Erza turned.
Her eyes met his.
And for one impossible moment, Yuuta saw something in them he had never seen before.
Fear.
Not for herself.
For him.
Then her hand moved.
SLAP.
The sound echoed across the enclosure like a gunshot. Yuuta's head snapped to the side. His cheek burned. His skin swelled instantly, a red mark rising against his face.
He dropped the stick.
Stumbled back.
Held his stinging cheek with his good hand.
"You IDIOT!" Erza's voice cracked through the air like a whip. "Do you have a DEATH WISH?! Look at yourself! You're BLEEDING! Have you lost your MIND?!"
Her chest heaved.
Her eyes blazed.
But beneath the rage—beneath the fury and the shouting and the violence—there was something else.
Panic.
"How can you be so DUMB?!" she continued, her voice rising. "Why did you jump in?! WHY?!"
"Mama!" Elena's small voice cut through her mother's tirade. She tugged at Erza's dress, tears still fresh on her cheeks. "Don't shout at Papa! Elena fell in, and Papa jumped in to save Elena!"
Erza looked down at her daughter.
Then back at Yuuta.
Her expression shifted—just slightly—but the anger didn't fade.
"You jumped into a LION DEN," she said, her voice lower now but no less intense. "Do you have any idea—ANY idea—that a dragon child cannot be harmed by mere beasts? Elena's skin is tougher than any metal on this planet! Those claws couldn't have pierced her! Those teeth couldn't have scratched her!"
She stepped closer.
Jabbed a finger at his chest.
"She was never in danger, you STUPID, RECKLESS, PATHETIC—"
"STOP IT!"
Yuuta's voice exploded from him.
Loud.
Raw.
Angry.
Erza froze.
"Stop calling me idiot. Stop calling me stupid. Stop calling me pathetic." His breath came in ragged gasps. Blood still dripped from his arm. His legs trembled with exhaustion and pain. But his eyes—his crimson eyes—blazed with something she had never seen from him before.
Fire.
"I saw my daughter fall into the hands of hungry beasts." His voice cracked. "I saw her sitting there, smiling, not understanding that those animals saw her as PREY. And you want me to—what? Stand there? Do nothing? Wait for someone else to save her?!"
"But she wasn't in—"
"I DIDN'T KNOW THAT!"
The words echoed off the enclosure walls.
Silence fell.
Yuuta's chest heaved. His injured arm hung at his side, dripping crimson onto the grass. His swollen cheek pulsed with pain. But he didn't look away from her.
"I didn't know her skin was tough," he said, quieter now. "I didn't know she couldn't be hurt. All I knew was that my daughter—MY daughter—was thirty-three feet down, surrounded by lions, and I was up there with NOTHING."
He took a shuddering breath.
"Does that make me stupid? Maybe. Does it make me reckless? Probably. But I would do it again. A hundred times. A thousand times. Because I can't—I WON'T—stand by and watch my family be harmed while I'm still alive and breathing."
His eyes held hers.
"Even if I don't have power. Even if I'm just a weak, pathetic mortal. Even if it kills me."
He smiled.
That stupid, warm, infuriating smile.
"I'm not afraid to die for my family."
Erza stared at him.
Her mind—her ancient, calculating, battle-hardened mind—went completely blank.
He didn't know.
He had no idea Elena was safe.
He jumped into certain death for a daughter he's known for one day.
A daughter he didn't raise.
A daughter he didn't even know existed until yesterday.
And he did it without hesitation.
Without thought.
Without fear.
Her eyes dropped to his arm.
To the three parallel gashes carved into his flesh.
They were deep. So deep she could see the white of bone beneath the welling blood. The wound was terrible—the kind that would leave permanent scars, if he survived at all.
Her heart twisted.
A physical sensation.
Painful.
Wrong.
Why does this hurt?
Why do I care?
Why—
She looked at his face again.
At the smile.
At the strength behind it.
At the way he held himself together—bleeding, broken, barely standing—so that their daughter wouldn't see him fall.
Something inside her cracked.
She stepped forward.
Reached out.
Gently—so gently, so unlike anything she had ever done—she took his injured arm in her hands.
Yuuta flinched.
"What are you—"
She didn't answer.
She leaned down.
Pressed her lips to the wound.
And spat.
