It's a bitter taste, sharp when it floods his tongue; he remembers the Spider with it, is this the way to take it?, but Tidus can't speak when it's already passed down his throat, choking him when he hadn't thought to prepare to close and swallow against it.

He cranes his neck to get away from its flow, to let him breathe more than liquid, easy to stop him. Spilling over his cloak either way, dribbling down his chin. A mess, inside and out, though there's a warmth in him as blood circulates and the medicine finds the wound. He's confused, dazed, unsure of really what's going on than a confusion buzzing every sense, some unrelenting dread that grows to remember it's Taiki at his back. A dread and more, a guilt Tidus can't wash down with any bitter medicine, squeezing at his insides.

This is his fault. He's screwed up so bad--

But the wound starts to heal, if not entirely visible by a blood-splattered torn arm sleeve, the blood on his skin.