Aarin stood there, looking at the immortality pass in his hands, while Nirvan yawned and stretched.

“Keep that safe, yeah?” The ghost grinned and pointed at the card. “So, are we just going to stand here or…?”

“Why are you giving me this?” Aarin asked again, firmer this time, now that the shock had worn off. 

“Well, I guess I miss having you take care of my things.”

Aarin could hear the shit-eating grin. He didn’t know whether to be unsettled by the nostalgia or revel in it. 

“You're impossible,” Aarin muttered, tucking the card into his dhoti. 

“Just for you.” Nirvan smiled and started walking in the direction Lina and Kian had disappeared. "Come on. Your juniors are probably panicking that I've consumed your soul or something."

Aarin bent to retrieve his spear and talismans and secured them to his side. He would’ve preferred putting them on his usual belt, but he didn't have spare robes. It would have to wait till he reached the hut.

“Are you coming or shall I carry you?” Nirvan called back, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

“I'm fine,” Aarin said quickly, and followed.

Nirvan slowed down to walk next to Aarin, the movement as natural as it might’ve been centuries ago. He didn't touch him, just stayed close enough that Aarin could lean on him if needed.

They walked in silence for a while, only the crunching of leaves echoing around them. Aarin didn’t miss the way Nirvan kept staring at him, or the way his hands kept twitching. He didn’t remember Nirvan for his self-restraint, but some change after all these centuries was to be expected.

“I never thought you'd take disciples under your wing again.” Nirvan broke the silence. “Though I can’t really say I'm surprised, you’ve always liked teaching.”

“It wasn’t a choice,” Aarin muttered. “But, yes, I don’t mind it much.”

“Mm,” Nirvan hummed thoughtfully. “Are those two any better than we were back then? Your little baby birds?”

Despite himself, Aarin felt his lips twitch. 

“You were a terrible student,” he accused.

“I was enthusiastic,” Nirvan corrected. “I just had a unique learning style.”

“By unique learning style, you mean ignoring half the teacher’s instructions?” Aarin quipped.

“I always listened to you, didn’t I?”

Aarin didn’t have the heart to respond.

Thankfully, the hut came into view through the trees not long after. Aarin could see shadows moving inside. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, unwilling to take another step. Once they went inside, this veil on the past would be lifted. He wouldn’t explain; he didn’t have the strength, but they would know. Irrational, but he couldn’t help it, the hot and sharp shame stabbing him in the chest over and over again.

He turned to face Nirvan, but couldn’t find words to do the storm in his mind justice. Nirvan didn’t say anything either, waiting, ever so patient.

Suddenly, the door to the hut slammed open.

Lina stood in the doorway, her spear raised despite the bandages wrapped around her torso. Her eyes were sharp and flitted between Aarin and Nirvan. 

“Master Aarin,” Lina said through gritted teeth. “You're... alive.”

“Disappointed, I’m sure.” Aarin managed. Lina frowned softly before her gaze shifted to Nirvan. 

“You're the one from earlier. The ghost lord who…” She paused, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. “You helped him.”

“I did,” Nirvan confirmed pleasantly. “And you must be the one who nearly got her ankle snapped off. How's the leg?”

“Fine.” Lina's jaw tightened as she raised her spear.

“Lina,” Aarin warned, but Nirvan laughed, the sound bright and genuine.

“I like her,” he declared. “She's got spine. Better than some of the sniveling cowards you used to train.” He walked toward the hut, completely unbothered by Lina's weapon. 

“Now, are you going to let us in, or shall we all stand outside until your master passes out?”

The inside of the hut was just as it’d been left before, only now there was a knocked-out Kian on the cot, and the cat curled up atop him. When the feline noticed Nirvan, she immediately jumped up and growled. Her ears flattened, and her tail puffed up to twice its normal size.

Lina looked over her shoulder to stare suspiciously at Nirvan as well, as if the cat’s anger had all but affirmed her feelings. 

Aarin made it three steps inside before his legs finally gave out. Nirvan caught him before he hit the ground and gently lowered him to the floor.

“Supplies?” Nirvan asked Lina, all business now. “He needs water, bandages for his hands, and that medicine you reapers take.”

She looked at Aarin for confirmation, only moving to follow once he nodded.

“I know you don’t trust me, but you're injured too, and you'll work faster with help,” Nirvan told her gently and accepted the supplies.

Lina looked at Aarin, then at Nirvan again. 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

Nirvan's hands stilled on the bandage he was unwrapping. He glanced at Aarin for permission.

“Someone I knew,” Aarin whispered. “A long time ago.”

“You knew a ghost lord,” she said with disbelief.

“I knew him before he was a ghost,” Aarin answered.

The silence that followed was tense. Lina sat down heavily, her own injuries clearly catching up to her now that the immediate danger had passed. The cat walked over to her and sat on her lap, looking at Nirvan with distrust. Lina herself watched as Nirvan cleaned the blood from Aarin's hands and chest.

