Unlike Jade, Shinjirou spends half an eternity under the hot water. And half of that is spent sitting on the floor, letting steam rise all around him. Eventually he gets up again, though, to wash his hair and clean every inch of skin, even the patches that hurt when he only lightly brushes his fingertips across them.
None of that makes him feel less dirty than before. Looking at himself in the mirror, all the signs are still there. Marks of a whip, claws -- the bruises, some of them beginning to fade. He hesitates for a brief moment, then opens the cupboard and puts salve on his wounds. Nurturing them is pointless when there'll be new ones added each and every day.
After that, he does feel better. He can't quite explain why, but he curls up beneath the blanket a short while later, falling into a deep sleep without a problem.
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None of that makes him feel less dirty than before. Looking at himself in the mirror, all the signs are still there. Marks of a whip, claws -- the bruises, some of them beginning to fade. He hesitates for a brief moment, then opens the cupboard and puts salve on his wounds. Nurturing them is pointless when there'll be new ones added each and every day.
After that, he does feel better. He can't quite explain why, but he curls up beneath the blanket a short while later, falling into a deep sleep without a problem.