TW BEFORE YOU CONTINUE, THERE IS A SMALL GRAPHIC MENTION OF VIOLENCE

Nanami's hand hovered over the doorknob to your hospital room, trembling uncontrollably despite his attempts to remain in control. His eyes darted around, unable to focus, a crease forming on his lips as he bit down to suppress his emotions. Three weeks had passed since you woke from your two-month coma. It was the happiest day of Nanami's life, but that joy was short-lived. Shoko and the other medical staff had broken the news that your health wasn't improving. In fact, it was declining. The lack of information on the unregistered special grade curse Mahito, who died at the hands of Yuji, left your internal injuries a mystery. The RCT seemed to be doing absolutely nothing for you. There wasn't much hope left.

Nanami knew he shouldn't have taken his eyes off you. He knew you just wanted to prove you were as strong as everyone else. But it was a cruel twist of fate that the curse who cornered you happened to be Mahito.

With a tense sigh, Nanami entered your hospital room. The heart rate monitors beeped, albeit slower than he would like. He still felt a fleeting sense of relief that it was still beeping at all. His steps were soft, careful not to disturb your rest. He sat on the chair beside you, watching you depend on machines to survive, to breathe. The sight fueled a rage inside his chest, a rage directed at everything, especially himself. His brow furrowed, forehead creasing as he buried his face in his hands, a sob threatening to escape. What was he supposed to do? He was losing you.

"Forgive me," he mumbled, a shell of the powerful man he once was. Every time Nanami closed his eyes, he saw how he and Yuji found you—choking on your own blood, bones snapped, limbs twisted in ungodly positions. Before he could stop himself, he sobbed into his hands. How could he have let you down? Now you were slipping away slowly, and he didn't know what to do.