Where She Fell, He Followed

Once she's away—deeper in the woods.

"Shadow Breathing... Second Form: Moonless Step."

A silent, undetectable movement technique that removes all presence from the opponent's senses.

She left.

She left him at that clearing to do as she planned. She was never going to let him mingle her business. The less people involved, the better... she thought.

The clearing was far from the location she's targeting, she used all her might to work her plan as fast as she can, cause she knows if she didn't go back soon...

He will search and come for her.

Unexpected encounters happened. Her plan didn't work as she hoped. But it didn't completely failed either. Another down side was... She's obviously more injured than predicted. She used that forbidden breathing technique way longer than she should.

She didn't just pushed her senses too hard—She's wounded... badly, on her abdomen.

Pierced by a claw.

She tied the outer of her thorn uniform to put pressure on it. Hoping to slow the bleeding down.

She moves through the forest like a shadow.

Trying to go back to the clearing where Giyuu was—as fast as she could.

But.

She stopped mid way, choking on her own blood.

She staggered.

Her body betrayed her, her limbs heavy, her breath ragged. The pain in her abdomen pulsed, hot and unforgiving, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself forward.

She had to get back.

She had left her haori behind for a reason. It was a promise. A silent reassurance.

She had to go back.

But her body was failing her.

The iron taste of blood filled her mouth, thick and suffocating. She stumbled, her vision blurred. The darkness of the forest wrapped around her.

No. Not here. Not now.

She clenched her jaw, willing herself to move. If she could just make it a little further. If she could just—

A sharp snap of a branch. A rush of air.

And then—

He was there.

Tomioka.

He hadn't waited full time. He had followed. Of course he had.

She barely registered his presence before her knees buckled.

But before she could hit the ground, strong hands caught her. Firm, steady.

She didn't want to look up.

Didn't want to see whatever expression he wore. Didn't want to see the silent judgment, the cold indifference, or worse—the quiet understanding.

But she couldn't stop herself.

Her vision swam, but she met his eyes.

And in them, she saw none of what she expected.

Only quiet resolve. And something else.

Something she couldn't name.

Her lips parted, a weak attempt to speak, but all that came out was more blood.

The world was tilting. The forest spinning.

Her grip tightened weakly on his uniform, as if to say something—anything. But before she could, the darkness swallowed her whole.

Somewhere Between Darkness and Light.

Suspended between consciousness and oblivion, weightless and drifting.

The pain was distant now, muffled by the heavy fog clouding her mind. She wasn't sure if she was *dreaming* or if she was *dying*.

**All she knew was warmth**.

Something **solid** beneath her. Something **steady**. The rhythmic rise and fall of movement, like she was being **carried**. Like **someone refused to let her go**.

**Like she wasn't alone**.

Back at the clearing.

Giyuu moved swiftly, his grip secure as he carried her through the trees.

She had tried to disappear. Tried to leave him behind.

But she had underestimated him.

He had given her space, yes. But he was never going to stay behind. Not when he knew—

Not when he had felt it.

The unnatural stillness in the air. The subtle shift in the wind. The quiet absence of a presence that should have been returning.

So he had gone after her. And he had found her like this.

Broken. Bleeding. Dying.

She had barely held on long enough to see him. And now, unconscious in his arms, she was growing colder with every passing second.

Tomioka tightened his grip.

She was not going to die here.

His haori—Her haori—still sat untouched on the rock where she had left it. A promise.

She had meant to come back.

And he was going to make sure she did.

Later That Night. Closer To Dawn.

**Warmth. Pain**.

Slowly, painfully, her senses returned. Her body ached. Her throat burned. The sharp sting of bandages wrapped tightly around her wounds reminded her that she was still ***alive***.

She blinked, vision unfocused, mind sluggish. The faint scent of something familiar lingered in the air—freshly brewed tea, damp earth from the open shoji door, the unmistakable crispness of the night breeze.

And **him**.

Sitting beside her, silent as ever. **Watching**.

He said nothing. He didn't need to. His presence alone was enough.

For a long moment, she just lay there, staring at him, trying to process everything.

Then, with a voice hoarse from exhaustion, she finally spoke.

"***You weren't supposed to follow me***."

Quiet. Tired. Not angry. Just resigned.

Giyuu didn't look away.

"***You weren't supposed to die***."

A simple truth. A reminder.

**She had tried to leave him behind. But he had followed anyway**.

And because of that—

**She was still here**.

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