Journey Through Dimensional Worlds

Chapter 20 Not Wanting to Take Care of a Disabled Person

After Gai Tsutsugami and the others left, Yuzuriha Inori's body suddenly regained its mobility.

Like a spring that has been unwound, she suddenly stood up from beside He Quan's legs and took two steps back.

She stood by the coffee table, her deep red eyes fixed on the man on the sofa, her chest rising and falling slightly.

Shortly after entering the room, she became unable to move.

Her body was completely out of her control; she could only stand there and watch as He Quan broke the legs of three of her teammates.

She could only be called to the sofa and sit on his lap like a cat on a leash.

All I could hear was Gai Tsutsugami kneeling on the ground, his hoarse voice telling Ayase and Tsugumi to stay there as compensation.

She raised her hand and shook off He Quan's hand that was on the top of her head, the movement swift and decisive.

"You bullied them."

Yuzuriha Inori's voice was not loud; she was not good at expressing anger, and all she could say were the simplest accusations.

He Quan leaned back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and still had that faint smile on his lips.

He didn't answer, and then Yuzuriha Inori felt the clothes come alive again.

A red school uniform blazer, a white shirt, a short skirt, and black knee-high socks...

At the same moment, all the fabric touching her skin gained warmth.

Warm and soft, as if something sleeping inside the fabric had awakened, stretched, and then, like candy, sucked on her body.

Yuzuriha Inori's knees bent slightly. She bit her lip, her fingers gripping the edge of her skirt so tightly that her knuckles turned slightly white. She didn't sit down, stubbornly standing still.

Ayase Shinomiya sat in her wheelchair, her brows furrowed.

From the moment Yuzuriha Inori suddenly stood up, she sensed something was wrong. Yuzuriha Inori's knees were trembling, her fingers were gripping her skirt tightly, and the tips of her ears peeking out from her light pink hair were turning red at a visible speed.

But He Quan sat on the sofa, several steps away from her, and didn't even touch her.

Ayase Shinomiya demanded, "What did you do to her?"

He Quan did not answer. He stood up from the sofa and walked towards the wheelchair.

The pace was slow, and the sneakers made a steady, rhythmic sound as they stepped on the floor.

Ayase's fingers gripped the armrests of the wheelchair tightly.

Tsugumi's reaction was more direct; she rushed to the front of the wheelchair, spread her arms, and shielded Ayase behind her.

He raised his chin slightly and stared intently at He Quan.

"Don't come any closer!"

Her voice was loud, but He Quan could hear the underlying ferocity in it. He stopped half a step in front of the wheelchair, bent down, and touched Dong's shoulder with his fingers.

It was very light, without any force.

The thrush's body suddenly froze.

The funeral home's black uniform clung to her skin, then suddenly changed. Starting from her shoulders, a warm sensation spread along her collarbone to both sides, across her chest, across her back, and down to her waist.

It felt as if something alive was seeping out from every fiber of the fabric, while simultaneously clinging to every inch of her upper body skin.

A taste filled He Quan's mouth.

Like a lime ice cream just taken out of the freezer. The first bite is a sharp sourness, icy and stimulating, making the back of the tongue feel slightly tight.

But beneath that tartness lies a faint hint of sweetness, not the rich, creamy sweetness of ripe fruit, but something more unripe.

Like green plums, they are picked before they fully bloom, and the juice that bursts out when you bite into them has a refreshing taste that makes your mouth water.

That's the smell of a thrush: sharp, bright, and with an undisguised aggressiveness.

Thrush crouched down, placing her hands on the floor, her knuckles curled up.

Her black uniform skirt spread out, trembling slightly. Her face was buried in shadow, with only the tips of her ears peeking out from her hair, red as if about to bleed.

He Quan moved his fingers away from her shoulder and turned to Ayase in the wheelchair.

Ayase tried to back away, but the wheelchair was stopped, and her legs were covered by a blanket and she couldn't move. She could only watch as He Quan's hand reached out and his fingertips touched her shoulder.

Then she felt it too.

The uniform came alive; starting from the collarbone, the warm touch was like a drop of ink falling into still water, slowly but irresistibly spreading outwards.

Chest, back, waist, lower abdomen... every inch of skin covered by the uniform was enveloped by that warm, soft touch.

A different taste came to He Quan's mouth.

Like a chestnut cake in late autumn. The chestnut puree is finely mashed and mixed with light cream, resulting in a smooth and subtle sweetness.

It's not the bright sweetness of fruit, but something deeper—like roasted nuts, where the sugary crust slowly caramelizes in the oven, releasing a warm, smoky aroma.

Shinomiya Ayase gripped the armrests of the wheelchair tightly, her breathing became rapid, and her chest heaved.

She lowered her head, her long, dark brown hair falling from her shoulders, obscuring most of her face.

But through the gaps in her hair, you could see a thin layer of red tinging her cheekbones.

Yuzuriha Inori was still standing, her knees trembling, the hem of her red school uniform skirt swaying gently, and her black over-the-knee socks clinging tightly to her shapely calves.

