Get on my back

They ran through the silent streets, hearts pounding, fingers locked together. The sound of their footsteps echoed against the rain-soaked pavement, their breaths uneven, desperate. Behind them, the alley disappeared into darkness — but the terror still clung to their skin.

Anko stumbled, her breath hitching.

“Reia — wait…”

Reia turned immediately, her chest rising and falling. “What’s wrong?”

Anko bit her lip, pain flashing across her face. “My leg. I think I twisted it.”

Reia frowned, her tone softening. “Where?”

“My ankle. It hurts when I move.”

Without thinking, Reia guided her to the nearest bench under a flickering streetlight. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, each drop catching the light like tiny falling stars. Reia crouched in front of her, carefully taking Anko’s foot in her hands. Her fingers brushed against the skin, and Anko winced.

“It’s already swelling,” Reia murmured. “You shouldn’t walk.”

Anko shook her head, her voice trembling. “We’re almost there, I can… ”

“Get on my back,” Reia said firmly.

“What? No, you’re already hurt — your face, your ribs!”

“Just shut up and get on,” Reia interrupted, her eyes flicking up. There was no anger in them this time — only worry. Only something much deeper.

Anko hesitated, but the exhaustion and pain were too much. Slowly, she climbed onto Reia’s back, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. The warmth between them was immediate — Anko could feel Reia’s heartbeat against her spine, fast but steady.

“Hold tight,” Reia whispered.

Anko rested her chin on Reia’s shoulder. “I already am.”

Reia started walking, her shoes splashing through shallow puddles. Every step sent pain rippling through her body — her ribs ached, her arms felt like fire — but she didn’t slow down. Not once.

The city around them was eerily quiet. The neon signs flickered in the distance, and somewhere a stray cat darted between trash cans. Anko could feel Reia trembling, her breaths sharp, but she said nothing. She just held on tighter.

After what felt like forever, they finally reached the dorm. Reia punched in the passcode with shaking fingers, the door clicking open. She carried Anko inside and gently set her down on her bed.

Anko looked at her, eyes soft and tired. “You… came for me.”

Reia froze, then let out a small breathless laugh. “Of course I did. You think I’d let anyone else save you?”

Anko smiled weakly, blinking back tears. “You always act like you don’t care… but you do, don’t you?”

Reia didn’t answer right away. She turned away, rummaging through the drawers until she found the cooling gel. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened it and began rubbing it carefully onto Anko’s ankle. Her touch was gentle — almost reverent.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured. “That’s what matters.”

Anko’s voice was small. “Reia… thank you.”

Reia looked up, their eyes meeting in the dim dorm light. For a long moment, neither spoke. There was too much between them — anger, fear, affection — all tangled into something they couldn’t name.

“Sleep,” Reia said finally, brushing a strand of hair from Anko’s face. “You need to rest.”

Anko nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body relaxing into the blankets.

Reia sat back against the wall, exhaustion washing over her like a wave. She pulled up her sleeve — purple bruises lined her arms, her knuckles swollen. When she shifted, pain shot through her ribs. She bit her lip to stop from gasping.

Her gaze drifted back to Anko, peacefully asleep under the soft glow of the nightlight. For the first time that night, Reia let herself smile — small, tired, but real.

She whispered into the quiet room,

“Even if we fight… I’ll always find you.”

And for the first time since the argument, she meant every word.

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