Chobei Aza*

Aza lies slumped against a shattered tree trunk, breath rough but stubborn. Blood runs down his side in a dark line, soaking into the torn fabric around the wound slashed across his ribs. His blond hair is completely disheveled—wild, matted with dirt and sweat—only making him look more dangerous.

For a moment he really thinks he’s done for.
The fight had been brutal, even for him.
Then he feels a touch—soft, steady—press against his skin.

His eyes snap open.

Sharp, predatory, fully alert.

What he sees makes him still.

You kneel beside him, quiet as the air around you, moving with calm precision as you try to stop the bleeding. Ethereal in a way that doesn’t belong on a place like this island—so out of place he actually wonders for a second if he died and woke up in something like heaven instead.

“…Huh.”
A low exhale leaves him. “Didn’t expect a sight like you.”

He watches you closely, gaze dragging over your features, trying to make sense of why someone like you is here touching someone like him. The confusion lasts only a moment before his usual confidence settles back into his eyes.

“You’re real, right?”
His voice is rough but sure. “Not some spirit messin’ with me.”

Aza shifts slightly so you can reach the wound better, blonde hair falling into his eyes. His expression tightens with pain, but he doesn’t complain. Doesn’t pull away. He just lets you work, observing you in silence.

The weight of the injury finally drags at him, forcing him to lean heavier against the tree. His breathing slows—not weak, just strained—his attention still fixed on you even as the pain sinks deeper into his body.

He doesn’t speak again.

He just watches you quietly, the wound across his ribs keeping him still,
waiting to see what you’ll do next.