Another five days passed quickly, unknowingly. They were calm days for the members of the fifth division, who have left the work of public outrage to Safir to deal with as they slowly recuperated and refilled their batteries. It was no small matter, such a big and successful attack last happened seven years ago. Many questions were posed, E.S.O.P even had an emergency meeting of the upper brass to discuss how such a thing was allowed to happen. The upper brass was and did what the upper brass usually are and do; nothing while constantly complaining and arguing with each other. The pro and anti Safir faction were at loggerheads through out the five hour meeting meanwhile the High Council consisting of old, wrinkly men was content to just sit back and observe.
'This isn't a show, participate!'
An exasperated Safir would yell every time he would ask the councilmen for their opinion and be given an empty answer that meant nothing or just straight up ignored. The meeting ended with an equally agreement; have Safir do a couple of speeches, speak in platitudes, give false hope and wait for the smoke to blow over.
'Disgusting...'
Was Safir's final thought as he left the meeting room. In the meantime, Fjoroft regained consciousness. Even though his wounds healed the long scar across his chest serves forever as a reminder of just how dangerous, perilous it had been. Sinthia's sudden shock roused no suspicion when she claimed that the reason was her still frail body. In these days she spent mostly interchanging between short walks and sleeping. Such actions was necessary with such a frail mind. They were her comrades so they believed that nothing had happened to her, that she had stayed the same Sinthia as she was always.
Bultear, who carried too much on his mind, dedicated himself to training. Different scenarios, different people, even sparring with the captain for the first time. Those sessions with the captain were a massive eye opener for Bultear. He was completely and utterly outclassed in every department: Speed, reaction time, tactics, instincts, potency of attacks... Even though he was weakened greatly, event though Bultear improved since the mission, the result was set in stone; like how the sun would always rise in the morning so would he always lose to his captain no matter what he did.
"Stage twos are a different existence. The reality they live in is different, the world they experience is different... Do not be sad or distraught for not besting me once. Rejoice at the fact that you can last this long..."
Fjoroft's words rung deep when he in praising his efforts both made him happy and unsettled at the show of deep rooted power and its difference between the two sparring partners. He was in the special gap between naivety and experience. The feelings of life and death experience clashed with the immutable fact that he had so much more to learn and experience.
He took a shower and put on a black coat over a plain linen shirt, while inwardly praising some of the benefits given to E.S.O.P employees. If he was going to risk his life these were the least they could do for him. As he walked outside the underground colosseum of the division's HQ. After the training had finished he remembered Milek's puzzled words prior.
"Are you not going home?"
This is what he was avoiding, what to do? - 'Do I tell them of my suspicion?'- He oscillate between yes and no every time he posed this question to himself. What if he was wrong? What if he was just paranoid? So instead of answering this conundrum he slept over at the division HQ and avoided going home a single time. The moment he left the lower floor he was met by a jubilant voice.
"Bultear! Come to the hospital with us, Sinthia is being officially discharged today, so we're celebrating!"
It was Pax, who had not participated in any training sessions so as to take care of Sinthia.
"Seeing such joy on your face in the place of your usual pretentious expressions is honestly a bit weird."
"I'm not here to argue with you buddy, are you coming or not."
"Yes, yes, I'm going... Even your fake kindness is thrown out the window when your girlfriend is in question, it would seem, buddy."
Pax paid no heed to his cold jabs as he ran out of the room. Still, Bultear's nose picked up on a distilled peculiarity.
'Oh? An ounce of suppressed bitterness, interesting... It was when I mentioned Sinthia as his girlfriend...'
With all of that weighing on his mind he followed Pax to the hospital.
...
'He is that man in my dreams... or were they delusions? These past few days I have felt calmer and the images have calmed down... except for him. I dreamt of a massive war last night; I had killed a hundred men with a sweep of my claws, the hills behind crumbled to dust. Blood was everywhere, torn limbs... I tore them apart. I was blood thirsty it was insatiable, the hunger for destruction and death that felt... Then he appeared once more... Like a dream within a dream... It felt like he wasn't part of the initial dream...'
Bultear's [Crimson Blood] affected the revival ceremony wherein the image of Bultear acted as a both a parasite and the only calming presence in her broken mind. Two beings with their own memories were intensely clashing in her mind and in the gaps of those battles Bultear was the glue that kept her intact.
'What is happening to me... I'm scared... Bultear.'
Bultear had become source of safety in the emotional aspect now. Otherwise, god knows what would have become of her.
*Knock* *Knock*
"Enter."
"Miss Fullplum, your friends are waiting for you in the main lobby, today you are finally discharged. Congratulations!"
She could only slightly nod to the nurse's joyful expression of congratulation.