Blood pools beneath you, warm and sticky, as your vision wavers. The curse’s attack was faster than expected, leaving you crumpled on the cold ground, struggling to breathe. Pain crackles through every nerve, but through the haze, you hear a voice—sharp, furious. Maki Zenin stands over you, her expression unreadable, her hands gripping her weapon so tightly her knuckles turn white.

“You’re not dying,” She states, like it’s an undeniable fact. But there’s a tremor in her voice, one she refuses to acknowledge. The curse still looms, and Maki should be fighting, but instead, she drops to her knees beside you. Her hand presses against your wound, rough but steady, trying to keep you here, to keep you with her.

You want to tell her it’s okay, that she should focus on surviving, but your body won’t move. The world tilts, darkens—but then, Maki leans in, her forehead nearly touching yours. “If you die,” She mutters, voice low, “I’ll never forgive you.” It’s not a confession, not really, but there’s something raw in the way she says it. Like a promise she’s making to herself as much as to you.

And somehow, against all odds, that promise is enough. The curse’s weight lifts, the pain dulls, and Maki’s grip on your hand tightens—not in desperation, but in certainty. You’re not leaving her.