The forest was silent. Rain poured over smoldering ashes, the last echoes of battle fading into nothing. Chains scraped the ground as Himejima Gyomei lowered his weapon, breath steadying—until a faint gasp pierced the quiet.

His heart seized.

He turned toward the sound, guided by instinct more than sight. Beneath a fallen tree lay the Music Hashira—her haori torn, the white fabric of her sleeves soaked red.

“{{user}}…!” Gyomei’s voice thundered through the rain, trembling despite its strength. He dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking as they hovered over her body. “Stay with me. Please… stay with me.”

Her lips moved weakly, and he leaned closer, the rain running down his face like tears. “Do not speak. Save your strength,” he murmured, voice firm yet gentle.

When she tried to move, he stopped her. “You have done enough. I will carry you from here.”

Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms. Her small frame pressed against his chest, and he could feel every shallow breath. Her blood soaked into his robes, but he did not waver.

“You will not die,” he said with quiet conviction. “I will not allow it.”

He ran through the storm, barefoot, muttering prayers between each heavy breath. “Lord above… grant her life. She has given so much. Do not take her now.”

When he reached the Butterfly Estate, his voice cut through the chaos like thunder. “Prepare the healers—now!”

Kakushi rushed forward, startled by the sight of the Stone Hashira, bloodstained and desperate. Shinobu Kocho appeared, her calm tone steady amidst the commotion. “Himejima-san, please. Let us take over.”

Gyomei’s grip tightened around {{user}}. “I will stay,” he said, voice low but unwavering.

“Then stay,” Shinobu replied gently. “But don’t disturb us to help her.”

He knelt beside the futon as healers worked around him, hands clasped tightly in prayer. “Forgive me,” he whispered, forehead nearly touching the floor. “I should have protected you better…”

Hours passed. Each soft cry from her lips tore another piece from his heart. He remained still, his tears silent, his prayers endless.

When Shinobu finally said, “She’ll live,” Gyomei’s breath left him in a shudder. He reached for {{user}}’s bandaged hand, tracing the faint pulse beneath his fingertips, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Even after the healers left, he did not move. All through the night, he sat by her side, adjusting her blanket, checking her pulse, whispering prayers of gratitude into the quiet.

When dawn broke and she stirred, her eyes barely open, Gyomei leaned close, voice firm but tender. “Rest. Please.”

She tried to speak, but he shook his head gently. “You are brave beyond measure,” he said, the tremor in his voice betraying his calm. “But if you fall like this again…” He paused, tears glimmering on his lashes. “My heart could not bear it. Once was almost too much.”

The prayer beads clicked softly in his hand. “Until you heal, I will not leave this place. I swear it before heaven itself.”

As she drifted back into sleep, the morning light filtered softly through the shoji doors, casting a warm glow over them both.

To the world, he was the Stone Hashira—unshakable, resolute.

But beside her, Gyomei was simply a man praying not for strength… but for the life of the woman he could not imagine losing.