Hikari woke to the feeling that the bed had forgotten her.
No weight on her back. No tug at her shoulder blades. Her hair lifted off her cheek like it was underwater, and the blanket beneath her had a dip in it that didn't actually touch her. The medical tent was dim and warm: a low kettle, the generator's hum stitching through everything.
"Easy." Raizen's voice, close. He was sitting on a crate beside her, elbows on his knees, a tin cup in his hands he hadn't remembered to drink from. "Don't rush anything."
She turned her head a little. The world sloshed and steadied. She put her palm down to push herself up and met a soft, invisible resistance a finger above the mattress - like a spring too polite to be seen. She tried again. Same push, same hover.
"Since when do beds… not…?" Her voice sounded like it had been folded and put away wet.