“I really don’t understand,” she mumbled with the tone of a lost child.

“Understanding is overrated,” Nirvan hummed. “Sometimes, things just are.”

He finished with Aarin's hands and moved to check his head. He looked up, searching Aarin's face for signs of discomfort. Up close like this, Aarin could see the details he'd wanted to ignore on the ghost. The way Nirvan's eyes hadn't changed, still that same warm brown that had watched him with admiration during training. He still smelt of the cloves his mother would make him chew, and of the jasmines that Aarin would pluck for him.

A perfect replica, if not for the fact that he didn't breathe anymore, his chest perfectly still.

A groan from across the room interrupted them. Kian was waking up, one hand pressed to his head as he blinked blearily at the ceiling.

“Did I die again?” he mumbled. “Is this the after-afterlife- oh.” He turned his head and froze, taking in the scene. 

Aarin on the floor, bandaged and bloody; Lina sitting against the wall, watching everything with sharp eyes; and Nirvan with his hands on Aarin's face.

“I’m sorry!” 

Kian crashed to the ground on his knees, wringing his hands desperately.

“I didn’t realize I was getting drunk, I swear!” he cried. Lina shook her head.

“I told you not to.” Lina rolled her eyes. The cat looked up and stared at Kian disappointedly as well.

“Shimu, not you too,” Kian pleaded before turning to Aarin once again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-”

“It’s fine.” Aarin raised his hand. “You’re still getting written up, though.”

“That’s not what I care about!” Kian yelped. “You’re hurt because of me! Have you had any medicine yet? I- I can get mine and-”

“It’s fine,” Aarin muttered, “I have some right here.”

He hated pretending like this, as if anything helped. But when Nirvan gently brought the cup to his lips, Aarin drank anyway, letting his muscles relax as they would have if the medicine did anything for him. Nirvan stared at him for quite a while, not moving, but he didn’t say a word.

Aarin had noticed something himself, though. For whatever reason, the backlash hadn’t hit him nearly as hard as it should’ve. Some exorcisms would leave him clutching his head in pain for a while, so freeing two spirits without worse consequences… he’d have to look into it later.

“If that’s all,” he started, pushing himself away, “I’d like to rest.”

“With him in the hut?” Lina questioned. Shimu jumped off her lap, trotted over to Aarin, and plopped herself down between him and the ghost lord. Her message was clear, stay away from my human, stinky dead man.

Aarin looked at Nirvan meaningfully. They would have to talk.

“Both of you, get some rest,” he told the juniors. “We go back for surveillance tomorrow, now that we know the entrance.”

“No need,” Nirvan cut in. “I’ll ensure nothing goes awry; I have eyes in places you’d never reach.”

All three stared at him with varying degrees of confusion and suspicion, while Shimu only glared at him with malice.

“Why are you doing this?” Lina asked. “It’s not like ghosts to help reapers. What’s your agenda?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Nirvan laughed but didn’t clarify, much to Lina’s irritation.

“What kind of a ghost-lord are you anyway?” She snapped.

"The helpful kind," Nirvan said mildly.

“Rest, I said,” Aarin cut in. “Or are you looking to disobey more of my words?”

He seemed to have struck a nerve, because Lina immediately grabbed her blanket and pillow. Kian didn’t have to do much, brain still addled with alcohol, he passed out fairly quickly. Aarin turned towards Nirvan. The ghost lord leaned back with a lazy smile on his lips, head tilted just slightly, eyes never leaving Aarin’s. 

“So, are you going to go back now?” Aarin inquired.

“I could, but you have my card, yes?” Nirvan said playfully.

“You can have it back,” Aarin responded, already reaching for it.

“Nope, don’t want it!” Nirvan grinned. “I must leave if asked to, of course, but I’d love to stay if you’d have me.”

Aarin stared at him for a long moment before sighing and turning around.

"I'm going to sleep," he mumbled and laid down on the mat, turning to face the wall, away from his students and Nirvan. "Wake me if there's a problem."

Shimu immediately curled up against his chest, her purring a steady vibration.

“It’s fine, I’ll keep watch,” Nirvan said and moved closer. Shimu growled softly, but didn't move from her protective position against Aarin's chest.

Sleep didn't come easily, unsurprisingly. Aarin couldn’t stop himself from thinking. He was almost grateful for it, knowing full well his slumber would be plagued by visions he’d rather forget.

"You always breathe differently when you're actually asleep," Nirvan said softly.

Aarin's eyes opened. "How do you remember that?"

Even facing the wall, he could sense Nirvan's small, sad smile.

"I remember everything."

Aarin hummed softly in response, but his muscles were slightly more relaxed now.

“I-” Aarin started.

“Sleep,” Nirvan interrupted. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Aarin sighed softly but didn’t argue, finally letting his eyes fall shut. For whatever reason, he didn’t have nightmares that night.