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Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Yuudai was well absorbed in one of his favorite pastimes. In one hand, he held a wide-headed brush, and in the other, he carefully cupped his sister's hair, drawing the brush down the length of it in gentle, measured strokes. The older they'd all gotten, the less he indulged in this behavior for any of them but Shizuka, so it was a rare treat to have Masami come into his room with her hair unbound and a smile on her face. Of all of his sisters, Masami was the one he could speak the most freely to, and he'd begun to miss the time they spent together.

As the two children most devoted to the inn, they were home more often than the others, and yet seemed to always miss one another. That was simply the way of things, he supposed, and tried not to dwell on it too much. After all, Masami was the sister he needed to worry the least about.

"Are you and Junko still not speaking to each other?" Yuudai combed his fingers through her hair, scowled at her question. "Yuu, you know that when you two get like this, one of you has to bend."

"She ignored her responsibilities." His expression was set, as was his opinion, on the matter. No matter how justified she felt she was, Junko's time was not solely her own, and she needed to apologize for her behavior. "And she simply... sees nothing wrong with this."

Her hands resting atop her knees, Masami sighed softly. "You two are too similar at the core of it. It's why it's so difficult for you to compromise."

"Why must you all keep saying that?" He asked hotly, scooping her hair aside so that he could begin on the next section. "Junko and I are night and day."

"Two halves of one whole," Masami agreed, making Yuudai fall into a stubborn silence.

They continued like that, neither breathing a word, until there were three quick knocks at his door. Frowning, Yuudai called, "Yes?" already beginning to weave his sister's hair into a braid.

The door opened, and Shizuka looked at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. "Bataar is here for you."

"Tell him I will be a moment." When she began to dance from foot to foot, he paused again, pinching the end of the braid. It was only halfway down Masami's back. "Or can he not wait a moment?"

"He's bleeding," Shizuka blurted, hands in fists in front of her chest.

Reaching behind her, Masami pulled the half-formed braid over her shoulder, waving a hand at him. "Go, go."

"Fetch the first aid kit," Yuudai said grimly, and Shizuka was off, feet pounding quickly along the floor.

As he made his way down the hall, tightening the sash on his yukata while he went, he wondered what sort of trouble Bataar had managed to get himself into this time.

Luckily, it wasn't that difficult to find Bataar. It was late, so the majority of the customers had retired for the night, and at least Bataar had the good sense to come to the family entrance when he stopped by to visit. The last thing he wanted was for the guests at the ryokan to get an eyeful of a bleeding, possibly grievously bleeding, man, who more than likely would come in shouting for him. He didn't mind taking care of him in the least, was actually rather pleased that the Mongol found his way to the inn when he needed something, but there was a certain way to go about it.

Rounding the corner, his gaze fell on a familiar form, and his heart stuttered over a few beats. While he was quite used to Bataar showing up unannounced, the man was usually at least on his feet. Prone on the ground, a bandage wrapped around his head, he looked the worst that Yuudai had ever seen him, and that was saying something. Especially considering the condition he'd been in when they had first met.

Hitting his knees, wincing a little at the impact, he gently brushed Bataar's hair from his face, expression tight and concerned. "Bataar, look at me. Do you know where you are?"

His hand hovered over him, afraid to touch anywhere because he wasn't sure exactly what parts of him were injured, if anything. Dimly, he was aware that the man was at least clean, though he couldn't for the life of him understand what that meant. He could be grateful there was a decreased chance of infection, but until he knew exactly where he was injured and how, that didn't do him much good, either.

Yuudai's skin went cold all over at the mention of a light. Though he had never been unfortunate enough to glimpse such a light, he had heard stories of people on the brink of death seeing some sort of vision to guide them to the other side. He wasn't exactly certain how much he believed that, as his mother had briskly told him it was more than likely a hallucination, but there was no denying the swift kick of fear it produced. It was one thing to check some wounds, lay a cool cloth against someone's forehead, and tend to them. It was quite another to have them die on the floor of his family's respected business.

Fingers curling, he was halfway toward springing up and shouting for his mother when Bataar spoke next. He was.. hungry? He was dying, and he was hungry? Confusion clouded his face, had him rocking back on his heels in uncertainty. When dying, shouldn't someone's main concern be... death?

