The mud sucked at his boots, slowing him down, but he powered through, his legs burning with the extra weight. Hinata stayed quiet for a while, her head dipping against his shoulder as the rhythm of his steps lulled her. He could feel her breathing, shallow but steady.
"You're stronger than you look," she murmured after a while, her voice soft, almost lost in the wind. "For a civilian."
"Scrappy, remember?" he said, glancing back just enough to catch her eye. "Gotta be, hauling a badass like you around. Don't wanna drop you and ruin my rep."
She huffed a weak laugh. "Your reputation's safe. For now."
"Good to know," he said, shifting her higher on his back. Her chest pressed tighter against him, and he bit back a comment—barely. Focus, idiot. Cure first, perv later. "Kawa Crossing's got a healer. Old war vet, supposedly knows his stuff. We'll hit him up, get you fixed for real this time."
Hinata nodded against his shoulder. "Sounds… promising. But be careful. Places like that—shinobi pass through. Could be trouble."
"I've got you. Those creepy eyes'll spot anything coming, right?"
"Only if I'm awake," she said, a faint tease in her tone. "Don't let me sleep through a fight."
"No promises," he replied. "But I'll shake you if it gets dicey."
The day wore on, the gray sky deepening as clouds thickened overhead. Souta's pace slowed, his breath puffing out in short bursts, but he didn't stop. Hinata's weight felt good—too good, maybe—and he let his mind wander as the miles blurred. Her bosam against his back were a distraction he didn't fight, a quiet perk in the middle of this mess. He wasn't some noble hero; he was just Souta, and if carrying her meant feeling her close like this, he'd take it. She'd kick him again if she knew, but that was a risk he'd laugh off later.
By midday, the woods gave way to rolling fields, the river a distant shimmer to their left. Souta's shirt clung to his back, sweat mixing with the damp of her kimono, and he could feel her shifting slightly, her arms loosening as exhaustion pulled at her again. "are you fine?" he asked, tilting his head to catch her voice.
"Barely," she admitted, her words slurring. "You're… warm. It's nice."
"Yeah?" He chuckled, keeping his steps steady. "Guess I'm your personal heater now."
She didn't reply, just pressed her cheek against his shoulder, and he felt her relax, her body going slack as sleep took her. He tightened his grip under her knees, making sure she wouldn't slip.
Then first drops of rain speckled his face as Kawa Crossing came into view—a sprawl of wooden buildings hugging the riverbank, docks jutting out like crooked fingers. Souta picked up his pace, the mud slick underfoot, his boots sliding as he powered toward shelter. Hinata stirred, her voice a faint mumble against his neck. "We there…?"
"Almost," he said, ducking under a low awning as the rain thickened. "Hang on, princess. Got a healer to find."
He stepped into the town, water dripping from his cloak. The streets buzzed with traders and dockhands, their voices cutting through the patter of rain.
The rain hammered Kawa Crossing as Souta trudged into the town,
He spotted it a block down—a two-story structure wedged between a fishmonger's stall and a rickety warehouse, its sign creaking in the gusts: "Riverside Haven." The paint was peeling, the "n" half-faded, but light spilled from the windows. Good enough. Souta shouldered through the crowd, dodging a cart that splashed mud across his shins, and made for the door. A bell jangled as he kicked it open, stepping into a cramped lobby that smelled of damp wool and cheap sake.
The innkeeper—a stout woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun—looked up from behind a counter cluttered with ledgers and a flickering oil lamp. Her eyes flicked from Souta's dripping cloak to Hinata slumped on his back, and her mouth twitched, like she'd seen this kind of mess before. "Room?" she asked, voice gruff, already reaching for a key.
"Yeah," Souta said, shaking water from his hair. "One with two beds if you've got it. And dry towels. She's—" He jerked his head toward Hinata. "Not doing great."
The woman grunted, sizing them up. "Two beds, huh? Got one left—second floor, corner room. Forty ryo, upfront. Towels are extra." She slid a tarnished key across the counter, her fingers stained with ink.
Souta dug into his pocket, pulling out a damp handful of coins. He counted them quick—thirty-eight, shit—then tossed in a small silver ring he'd swiped off a bandit days back. "That cover it?"
She squinted at the ring, hefted it, then nodded. "Close enough. Stairs are there." She pointed to a narrow staircase in the corner.
"Thanks," Souta muttered, snagging the key and heading for the stairs. Hinata shifted, murmuring something he couldn't catch, and he adjusted his hold, taking the steps slow. The wood groaned under their combined weight, water dripping from his cloak to leave a trail he'd probably get chewed out for later. Second floor stretched out in a dim hallway, doors lining both sides, the air thick with the hum of muffled voices and the patter of rain against the roof.
The corner room was last on the right. Souta fumbled the key into the lock, shoved it open, and stepped inside. The space was tight—two narrow beds pushed against the walls, a scratched table between them, and a single window rattling in its frame. A lantern hung on a hook, unlit, and a stack of threadbare towels sat on a stool by the door. Bare bones, but dry. He eased Hinata off his back, setting her on the nearest bed with a gentleness that surprised even him. She slumped against the wall, eyes half-open, her kimono clinging to her frame from the rain.
"Stay put," he said, dropping his pack by the table. "Gonna light this thing." He grabbed the lantern, struck a match from his pack, and got it flickering, casting a soft glow over the room. Hinata watched him, silent, her pale eyes catching the light like twin moons. He tossed her a towel, then grabbed one for himself, scrubbing it over his hair and face. "You good?"