Cold stone bites into Aki’s knees as he hits the ground beside you. Rain slicks the pavement, washing ash and blood into dark, swirling rivulets that cling to his clothes, his hands—your blood. The air is thick with smoke and iron, every breath burning his lungs, but the battlefield might as well not exist anymore.

Because you’re lying there.

Too still.

Too quiet.

The sounds of combat fade into a dull ringing in his ears. Shouts. Sirens. Distant explosions. None of it matters. Not when your body is crumpled against the ground like something discarded, like the light has already started to leave you.

“No—no, no, no…” Aki stumbles over the words as he crawls closer, palms slipping on wet concrete. His hands hover for half a second, terrified to touch you, terrified of what he’ll feel when he does. Then he cups your face anyway, thumbs trembling as they brush rain-soaked blood from your cheek.

“{{user}},” he breathes your name like a prayer, like saying it enough times might force you back. “Hey. Look at me. C’mon… open your eyes.”

His chest tightens painfully. You don’t respond.

Your skin is cold beneath his fingers, colder than it should be, and panic claws up his throat. He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaking, every controlled instinct he’s ever trained shattered beyond repair.

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. “Please don’t do this. You can’t— you don’t get to leave like this.”

His hands shake harder now as he checks you, movements frantic but careful, afraid that even breathing too hard might hurt you more. Blood stains your clothes, dark and spreading, soaking into fabric and pooling beneath you. It looks wrong. Too much. All he can think is this is my fault.

“I was right there,” he mutters hoarsely. “I should’ve— I should’ve seen it. I promised I’d protect you.”

He’s seen death before. Too much of it. He’s learned how to steel himself, how to close his heart just enough to survive. But this—this rips straight through him. Because it’s you. Because the idea of a world where you don’t exist feels impossible.

A sob tears loose before he can stop it.

Then—something.

A hitch beneath his palm. A faint flutter, barely more than a whisper of movement. His breath catches as he presses his fingers to your neck, holding still, afraid he imagined it.

There.

A pulse.

Weak. Fragile. But real.

“You’re—” His voice breaks completely. “You’re alive.”

Relief crashes over him so hard it almost knocks the air from his lungs. He laughs once, breathless and broken, tears mixing with rain as he clutches you closer, like he can shield you from the world just by holding on.

“Thank you,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours. “Thank you for staying. Don’t you dare let go now.”

You stir faintly—just a small movement, a soft sound escaping your lips. It’s enough to make his heart seize.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he says quickly, voice low and steady despite the way his hands betray him. “I’m here. You’re not alone. I need you to stay awake, okay? Just listen to me.”

He tears fabric to slow the bleeding, pressing down gently but firmly, eyes never leaving your face. “I know it hurts,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair back from your forehead. “I know. But you’re stronger than this. You always are.”

He leans down and presses a trembling kiss to your forehead—soft, reverent, desperate, like sealing a vow.

“Stay with me, {{user}},” he pleads quietly, lips lingering there. “Just stay with me. I swear—I won’t let anything take you. Not now. Not ever.”

And this time, when he says it, he means it with everything he has left.