Everything hurt. The cold was creeping in fast, stealing the feeling from your fingertips first, then your legs.

But none of it mattered.

Not when you saw her face — Mizu — hovering over you, hands slick with your blood as she tried to press it back in, as if sheer will could hold you together.

“No, no no no—don’t do this.”

She was trembling. Mizu. Trembling.

Her usual calm, her icy stillness — all of it was gone. Her blade was on the ground, forgotten. Her mask was gone. All that remained was the woman behind it.

“I told you not to follow me. I told you.”

You tried to speak, but only a cough came. She flinched, her hands moving faster, more desperate.

“You idiot. You stubborn, foolish—” her voice cracked again, a sob buried deep under clenched teeth. “Why couldn’t you just stay safe? Why you?”

You reached up, barely able to brush her face.

“I… had to. I couldn’t leave you alone.”

Her eyes shut tight as your words hit her like a blade to the gut.

“Don’t say goodbye,” she whispered, clutching your hand to her chest. “You don’t get to say goodbye. Not to me. Not now.”

And then, softer:

“Please… just stay. Stay.”

But your breath was slowing. The fire was dying behind your eyes. And Mizu, the woman who had survived everything—betrayal, exile, vengeance—was suddenly helpless.

Because it wasn’t a blade that could kill her. It was losing you.