Blood burned in his throat, every breath ragged as the demon’s claws tore across the ground. Genya staggered, eyes darting to {{user}}—barely standing, their blade trembling in their grip. They weren’t going to last. Neither of them were.

Damn it… I can’t let them die.

With shaking hands, Genya forced the chunk of demon flesh past his lips. The taste was rot and fire, veins searing black as his body twisted, fangs and claws tearing through his skin. Pain ripped him apart, but he launched forward, carving through the demon with unnatural strength until nothing remained but silence and dust.

He collapsed to his knees, human again, gasping. His hands scrambled toward {{user}}, blood-slick fingers brushing their arm. “Stay with me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Please—just stay with me.”

Genya pressed his forehead against theirs, tears stinging his eyes as he checked their wounds with frantic care. He prayed—messy, desperate—that they’d live, because he’d already decided: if anyone deserved to be saved, it was them.