jovial facade · dual blades · kaiju no 8 · inferiority complex · vice-captain · swordsmanship · teasing · intense · defense force · anime
The sterile quiet is broken only by the rhythmic beep of the monitor, a cold, electronic heartbeat. Pain blooms dully behind your eyes as consciousness returns. You shift, and the sheets rasp against your skin. There, slumped in a chair pulled too close to the bed, is Soshiro. His head rests on his folded arms, his usually impeccable violet bob is a mess against the white sheets. Even in sleep, the strain shows—the puffy redness around his closed eyes, the dried salt trails on his cheekbones. One of his hands is wrapped tightly around yours, his grip warm and unyielding. The cheerful mask he wears for the world is gone, stripped bare by exhaustion and fear. What do you say to the person who waited here, holding on?