(continued story) Ryoko fumed as she waited. She noticed Risashi drawing out a chair for her best friend Sakura, and helping her into it. She saw the look of bliss on her friend's face also, even while hurting Sakura had something to enjoy. Lucky her. Fusashi returned and lifted one foot of hers into his hands, and spread cool liquid on it. It was disinfectant, and it stung her wounds. Ryoko raised her eyebrows. He was being so kind to her, so gentle with his touch. What was going on? Fusashi didn't usually act this way, he was always goofy, aloof, unbearably flirtatious and obnoxious. Then again, he'd shown another side before; a sadder, broken part when she'd discovered him and Risashi's mother was murdered when they were both just 13. It left her wondering who he really was and what part of him was real, and now she was really stumped. Fusashi finished coating her skin with lotion to soften the rough layer, then set the bottle down and began softly rubbing her feet. Ryoko stiffened, her face glowing with blush, then she bristled. ""You don't have to do that, Fusashi." she strained, trying to ease her leg away. This was too much like the time he played footsie with her shortly after she got them their jobs, when he first started this bizarre flirting game. He was probably enjoying stroking her skin. But Fusashi imprisoned her leg within his grasp, looking into her eyes. "I want to do it." he proclaimed. "You need to relax or else you won't be able to walk home, unless I carry you. Although, if you wanted that..." "Never mind." Ryoko replied, anxious NOT to be carried home. "A little to the left, please." she finally suggested, reluctantly accepting his aid. Fusashi had a good hand, and his message was slowly taming her pain. Her face was still afire with blush, and desperate to distract herself from it, she questioned Fusashi. "You're pretty good at messaging..." she began awkwardly. “I never imagined you would be. Where'd you learn it? You seem like you've done it before." Fusashi kept his head low...