This story is part of the Wanderer series.
Rin winces as the grandpa cleans up the cuts on her back, drawing her shoulders into herself.
“Bear through it, kid,” he gruffly mutters.
Tensing all the muscles on her back, she tries her best to hold still, quietly whimpering to herself as she tries to act tough. Her feet draw in to press against the stool legs, giving her some way to release her pent up tension. After the grandpa finishes up, he hangs the towel on a lap and begins to bandage her up.
“Seriously… What are kids like you doing, getting into fights?”
“We were— we were attacked…” Rin explains, continuing to wince each time the tape wraps around and presses the dressing against her grazed flesh. “We didn’t have a choice.”
“Then just run, kid.”
“We—! We did… but…”
“Don’t kid with me, kid.”
The man reaches out and abruptly grabs her bandaged left arm, right above the elbow, and observes it, pulling her back with it. Flinching, she gasped in pain.
“Gah!”
“A broken arm. Your back is torn up from the road. You turned around and fought.”
“I— didn’t have a choice, okay?!” she exclaims. Gritting through her pain, she swings her arm forwards, away from the man. He astutely lets go, letting the arm easily slip out of his grip.
“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?”
“I can’t just leav—”
“Your choice was to not hang out in dangerous streets. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”
The question stings her, but she decides to keep her mouth shut.
Sighing, the man finishes bandaging Rin’s back, then gets up from his stool and walks towards the sink. Setting down the gauze and tape, he turns on the faucet and runs the bloody towel through, rubbing and squeezing it in silence.
Behind him, Rin slouches in her seat, taking in the sensation of being stiffly bandaged up, unable to really stretch her shoulders. She fidgets a little, feeling as if she had awkwardly cut the conversation short by not responding to his question. Unable to bear the silence, she eventually becomes compelled to explain herself.
“Look, both of us are having a hard time right now. So we weren’t paying attention to what we were getting ourselves into.”
Stopping what he was doing, the grandpa looks over his shoulder, silently gazing down at her for several moments. She keeps her head drooped down, staring at the floor and avoiding his gaze. With a grunt, the man turns back towards the sink, wringing the towel again under the running water.
“The other kid got you into trouble, huh?”
Rin’s eyes widen, but quickly narrow again, dipping her head lower to mask her expression.
“No, not that… I mean… I could’ve…”
Reading her wavering tone, the grandpa does not fall for her excuses.
“Why do you hang around with her if she constantly gets you into trouble?”
Glancing up, she finally turns her head towards the man. “What…? I… I can’t just leave her to fight for herself—”
“I’m not talking about your little fight anymore, kid.” He looks over his shoulder, shutting the faucet off.
She cuts off her words, leaving her mouth parted open as she stares with uncertainty as to where the man is leading the conversation.
“If you can’t protect her, then you’re better off without each other’s baggage.”
Rin jolts up straight on her stool, eyes flaring up. “What?! You don’t und—”
“Don’t like it? Then get yourself together,” he growls back, keeping his voice tempered despite the girl’s rising anger. “You can’t take care of anyone if you don’t first take care of yourself.”
“…” She balks again, speechless. Eventually, she snaps her mouth shut and drops her gaze again, eyes blankly scanning the floor in front of her as she grips with her own realization.
Hanging the towel on a wire, he dries his hands on his apron and walks past her, opening a wardrobe door. “Don’t be a mindless cheerleader,” he finishes. “Sooner or later, it’ll break you apart.”
Rin tilts her head to the side, beginning to shake her head, but stopping short, still instinctively trying to hide her troubling emotions. She hunches forward to rest her elbows on her knees, silently brooding over his words.
A piece of cloth lightly smacks her on the head, flopping over to cover it. Slowly reaching up, she pulls it down from her face and looks at it, finding a long beige shirt with puffy sleeves and a simple white chemise.
“Get dressed, kid,” the grandpa grunted, spreading the doorway curtain. “Your shirt’s no good. You’ll just have to wear those until Becky patches it back up.”
He exits, leaving her alone in the room.