The room Seiki was in was silent. He simply lay there for hour upon hour, deep in his thoughts, not moving once to avoid the pain from the wounds that have been sewn up just a few days ago. Set on a thin mat on the floor, it was not as easy as suspected. Only thick layers of bandages on the deep cuts on his shoulder, under his ribs, and through his wrist dulled the discomfort a little.
About two days ago, he got a sword through the liver, and almost all bones in his wrist were simply blasted out, leaving there a hole that was just slowly regenerating. His almost entire body from the waist up, excluding his left forearm, was covered in white wraps that somehow managed to hold him together. How did Haru do it was a mystery for everyone.
And so, he just laid there. His face, lined by thick strands of black hair, appeared somewhat pale, but if not for the part of white, wrapped around his neck, and his left hand, placed on his chest, it would be difficult to discern whether he was really hurt. As if that face never changed.
The knock on the door broke the chain of his thoughts, but even that didn't manage to make him move. "Enter." he spoke, silently, but loudly enough for someone behind the door to hear him.
