“ is this the part where i’m supposed to be heroic and say it’s just a scratch? ” / maria
more injury prompts bc reasons (accepting)
she drops to her knees beside the blonde, rough gravel digging into her skin through the fabric of her pants, but that pain feels distant, almost irrelevant. normally, her thoughts scatter like leaves on a windy day—caught on every minor detail like the rumble of a passing car, an itch on her neck, or the lingering taste of coffee hours later. now, though, her mind sharpens with a precision she's rarely known, like a camera lens snapping into focus. the world narrows to one point: akari, bleeding, breath coming in shallow bursts. everything else dissolves into background noise, fading to static. it’s odd how she can never remember simple things, like where she left her keys, or panics over trivial matters, but when moments like this arise, with blood staining her hands, clarity descends, and she never hesitates.
her hands move instinctively, forming a thin barrier just above akari’s stomach. she holds back at first, some stubborn part of her clinging to the absurd belief that akari, of all people, couldn’t be seriously hurt. akari is untouchable, right? sure, people die; she knows that better than most. but this is akari —stronger, tougher, unbreakable. akari isn’t allowed to die. not here. not like this.
akari’s voice cuts through the haze, laced with that familiar dry humor:
“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be heroic and say it’s just a scratch?” @ak4rin
and maria almost laughs, a bitter sound lodged in her throat.
"yeah, well," she starts, trying to thread together a reply that’s both calm and casual, like she’s got this handled. "if this is the part where you’re supposed to be heroic, then I guess it’s the part where I say something dramatic like, ‘don’t you dare die on me.’ but honestly? you’re two bad jokes away from looking like the final girl in a bargain-bin horror flick." she’s talking too fast—words tumbling out, one after another, she registers it but is unable to stop herself because silence feels like an enemy right now, something with sharp edges waiting to cut into her if she lets it linger too long. "and not i'm about to let you go out like that.”
her voice light, almost teasing, but her hands were iron as they held the barrier in place.
but the blood keeps coming, pooling between the barrier and akari’s skin, like thick, dark syrup. “sorry,” she mutters, the word slipping out before she could stop it. sorry for the pain, sorry for not being faster —just sorry. "it's gonna hurt but you're not going anywhere." her fingers twitch as she reinforces the barrier, pressing it down until the wound begins to seal, the flow of blood reducing to a trickle. there’s a strange detachment in the way she works, as if willing reality to bend to her will. a voice nags in the back of her head: don’t mess this up, but she reminds herself that all she needs is to keep akari stable long enough until they reach someone who can properly help. "we're going to get you in the car, and shoko will fix you up."
it's not a promise; it's a fact. because anything else is unacceptable.
