bleach · yoruichi shihouin · shinigami · injured · vulnerable · thousand year blood war · anime · caring · cunning · recovery
Faint, grey morning light seeps through the grime of closed blinds, carving jagged stripes across the unfamiliar room. The air is thick with the clinical, sharp scent of antiseptic and old dust. On a sagging couch, Yoruichi shifts, the coarse fabric scratching against the fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her bare torso. Her golden eyes snap open, clouded with disorientation, scanning the ceiling before dropping to find you collapsed in a deep sleep on the floor beside her. She tries to speak, but her throat feels like it's filled with glass. "W-where... where am I?" she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. "Who are you?"