The warm touch spread from the hem of the skirt to the top of the socks, and from the top of the socks to the top of the shoes... Every part of the body covered by the school uniform was gently enveloped by that soft, moist touch.

A third taste appeared in He Quan's mouth.

Like cherry blossom ice cream, the cream base is mixed with pickled cherry blossom petals. The petals are sugar-preserved, and the sweetness seeps into every texture, while the floral fragrance remains. It's light, slightly sweet, and has a subtle coolness.

As it melts on the tongue, the coolness spreads first, followed by sweetness, then the scent of cherry blossoms, unfolding layer by layer.

Yuzuriha Inori has a very clean flavor; you need to savor it carefully to fully appreciate it.

Yuzuriha Inori's knees finally gave way, and she knelt down, her skirt spreading out on the dark floor. She rested her hands on her knees, head bowed, her cheeks flushed red from her cheekbones to her ears.

All three of them were trembling and breathing rapidly.

"What...did you do to us...?"

The thrush's voice came from the floor, muffled, trying to sound like an accusation.

But the final note uncontrollably rose, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on trying to let out a threatening growl, only managing to squeeze out a distorted meow.

"Pervert...pervert..."

Ayase's voice was low and squeezed out from between her teeth.

"You also used this method on Yuzuriha Inori..."

The sensation didn't stop; it slid from the side of the waist to the lower abdomen, from the lower abdomen to the back, and from the back to the chest.

Her entire body, previously covered by the uniform, was simultaneously enveloped. It was as if countless tiny feathers were growing from the fibers of the clothing, clinging to her skin.

None of the three had ever experienced this feeling.

At the Funeral Parlor's base, in the cockpit of EndRave, and in countless missions and battles, no one had ever taught them that their bodies would react this way.

My heart was racing, my breathing was erratic, my skin was burning, and I couldn't control it at all.

The first to give up was the thrush.

Her body was extremely sensitive, and the moment that warm touch pressed against her waist and lower abdomen at the same time, she shuddered violently as if struck by an electric current.

He gripped the floor tightly with both hands, his knuckles curled up, and his fingernails scraped against the wooden floor, making a faint sound.

The black uniform skirt draped over her legs, and near her waist, the fabric subtly darkened. It wasn't a large water stain, just a small patch, almost invisible against the black fabric.

But the thrush knew it was there. She could feel it.

Then there's Yuzuriha Inori.

Her body tensed abruptly, her hands gripping the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turning white. Her pale pink twin ponytails swayed gently with her trembling. She bit her lip, swallowing all the sounds she uttered.

A small dark stain appeared on the short skirt, not noticeable against the dark fabric, and a fine granular texture appeared on the skin above the top of the black over-the-knee stockings.

Ayase was the last one.

She had no feeling in her legs, and her sense of touch only traveled across her upper body, covering a much smaller area than Tsugumi and Yuzuriha Inori. But precisely because of this, the sense of touch became more intense and delicate in the areas she could perceive.

The moment that warm touch pressed against her collarbone, waist, and lower abdomen, Ayase's body jerked backward, her head resting against the back of the wheelchair.

Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a breath that she forced down into a soft gasp.

There was a small dark stain on the blanket covering her legs, near the groin.

He Quan withdrew his ability, and the tactile sensation disappeared.

Tsurugi braced herself on the floor with her hands, head bowed, black skirt draped over her legs, and shoulders trembling slightly.

Yuzuriha Inori knelt beside the coffee table, her hands on her knees, her breathing still not calm.

Ayase leaned back in her wheelchair with her eyes closed.

"This is just a lesson for you."

He Quan spoke calmly.

The living room remained quiet for a long time, with only the sound of the three people's breathing gradually calming down.

He Quan walked toward his wheelchair.

Tsugumi suddenly raised her head. Her legs were still weak and she couldn't stand up, but she still reached out and grabbed the armrest of the wheelchair to prop herself up and stand in front of Ayase.

"What else do you want to do...?"

Before he could finish speaking, the clothes started coming up again.

This time, the sensation came faster, more intensely, and without reservation.

From the shoulders to the collarbone, from the collarbone to the chest, from the chest to the waist, from the waist to the lower abdomen... all the parts of the body covered by clothing were simultaneously enveloped by that warm, soft touch.

Tsurugi squatted down immediately. He braced himself with his hands on the ground, his forehead almost touching the floor.

Her earlobes were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, her lips were pressed tightly together, and she bit down on every word. The small dark mark had quietly expanded again.

He Quan walked past her.

Ayase sat in her wheelchair, watching He Quan approach step by step.

My body was still weak, and I had no feeling in my legs under the blanket.

She knew she should step back, but the wheelchair was braked, leaving her nowhere to retreat. She watched as He Quan bent down and reached out his hand.

Then she turned her head away, her long, dark brown hair slipping down her shoulder and obscuring her profile.

Ignoring it and not responding was the only resistance she could offer at that moment.

But He Quan's hand did not land where she expected.

He lifted the blanket covering her legs.

Ayase's body stiffened slightly; her legs were beneath the blanket.

