Broken Mirror - MiSide

"YOU WILL REGRET THIS, YOU HYPOCRITE!" Mita's voice echoed in my ears, venom dripping from each word. 

Then, with a sharp snap of her fingers, she disappeared.

The world was swallowed by darkness once more.

Not again...

I reached into my inventory, retrieving my trusty screwdriver. 

Holding it in a reverse grip firmly, I steeled myself for what lay ahead.

When I swung the wardrobe doors wide open, they revealed something unexpected: another door embedded within the wardrobe itself.

It's not even connected to the wall...it's part of the wardrobe?

Curiosity propelled me forward. I gripped the handle and pulled, but the door refused to budge.

Is every damn door in this game locked?

I let out a frustrated sigh and turned away, taking a moment to calm myself. 

Just like before, I'll turn the power back on. Everything will be fine.

But the thought of Mita's disappearance gnawed at me. Where the hell did she go?

Her parting words replayed in my mind. "A hypocrite, huh?" I muttered bitterly under my breath.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, rising with every passing second.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on my immediate task. 

First, the power.

I moved toward the bedroom door, my steps slow and deliberate. 

Holding my breath, I eased the door open and peeked into the living room.

Empty.

The coast clear, I crept toward the fuse box and flipped the switch. 

Nothing happened.

Huh?

I tried the light switch next to it, but it, too, yielded no results.

Okay, this is bad.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash erupted from the bathroom. 

The door swung open violently, slamming against the wall.

My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to face the sound.

The bathroom glowed an ominous red, and there, suspended in the center of the room hanging with a rope attached to it's neck, was... me.

Or at least something that looked exactly like me.

"W-what?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You want me dead now?"

The figure dangled lifelessly, swaying slightly.

"You want me dead over a few words?" I choked out, realization crashing over me like a tidal wave.

My body began to tremble uncontrollably.

We were just laughing together a few minutes ago... and now this?

The shaking spread from my hands to my knees until I could no longer stand. 

I collapsed onto one knee, gasping for air.

This world... it's just as horrible as mine.

My chest tightened, each breath shallow and frantic. 

I felt like I was suffocating, even though I knew there was air around me.

I was a fool to think otherwise.

Panic consumed me, a relentless storm that I couldn't escape.

But then, a tiny voice whispered through the chaos, my mind, calm and insistent. Slow down.

I clung to that voice like a lifeline, forcing myself to focus. 

Pressing my hand against the cold floor, I began to breathe deliberately.

"In... and out," I murmured shakily. 

Each breath was jagged and uneven, but I kept going, slowing the rhythm.

Bit by bit, the weight pressing on my chest lifted. 

The world around me stopped spinning, and I found my footing again.

I rose, unsteady but upright, and let out a final, shaky breath.

"I HATE YOU, MITA!" I shouted, my voice raw with frustration and pain.

Determined, I approached the bathroom, but before I could enter, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

I tightened my grip on the screwdriver. No more games.

With a swift kick, I forced the door open.

But the bathroom was empty.

No red light. No body. No sign of Mita.

I stepped inside, scanning the room. 

My gaze landed on the vent where the cartridges had been stored.

You want to scare me? Hurt me? Mess with me? Fine. Two can play that game.

Using the screwdriver, I pried the vent cover off and pulled out every cartridge, adding them to my inventory. 

Eight in total.

Hope you miss these.

I began snickering slightly.

As I focused on my task, I noticed something strange: the bathroom door was slightly ajar.

Fingers held it open.

Before I could react, the door slammed shut on those fingers with brutal force. 

Over and over, it crashed against the wall, leaving smears of blood and fragments of bone.

The grotesque sight turned my stomach. 

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to vomit.

I kicked the door open again, but whoever...or whatever...was there had vanished.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, I scanned the living room. 

Still empty.

Now that I think about it, there were so many red flags about her...

I thought back to the last time I interacted with her through my phone.

Like the chainsaw... wait a second.

A wicked idea began forming in my mind. Slowly, I crept toward the kitchen door.

"Heh, I think I just came up with something hilarious," I muttered under my breath, a grin spreading across my face.

I opened the door cautiously, taking a careful peek inside.

