Hajime Hinata is dying.

At least, that's what it feels like to him.

He hates when he gets like this.

It's stupid. It's feels stupid. It is so stupid that he can be lying alone in his bed one moment and be gasping for breath desperately the next.

It's not the first time he's experienced this overwhelming anxiety and it definitely won't be the last.

And just like the previous times, his cottage is feeling more and more suffocating by the second.

He needs out. He needs air.

He barely registers his legs moving on shaky steps as he forced himself out of his cottage, wandering aimlessly.

He stumbles forward without a destination in mind before he sinks to his knees, dully registering the grainy sensation of sand digging into his knees and hands.

A flurry of self-loathing thoughts blur into his mind even as he desperately grapples for rationality.

"Shut up...!" He shouts to no one in particular. The thoughts are just so loud and he can't stop the way his body is shaking.

He just wants to breathe. He needs to breathe.

He's so lost in his panic he doesn't even notice your careful approach from behind.