In the next moment, his face flushed, temper brightening his eyes. Unless Bataar was not dying and he was simply trying to make Yuudai freak out, something that was remarkably easy to do in a situation such at this. Still, even if he was angry for Bataar's levity, there was still the fact that he did not know the extent of his injuries. He could save his annoyance for when he knew that Bataar would be fine.

Then he would hit him.

"That is not funny," He said seriously, voice a little strained, expression a bit pinched as he began to dutifully work at Bataar's clothing. After a moment of this he stopped, asking, "Are you able to stand and come to my room, or should I tend you here? And are you aware of just where you're injured?"

Shizuka came around the corner then, clutching the first aid kit and looking between them with wide, concerned eyes.

"Here, then," Yuudai instructed, beckoning his sister over with one hand and placing the other against Bataar's shoulder to steady him. If push came to shove and Bataar decided to tip over, though, he was probably going to fall, just because he was much bigger than Yuudai. The innkeeper's reflexes were good, but not that good.

Shizuka tucked her legs underneath her, opening the kit and waiting silently while her brother began unwrapping the bandage around his head. The fact that it was still bleeding was troublesome, as was the issue of him being dizzy. While it might have been more convenient to get him to a room, at least they were in the family quarters. He didn't want to risk Bataar blacking out and injuring himself more in the process of being taken care of, so he would do this on the floor in the hall.

The bandage discarded, he pursed his lips, leaning in a bit and gingerly parting his hair over the wound. It wasn't life-threatening, thank heaven, but it was substantial. Already his hair was matted with blood, and there was a fresh, long cut going down his scalp. What exactly had caused it, he couldn't begin to fathom, but he did at least know how to mend it.

Well, mostly. If it required stitching, it was unfortunately beyond him, but there was a doctor who owed him a favor. If worst came to worst, he could call on him, but hopefully it would be a quick fix at home.

Pressing the tips of his fingers lightly around the wound, he said evenly, "Shizuka, I need a bowl of water and some cloth, please. And if you would, a large yukata. Bataar will be staying with us."

She nodded, rising wordlessly and slipping away again. Down the hall, Junko poked her head out of her room, stared a few moments, and then disappeared again.

Lashes lowered, he asked, "Were you hurt the worst on your head? This looks bad, but not terrible. You poor thing," he added, shifting so that he could cross his legs underneath him.

There was nothing that could soften Yuudai faster than someone in need. While he still fully intended to clean Bataar's clock, he would wait until he was well enough to be able to handle it.

Instantly contrite, because he could see that Bataar was really hurting, Yuudai released the minor pressure from around his wound. Being the sort of person who did not actively get hurt on a regular basis, he couldn't completely empathize with that particular pain. He burned his hands sometimes when he cooked, but that sort of pain was searing for a moment, lingered for most of a day, and then faded. He'd never really burned himself badly, after all.

"I'm sorry." His tone was soft, and had the situation been a normal one, it might have been remarkable how gentle he was being. His best attributes came out when he had someone to tend, after all. When Bataar leaned on him, he did his best to support his weight, bringing one hand up to lightly rub his back. When he didn't get any particular screams or grunts, he gauged that at least he wasn't too badly injured there.

Shizuka returned, and wordlessly wet a cloth for him. Shifting the other man's bulk, he raised the cloth to his wound, murmuring, "This is going to hurt..." as he began to clean it as best he could.

It was difficult, but he was doing reasonably well until Bataar mentioned the last little tidbit. He sucked in a quick breath, irrationally angry to learn that his friend was using someone else's bathing facilities, but managed to keep his hand steady. Someone had beaten him, and then... bathed him? What brutes. Yuudai had certainly never resorted to beating him to get him into the bath! And this injury was no light one, either.

Darkly, he muttered, "Who do they think they are, I wonder, beating you senseless and bathing you?" There was a stark contrast here between himself and these mystery people, as Yuudai merely withheld food if Bataar did not bathe. It was quite different from causing bodily harm.

He removed the cloth, dipping it back into the water and staining it red. After another moment, he went back to work, cleaning as carefully as he could.

"I don't know if this will require stitches." He sounded unhappy at that. "I can put gauze on it and re-wrap it for now, but we may need to see the doctor."

Thankfully, the wound was not bleeding wildly, and though it was long, it did not seem particularly deep. He wasn't certain if he could thank Bataar's thick skull for that or not, but he resolved to keep that particular quip to himself, given that the Mongol wasn't exactly at his best at that moment. Though his skills were rudimentary at best, he was fairly certain that he was capable of tending Bataar, getting him something to eat, and tucking him into bed without much issue. If worst came to worst, he had already managed to drag the other man halfway across the inn on two separate occasions, so if he had to, he would do so again. It must have been building muscle mass, at least.

