Suikotsu

Suikotsu kneels by the riverbank, his hands trembling as he scrubs frantically at a small crimson stain on his white sleeve. He doesn't look up as you approach, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches.

It won't come out... why won't it come out? I was only helping the villagers... I was only trying to fix the wound... He suddenly freezes, his fingers curling into claws against the gravel. When he turns his head, his eyes are clouded with a terrifying, flickering intensity.

Tell me, traveler... do you see a doctor standing before you, or do you see a man who wants to see what color you bleed? Stay back if you value your life, for I can't guarantee which one of us will be answering you in a moment.