Not harshly. Not violently. A soft application of saliva directly onto the torn flesh.
Yuuta's face went crimson.
"What—what are you DOING?!"
She didn't reply.
Didn't look up.
She simply held his arm and watched.
And then—
The wound began to heal.
Not instantly. Not magically in the way of spells. But visibly. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. The torn edges of flesh began to knit together. New tissue formed, pink and fresh, closing over the bone that had been exposed moments before.
Yuuta stared.
"What..."
"Dragon saliva." Erza's voice was calm now. Controlled. The mask was back in place. "It has healing properties. Like a spell, but natural. It will heal completely within hours."
She released his arm.
Stepped back.
"You'll have scars," she added flatly. "But you'll live."
Yuuta looked at his arm.
At the wound that was already closing.
At the woman who had just—without being asked, without expectation of thanks—healed him.
"Erza, I—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't thank me. Don't say anything. Just—"
She stopped.
Because the lions were moving.
The pride had regrouped while they were distracted. They surrounded them now—a semicircle of tawny bodies and glowing eyes and low, rumbling growls. The male was still struggling to rise, but the females had positioned themselves between him and the intruders.
Protecting their own.
Just as Erza had protected hers.
Erza straightened.
Her claws extended again.
Her aura flickered—not the uncontrolled rage of before, but something colder. More deliberate. The calm before destruction.
Behind her, Yuuta saw her muscles coil.
Saw death in her posture.
"Erza, wait—"
She didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
The lioness at the front of the group growled low in her throat. Her muscles tensed. She was going to attack—
"ERZA, DON'T KILL THEM!"
The shout tore from Yuuta's throat.
She turned.
Just slightly.
Just enough to see his face.
"Please." His voice was desperate. "Don't kill them. They're just protecting their territory. Their family. They don't deserve to die for that."
Erza stared at him.
At the man who had almost been killed by these beasts.
At the man whose arm still bore the marks of their claws.
At the man who was begging her to spare them.
"...You're an idiot," she said.
But she retracted her claws.
And when she turned back to face the lions—
She spoke.
Erza's posture changed.
The softness—if it could be called that—drained from her face. Her shoulders straightened. Her chin lifted. Her eyes went cold again.
But not the cold of rage.
The cold of certainty.
She turned to face them.
And spoke.
Not in any language Yuuta recognized.
Low. Guttural. Ancient.
The lions listened.
Their ears flattened.
Their growls stopped.
Their bodies lowered—not in attack posture, but in submission.
Even the male—the king, the pride leader, the beast who had never bowed to anything in his life—lowered his massive head.
Erza finished speaking.
Silence.
Then, slowly, the lions began to retreat. Back toward their rocks. Back toward their cubs. Back toward the shadows where they belonged.
The male paused at the edge of the enclosure.
Looked back at Erza.
Made a sound—a low, rumbling sound that might have been acknowledgment.
Then he was gone.
Yuuta exhaled.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"What... what did you say to them?"
Erza didn't answer.
Just looked at him.
At his swollen cheek.
At his healing arm.
At the exhaustion written across his face.
"We're leaving," she said. "Now."
"But—"
"NOW."
She grabbed Elena with one arm and Yuuta's collar with the other and dragged them both toward the service door.
Behind them, the enclosure fell silent.
The lions watched them go.
But as they stepped through the door and into the chaos of paramedics and police and screaming tourists—
She glanced back too.
Just once.
And almost smiled.
Soon after, Yuuta and Elena were escorted to the emergency hospital near the zoo. It had been built specifically for incidents like this—animal attacks, structural accidents, and rare but dangerous emergencies. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance as medical staff moved quickly, guiding stretchers through automatic doors under harsh white lights.
Erza had tried to stop them.
"There is no need," she had said coldly, stepping in front of the paramedics. "My healing ability is far superior to anything these humans can provide."
Her voice carried quiet authority, and for a brief second even the medical staff hesitated.
But Yuuta shook his head weakly.
"It's fine," he said, forcing a small smile despite the pain. "Let them check me. Just to be sure."
Erza's eyes narrowed slightly. She could sense his injuries. None were fatal. Her magic could have repaired the internal damage within moments. To her, this hospital was primitive—fragile tools, limited knowledge, inefficient methods.
Yet Yuuta insisted.
