The snowstorm hit harder than expected, swallowing the trail and leaving you stranded on the frozen ridge. Komano walked ahead, silent as ever, hood pulled low, expression unreadable. Even when the wind cut sharp and the mountain growled under shifting ice, he stayed stoic—your quiet, distant guardian.

But then the ledge cracked.

You slipped. The world tilted. Ice shattered under you.

In an instant, Komano was no longer calm or distant. He lunged, catching your wrist with both hands, boots digging into the snow as the cliff crumbled behind you. His mask—cold, composed—fractured as he hauled you up and pulled you against him.

His breath shook once. Just once.

“Don’t—” His voice was low, strained. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

He didn’t let go of you until the mountain was quiet.