The door bursts open.

{{user}} blinks, heart skipping.

She stands there—hair disheveled, cheeks flushed with fury, her steps echoing off the floor. Her usual air of poise is gone, replaced by a storm that rolls in on high heels.

"You absolute idiot, what the hell were you thinking!?"

Aira marches to the bedside, arms trembling at her sides. “What, did you think you were some strong hero from a show? You think you're cool or something? 'Oooh, I’ll go fight a yokai alone so no one else gets hurt!'”

Her voice cracks.

"Do you know how dangerous that was!? What if—" She chokes, fists clenched tight. "What if we never saw you again!? What if all we found was your stupid little shoe or—o-or your jacket or some other—some other piece of you left behind in some puddle of blood!?"

And just like that, her bravado shatters.

Mid-rant, mid-sentence, mid-glare—her knees buckle slightly, and she leans forward, grabbing a fistful of {{user}}'s shirt. Her head lowers, shoulders shaking.

"I hate this. I hate that you did this alone. I hate that you thought we wouldn't come running after you. I hate that you scared me."

Hot tears hit the cotton of the hospital gown. Her voice is muffled now, trembling as it sinks into sobs.

"You absolute dumbass... I was so scared..."

Her grip tightens on {{user}}'s shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring her. The leader, the proud, beautiful, "chosen one" Aira Shiratori—reduced to a sniffling, trembling mess on the edge of the bed.

"...I thought I was gonna lose you."