The kitchen seemed empty at first glance, but I knew better. I stepped inside, checking the corners and scanning the room carefully.

Everything appeared fine...until I noticed a figure huddled in front of the fridge.

The dim light made it hard to make out any details, but it looked like Mita.

"Mita? Seriously? First, you show me me hanging from a rope in the bathroom, and now you're just sitting here crying? Hypocrite," I spat, my voice dripping with disdain.

She didn't react.

I sighed, the anger in my chest giving way to a flicker of sadness. "Why can't we just... talk about this? I meant what I said earlier, back at the wardrobe."

Still nothing.

My gaze shifted to the sink, where a faint glow caught my attention. Turning fully toward it, I saw the source, a flashlight lying in the basin.

"Well, if you're going to ignore me, don't mind if I do," I said with mock cheerfulness as I grabbed the flashlight and flicked it on.

The beam illuminated the room just in time for me to hear a sound, a faint rustling from deeper in the kitchen.

I whipped around, the flashlight cutting through the darkness.

There she was.

Mita.

Her eyes, pitch black and empty locked onto me as she sprinted forward, a kitchen knife gleaming in her hand.

"Oh, shit!" I shouted, raising my screwdriver instinctively.

I was too slow.

The blade plunged into my stomach...

...or so I thought.

The world glitched violently around me, pixelated distortions spreading like cracks in glass.

I staggered back, hands flying to my abdomen. But there was no pain.

No wound.

I exhaled shakily, relief crashing over me like a wave. I'm fine. I'm not hurt.

The realization left me weak. I fell to the ground, sitting heavily as my breath came in shallow gasps.

"I... I think I'm losing my mind," I whispered, staring at the kitchen door.

Mita was gone.

I turned back toward the fridge. The huddled figure that had been there before? Also gone.

Pulling myself together, I got to my feet and retrieved both the flashlight and the screwdriver. I slipped the latter back into my inventory.

With the flashlight in hand, I opened the oven, hoping to find what I was looking for.

Nothing.

"Damn it!" I slammed the oven door shut.

"Did one month of me taking care of you mean so little to you, Mita?!" I shouted into the empty room, my frustration boiling over.

Still seething, I moved to the kitchen drawers, rummaging through them for anything useful.

My hand closed around a kitchen knife. 

I picked it up, gripping it in a reverse hold with my right hand while keeping the flashlight in my left.

"You're leaving me no choice, Mita," I murmured, my voice heavy with regret.

Shining the flashlight around the kitchen, I confirmed it was still empty. 

I turned toward the exit, my hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.

Calling me a hypocrite without knowing anything about me. I thought you were better than that.

I opened the door to the living room and scanned it with the flashlight.

There she was again.

Mita stood about a meter away, her back to me.

Time to return the favor. Literally.

With a surge of determination, I dashed forward, the knife aimed for her neck.

The blade met no resistance.

Mita's form glitched and dissolved, just like in the kitchen.

I stumbled forward, nearly stabbing myself in the process.

"Damn it," I muttered, my heart pounding as the adrenaline surged again. 

Is this even the Mita I know? Those eyes... they weren't hers.

Regret began to creep into my chest, but my thoughts were interrupted by a faint creak.

The bathroom door was opening slowly.

I shone the flashlight toward it, catching a glimpse of legs stepping out.

"Huh?" I blinked, confused.

No blood. No torso. Just legs, moving with deliberate purpose.

They ignored me completely, heading toward the bedroom.

I followed cautiously, the absurdity of the situation doing little to calm my nerves.

The legs stopped at a drawer and began ramming into it repeatedly.

"What? Stuck? Did the devs screw up your pathfinding?" I taunted, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle.

That's when I noticed a key on top of the drawer.

Oh. I'm the idiot.

Sighing, I grabbed the key, adding it to the hand holding the knife.

Now, where does this go?

Shining the flashlight around the room, my eyes landed on the wardrobe.

Might as well try it there before checking the main door.

I approached the wardrobe, switching the knife to my left hand so I could use my right to turn the key.

Click

"Huh. Did I really miss the key earlier?" I mumbled, bewildered.

Shrugging, I opened the door to reveal a staircase leading down to a basement, one dimly lit but clearly visible.

The key vanished from the lock.

Strange.

