Hmm

Saburo's gaze was fractured, keeping eye contact with him for any length of time gave the impression of looking through a shattered window, and all the raw panic inside was plainly visible without cool blue in the way. It was hard to say if he had slept at all since the day before, even though he was desperately in need of it, or if he had merely been lying with his eyes closed to avoid seeing something he couldn't face just yet. His face was flushed, and he shivered regardless of both blankets and the feverish heat that would not dissipate from him. Still, it hardly seemed as if he recognized his condition, his ability to take note of his own pain was constricted by something else. In fact, he felt constricted more anything, despite the irremovable sense that he had something remaining to do, movement of any kind was impossible. He had done something already, and no matter what his eyes told him when he tried to look, it was not something that could be reversed. He was terrified to move again now, because if he could do that, then there was no reason to assume that he couldn't do something worse.

He was far gone. That much was not questionable. There did remain the matter, though, of bringing him back.

“Saburo... what's wrong...?” Pirarah murmured, so gently, but Saburo's cracked eyes widened as if he had been struck. He recoiled, away from a voice that he couldn't be hearing. Kururu bit back a reflexive “tch,” because somehow, though he was hardly conscious, Saburo would react to that sound as well, and Kururu had no wish to disturb him further, really. The Pekoponian lay mute, and he had remained that way since stumbling from the Soul Diver. Somehow, Kururu felt that allowing him his silence and tending to his ill form as best he could would help more than anything.

“Oi. Shut up,” he ordered curtly, and then complied by his own command once more.

“B-but...” Pirarah cast a worried look at his cross-species brother, who didn't actually return his gaze. Saburo was staring in his direction, but that was all. A small hand reached out as far as it could, aiming to give Saburo a comforting pat on the shoulder, and received nothing in response. '

The boy did open his mouth, belatedly. However, words seemed to have abandoned him, or maybe, he had entirely forgotten his art. Either way, for the time being and perhaps for a while yet, he was unable to paint the phrases that would reassure his Keronian companions.