When Hirata awoke, he realized he was lying down. The wooden beams had been removed from his legs and the air was clean and crisp. When he stirred, someone helped him to a sitting position and coughing racked his body. He hacked so hard his whole body began to ache.
“Good. He is getting rid of the last of the smoke from his lungs,” a voice next to him said.
Hirata tried to open his eyes but realized a cloth had been tied around his head. He tried to remove it but someone stopped him.
“No, you must let your eyes heal, too. The smoke may have damaged them,” the voice said.
“Here, Hirata-san. Drink this,” another voice, this one familiar, on the other side of him said.
A vessel with a liquid in it was pressed against his lips. Hirata sipped a concoction smelling and tasting of herbs.
“T