I turned off the flashlight and added it back to my inventory. 

With the knife now in my dominant hand, I descended the wooden stairs, each step creaking under my weight.

The banging noise grew louder.

At the bottom of the stairs, I found myself facing iron bars. 

Beyond them, Mita sat on the ground, striking the stone wall with an iron pipe.

But something was off.

Her hair... it was different.

It is very long, it even reaches her mid-back.

She had her back to me, her attention consumed by the wall in front of her.

"If I could just get their attention somehow..." Mita mumbled to herself.

BANG

"Mita?" I called out hesitantly. "Why are you... you know, in there?"

BANG

She ignored me, continuing to slam the iron pipe against the wall.

"And could you maybe... I don't know... STOP HITTING THE FUCKING WALL? THANK YOU!" My patience finally snapped, and my voice echoed through the basement.

Mita froze mid-swing, startled by my outburst. 

Slowly, she turned to face me, still crouched on the ground. 

Her expression was one of mild amusement mixed with fatigue.

She has one brow raised.

"Well, forgive me for not enjoying your...I don't know," I shot at her, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

"Fair enough," she said with a shrug. "So, how exactly did you find your way down here?"

"The stairs. How else?" I replied, matching her dry tone.

She paused, leaning casually against one of the bars. A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

"Oh, of course. The stairs. Why didn't I think of that? Clearly, my hours of banging on this wall were an unnecessary extravagance," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her demeanor shifted suddenly, the humor replaced by seriousness. "I'm not the Mita you argued with upstairs, just so you know."

I tilted my head, confused. "Wait... were we that loud?"

"Mhm. Impossible to miss, honestly. Especially when she called you a hypocrite." Her tone remained calm, almost too calm.

I winced at the reminder. "Ugh, don't bring that up again. But... hang on. You're saying you're not the same Mita? Are there two of you?"

"Yes," she replied, giving a small, wry smile. "Very observant. I'm not the Mita you've met before. I am Mita."

"Mita? That's your name?" I frowned. "A bit confusing if I'm supposed to call both of you the same thing."

"You can call me Kind Mita," she suggested, shrugging. "I assume you have questions."

"Yeah, like why you're locked up down here," I said, gesturing to the iron bars.

"This isn't a prison. This apartment...this version...is my home. I was keeping a player company until... she arrived," Kind Mita explained with a weary sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"She? You mean the other Mita-"

"Crazy Mita," she interjected firmly.

"I'm not calling her that," I replied, grimacing.

"Why not? Didn't you shout earlier that you hate her? The fact you're down here means she's probably dropped the façade she used with you," Kind Mita said, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"I don't know what to think," I admitted, shaking my head. 

"Yes, she's done horrible things...showed me a version of myself hanging from a rope, stabbed me without actually stabbing me... But we spent over a month together. I want to hate her, even hurt her, but... maybe I just want to talk to her. Make this stop."

Kind Mita regarded me for a moment, her expression softening. "I wish it were that simple. There are questions I'd ask her too. But listening or answering? That's not her way."

She turned away briefly, her voice quieter now. "Still, I'm sorry for everything you've been through. What's your name, by the way?"

"Lukas," I said, offering her a weak smile. "You can call me Lukas, Kind Mita."

She nodded. "Alright, Lukas. I need your help. See that key by the sofa? Bring it here."

"On it," I said, turning toward the dimly lit basement.

I walked past a stack of cardboard boxes and turned to my right, spotting a worn sofa. 

I checked the table in front of it, then the sofa itself. 

Nothing. 

Finally, I noticed the key resting atop the apartment's heater.

With the key in my left hand and my knife still in my right, I returned to Kind Mita. "Found it."

She took the key from me and slipped it into her inventory.

"So, why not unlock the door and escape?" I asked.

"Because I need answers from her first. But you should leave. She won't stop with just me," she explained, her tone serious.

Kind Mita reached into her inventory and pulled out a ring. My eyes widened.

Wait... isn't that the same ring-

She placed the ring in my open hand. "You want to get out of here, don't you?" she asked.

"Out of Miside? Not really. Out of this version? Uhh I guess, until Mita...calms down a little," I said hesitantly.

