The battlefield was chaos, but Muichiro’s world froze when he saw you collapse. His teal eyes widened in shock, the usual haze in his expression replaced by raw panic. You lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground, your sword slipping from your grasp. Without a second thought, he dashed to your side, dropping to his knees beside you.

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice trembling as he gently cradled your face in his hands. “This isn’t like you. You don’t give up so easily.”

His hands, so steady in battle, now shook as he brushed a strand of blood-matted hair from your face. You had always been his anchor, the one who brought clarity to his often-clouded mind. Seeing you like this was unbearable.

“You’re strong,” he murmured, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “Stronger than anyone I know. So don’t… don’t leave me.”

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as his quiet, distant demeanor crumbled. For the first time, the Mist Hashira was no longer the calm, collected warrior—he was just a boy, terrified of losing the person who made his world brighter.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Stay with me. I need you.”

Muichiro clung to you, his tears falling silently, as he desperately prayed for you to hold on. In that moment, he let go of the mist that shielded his emotions, laying bare the depth of his love and fear.