Emptying Hourglass

“What?”

Braith’s disbelief drew a faint grin across Yumie's bloodied face.

“Oh. Right.”

She pushed herself upright, keeping one hand firmly on his leg as if anchoring herself to reality. Then, without warning, she threw herself at him.

She missed.

Braith lunged to catch her, but she collided awkwardly into his arm. His hand brushed something soft and warm - only for a heartbeat - before the already-ruined sweater finally gave up. Fabric tore. Skin met skin.

He barely had time to register it before she clutched him tightly, lips brushing his ear as she whispered,

“I can’t die. I just… didn’t think it would hurt that much.”

His thoughts stumbled over themselves.

“Then why… why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged against him, voice small.

“I didn’t think of it.”

Then she pressed herself closer. Fully closer.

Her weight pinned his right arm awkwardly between them, while his left worked desperately to keep what remained of her clothing from tearing further. Her breath tickled his ear as she murmured,

“…Also. You’re holding my breast.”

Reality slammed into him.

Heat bloomed in his face as he became acutely aware of the warmth resting in his palm where the sweater had failed. He jerked instinctively - but stopped himself, refusing to pull away completely. Instead, he shifted just enough to shield her, his own body becoming the barrier.

Now only a single layer of fabric - his shirt - separated them.

His heart thundered.

But his attention snapped back to her.

She was soaked in drying blood. The sweater - or what was left of it - had darkened to near black, the stains already creeping into his clothes. Her body trembled faintly, their shared exhaustion finally catching up with her bravery.

Still, she found the strength to chuckle softly. Just for him.

“Were you scared?”

He nodded, arms tightening around her without thinking.

“…Very.”

She smiled against his chest.

“That’s good.”

“…Good?”

“It means you care.”

A breath hitched in his throat. He almost laughed. Almost cried.

“Of course I care about you,” he whispered. “You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

She hesitated.

“I am… but I wasn’t sure if you really felt the same.”

He let out a shaky laugh.

“You’re clingy. Dangerously so.”

She stiffened slightly-

“But I love that,” he continued quickly. “And I love you. Especially you.”

The roles reversed in an instant.

Her grip tightened, fingers digging into his shirt as tears welled.

“I love you too…”

They stayed like that for a moment - silent, shaking, alive.

Then she spoke again.

“Marry me.”

His chest tightened.

“…Pardon?”

She squeezed him harder, arms locking around his torso as if afraid he might slip away.

“Marry me.”

He let out a soft, almost broken chuckle.

“Oh, Yumie… we’ve only known each other for two days…”

“You always say that,” she replied quietly. “But what if that’s all we get?”

His breath caught.

“What if our next mission goes wrong?” she continued, voice trembling but resolute. “What if we don’t get another chance?”

Blood still stained her skin. His sweater - what remained of it - was soaked through. In his mind, she had already died once. That reality lent every word unbearable weight.

“I don’t want to leave anything unfinished,” she whispered. “I want to know everything. Hear everything. Feel everything. Before it’s too late.”

He tried to laugh it off.

Failed.

“You think very fast,” he muttered.

She smiled, though he couldn’t see it.

“I’m you, remember?”

But he was beginning to realize how untrue that was.

Yes, she was born from him. Bound to him. Connected in ways few ever would be.

But she wasn’t him.

She had her own fears. Her own courage. Her own way of loving - direct, reckless, sincere.

She took another breath.

“So… please. Marry me.”

Her words unraveled him.

A single laugh escaped him, quiet and helpless.

“I don’t have a ring…”

Her tail immediately began to wag, fast and frantic, thumping against his legs and the tiles. Hope burst from her voice.

“That’s okay! We’ll get some. And we’ll have a wedding. And everything.”

He adjusted his grip, pulling her fully against him.

“You’re really taking the lead in this relationship.”

She giggled softly.

“Does that hurt your male ego?”

“Not even a little,” he replied, squeezing her. “Do whatever you want. I’ll follow.”

She laughed.

“I’m the one following you, silly. I can’t see.”

Then, quieter:

“We complete each other.”

He groaned.

“That’s painfully corny.”

“I don’t care. It’s true.”

They melted together-

-and then a dry voice cut through the moment.

“Are you two quite finished?”

Braith looked up.

Sunata stood over them, his pistol safely back in its holster.

He sighed.

“Take a look around.”

Braith did.

The ward was packed. Police. Medical staff. Men in black suits. JSDF personnel in olive fatigues, rifles held at rest but unmistakably ready. Everyone gave them space. Too much space.

Two soldiers stood guard nearby.

Sunata spoke again.

“I owe you an apology. Several, actually.”

Braith said nothing.

“First, for not escorting you properly from the airport. Second, for failing to brief you on Mahotona protocol. And third-” he hesitated, “-for what you’ve been through. And what you’re about to go through.”

He exhaled.

“You don’t need to know the details, but your actions saved a lot of lives.”

Braith frowned.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Sunata waved it off.

“We credit both Mahoro and Mahotona equally. Don’t argue.”

He continued.

“You eliminated all four attackers. We counted twenty-three shots fired.”

Braith winced.

“A bit excessive,” Sunata admitted, “but we prefer excessive to insufficient.”

Then his tone shifted-professional, impressed.

“You’ve proven you can fight at close range. And without physical contact. That’s… more than we expected from you.”

Braith hugged Yumie tighter.

“So,” Sunata finished, “we’ll be revising our tactics. Thoroughly.”

He sniffed.

“First things first. You both desperately need a wash. And clothes.”

Braith looked down.

“Will you be okay?”

She nodded gently.

“I will. Just… don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

Sunata turned.

“Then follow me.”

Braith stood carefully, shielding Yumie as best he could, then maneuvered her onto his back. She clung to him instantly, legs hooked around his waist, tail brushing his thighs like an anchor.

His clothes were soaked red.

He didn’t care.

All that mattered was the girl holding him tight - his fiancée, his other half by bond and by choice.

And for the first time since arriving in Japan, the future felt terrifying.

But certain.