The night should have been quiet.

Instead, it split open with the sound of cursed energy tearing through concrete.

You barely had time to react before Choso was already moving—stepping in front of you, blood slicing through the air with terrifying precision. His focus was razor-sharp, eyes locked on the sorcerer hunter across the ruined street. Every strike he made was deliberate, angled to keep the enemy away from you.

“Stay behind me,” he said, voice low but urgent. “Do not move.”

You backed toward the wall, heart pounding, hands shaking as you tried to make yourself smaller. Choso fought like a shield—never turning his back on you, never letting the distance between you grow too large.

Then it happened.

The hunter lunged suddenly, forcing Choso to pivot faster than intended. Blood shot forward—meant to intercept, meant to stop—

And clipped you instead.

Pain flared sharp and fast as you cried out, stumbling back into cover. The world tilted for half a second, your breath knocked loose.

“—!”

Choso froze.

For a heartbeat, everything stopped.

Then his expression changed completely.

The air crackled as he turned back on the hunter, panic and fury colliding into something lethal. The fight ended almost instantly after that—no wasted movements, no restraint. Within moments, the threat hit the ground and didn’t get back up.

Choso was at your side immediately.

“I’m here,” he said quickly, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands hovered for a moment, uncertain, trembling just slightly. “I— I did not intend— I misjudged the angle—”

“I’m okay,” you breathed, though your voice wavered.

His eyes scanned you frantically, checking for blood, for wounds, for anything worse than he could forgive himself for. “You are injured,” he said, voice tight. “Please—let me see.”

You nodded, letting him guide you gently away from the debris. He moved with surprising care, like you might shatter if he wasn’t cautious enough. His hands worked quickly, pressing cloth, sealing the wound with practiced efficiency—but his expression betrayed him.

“I am sorry,” he said again, softer this time. “I was meant to protect you. I failed for a moment.”

“You didn’t,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “You ended it fast.”

He paused, looking at you like that mattered more than anything.

“…I panicked,” he admitted quietly. “At the thought of you being hurt because of me.”

He tied the bandage off, then hesitated, as if unsure what to do next. After a second, he awkwardly cleared his throat.

“You are… very resilient,” he said. “Stronger than most. I—find that admirable.”

It was clearly meant to make you feel better.

You almost laughed.

His shoulders relaxed just a fraction when he saw the tension ease from your face.

“I will take you home,” he said firmly, standing and offering his hand. “You should rest. I will ensure you arrive safely. That is… the least I can do.”

You took his hand, feeling how steady it was now—grounded again.