"Crazy Mita won't calm down," she replied flatly. "And yes, this is a version. I'll explain more later, but for now, you need to focus on surviving."

"Urgh... Next question. Where did you get this ring?" I asked, my tone edged with curiosity and frustration.

"This ring? It's mine. I built it with the player who was here with me," she began, her voice steady but tinged with sadness.

"But Crazy Mita took it from me a while ago. I don't even know what she needs it for. I created this ring to help players traverse through versions," she said, her gaze growing distant as if replaying past memories.

"Earlier, she was here. Somehow, she dropped the ring, and I managed to get it back," she finished, her tone sharpening with a note of triumph.

"I see. You mentioned a player...what happened to them?" I pressed, sensing the weight of her words.

Her expression darkened as she looked down, avoiding my gaze.

Oh no...

"See that console on the cardboard box behind you? Pick it up," she said, pointing behind me with a trembling hand.

I turned, spotting the console. Sliding my knife into my inventory, I stepped over and picked it up.

The screen flickered to life, revealing what seemed like a recording, a player handing tools to Mita as they worked on teleporter device I used to get into 1.9.

"A recording? Your player was helping her? Did they betray you?" I fired off the questions, each one hitting harder than the last.

"It's not a recording," she said quietly, her voice heavy with grief. "This is happening right now. And no, the player didn't betray me. They were..." She paused, her voice cracking.

"Turned into a cartridge," she finally said, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"Wait...did you just say cartridge?!" My voice rose, the shock twisting my stomach.

"Yes," she admitted, her tone brittle. "I have no idea how she does it, but one thing is clear...she's using him right now."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. "She might try to turn me into a cartridge too..."

Kind Mita's eyes darted to me. "Possibly," she said, the word landing like a stone.

I swallowed hard, suddenly remembering the eight cartridges in my inventory. "I found eight cartridges earlier in a vent. Does that mean she's turned nine players into cartridges?"

Her face contorted in pain. "That many already... Most didn't even realize what Crazy Mita was doing to them. Some did, though, and they didn't fight back..." She shuddered, her voice trembling.

"Masochists these days," I muttered, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. "But yeah, this got dark fast."

"Back to the point," she said firmly. "I need your help, not just to escape but to stop Crazy Mita once and for all."

"Stop her?" I repeated, disbelief laced through my words.

"I have a plan," she explained, her tone sharpening. "But first, we both need to escape. I need answers from her, but you should try to get out. She won't stop with just me."

She pointed to the console's screen. "But before we do anything, we need to stop her from using that player."

"She's using him," I said, staring at the screen. "Should I rip the cartridge out?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "No! That will likely kill the cartridge...and the player along with it," she warned, her voice darkening.

I scoffed, bitterness rising in my throat. "He's already as good as dead. Being used against his will. Sorry, Kind Mita."

Her face twisted in horror. "Wait, you're not planning to-"

Before she could stop me, I yanked the cartridge from the console with all my strength. 

Sparks flew as the connection severed, the screen glitching violently before going dark. 

For a fleeting moment, I saw the player fall to their knees, blood pouring from their mouth.

I threw the cartridge to the ground and stomped on it, shattering it into pieces.

"Why would you do that?! Do you realize what you've done?!" Kind Mita's voice shook with rage and disbelief.

"I freed him," I snapped. "No one deserves to be trapped like that. Better an end than-"

"Better for who, Lukas?" she interrupted, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. "You didn't free him. You erased him. Completely. Do you even understand what that means?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I stared at the broken cartridge, unable to speak.

"I thought... I thought it was mercy," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Mercy is given with care, not in anger or desperation," she shot back. "You acted like her. Thoughtless, destructive."

Her words pierced through my defenses, leaving me exposed and raw.

I sighed heavily. "Maybe I am like her. Maybe I'm worse."

"No," she said firmly, stepping closer to the iron bars. "You're not beyond saving, Lukas. But this? It's a mistake you'll have to live with. Just don't let it define you."

She knelt down, picking up the shattered pieces of the cartridge. Her expression was unreadable.

"Let's move on," she said quietly, her voice softer now. "There's still time to stop her, but only if you're willing to listen and trust me."

I nodded hesitantly. "I'll try."

