His cries first rise, then drop in volume, and eventually find a middle ground. It's good, not knowing where the next lash will land, makes everything worse. Makes everything better. His eyes burn as badly as some of the streaks the whip carves into his back. And then, at some point, it comes to a halt.

As if sedated, it takes his brain about a minute until Jade's words compute. This is it, they're done.

Reluctantly, Shinjirou lowers his arms. The movement presses more blood out of the open cuts and he hisses, but doesn't falter. Before he turns around, he glances over his shoulder, allowing Jade to watch for another moment. Nervous twitches run through his nerve endings; it tickles.

Slowly, with the aid of the wall, he brings himself to his knees. Even more slowly, he crawls towards Jade. He's been sweating and crying the entire time and doesn't want to stain Jade's clothes -- but he's overcome with the need to nuzzle his leg, like an animal, and does it despite his wet face. His voice is broken. This is the only way he can show his gratitude.