Because there was little point in arguing with Bataar over the past, Yuudai fell into a contemplative silence, doctoring his wounds as best he could. He was no medical professional by any means, but by the time he taped the last bandage over the Mongol's chest, he was fairly certain he would live. The most troubling injury was on his head, but he would simply have to wait and see how it was faring the next day.

Sitting back, he brushed his hands together, observing his handiwork for another moment without speaking. Bataar really did look a mess, but at least he was cleaned up and patched up, and would be sleeping in a comfortable bed that night. Even more to his advantage, the inn had tatami mats in all the rooms, so even if he managed to roll out of bed in the night, he wouldn't fall and hurt himself.

"I think this is the best I can do." He rose, extending his hands for Bataar. "Come on, then. Let's get you into a room and into bed."

His friend seemed to need no more encouragement than that, apparently eager to get in bed and avoid any more poking and prodding at his wounds. Slipping an arm gingerly around his waist, Yuudai encouraged him to lean on him, huffing out a breath as he did just that. For someone as short and slight as he was, he possessed a surprising amount of strength in his small frame, a fact that he wished people would highlight upon more often than his girlish appearance.

He got Bataar settled in the room, managed to convince him to strip down completely and redress in a yukata. Clothing bundled in his arms, he hesitated in the doorway a moment, watched Bataar get comfortable with something like amused fondness on his face.

"Good night. In the morning, I'll check your head again, and then we'll have breakfast."

Somewhere along the way, Bataar had become a real responsibility for him, and as he slid the doors shut on his room, he found that he didn't really mind.