Side Story: Let Us Cling Together

His own drawn-out cough roused Lieutenant Ohtori Kensaku awake. His eyelids were heavy, as did his head. But he was warm. It wasn't feverish heat either; it was genuine warmth. For a while, he took a glimpse of the outside. The snow continued to fall outside the window with a hole in it, abysmally covered with pieces of tape. But he was warm.

He could've sworn he went to bed without any blanket, as he had insisted that she take the only one available and sleep on the bed. The blanket was thin and littered with holes, but it was better than nothing.

Naturally, she refused like the stubborn woman she was. Even though he was ill, they argued and yelled at each other until they reached a tired compromise. He would take the bed, and she would take the blanket and sleep on the floor.

It was an odd agreement. He knew that. Perhaps deep down, they were only punishing themselves.

But now, despite his mind being slightly addled still, it didn't take long for him to realize where the warmth came from. It was her, clinging to him underneath the covering. Her locks were all over her face, and she was shaking; it was enough to let him forget about his own fatigue.

"Shoukaku…" he croaked through a parched throat. That didn't get her to wake up, but he could feel her grasp on his shirt tightening.

"Don't go," she murmured a plea in her sleep, desperate, anguished.

He was sure she must have seen Zuikaku somewhere in a dream. He knew he did before. The memory that burned into his mind afterward left him wondering for a time if he would ever sleep again.

Yet, he knew the greater share of the pain would always be hers to shoulder.

"...If only…" he whispered to himself as he swept her straying locks aside.

"Don't go…" she repeated.

"At least I'm still here," he whispered to her.

Shoukaku stopped shaking after that, and her wild breathing slowly calmed.

But she didn't let go.