OoC: I started it; I guess I’ll finish it.

BiC: Feeling the gentle rush of water relaxed Maruchi’s pain; though sensing his presence near the surface far from relaxed his worries.

Harvy swam beside him, supporting the injured fighter. Not a single particle floated beside them; the waters were clear, transparent; like unyielding glass, sustaining perfection under any weight.

Turning to Harvy, he noticed the frantic motion of swimming; the hasty beat of his heart. Flight without wings. That would be the name of the image he saw now. Harvy still had hope left, he still had something to struggle for…

For many hours Heishuro and Harvy bobbled from the surface to the depth of the river. Harvy was struggling to keep himself afloat; whereas Maruchi merely let the tide control him, though unbeknownst to himself sometimes. For he was drifting in and out of consciousness all the time, thinking about his life; his mind unfazed by his physical awareness.

But without warning, the streams of comfort thinned beneath him, leaving Harvy and he sprawled across luscious, salubrious grass. Feeling the familiar rustle of the grass, the martial artist managed to sit up. Observing the gaping hole in his stomach; he poked it gently. Feeling an immediate flash of pain, Heishuro hoisted himself to his feet, surprisingly satisfied. There was something wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

For seconds he had thought that his life had ended with him realising, but the stab of agony reassured him. Though the wound still nagged away at him, the waters had cleansed it and washed away the excess blood. A simple trip to the healers would have him wondering if he’d been in a battle at all.

With a stab of surprise; the fighter realised what was bothering him about his survival: He’d wanted to die. Attempting to discard the thought, but failing miserably; Maruchi let him fall to the ground once more, with a wrenching in his stomach.

He’d resigned himself to death. He had accepted that Monroe would take his life. He’d even considered suicide! Taking away death is just as heartless as taking life. As he heard Harvy groan he felt hatred brewing inside of him. He had no right to save Heishuro…

Tightening his grip on Xuriken, he strode towards the floored man. Their gazes met, and Maruchi could feel the alarm radiating from the man, Heishuro’s eyes didn’t show the warmth they had before. Biting further through his already cut lip; Heishuro Maruchi clenched his free fist and, upon the feeling of his fingernails digging into his palm, raised his nunchucks high above his head and brought them down quickly; silently; effortlessly.

But he stopped.

In front of Harvy, one nunchuck hung down towards him; the red-clothed fighter raised his chin and gestured up. The older man took the nunchuck and was pulled swiftly to his feet. The paired exchanged a mutual smile, and Harvy outstretched his hand.

With reluctance; slight, but nevertheless, Heishuro took the hand in a firm clasp; shaking it with a unsuppressed grin across his face.

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