We each begin in innocence.

[icy_heavens]

Who: Hitsugaya (icy_heavens), Byakuya (soul_scatter), and Hinamori (plum_that_snaps)
When: Starting May 16th, continuing through several days at least
Where: The shinigami homestead in Sector 5
Summary: The "guilt flu" is going around. And eventually, everyone in the house catches it.
Warnings: Sick shinigami. Which will likely mean a lot of being crabby, and vomiting and such. Will update if things get worse than that.


It came unexpectedly, really. Shinigami did not often fall ill. Something was very wrong with this picture indeed.

But wrong or not, it was happening. And it would not be a pleasant ordeal at all for any of them, only getting worse as the days progressed.


[[OOC: Here we are! We can go for different threads for different days and situations and all that good stuff. Everything our sick shinigami need is right here! Prose or action; it's all good.]]

Comments

[icy_heavens]

He was about to ask what was so worrisome about his hands, but then she put her palm to his forehead. Did he feel that warm? But it wasn't him; it couldn't be. It was the house. Somebody must have turned up the heat, or left a window open and let the heat from outside in. That had to be it.

Because the alternative was stupid. Shinigami didn't get sick.

... Well, okay. Ukitake-taichou was sick, and every now and then the odd minor illness would crop up in a couple of people. But the point was that it was rare. So rare that he refused to entertain the possibility.

He pushed her hand down. "I'm fine. I'm not sick. It's just too hot in here."

[plum_that_snaps]

"But, Hitsugaya-kun—it's not hot at all in here." If anything, it had been still far too chilly for her liking. But she put up with it, because she knew he liked it that way.

It didn't even catch her off-guard that Hitsugaya was sick. Since she'd been here, he'd lost his memory, Frau had lost control of his scythe, she'd learned about some sakura trees that made people act weird, and she seen more crazy, out-of-control behavior than she'd once have thought possible in her isolated, peaceful little world back home. So Hitsugaya being sick was just another outcome of this place.

"I think you are sick. You're burning up. And... and you look awful."

[icy_heavens]

To be fair, his perception of hot and cold was skewed even under normal circumstances. Someone else would be comfortable while he was feeling too warm. It was why he hated summer so much. Because it felt like hell to him.

He shook his head. Stubbornly: "I'm not sick."

He didn't care what other absurd things happened around here. Of course he wasn't sick. He was perfectly fine.

... Oh, look. The world spun again. That sent him briefly swaying on his feet before he caught himself.

[plum_that_snaps]

She hesitated when Hitsugaya began to sway. Hinamori wanted to catch him, but it felt... strange. Her arms went out instinctively, but stopped before reaching him. It wasn't that she hadn't had her fair share of catching others (and being caught)—because that was often what one did in a battle. But, she realized, she had never had to catch him. He was the sturdy, steady one; too cold for his own good, but never weak.

She was glad when he caught himself, though, because she would have been horrified if she had let him fall. But like hell was she letting him get away with that. "You are sick," she said sternly. "How do you feel—achy, tired, clogged up, weak?"

[icy_heavens]

He took a few steps on his own. And they weren't unsteady at all. Though that might be because he was concentrating a little harder on staying upright. He wanted to go into a flat-out denial again, but seeing the worry on Hinamori's face . . . he couldn't do it.

He sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm a little dizzy."

[plum_that_snaps]

"Then you should sit down." Silly Shirou-chan. That was the obvious answer. She pushed him over to the couch and indicated stubbornly that he should sit—not that she could have made him do anything if he hadn't already agreed to.

In her head, she was already making a list of the things she would need to find—a thermometer, a washcloth, ice water, pillows, the makings of rice porridge... everything you needed for someone coming down with a flu.

[icy_heavens]

He wanted to make some huffy remark about the way she was treating him, but the world was getting wobbly again. Maybe he really should sit down before he outright fell.

Not that he was going to fall. Of course. He was just being practical.

His head swam a little at the change in elevation, but it mostly cleared once he was sitting. And he couldn't help but continue to protest. "It's really not that bad. There's no need to get worked up about it."

[plum_that_snaps]

"It's more dangerous to ignore getting sick than to overprepare for it," Hinamori replied. "Maybe we should call Unohana-taichou."

She ran off to find the thermometer. It didn't take her long. "Here. Put this under your tongue." She had only ever done a short stint in the fourth division, but she knew her way around a sick person. She also knew when people were faking it—silly squad recruits, trying to get out of practice—and Hitsugaya didn't seem to be. (This conclusion was helped by the fact that he was denying his symptoms rather than exaggerating them.)

