The conversation with Genzo had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit.
Not emotionally — that kind of tired he could manage, had been managing it for long enough that it had become background noise. But physically, the simple act of sitting upright for an extended period, thinking clearly, negotiating the terms of something that mattered — his body had been filing complaints about it since the halfway point and was now submitting them in writing. The poison hadn't roared back with the same violence as before, but it had made its presence known in the way a persistent, patient thing did. A slow burn at the neck. A heaviness in the limbs that had nothing to do with normal fatigue. A reminder, steady and unignorable, that the ceasefire Ujitake had arranged was exactly that — a ceasefire, not a peace.
He needed rest and thankfully Genzo provided him and Yukihime a home as he was going to stay for a moment here.
He was grateful for the house regardless.
