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“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“And you don’t have to dye your hair pink,” Jordana huffs. “You know.”
“I do it for fun, not that you’d understand anything about that.” Sora crosses her arms defiantly.
“Whatever.”
Jordana continues a few feet ahead of Sora, limping on her wounded leg. When they’d crashed in the forest, she had bandaged the deep gash on her thigh with the cleanest scrap of fabric they had, but it wasn’t doing much. Sora had begged to help, but Jordana had literally pushed her away.
Now, they trudge through the forest, unsure of where they’ll get spit out—if the forest ever ends.
Sora keeps a tracker with her at all times, and they’re following its signal to the Destiny’s Bounty. Hopefully, there will be help there, and hopefully Jordana will allow the ninja to give her medical treatment.
They haven’t seen each other since the Tournament of Sources—when Sora apologized to Jordana, not knowing it wasn’t even her. When they encountered each other again, they didn’t mention it, but now the issue hangs awkwardly in the air between them.
They march on.
———
Sora kneels down to adjust Jordana’s bandage. She glances up to see Jordana's eyes widen before quickly darting away.
“Well, it’s definitely infected,” Sora says. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Jordana seethes. She crosses her arms, still avoiding eye contact.
“Because you’re hurt?” Sora straightens so she’s standing above Jordana. “Because I feel bad?”
“I don’t need you to feel bad for me.”
“Whatever,” Sora sighs. “Can you keep walking?”
Jordana nods shortly and stands as well. She presses her foot gingerly to the ground, grimacing in pain. But if she won’t accept Sora’s help, there’s not much she can really do.
———
“Seriously, if you need to rest, it’s okay.” Sora hovers nervously by Jordana’s side.
“I’m fine,” Jordana says, even though she’s dripping sweat and her skin has turned worryingly pale.
“Well, let’s stop anyway. My feet really hurt.”
“Weak,” Jordana mutters, but stumbles to support herself against a tree anyway.
Sora joins her, offering her canteen of water. Jordana takes it without comment, taking a large swig between shaky breaths.
Sora crouches down again to examine the other girl’s leg. Blood has already seeped through the makeshift bandage wrapped around it, and Sora has a feeling that if she pulled it back, she’d be greeted by red, angry skin.
“You need to rest,” Sora comments.
“It’s not like anyone’s coming to save us,” Jordana spits. “We need to keep walking.”
“At least let me help you. I don’t understand why you won’t let me help you.”
Jordana sneers.
“I know you’re not all bad. You wouldn’t have helped us back at the Tournament of Sources if you were.”
“You don’t know me.”
“And I’m sorry about that too.” Jordana rolls her eyes, and Sora pauses. “I wish there was something we could do for your leg,” she says softly. “I feel so useless.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
Sora could say that it might be the first time she’s ever heard Jordana talk about her feelings, but she stays silent.
“Ever since that…thing was stuck in my head, I’ve been weak.” She says the last word like it leaves a bad taste on her tongue.
Sora understands, of course. Weakness wasn’t tolerated in Imperium, but it wasn’t like there was much Jordana could do about this weakness.
“It’s okay to be weak every once in a while,” Sora says.
“Is that what those ninja taught you?”
“Yes, actually. And it isn’t a totally horrible lesson.”
“Whatever,” Jordana says, but lowers herself to the ground with a hiss of pain.
Sora joins her on the floor of the forest, thinking.
“If it gets to be too much,” Jordana says suddenly, voice low, “leave me behind.”
“What? No.” Sora’s brow furrows.
“You should save yourself.”
“…Even if it really comes down to it, I’m not leaving you, Jordana.”
Jordana snarls. “Then we’ll both die.”
“You’re not dying,” Sora says decidedly.
She pulls a handkerchief from her utility belt and uses it to wipe the clammy sweat from Jordana’s face. The other girl doesn’t even comment, which almost feels like some sort of omen.
“You’re so…stupid,” Jordana breathes. In just a matter of seconds, she’s gotten more and more shaky. Sora’s stomach twists. “I still don’t know how you beat me every time,” she continues. “It should have been me.”
“Maybe it should have,” Sora says bitterly. “It wouldn’t have done you any good.”
Jordana pants. “Why did you choose to leave?”
The question surprises Sora. “Because Imperium wasn’t good for us,” she says hesitantly. “Because I knew I could do something better—feel better somewhere else.”
“But you had everything.”
Sora pauses. “I never had a friend.”
Jordana lets out a harsh breath. “Neither did I. Maybe you are smarter than me.”
“Stop…talking like you’re dying. You’re not dying.”
Jordana shrugs minutely. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Let’s rest for now, then we’ll keep going,” Sora says.
Jordana nods once, short and feeble.
———
Sora practically carries Jordana through the forest. The other girl has mostly gone silent. She’s trying to walk, but both her legs are unsteady at this point, and her ability to concentrate has rapidly diminished. Occasionally, she looks up at Sora with glassy eyes, almost like she’s forgotten Sora is there.
Sora heaves her onto the ground. She tilts Jordana’s head back and dribbles water into her mouth. They don’t have much left, but Jordana needs it more than Sora does.
“Ana…” she mumbles.
“Sora,” she corrects lightly.
“Sora. You can leave me, and I won’t be mad. Not like before.”
