Jini said nothing at first.
Her gaze turned inward, as though weighing something far heavier than the request itself.
The fire snapped and hissed beside them, sending sparks spiraling into the night, but she didn't seem to hear it.
Harold shifted uncomfortably, his half-finished skewer cooling in his hand.
He was ready to withdraw the words, laugh it off as another dumb joke, when she finally spoke.
"If it costs me nothing," she said slowly, "then… do as you wish."
Not agreement.
Not refusal.
Something in between, suspended in that cold middle ground.
Harold forced a smile, nodding quickly.
"Right. Yeah. Thanks. That's… that's good enough for me."
They finished the meal in silence.
When the fire had burned low, Harold set about smothering it carefully.
He scattered the glowing coals, smudged the embers with dirt, and checked twice to make sure no stray spark lingered.
Jini watched, expression unreadable, until he dusted his hands and turned back toward her.
"Alright," Harold said, rubbing his palms together like a nervous salesman. "Let's, uh, get you settled."
He helped her back inside.
Jini's steps were slow, stiff with pain though she refused to voice it.
Her weight leaned into him more than once, tentacles twitching against his side, but she never acknowledged the reliance.
When they reached the stone-raised bed, she eased down with a controlled exhale.
Harold crouched beside her, peeling away the crude splint he'd fashioned earlier—thick dowel rods lashed with twine.
The bindings dug into her skin, leaving faint impressions.
Once he slid them free, the rods and twine shimmered faintly, then vanished as if consumed by air.
Jini blinked but said nothing.
Harold didn't miss a beat.
He conjured a new set into being—dowels and twine materializing at his command.
With steady, if slightly trembling hands, he bound them back around her injured leg.
Ding!
A small chime rang in his head, bright and unmistakable.
A sliver of warmth rushed through him, like the satisfaction of finishing a puzzle.
Jini tilted her head.
"You… heard something."
Harold froze, caught.
"…Yeah. Kind of. A notification, you could say. Means I did it right."
Her brow furrowed.
"But nothing changed."
"Well, not for you," Harold admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But for me? It's practice. Like swinging a sword at a dummy. Doesn't matter if the dummy bleeds or not."
She made a faint, irritated sound but didn't pull away.
So he kept going.
The splint dissolved again.
Another fresh set appeared, and Harold repeated the process, binding it tight, knotting the twine with awkward fingers.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding!
Each success landed differently—sometimes a faint, hollow ping, other times a more satisfying chime, as though the system itself graded him.
A few earned only a whisper of experience, others dropped a chunk big enough that he grinned in spite of himself.
Over and over, he worked.
Rods, twine, bind.
Release.
Start again.
Jini watched, confusion flickering in her eyes with every repetition.
By the tenth attempt she finally spoke.
"You are… wasting effort."
"Not really." Harold cinched a knot tighter, lips quirking. "Every time I do this, I get a little better. Think of me as a first time sword wielder, i get a stick or a wooden blade to practice with first before the real thing?"
"Hmph, why bother with sticks."
He chuckled nervously.
"Right. Guess that doesn't mean much here."
Another ding rewarded his fumbling.
His pulse quickened; the warmth in his chest spread wider, stronger.
Jini shifted slightly on the stone bed, tentacles draping over the side like restless snakes.
"Strange creature," she murmured.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Do not."
Time blurred.
The repetition lulled him, the ritual of it oddly soothing.
Each splint laid down another brick of progress he could feel building, even if Jini couldn't.
Sweat prickled his brow from the effort of concentration, but he didn't stop.
Finally—
DING!
The sound was sharper, fuller, more triumphant.
Words unfurled across his vision, glowing letters only he could see.
Skill Level Up!
Casting (Splinting): Level 1 achieved.
Harold let out a breathy laugh, grinning wide.
"Ha! There it is."
Jini narrowed her eyes.
"You… achieved something."
"Yeah. I got better, and can now do a leg cast even better than before now!"
She regarded him coolly, unimpressed.
"And yet my leg is no different."
He winced, deflating slightly.
"Well, yeah. That part's… complicated."
He moved to remove the casting once more, only this time when activating the skill.
Instead of twine a roll of casting tape appeared along with the dowels.
The tape allow for a greater hold of not only the rod but also her leg, preventing it from moving, and if he used enough it would almost look like a crude cast itself.
Her silence stretched, but she didn't tell him to stop.
He'd achieved a level up and her cast was not better sure, but it wasnt quite good enough yet, so without stopping he continued, wrapping her leg up before, asking her to cut the tape away so he could start again once more.
What struck him most was how natural it felt now.
At first, every knot had been a question, every placement a second-guess.
But with each practice run, his fingers remembered.
They learned.
That realization steadied him.
If he could get better at this, then maybe—just maybe—he could handle the harder stuff someday.
Stitching patterns.
Real fractures.
Even… worse.
The thought sobered him.
He glanced at Jini, at the patient stillness she wore like armor.
"Hey. Thanks, by the way. For letting me do this. Means more than you think."
Her gaze flicked to him, sharp and unreadable.
"You are strange, Harold. You chase weakness as if it were strength."
"Maybe," he admitted, tightening the last knot. "But it's the only way I know how."
For a while they said nothing more.
The fire outside had long since died, leaving the chamber bathed in cool shadows.
Harold finished one last splint, tugged it secure, then sat back with a weary sigh.
Jini flexed her claws against the stone, testing the bindings. Her expression betrayed nothing.
"You are finished?" she asked.
"For tonight," Harold said, leaning against the wall.
His body ached in quiet ways, but his grin lingered.
"Tomorrow, though? Who knows, afterall not much i can do in the darkness of night."
Her tentacles shifted in what might have been annoyance—or amusement.
She lay back against the cold stone, eyes half-lidding.
"Do not give me a reason to end you."
Harold chuckled softly, closing his eyes too.
"No promises." throwing out a remark that made her eyes shoot open only to realize he wasnt even remotely serious about what he'd said.