Wide golden eyes watched as the time-traveling priestess stood up, again. After another hit from Naraku she had fallen down, injured, poisoned. But still she stood up again and defended her friends. His idiot of a half-brother had been injured as he protected the undead priestess instead of the living one. The undead priestess was close to the end of her unnatural life and couldn't move. The slayer had the monk's head in her lap, her left arm broken and her right leg useless. The monk had sucked in too many of the poisonous wasps with his wind tunnel and was feverish. The kit was tending to the injured lot and tried to supervise and distribute medicine and bandages as his adoptive mother had instructed him. He never lifted his eyes towards the fighting priestess in fear of seeing the truth and being discouraged in his task.