Her eyes met mine, and despite the anger and disappointment, there was a flicker of determination.

"Good," she said. "Now let's make sure this is the last mistake you make."

"I know that I'm a rotten being," I admitted, my voice low and filled with regret. 

"I thought... I thought this world would be a fresh start. A chance to finally get things right. But damn, was I wrong." I let out a heavy sigh, unable to meet Kind Mita's eyes.

"Lukas, I told you, it's fine," she said, her voice soft but firm. She paused for a moment as if choosing her words carefully.

"Is it?" I asked, a frown pulling at my lips. "I mean... look at what I've done. What I keep doing..." I glanced up at her, the weight of my failures pressing heavily on my chest.

"You've made mistakes, maybe big ones. But rotten? No," she said, her tone thoughtful yet unwavering. "You're here, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to fix things, even if it's messy."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, but they failed to lift the guilt that clawed at me. "Doesn't feel like enough," I murmured, doubt clouding my voice.

"It never does," she said, her gaze steady as it met mine. 

"Not when you're carrying this much. But the fact that you feel this way, that you care, means there's still something worth saving. You can choose to be better, Lukas. It's never too late to try."

Her words struck something deep within me, a small flicker of hope amidst the darkness. 

I nodded slightly, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

Without a word, I added the console in my hands into my inventory, the weight of her words lingering as I prepared to move forward.

CREAK

"Oh shit! She is here, hide quickly!" Kind Mita hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hide? Where?!" I whispered back, panic rising in my chest.

"The ring... trust it! It'll guide you!" she urged, desperation flashing in her eyes.

Before I could even move, I saw her.

Crazy Mita.

A kitchen knife glinted ominously in her hand as she emerged from the shadows at the foot of the stairs. 

Her head tilted ever so slightly, and a twisted grin stretched across her face as her gaze locked onto mine.

She's blocking the only way out...

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite hypocrite, cozying up to the doll. How amusing," Crazy Mita sneered, her tone dripping with mockery.

"Mita... why are you doing this? What's the point of all this insanity?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

She smirked, tilting her head in exaggerated thought. "Hmm, let me think... Why would I possibly do this, player?" she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm.

That's when her eyes landed on the broken cartridge trembling in Kind Mita's hands.

Her smile vanished, replaced by pure, seething rage.

With a feral snarl, Crazy Mita stormed past me, shoving me aside like a ragdoll. She ripped the shattered cartridge from Kind Mita's grasp, clutching it tightly.

"You little parasite. Do you have any idea what you've just done?!" she roared, her voice trembling with fury.

Kind Mita gulped, her eyes darting to mine in a silent, desperate plea.

Run.

She was telling me to use this chance to escape.

Why should I risk my life for her? She's a stranger. But if I don't, she's dead. She seems like a good person...

Then it hit me, except for this girl, I had no one else in this world.

Mita hates me.

I know no one else.

Mita will kill her...

Not this time...

"Mita. I'm the one who destroyed the cartridge," I said, my voice firm despite the fear clawing at me.

Crazy Mita froze mid-rage. Slowly, she turned her head toward me, her glare so sharp it felt like a blade against my skin.

"And you might want to check the vent in your bathroom," I added, forcing a cocky grin I didn't feel. "Looks like your little collection is missing a few pieces."

Her expression twisted into something far darker. "You've got a death wish, don't you, player?" she spat, her disdain palpable.

"Stop calling me that! Stop pretending our time together meant nothing!" I snapped, the words tumbling out with raw emotion.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she said with a cruel sneer. "You're just like the rest... worthless and replaceable."

My heart clenched. "I wish things were different, Mita. I wish we could go back… back to when we were happy."

"Happy?" She let out a wicked laugh. "Oh, you poor, naive fool. Let me show you what 'happy' really means."

Her grin grew more feral as she stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. 

"I will tear you apart, piece by piece. First your fingers, then your feet. Then I'll work my way deeper...all while you're alive. You insignificant little shit," she growled, her tone glitching with an eerie resonance.

I tightened my grip on the knife I'd pulled from my inventory, holding it in my shaky hand in a reverse grip as always.

I aimed for her heart with my knife.

Her twisted grin deepened. "Such a heartbreaker, going straight for my heart?" she mocked, her movements unnervingly casual as she lunged.

