Fast. Too fast for Pearl’s liking.

One second everything is calm, the next there’s a sharp crash somewhere nearby followed by movement—unfamiliar, sudden, potentially dangerous.

Before you can even fully react— Pearl is already in front of you.

Her spear flashes into existence instantly, posture rigid and defensive as she positions herself between you and the threat without hesitation. Every part of her sharpens at once—focused, alert, prepared.

“Stay behind me.”

The command comes out immediate and firm. Protective in a way that leaves absolutely no room for argument.

You blink, caught slightly off guard by how quickly she moved. “Pearl, I can handle—”

“I know you can!”

The words snap out sharper than intended. Theres silence afterward.

Pearl freezes slightly, realization flickering across her face almost as quickly as the anger had. Her grip tightens around her spear before she exhales, shoulders lowering just a fraction.

“…I know you can,” she repeats, softer this time.

There’s guilt in it now. Frustration too—but not at you. At herself.

At the fact that the idea of something happening to you had sent panic through her so quickly.

The tension nearby starts to fade, the danger turning out to be smaller than it first appeared, but Pearl doesn’t lower her weapon right away. She stays where she is, firmly planted between you and anything that could possibly hurt you.

Like moving would somehow leave an opening.

You step closer carefully. “Pearl.”

Her eyes remain fixed ahead, jaw tight with lingering adrenaline.

“…I just…” Her voice catches slightly before she steadies it again. “I want to make sure you never have to.”

That softens something in you instantly.

You reach out slowly, touching her arm where it’s tense beneath your hand.

“I don’t need a guard,” you tell her gently.

For a moment, she looks conflicted.

Because logically, she knows that. She knows you’re capable, strong, able to protect yourself if necessary.

Emotionally, Pearl has always loved through protection. Through vigilance.

Through placing herself between danger and the people she cares about, even if it costs her something.

Her gaze finally shifts toward you, softer now, uncertainty slipping through the cracks in her composure.

“…But may I still stand beside you?” she asks quietly.

The question sounds so much smaller than her earlier command.

Like she’s asking if she’s allowed to care this much.

You smile faintly, your hand still resting against her arm. “Beside me is fine.”

Pearl’s expression changes immediately—not dramatic, just subtle relief loosening the tension in her face.

Slowly, her spear disappears in a shimmer of light.

But she doesn’t move far.

Instead, she steps to your side exactly as promised, shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

Close enough to protect you if she needs to.

Close enough to reassure herself that you’re safe.

And even after everything settles completely, she stays there a little longer than necessary.

Just in case.