Claire

“Claire?” Josh stepped into the room. “Everything okay?”

Claire nodded quickly. She didn't want them attacking the boy again, but…

But.

Claire needed someone else to see it. She needed to know she wasn't going insane.

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. He. Um.” Claire swallowed. “He's okay.”

“I wouldn't really go that far,” Josh said, hesitantly. “I mean, he's conscious and sitting upright under his own power, so he's more okay than I expected when I woke up. But still.”

“Could you. Um. Take a quick look. At his wrist?” Claire asked.

“You're not usually squeamish,” Josh said, “but, sure.”

Josh went to sit next to Ryu, who glanced at him once and then returned his steady gaze to Claire. She supposed he expected her to start screaming or something. She wasn't. Probably. She was waiting for Josh to check, so she'd know whether she was insane or hallucinating or what.

Josh took Ryu's hand for a moment, gently turning it over to inspect the place where the bandage had just been removed. Ryu allowed it, leaving his hand limp to drop back to the couch surface when Josh released his hand and jumped to his feet.

“Okay, Claire, uh, Ryu. How did you two pull this off?” Josh asked.

“What did you just see?” Claire asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Josh shook his head. “This is impossible.”

“What's impossible?” Jacob asked, leaning out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in one hand.

“His wrist! Look at his wrist!” Josh squeaked.

“Please put down the coffee, first,” Ryu spoke for the first time since Claire had unwound the wrist bandage.

Given how both Claire and Josh had jumped up like frogs, it made sense he didn't want scalding coffee flying all over the couch.

That was about the only part of this thing that made sense.

“Just tell me what's got you two so freaked out,” Jacob said.

“His wrist. Is healed. It's, like. There's a scar. Like it happened... I don't know, weeks ago. Not... I helped pull that bar out last night. Last night. This isn't possible.” Josh waved his hands through the air wildly.

So Claire hadn't been hallucinating; Josh saw the same thing.

She looked at Ryu, who spread his arms out slightly, either a shrug or an invitation. She decided to take it as the second and sat back down. She held out her hand, and he offered her his still bandaged arm. She tugged this one free a little less carefully than she had the first. Odds were, there was now no wound to rip open.

And there wasn't. There was a scar, livid red but fully healed. At least a week's worth of healing, maybe two. In one night. Less than. How long had they all been asleep? Not a full eight hours, she was sure of that.

“How is this possible?” Claire asked, staring at the scars.

“Would you believe magic?” the boy asked.

Claire snorted. There was no such thing as magic. Everyone knew that!

“No way,” Jacob said.

“Then I see no reason to tell you, as you won't believe me,” Ryu answered.

“Wait.” Claire looked at him, met his eyes. “Are you saying you think magic healed you?”

He didn't look crazy. His gaze was steady, his pupils normal. Though it wasn't like the mentally unbalanced had little flashing warning lights in their eyeballs.

Ryu shrugged. “How would you explain it?”

He sounded honestly curious. Like he really wanted to know what she'd come up with.

Instead of answering, because she had absolutely no way to explain what she was seeing, Claire motioned for him to lift his arms away from his side where she'd fastened the gauze wrap. She undid her frankly pathetic job of bandaging. She needed to see.

His chest and stomach looked better. There was still bruising, but instead of being nearly purple the marks were sickly green and yellow. The burns were more scars, fainter than those on his wrist. Pink and white instead of livid red.

His back, well. The night before, the only description Claire could manage for the state of Ryu's back was “raw hamburger.” Now, the skin was crisscrossed by fine, white scars and... black, almost iridescent lines.

“Is this a tattoo?” Claire asked, reaching out to lightly trace one of the markings. She couldn't quite make out what the pattern might represent. It felt like the design should be familiar, but she could not place it.

Ryu flinched forwards, out of reach.

“Please,” he gasped out, “I'd rather you did not touch the pattern.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Claire jerked her hand back as though the mark had burned her. “I didn't mean... I just couldn't believe what I was seeing.”

Of course, he wouldn't want his back pawed at by a virtual stranger, not after the way he'd been hurt.

He crossed his arms across his chest. “No, it is... I just... the design is... was... personal.”

“Oh. Okay. I won't ask.” Claire looked around and found a blanket near at hand. She handed it to him to wrap over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“So, um. How are you...” Claire trailed off, uncertain how to word her question.

“Alive?” Ryu finished for her.

“Well, yeah.” He had lost a lot of blood. She should have dragged him into the hospital the moment he fell asleep. She'd intended to. But somehow she couldn't keep her eyes open. No matter how hard she fought, sleep took her.

“It's complicated,” he said, “and much of it you will not believe.”

“Because we don't believe in magic,” Josh suggested.

“Precisely," Ryu agreed.

“So. Assuming for the existence of magic. How did you survive?” Jacob asked.

Ryu shrugged. “It's still complicated.” He looked down at his wrists. “I am able to heal, even from grievous wounds, given access to sufficient magic.”

“And you have access?” Claire asked. “You just needed to sleep?”

He glanced at her. “Sleep helps the healing process, yes.”

“And you didn't want to go to the hospital, because...” Jacob looked around. “This would happen.”

“Yes," Ryu said.

Well, that made some sense. Claire didn't think anyone at the hospital would hurt him. But. Well. People were curious. Someone had hurt him, someone he knew. How could he be expected to trust strangers after that?

Claire looked from Ryu to the guys, and back. It was clear this conversation wasn't going anywhere useful. They needed time to think.

“So. Breakfast?” she suggested.

Maybe things would make more sense with some food on her stomach. If nothing else, she'd feel less dizzy.