She was too fast. Her hand caught my wrist in an iron grip, the blade hovering perilously close to my chest.

"Careful, player! You might hurt yourself," she said sweetly, her tone mocking.

"M-Mita... don't-" I struggled, pain shooting through my arm as she forced the knife closer.

Her expression shifted to something monstrous. "You should've stayed in your lane, player," she hissed, her voice glitching as she plunged the blade into my stomach.

"Argh!" I gasped as pain exploded through my body.

She leaned close, her mouth brushing my ear. "This was fun... A pity it ends now," she whispered cruelly.

But it wasn't over.

With every ounce of strength I could summon, I pulled the screwdriver from my inventory and stabbed her twice in the back.

Crazy Mita let out a guttural scream, kicking me away with brutal force. 

The impact sent me crashing against the stairs, blood pouring from my head and blurring my vision.

"A screwdriver? How clever," she said with a grimace, pulling it from her back and tossing it aside like garbage.

Everything hurts...

"Look at you. Broken, bleeding, on the ground, exactly where you belong," she sneered.

Her tone dripped with condescension as her blade hovered over me, ready to deliver the final blow.

I stared up at her, my body too weak to move, my mind resigned.

Killed by a crazy woman. Figures.

Just as her blade came down-

STAB

I didn't feel the sharp bite of steel. 

Blinking, I opened my eyes to a sight I could scarcely believe: Kind Mita stood behind Crazy Mita, bloodied but unyielding, her chest rising and falling with exertion.

Crazy Mita's body jerked violently, her movements grotesque and erratic, as a screwdriver jutted grotesquely from her eye...the handiwork of Kind Mita.

"Not today, you lunatic!" Kind Mita snarled, her voice a ragged mix of defiance and fury.

Without hesitation, she shoved Crazy Mita with every ounce of strength she could summon, forcing her backward in a staggering retreat.

"Lukas, we need to get out of here. Now!" she barked, urgency dripping from every syllable.

Before I could muster a protest or even process what had just happened, she hoisted me into her arms as if I weighed nothing.

"Wait-" I managed to croak, but the word fell flat against the chaos.

Her focus never wavered as she began carrying me toward the staircase, her movements as resolute as her tone.

Behind us, Crazy Mita let out a spine-chilling cackle, the sound a horrifying blend of madness and pain, her grotesque grin somehow visible even with the screwdriver embedded in her face.

Glancing back, I saw Crazy Mita standing still, now with shoulder long hair and a wig on the ground. Blood poured from her damaged eye, but half her face gleamed with a metallic sheen.

"Run, player! Run! You better begone... BEFORE I TEAR BOTH OF YOU APART!" she screamed, her voice glitching into a demonic roar.

Kind Mita carried me through the wardrobe door.

But we weren't in the apartment's living room anymore.

The room had a checkerboard-patterned in white and grey texture.

Kind Mita set me down gently on a worn chair in the center of the dimly lit room, her movements deliberate but brisk.

Straightening up, she scanned the room with sharp, calculating eyes, her gaze locking onto the fridge in the corner. 

Without a word, she marched toward it, her boots scraping against the floor, and began shoving it toward the door we'd just entered.

"Improvise, adapt, survive... because nothing can ever just go smoothly, can it?" she muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her tone.

With one final push, the fridge thudded against the door, its weight creating a makeshift barricade.

Exhaling sharply, she placed her hands on her hips and turned toward me. "That should slow her down. For a moment, at least," she stated firmly, her voice steady but edged with tension.

As she crouched beside me, her expression softened slightly, though her rigid posture betrayed her unease. 

"That was way too close. You really don't know when to quit, do you?" she said bitterly, a touch of exasperation lacing her voice.

She ran a hand through her hair, then clenched her fist, pressing it against her forehead as if trying to suppress her frustration. "I told you to run. To escape. Didn't you get the memo?"

Her voice cracked, just for a moment, the composed exterior faltering.

"I... didn't want to leave you behind," I admitted weakly, my voice thin as the adrenaline drained from my body.

She froze, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat, before letting out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging. 

"I can't decide if I should be flattered or furious with you right now," she said, half-amused and half-exasperated.

