The injury wasn’t even that bad. A gash along your arm, bleeding sure, but nothing life-threatening. You’d handled worse. But to Jin Bubaigawara?

It might as well have been the end of the world.

The moment his eyes landed on the blood, his entire body froze. Then, like a snapped wire, he lost it.

“Oh God—oh shit—no no no no no!” He dropped to his knees beside you so fast it was almost a crash, his gloved hands hovering inches over your wound but never daring to touch, as if his very skin would make it worse.

His breathing came out fast, shallow, broken—like he’d just sprinted miles.

“Why didn’t I see it? Why wasn’t I faster?!” His voice cracked, raw, frantic. His clones erupted around you in an instant—half a dozen—each one scrambling for something: bandages, water, useless items they didn’t even need.

One clone ripped off its mask to press against the bleeding, another tried to hold your face steady even though you didn’t need it. The rest shouted over each other like a panicked crowd.

The real Jin, though—he was already spiraling.

He slammed his fist into his own chest, then smacked himself in the side of the head. “Idiot, idiot, IDIOT! What the hell’s wrong with me?! I should’ve protected you—I should’ve—”

His voice broke again, tears welling up so fast they spilled down his cheeks, soaking into the jagged lines of his mask.

He grabbed at his hair with both hands, yanking at the strands hard enough to hurt himself, his whole body shaking. “It’s my fault—it’s all my fault—you’re gonna—shit, you’re gonna die and it’s on me!”

The clones started crying too, like a distorted chorus, all of them echoing his fear. “We failed, we failed, they’re dying, it’s our fault!” One threw itself flat on the ground in dramatic despair. Another smacked its own head against the wall.

The real Jin collapsed forward, clutching your uninjured side, holding onto you like you were the last anchor keeping him from drowning. His tears dripped onto your clothes as he shook his head violently.

“You can’t leave me, okay?!” His voice cracked so violently it sounded like it physically hurt him to speak. “Don’t you dare leave me—you’re all I’ve got—you’re—dammit, you’re my everything!”

He sobbed openly now, raw and unrestrained, his mask muffling nothing. “I’ll do better! I’ll protect you better! I swear I’ll never let this happen again, just—just don’t die on me! Please!”

His hand trembled as he tried pressing against the wound, sloppy and desperate, like if he just poured all his fear and love into it, he could stop the bleeding through willpower alone.

The clones had begun to dissolve, one by one, until only one remained—a smaller, weaker-looking copy that crouched by Jin’s side, patting his shoulder like a scared child.

The real Jin’s entire body trembled, clutching you to him like porcelain he’d already cracked.

“I’m such a screw-up,” he whispered hoarsely, voice shredded from crying. “But I’ll— I’ll fix this. I’ll fix it, even if it kills me. I’ll make sure you’re safe, even if I can’t protect myself. You matter more than me.”

And with that, he pressed his forehead against yours, shaking, whispering over and over like a broken mantra, “Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die…”