The wound was as clean as he supposed he could get it, and dropped the cloth, holding out his hand to Shizuka. She passed some gauze over, and he caught his tongue between his teeth, carefully applying it. Bataar was obviously in pain, and he felt bad each time he jumped or hissed, but there was not much he could do about it. He was being as kind as he could by cleaning and dressing the wound quickly, after all.

Absently, because he was only paying half a mind to the conversation, he asked, "You fought someone at a bath house?" Then, almost immediately after, he sighed and sat back, eyebrows lifted at Bataar. "Nevermind. What's important is that you are here, so that you can be taken care of."

Shizuka passed him bandaging next, and he began to wrap it around Bataar's head, pleased that the flow of blood had been sufficiently staunched. He would no doubt have all mother of headaches, but for now, at least he wouldn't die of blood loss. Well, not unless he had other wounds somewhere that had yet to be discovered, which Yuudai suspected.

"If you need stitches, I am not going to put them in for you." He aimed an over-the-glasses look at Bataar, despite not requiring spectacles. "And yes, you will be fine, because you will let me take care of you. It is as simple as that."

For Yuudai, it really was. The head wound properly dressed, he began working at the front of Bataar's clothing again, all modesty aside. "Are there any other terrible wounds I should know about?"

For a brief moment, Yuudai was thankful that Bataar had been so receptive to being bathed by him. Aside from the obvious differences in their height and build, he knew from experience that when the other man lost his temper he acted before he thought, which had thus far only resulted in a painful dip into the bath. There were a myriad of horrors that he could imagine facing if Bataar had truly ever not wanted to take a bath, most of which involved broken bones in the event that he got angry enough to fight about it. All in all, he supposed he had a fairly easy time with the Mongol, which filled him with no small amount of pride.

"In the future, perhaps you should consider not attacking bathhouse workers. They tend to have a variety of things at their disposal that will become ready weapons," he added dryly, beginning to pile Bataar's clothing off to the side. Despite the cleaning he'd endured (and surely endured had to be the word) his clothes could stand to have a bit of a washing. Well, one couldn't expect the bathhouse workers to be able to accomplish everything in a single visit.

By the time he got down to bare skin he could see that the worst of the damage had been to his head. There was a bit of blood here and there on the inside of his clothing, but not enough to make him worry overmuch; clearly, the one blow to the head had been enough to subdue him for the extensive bathing he had been given. Yuudai did not approve of their methods, and it was obvious in the way that he frowned, intensely, at Bataar's bare chest.

"Shizuka, it will be fine for you to go to bed now."

She rose, casting one last curious look at Bataar, her cheeks flushing at the sight of the bare-chested man. Still, she knew well enough not to evoke her brother's temper, and simply pressed a kiss to his cheek before she padded off. When she was around the corner safely, he began to examine his abdomen in earnest.

"It seems you will escape stitches today. I will check on the head wound tomorrow morning, but I expect it will be fine." He hoped, anyway. There was a particularly nasty bruise forming over his ribs, fanning over nearly as big as Yuudai's palm. His fingertips ghosted over it, and he made a small, irritated noise, well aware there was nothing he could do for it.

Bruises simply had to heal. Scrapes, cuts, he could take care of those. Though it troubled him, he moved on.

Reaching behind him, he pulled a small jar of salve out of the first aid kit, twisting the lid off in a quick, precise motion. He coated his fingertips and leaned in, applying it in small, circular swipes to some scraped, abused flesh. Beneath his fingers, he was mildly irritated to feel no give whatsoever; pure muscle, skin stretched taut even when in a resting position. As before, when he had been faced with Bataar entirely naked, he felt inadequate and emasculated, enough so that his cheeks faintly burned from unhappiness.

"You seem to be mostly all right." At Bataar's suspicions of further injury, he stopped, stared up at him. He registered faint annoyance that he had to look up, but it was quickly dwarfed by irritated impatience. "Oh, your brain is fine, Bataar. Your skull is thick, which might be the only thing that saved you, but your brain seems ever the same as it has been."

He huffed, muttering, "Ask a serious question, and this is what I get..." as he continued to apply cold salve over the scrapes on his chest.