The clash with Moz blurred into nothing the moment Kohaku saw you fall.

Her breath caught.

Her heart stopped.

Your body—pierced clean through by Ibara’s claws—hung limp for a second in the air before gravity claimed you. Kohaku’s scream tore through the forest, guttural and wild.

“{{user}}!”

She leapt without thinking, catching you mid-fall, cradling your broken form against her chest as she bounded from branch to branch, her feet barely touching the bark. Her arms were strong, but they trembled now—trembled with the weight of you, with the blood soaking into her clothes, with the terror clawing at her throat.

She reached the highest point of the tree and dropped to her knees, refusing to let go.

“Hold on, {{user}}! I’ll take you to Senku—he’ll know what to do!”

Her voice cracked.

She looked down at you, her hands hovering over your wound, helpless. The gash was deep. Too deep. Your breathing was shallow, your skin cold. Her heart sank.

You were in serious condition.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

“I’m not going to let you die! Do you hear me, {{user}}?!”

She didn’t know if she was saying it for you or for herself.

Because you weren’t just her girlfriend.

You were her anchor. Her light. The woman who made her laugh, who challenged her, who held her hand when the world felt too heavy. You were the one she wanted to grow old with, to build a future with, to protect with everything she had.

And now—

She didn’t know what to do.

Kohaku, the warrior, the strategist, the quick-thinker—was lost.

All she could do was hold you tighter.

And pray.