren and the nausea, was the restless boredom. Admittedly, he was forced to pass a lot of his hours sleeping. For the first few days he couldn't even stay awake for longer than a couple of hours, which gradually extended to a three or four hours, until he was finally able to walk unassisted to the end of his ward corridor and back. But even when he'd regained enough energy to move about there was nowhere to go. He took so many trips down to the cafe just to stretch his legs that he almost grew an acquired taste for the awful coffee.

After his failed attempt at leaving bed, Henri had been scolded not only by the doctors and nurses but by none other than Jean. Not over the phone, which Soren was sure to do later after Jean had snitched to him (for two people who hated each other, they sure enjoyed ganging up against Henri), but in person. Henri had been trying to muster up some kind of appetite for the pudding cup the nurse was insistent he eat when Jean had strode in, dark hair pushed out of his face and a scowl fixed in place. He dropped the pudding cup in his shock.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Jean demanded.

Henri stared at him. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in California!"

"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said, and pushed the pudding cup into Henri's hand with a firm grip. "Make sure you eat that. You need to eat what you can."

Jean waited for her to leave before saying, "Do I look like I am in California?"

"Evidently not," Henri said, aware that their exchange was attracting attention of patients who had nothing else of excitement to interest them. Whether any of them recognise them as the Exy famous Moreau brothers or were just nosy, Henri switched to French to continue the conversation. "What are you doing here, Jean?"

"Do you know who's paying these hospital bills?" Henri hadn't been expecting the angry question and could do nothing more than blink. "The Moriyamas. Specifically, the Master. The harder you fight your recovery, the longer you spend here, and the more money the Master must spend on something that was supposed to be an investment returning profit to him. Not from him. Do you understand?" 

Henri felt numb. "Yeah, I understand. I'm no longer a valuable asset to him so Ichirou will get rid of me now."

"Not necessarily," Jean said, his tone still flinty but his grey gaze not quite so hostile. "This is unwanted baggage to the Master, for sure, but you brought positive attention to the Ravens and play decently enough that anyone can see the potential to only improve to Court standards over the next five years. The Master will definitely punish you for putting him out like this but he may not kill you. Duck your head down, get better as quickly as possible, and don't pull stupid stunts like breaking your bed rest that will only make it worse. You're a stubborn, reckless brat but if play smart you might actually survive."

"Imagine that," Henri murmured, releasing a long breath. "Actually surviving. I get it, okay? I've heard if all from the doctors. Don't risk your health, stop pushing yourself too far, blah blah blah. Did you seriously fly all the way from California to give me the same lectures?"

"Coach Rheman heard you were in hospital and insisted I take time off to fly out. He didn't give me a choice," Jean said, almost a little defensively, as if backed into a corner. "Let's make one thing clear. I'm not here for you but because I owe it to our parents to keep you alive, when you're doing such a terrible job of it yourself. I'll be returning to the Trojans tonight. You will stay with the Foxes until you're well enough to return to the Ravens and train tirelessly to prove to the Master you can bring him something."