>"I'll be fine. I'm a mouse: we don't die from plagues, we spread them."
>Frown.
>"Am I contagious?"
>Your remark draws a weak chuckle from Ichirin and a hint of a smile.
>Then you frown at the thought of what you just said being literally true.
>"She said she doesn't think so. And given how quickly you fell ill, it's likely others would already be sick by now if you were. This is no natural disease; it is born of something almost spiritual and clings viciously to whatever it infects."
>"Fine. I don't need prayers anyway. I need something more useful. Other than crying to gods, did she mention any way to fight this?"
>Ichirin is silent for a moment, before uttering a weak "...no."
>"She's tried everything in her knowledge," she says. "We all have. And checked with doctors and even brought in a priestess. Minoriko was the only one who was able to do anything at all. She..." Ichirin's eyes grow distant; you can practically see the painful memories reflected in them, and hear them clearly in her voice.
>"She tried all the usual remedies, but your fever and breathing kept worsening. Nothing but that sword seemed to make any difference, and even that was far too little. You were dying... quickly. She could feel the faith placed inside the blade, but she couldn't really touch it; every kind of faith and prayer is different and unique, and its domain was not hers. But the faith inside that weapon was pushing against the disease and was the only thing that seemed able to. So she came up with a way that she
could tap into that power, just a little."
>"She planted some herb seeds in a pot of soil and placed the blade within it so that its aura could touch upon the earth, then coaxed them to grow. From that, she made medicine infused with the prayers that rest inside that weapon. A few hours later, your fever broke."
>She shakes her head. "But the blight itself barely slowed."