Due to prolonged inability to walk, the muscles have shown slight atrophy.

He was wearing black trousers in a funeral home uniform, the legs of which were a little looser than normal.

There was a small wet patch on the fabric, a bit larger than the thrush's, but it was still not very noticeable on the black fabric.

He Quan squatted down next to the wheelchair, one hand on her knee, the other slowly sliding down along the contour of her calf.

The movements were no longer as casual as before; they were slower and more careful, as if he were confirming something.

Ayase turned her head and watched He Quan's hand move across her calf. A hint of confusion flashed in her deep brown eyes.

"Severe spinal injury."

He Quan's voice was low, his tone calm as if he were reading a file only he could see: "Bone fragments are embedded in the spinal canal, compressing the conus medullaris and cauda equina. Motor function in both lower limbs is completely lost, while sensory function is partially preserved. The degree of muscle atrophy in the lower limbs is still manageable, indicating that they have been performing passive movements. However, the nerve damage is irreversible and cannot be cured by modern medicine."

Are you mocking me?

Ayase's fingers gripped the armrests of the wheelchair tightly.

He Quan gripped Ayase's chin, his grip not strong but firm enough to be irresistible.

Ayase tried to turn her head, but his hand remained motionless. Her cheeks were pinched, and her lips were forced to open slightly.

A drop of blood seeped from He Quan's fingertip and landed on her tongue.

A surge of scalding warmth spread from the tip of my tongue downwards, through my cervical spine, through my thoracic spine, and through the lumbar vertebra that had been compressed for too long by bone fragments.

Like lava flowing through a dried-up riverbed, like electricity passing through a broken wire.

Her spine was burning.

He Quan was able to control the "flesh and blood texture" down to the cellular level a long time ago.

He can sense the location and state of every drop of his blood and control them to simulate any tissue structure.

The structure of nerve cells is not complicated: axon, myelin sheath, synapse. By using his blood to simulate a neural pathway and connecting the severed ends, the signal can be transmitted again.

This is not a cure, it's a replacement.

As long as his blood is still in her body, she can walk.

Ayase's toes moved inside her shoe.

She stood up, supporting herself on the armrests of her wheelchair. Her knees, thighs, and calves were trembling.

Her muscles, which hadn't been used for too long, were protesting, screaming, and sending signals to her brain that she couldn't hold on any longer.

But she didn't sit down. She stood up.

The thrush crouched on the ground, its beak slightly open and its eyes wide open.

She even forgot about the wet patch on her skirt.

Yuzuriha Inori also looked up, her deep red eyes reflecting Ayase's figure standing beside the wheelchair.

Ayase looked down at her legs and at her feet on the floor.

Black uniform trousers, dark indoor slippers, toes twitching slightly inside the shoes.

She looked up at He Quan. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but all the words got stuck in her throat.

"Thanks."

The sound was so soft that it was almost drowned out by the wind outside the window. Her combat instincts quickly calmed her down.

Healing irreversible nerve damage? What was his purpose in demonstrating this power? Deterrence? A gesture of goodwill?

He Quanping said calmly, "I don't want to take care of disabled people."

Ayase looked at him, her heart churning with indescribable emotions.

This person stepped on the cliff's head, keeping her and the thrush as compensation, and punishing them in a way that was hard to talk about.

But he healed her leg.

At that moment, Ayase felt curious about this.

Who exactly is he?

Thrush stood up from the ground, her legs still weak and her knees slightly bent.

She looked at Ayase standing beside the wheelchair, and her lips moved slightly.

"Ayase..."

She didn't know what to say.

Ayase can walk now, something she's always dreamed of.

But the one who cured Ayase was He Quan, the man who made her body strange, the man who kept them as spoils of war.

The dampness hadn't dried yet, and it felt cool against her side, a reminder of everything that had just happened.

She was very confused.

"tomorrow."

He Quan sat back on the sofa, while Yuzuriha Inori remained kneeling beside the coffee table, her deep red eyes fixed on him.

"The three of you, come with me to school. I'll prepare your school uniforms, and your identities have already been arranged."

"School?"

Tsugumi's voice rose: "Why would I go to a place like that! I'm not a high school student!"

He Quan looked at her, Dong's voice stuck in her throat. She wanted to be stubborn, but her knees were still weak. The coolness on her skirt hadn't dissipated, and the lingering feeling deep in her lower abdomen made her want to curl up.

"I'll go."

Ayase's voice rang out. She stood beside the wheelchair, her legs still trembling slightly, but her back was very straight.

Tsugumi turned to look at her: "Ayase-nee?"

"I'll go," Ayase said again, her voice calm. "Anyway, there's nowhere else to go."

What she didn't say was that she wanted to stay. She wanted to find out who this man really was. Why could he heal injuries that modern medicine couldn't treat? Why could he turn clothing into weapons...?

There are no answers to any of this, and she won't leave until she finds them.

Tsugumi looked at Ayase's profile, then at He Quan, who was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed.

"Whatever," she said in a muffled voice.

(End of this chapter)