A pause. “You were…mad that I left Imperium?”
“Duh.” Jordana sighs. She swallows heavily. “Thought it was obvious.”
“Well, like you said, I can be pretty stupid.”
Jordana smirks lazily, her eyes half-closed. Sora laces their fingers together. The other girl’s skin is warm with fever and her body shaking, so Sora tightens her grip.
“I never should have gone with Ras,” she says, frowning. “All my fault.”
“You…couldn’t have known what would happen.”
Jordana shakes her head, and Sora hates the way it looks heavy and uncoordinated.
“But I did,” Jordana confesses. “I knew, and I still did it.”
Sora pulls her into a hug, but Jordana just leans limply against her. She pulls out her homing compass, and even though it looks like they’re getting closer, it’s not a promise.
“I told you to stop talking like you’re dying.”
“I never agreed.”
Sora holds Jordana out in front of her, her grip tight around the other girl’s shoulders.
“You are not dying, do you hear me?” Sora gently shakes Jordana, whose head lolls. “Not on my watch.”
Jordana smiles, as if she’s reminiscing. “Do you get it now? Why I wanted to be you?”
“What?”
“You’re everything. And you never cared…what others thought of you.”
“Of course I did.”
Jordana shakes her head. “Not like I did. Do.”
Sora struggles to find the right words. “I should have noticed.”
“It’s okay.” Jordana smiles. “I should have…” She trails off, her eyes closing.
Sora’s stomach ties into a knot. “Should have what?” she urges.
“Shouldn’t have cared so much.” Jordana opens her eyes, something raw behind them. “Shouldn’t have gone with Ras.”
“You were hurting,” Sora says, “no one can blame you for that.”
Jordana’s face crumples. “Sora, please don’t leave me,” she whispers.
“Never. I’ll never leave you.” She pulls Jordana close to her chest, as if she could give some of her strength to her.
———
Sora hears a crackle in her earpiece and almost cries.
“Sora?” a voice comes in, the quality staticky and faint.
“Nya,” Sora breathes in relief. “Oh, thank the Sources.”
“Where are you? Are you okay?” The quality increases with every word, and Sora knows it’s because she’s getting closer.
“I’m okay, but I have someone with me who isn’t.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
———
In the Bounty’s small medical bay, Sora waits by Jordana’s side. She’d been right about the infection, and they’ve pumped the other girl with fluids and antibiotics. Now, they’ll play the waiting game.
After many hours, Jordana slowly comes to. She startles when she sees the unfamiliar wooden ceiling of the ship.
“Hey, easy.” Sora places a hand on Jordana’s shoulder. “You’re okay.”
Jordana huffs, but there’s no real animosity behind it. She takes stock of her surroundings. “You…saved me.”
“I told you I would.”
“I didn’t think you actually believed it.”
They stay silent for a moment.
“About what I said back there—” Jordana starts.
“You thought you were dying—we don’t have to talk about it.”
Jordana shakes her head. “I should thank you,” she says quietly. “For saving my life and for everything else. If it weren’t for you fixing my mistakes…the world would have already ended.”
“There’s still a chance for that,” Sora says, cringing when Jordana’s brow furrows sadly. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Jordana admits, but doesn’t say more. Sora thinks she understands, though.
“And, of course I would save your life,” Sora says. “A lot has happened between us…but we’re still just two girls from Imperium.”
Jordana huffs. “But now I’m a witch, and you’re a ninja.”
Sora shrugs one shoulder. “Doesn’t change where we came from.”
Jordana sits, even though she cringes in pain. Sora reaches out to steady her, but Jordana catches her hand. She clasps it, setting their hands down in her lap. Her skin is no longer warm from fever, and her eyes are clearer. Sora smiles.
“You forgave me, even after everything I did.”
“And I would do it again.”
Jordana swallows. “I thought that made you stupid. I guess I was wrong.”
“I was wrong too. I used to think no one would ever want me—that’s why I named myself Sora.”
Jordana smiles softly, so unlike herself. She brushes her thumb over the back of Sora’s knuckles.
“Maybe no one is strictly smart or stupid,” Sora continues. “It seems like we both have our moments.”
“That certainly makes things easier.”
Something wells up inside Sora. It’s guilt, relief, sadness, and joy all at once. It’s too much to feel, so she leans forward and kisses Jordana—soft at first, then a little deeper. They take a breath, almost sharing it. Sora sits back.
“You’re so…confusing,” Jordana says breathlessly.
Sora laughs lightly. “That’s really all you have to say?”
Jordana tilts her head to the side, a smile teasing at the edges of her lips. “Maybe it wasn’t so terrible, though. Maybe you should do it again.”
“Fine. Maybe I will.”
Sora leans in for another kiss. Jordana’s lips are chapped from dehydration and her near-death experience, but it doesn’t really matter. Sora cradles the side of Jordana’s face. Her cheeks are warm from a pink blush emerging. Sora thinks she must be blushing too, and when they pull apart, she brushes her own cheek just to check.
“Will you stay with us? At least until you’re healed?” Sora asks.
“I guess I have to. I can’t go anywhere with my leg like this.”
“And after that?”
Jordana smirks, but Sora notices something there she never had before. It’s mischievous. It’s playful, Sora decides.
“We’ll see,” Jordana says.