[icy_heavens]

Faking illness was something Hitsugaya would never do. He didn't run from his responsibilities or avoid people that way. It would never occur to him to do so.

"We don't need to call her."

Honestly. He wasn't that badly off. A little dizziness, maybe a little fever. Just some rest and he'd be fine, obviously. Why make more work for Unohana-taichou when they didn't have to?

Besides. No one liked having to go to the doctor, and Hitsugaya was no exception.

He rolled his eyes when she ordered him to use the thermometer. Using that thing looked ridiculous. But if it would appease Hinamori and keep her from calling Unohana-taichou, he'd go along with it. And so he did as instructed, though nothing said he had to look happy about it.

His normal body temperature was a couple of degrees lower than that of a human, so anything around or above the human average might be a concern. But he really didn't feel as bad as all that.

[plum_that_snaps]

She had to wait for the thermometer to do its work, so she sat on the couch across from him. A few moments, and then the awkward silence was broken by her laugh. She couldn't help it—he looked so ridiculous, sitting there with a huffy frown on his face and a thermometer poking up from his lips.

"It's really not so bad—you should probably take a break and rest more often."

[icy_heavens]

He scowled even harder at that laugh; he couldn't help it. Privately, he wondered if thermometers had been designed this way just to make a sick person look silly, as if just being sick weren't enough. He couldn't even scold her for it without the damn thing falling out and having to start all over again.

And he knew how to pace himself, thank you very much. He didn't overwork himself at all. There was no upside to feeling like this.

[plum_that_snaps]

Well, she did, and it was only reasonable to assume everyone else did too. But she smiled even bigger at that second scowl. "Alright, it should be finished now." She plucked the thermometer from his mouth.

"Ninety-ni... ninety-nine degrees Fahrenheit?!" she said worriedly. Hitsugaya had always run a little colder than everyone else. A minor fever on someone else was a drastic change in temperature for him.

"I told you you were sick. Now you're staying right there. Don't move; I'll get you pillows and blankets from upstairs. Do you want anything—tea, water, juice?"

[icy_heavens]

See, that wasn't -- wait. "... Ninety-nine?"

That was . . . high. He blinked. How could he be running that hot? Great. Just great. Hinamori was going to go into overdrive over this. Stupid body. What the hell was it thinking?

"I don't need blankets." Why would he need blankets when he found it hot down here? "And you don't need to fuss over me like this."

He hated being fussed over. Hated it almost as much as he did worrying her like this. This whole situation was crap.

...you didn't see anything >.>

[plum_that_snaps]

"I know. But I worry about you." She smiled a tense smile. At least fussing meant she could keep her mind on something active, rather than ruminating over possibilities.

She fetched some pillows, tossing them at him playfully as she passed to the kitchen to get a bowl of cool water. She sat back down next to him on the couch, water and washcloth in hand, and looked at him with concern in her eyes. Small drops of sweat were beginning to bead on his forehead. He was beginning to look... ill, despite all his protests to the contrary. She hated this—hated when people got sick, when people got hurt; it seemed to happen all too often.

/covers eyes

[icy_heavens]

She shouldn't worry about him so much. It couldn't be good for her. So he had a little fever; it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

His reflexes were still good enough to catch the pillows she threw at him. See? He had good reaction time, still. Couldn't be so horrible if he could do that.

A little wave of nausea hit him when she sat back down. Stupid girl, did she have to shake the couch like that? Fine, fine. He'd lie down. Did she have to look at him that way?

He piled the pillows onto a corner of the couch and rested his head on them. "Shouldn't worry about me so much, you know."

[plum_that_snaps]

"I don't have any choice. Someone has to take care of you." She smiled at him, placing the cool washcloth over his forehead. At the very least it should make him more comfortable.

[icy_heavens]

He couldn't stop the little relieved sigh when the cool washcloth touched his forehead. That really did feel better.

"I really don't feel that bad."

Nevermind that he almost fell down the stairs. And that he actually let you put the washcloth on him. Or that he might be closing his eyes in an attempt to relax. He wasn't that bad. Really.

[plum_that_snaps]

"You shouldn't have to feel bad at all. That's what friends are for." Seeing him relax made her feel better, and she set the bowl of water down and laid back onto the couch herself. She would stay by his side, in case it got worse, in case he needed anything—but it wouldn't hurt anything to close her eyes for a moment, too.

Nothing at all.

Don't mind the sound of gentle snoring over here.