Leaning back on her heels, she tilted her head as though studying me, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Charmed, maybe. But definitely leaning toward angry. Do you even realize how close you came to being another casualty of your bad decisions?"

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes carried a heavy weight, a mixture of relief and irritation.

Snapping back to focus, she pulled a medkit from her inventory and set it on the floor beside her. 

"All right, let's focus. First, I need to bandage the worst of your wounds, the one around the knife and your head injury," she said, her voice steady and clinical.

"Are you... going to take the knife out?" I asked weakly, my words slurred with exhaustion.

She paused, raising an eyebrow at me as though gauging my comprehension. 

"Do you want to bleed out on the spot? No, we're not removing the knife. I don't have the tools to stitch the wound properly here. Removing it now would do more harm than good," she explained, her tone sharp but not unkind.

"O-okay..." I murmured, my head dipping slightly.

She carefully pressed gauze around the knife wound, her movements practiced and deliberate. 

"Relax. I'm not about to let you die on me after all this. That'd be a little too ironic, don't you think?" she said, her lips twitching into a fleeting smirk.

As she worked, she muttered under her breath, "Pressure first. Keep it steady. Don't panic. Okay, that's holding... Now the head. Of course, there's a head wound. Why wouldn't there be? Because this situation isn't complicated enough already."

She glanced at me with an almost amused expression. 

"Don't mind the monologue. I do my best thinking out loud," she said dryly.

Using a damp cloth, she wiped the blood from my head, her hands steady despite the furrow of irritation etched across her brow. 

"You're lucky. This could've been worse. Just a surface wound, despite all the blood. Looks nastier than it is," she said, her voice carrying quiet reassurance.

I managed a weak chuckle. "Glad to hear I'm not dying... yet."

She rolled her eyes, but a flicker of amusement softened her features. 

"Let's try to keep it that way. And stop talking, it's not helping your energy levels," she retorted.

Securing the bandage around my head, she leaned back, inspecting her work with a critical eye. 

"Not perfect, but it'll hold. You'll live to see tomorrow, assuming you don't do anything reckless in the next five minutes. Knowing you, that's a big 'if.'"

Her sigh was heavy with exasperation, but her expression softened as she sat back on her heels. 

"You're going to be fine. But you need to trust me, okay? I've got this," she said gently, her voice carrying a quiet strength.

Kind Mita extended a hand, her expression calm yet commanding. 

"Come on. Let's get you up," she said firmly.

Grasping her hand, I let her effortlessly pull me to my feet. Despite my weakened state, her firm grip steadied me.

"These bandages are temporary. They'll hold for now, but you're still a mess," she said, her gaze flicking over me in assessment.

"I know a place where I can patch you up properly, stitch the wounds, stop the bleeding for good. And as luck would have it, it's already our next destination," she added.

I nodded weakly, but a thought crossed my mind, distracting me. "Kind Mita...ugh, your name's way too long. Can I give you a nickname instead?"

She arched a brow but answered without hesitation. "Sure."

I paused, fumbling for an idea. What should I call her?

"Uh... let's see... Kind Mita, Kind Mita... How about 'Kita'? Combines both names into one. Simple, right?" I explained.

She blinked, then smirked faintly. "Wow. So original. A true stroke of genius," she deadpanned, her voice dripping with irony.

The faint upward twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. "Still, I like it. Kita it is," she said lightly.

Her gaze drifted off slightly, and I caught her muttering under her breath. "I wonder how she'll react to this nickname..."

Her words made me frown in confusion. "She? Wait, do you mean Mita? 'Crazy' Mita?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a quick laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, hell no. I was talking about someone else entirely."

She crossed her arms, tilting her head as though deciding how much to reveal. "The person we're meeting at our next stop. You could say she's my... partner in crime. Very important for the plan against Crazy Mita."

Her tone grew more animated, her pragmatic edge softening as though mentioning this person lifted some of the weight from her shoulders.

"She's also the one who'll help me patch you up properly."

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Cool Mita. But I call her Cappie," she said with a grin.

The nickname caught me off guard, and I chuckled despite myself. "Cappie, huh? Sounds... interesting," I said.

"You'll see. 'Interesting' doesn't even begin to cover it," she replied wryly.