![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for < lj user="fic_promptly">'s any, any, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Set pre-canon, following the "accident" that cost Muraki his right eye.
The young master seemed different since the attempt on his life, and Sakaki could tell, a servant always could, particularly one who worked for his master as closely as he did.
It seemed every morning when Sakaki went to wake the man up and help him as he dressed, the young master looked taller. He would often pause while dressing to stare at the sleeves of his shirts and the cuffs of his trousers, which seemed to have ridden up further in the night.
"Sir, do you think it had something to do with the damage to your eye?" Sakaki asked carefully. He dared not mention the attempt on the young master's life: he did not grow harsh or depressed when someone brought it up, but when someone did, he would often look at that person coldly, as if silencing them with a look.
Muraki-sama turned his one remaining eye, the other screwed shut to hide the empty socket, the eye he had lost when the angered father of a patient who had died on the young master's slab, had attacked the physician. "I had the same thought myself," Muraki-sama replied. "I thought that perhaps the blade had damaged my pituitary gland, but there's no evidence that it penetrated that deeply."
Sakaki relaxed a bit: the young master must have slept well and felt relaxed, since he spoke at this length on the matter. "You must be feeling better today," he noted.
Muraki-sama looked into the mirror over the dresser, before reaching for the plain white eyepatch, a square of three layers of gauze-like material with two white cords attached and lifting it to his face, studying it with his good eye for a long moment before pressing the pad to his empty socket and tying the cords behind his head. "I am, as a matter of fact: I'm healing and... the ocular prosthesis which I've had made up will be ready soon. And so, my spirit has drawn on my inner strength to renew its balance."
"Very good to hear, sir," Sakaki noted, reaching for his master's waistcoat and holding it up while the young master slipped his arms through the arm holes.
"It is very good: I've passed through the worst, and I'm recovering physically and emotionally," Muraki-sama replied, buttoning his waistcoat, then finding Sakaki's gaze in the mirror with the gaze of his good eye. "I think, in some ways, I'm stronger for it."
Sakaki gave his master a polite smile of amusement. "As evidenced by your recent growth," he noted.
Muraki-sama glanced down at the cuffs of his trouser legs, which had crept up near the top of his socks. "Mmm, yes, I'll have to speak to my tailor soon. To have my cuffs taken down. Again. I'm not sure what's costing me more, the ocular prosthesis, or the alterations to my wardrobe."
"Indeed, sir," Sakaki replied, reaching for his master's jacket.
The young master seemed different since the attempt on his life, and Sakaki could tell, a servant always could, particularly one who worked for his master as closely as he did.
It seemed every morning when Sakaki went to wake the man up and help him as he dressed, the young master looked taller. He would often pause while dressing to stare at the sleeves of his shirts and the cuffs of his trousers, which seemed to have ridden up further in the night.
"Sir, do you think it had something to do with the damage to your eye?" Sakaki asked carefully. He dared not mention the attempt on the young master's life: he did not grow harsh or depressed when someone brought it up, but when someone did, he would often look at that person coldly, as if silencing them with a look.
Muraki-sama turned his one remaining eye, the other screwed shut to hide the empty socket, the eye he had lost when the angered father of a patient who had died on the young master's slab, had attacked the physician. "I had the same thought myself," Muraki-sama replied. "I thought that perhaps the blade had damaged my pituitary gland, but there's no evidence that it penetrated that deeply."
Sakaki relaxed a bit: the young master must have slept well and felt relaxed, since he spoke at this length on the matter. "You must be feeling better today," he noted.
Muraki-sama looked into the mirror over the dresser, before reaching for the plain white eyepatch, a square of three layers of gauze-like material with two white cords attached and lifting it to his face, studying it with his good eye for a long moment before pressing the pad to his empty socket and tying the cords behind his head. "I am, as a matter of fact: I'm healing and... the ocular prosthesis which I've had made up will be ready soon. And so, my spirit has drawn on my inner strength to renew its balance."
"Very good to hear, sir," Sakaki noted, reaching for his master's waistcoat and holding it up while the young master slipped his arms through the arm holes.
"It is very good: I've passed through the worst, and I'm recovering physically and emotionally," Muraki-sama replied, buttoning his waistcoat, then finding Sakaki's gaze in the mirror with the gaze of his good eye. "I think, in some ways, I'm stronger for it."
Sakaki gave his master a polite smile of amusement. "As evidenced by your recent growth," he noted.
Muraki-sama glanced down at the cuffs of his trouser legs, which had crept up near the top of his socks. "Mmm, yes, I'll have to speak to my tailor soon. To have my cuffs taken down. Again. I'm not sure what's costing me more, the ocular prosthesis, or the alterations to my wardrobe."
"Indeed, sir," Sakaki replied, reaching for his master's jacket.
