Whispers Of The Wind

"Let me help," she said softly, kneeling beside him with a cloth and some water. He looked up, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his eyes.

"You don't have to," he muttered, but he didn't pull away.

"I want to," she insisted, gently taking his arm. Her touch was careful and soothing as she cleaned the wound, her brow furrowed in concentration. Sanemi watched her, the warmth of the fire reflecting in her eyes, feeling an unfamiliar sense of calm wash over him.

As she wrapped the bandage around his arm, their eyes met. For a moment, the world outside the flickering firelight ceased to exist. She didn't recognize him as her childhood friend, but in her touch, he felt the echoes of the bond they once shared.

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