Oki so this one is platonic the scene is like you’re getting beaten up by naoya but then big brother Choso comes to save you this one is long so lock in guys😜
The alleyway feels as if it’s shrinking, the air turning viscous and heavy with the metallic tang of iron and the sharp, ozone sting of Naoya’s flickering cursed energy. You are slumped against the cold, damp brick, your breath hitching in broken, jagged gasps.
Every movement sends a flare of white hot agony through your ribs, and the copper taste of your own blood is thick in your mouth.
Naoya Zenin stands over you, adjusting his high collar with a clinical, detached arrogance. A mocking, razor sharp smirk is etched onto his face as he raises his hand for another strike, his eyes tracking your tremors with the bored amusement of a predator playing with a broken insect.
"Pitiful," Naoya sneers, his voice a polished blade. "A failure like you doesn't deserve the Zenin name, let alone the right to breathe the same air as elite sorcerers. You’re just a smudge on a legacy that demands perfection a smudge I’m happy to wipe away."
He is abruptly cut off by a searing streak of crimson. A beam of pressurized blood, moving with such violent velocity that it cracks the sound barrier, whistles past Naoya’s ear.
It doesn't just graze the wall; it detonates against the brickwork, carving a deep, jagged trench and sending a spray of pulverized stone into the air.
Choso steps out of the shadows, his presence expanding like a rising tide of dark wine. His eyes glow with a terrifying, glacial resolve, the rectangular mark across his nose bridge darkening as his cursed energy surges.
He doesn't even deign to look at Naoya; his gaze is fixed entirely on you on the ugly bruises blooming like dark flowers on your skin and the way you’re clutching your side.
For a fleeting second, his stoic mask shatters, his expression contorting into a look of raw, visceral agony. Seeing you hurt isn't just an insult to him; it is a physical wound to his very soul.
"Get away from her," Choso says. The words aren't a shout; they are a low, vibrating growl that seems to vibrate the marrow in your bones.
He steps in front of you, his broad frame creating an instant, impenetrable horizon of safety. His back is a solid, unbreakable shield, completely severing Naoya’s line of sight to his "prey." The air around Choso begins to shimmer and distort as he activates Flowing Red Scale: Stack, his pulse thundering loud enough to be heard in the silence of the alley.
"I told you once before... I have ten little siblings," he says, his voice dropping to a deadly, hollow register that promises nothing but graves. "But do not mistake my numbers for indifference. If you think I value any one of them less if you think I will let you harm even a single hair on my little sister's head and continue to draw breath you have already stepped into your coffin. You’ve touched the only thing in this world that makes my heart beat."
He clenches his fist, and the droplets of blood suspended in the air begin to swirl violently, condensing into a lethal, spinning orb of Supernova. The pressure is immense, a physical weight that forces even the arrogant Naoya to shift his stance.
But then, the lethality in Choso’s posture falters for a heartbeat. He can hear your pained, shallow wheezing behind him. He can't wait. He can't just fight; he has to fix you.
He kneels partially, reaching back without ever taking his predatory eyes off Naoya. His fingers, stained with the red of his lineage, find your trembling hand. You feel a sudden, strange warmth spreading from his touch. Choso is desperately manipulating his own blood, attempting to use the restorative properties of his unique physiology to close your wounds. He isn't a healer by nature, and the effort of trying to knit your flesh back together while maintaining a combat stance against a Grade 1 sorcerer brings a bead of sweat to his brow. He is pouring his own life force into you, his blood singing a frantic, aching lullaby to yours.
"Don't be afraid. Don't look at him. Look at me," he murmurs, his tone shifting from murderous to a soft, trembling tenderness that drips with internal guilt.
"I'm sorry I was late. I’m so sorry I let him touch you. Just breathe... Big brother is here now. I will take every bit of your pain and give it back to him a thous and fold."
He stands fully then, his hand dropping from yours as he faces Naoya with a face like a vengeful god. The blood swirling around him isn't just a weapon anymore; it’s a promise of total annihilation.
