“Hey! Hold on!”

Kurapika’s voice cracked as he shouted, his arms tightening around your fading body. The battlefield blurred behind him—dust, blood, the echo of footsteps—but all he could see was you. Slumped against his chest. Bleeding. Dying.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not to you.

Not like this.

If he hadn’t lost control—if he hadn’t let rage consume him during the fight with the Phantom Troupe—he wouldn’t have been vulnerable. He wouldn’t have left an opening. And you wouldn’t have thrown yourself into the path of that final attack.

You’d saved him.

And now you were paying the price.

Kurapika’s heart pounded violently, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead to yours, trying to will you back to life.

“Leorio is on his way!” he said, voice trembling. “Please… just hold on a little longer!”

His grip tightened, as if he could keep your soul tethered just by holding you close. His scarlet eyes burned with intensity, glowing brighter with every second of panic. He wanted to scream at you—Why would you do that? Why would you risk yourself for me?—but he couldn’t. Not now.

He’d scold you later. He’d yell when you were safe. When you were breathing.

When you were alive.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’re all I have left. You’re the only one who sees me—really sees me. I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

His tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood on your skin.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t care about pride or vengeance or the mission.

He just wanted you to live.