When he returns, it's with hands that are scrubbed clean and a first aid kit instead of the whip. He sets it down on the nightstand, but doesn't open it yet.

To his satisfaction, he sees that Shinjirou hadn't moved an inch: his hands are still held high above his head, his whole body exposed. He looks good; the marks that cover his body perfectly balanced now, the long red lines on his back matching the livid bruises that spread across his hips.

Jade grips the damp washcloth he had brought with him. This is familiar, much more so than causing pain to someone not an enemy. He is quick and sure as he moves to stand behind Shinjirou, closer this time, reaching out to wipe away the dried blood while carefully avoiding any open injuries. Shinjirou's skin feels feverishly hot through the cool barrier of the cloth, even hotter than his blood had when it splashed onto his cheek. For a second, Jade wonders if he'll feel just as hot on the inside.