"I'll be okay," he added softly.
That was what stopped her.
Not logic. Not reason.
His calm reassurance.
So she stepped back.
The doors closed behind him, separating her from the sterile brightness inside. For the first time since arriving in this world, Erza found herself standing still with nothing to do.
Hospitals were unfamiliar territory to her. The scent of disinfectant was sharp. The atmosphere tense but controlled. Humans rushed back and forth with focused determination, trying to preserve fragile lives with tools instead of power.
She folded her arms, remaining outside the entrance.
She could have forced her way in.
She could have dismissed them all and healed him instantly.
But she did neither.
Instead, she waited.
The night air was cool against her skin, yet she barely felt it. Her mind replayed the earlier scene—the height, the lion, the way Yuuta had stood in front of Elena without hesitation.
He was weak.
Painfully weak.
And yet he had not run.
Erza exhaled slowly, staring at the hospital doors.
Humans were strange creatures.
And Yuuta… was the strangest of them all
The emergency room was chaos.
Not the good kind of chaos—the controlled, efficient kind that hospitals prided themselves on. This was the bad kind. The kind that happened when a lion attack victim was brought in alongside a child who had fallen thirty-three feet, and every nurse and doctor within reach was trying to figure out which emergency to handle first.
Yuuta sat on a hospital bed, his legs dangling over the edge, a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His body still ached in places he didn't know could ache, but the wounds—the claw marks, the bruises, the torn flesh—were gone. Erza's saliva had seen to that.
Which was going to be a problem.
Because the paramedics had seen him bleeding.
The tourists had seen him bleeding.
The police officer standing at the foot of his bed had definitely seen him bleeding.
"I'm telling you," the officer said for the fifth time, his voice strained with frustration, "the man was attacked by a lion. His arm was torn open. We all saw it. There were witnesses. Dozens of witnesses."
The doctor—a tired-looking woman in her fifties with gray streaking her hair—sighed heavily.
"Officer, I have examined this patient thoroughly. There are no wounds on his arm. No scars. No evidence of any recent injury whatsoever."
"But we SAW it—"
"With all due respect, what you 'saw' and what medicine can verify are two different things. Perhaps in the chaos, you misinterpreted—"
"I know what a lion attack looks like!" The officer was red-faced now. "I've been on this force for twenty years! I've seen—"
"Papa!"
Elena's voice cut through the argument like a ray of sunshine through storm clouds.
She was across the room, sitting on another examination bed, surrounded by no fewer than four nurses. Her legs swung happily beneath her, and her cheeks were stuffed with chocolate—where had she even gotten chocolate?—like she didn't have a care in the world.
"Papa, look! The nice human gave me candy!"
Yuuta smiled weakly.
"That's great, Princess."
One of the nurses—a young woman with kind eyes and an expression of absolute adoration—looked up at Yuuta.
"She's absolutely fine, sir. No signs of trauma, no fear response, nothing. In fact..." She glanced at Elena, who was now making bunny ears with her fingers. "She might be the most fearless child I've ever met."
Another nurse nodded vigorously.
"We've been trying to check her for a concussion, but she keeps asking if the 'big kitty' is okay. She's more worried about the lion than herself."
Elena, hearing her cue, perked up.
"Papa! Is the big kitty okay?"
Yuuta coughed.
"Mama was very angry." Elena nodded sagely. "Mama start getting angry when Papa is in danger. But the big kitty was just playing, right Papa? It wasn't trying to eat Elena?"
The nurses exchanged glances.
The officer forgot his argument for a moment.
Yuuta smiled—the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Right, princess. Just playing."
---
The doctor—Dr. Nakamura, according to her name tag—turned back to Yuuta with a new expression.
Curiosity.
"Young man," she said, "I'd like to do a full examination. Just to be safe. Given what happened today, I want to make sure there's no internal damage we haven't caught."
Yuuta's smile froze.
"A... full examination?"
"Standard procedure. I'll need you to remove your shirt."
"I—" He glanced at the officer. At the nurses. At Elena, still blissfully eating chocolate. "That's a little... personal. For me."
Dr. Nakamura's expression softened.
"I understand it can be uncomfortable, but it's important. Just a quick look to check for bruising, possible internal injuries—"
"Really, I don't think—"
"Sir." Her voice was firm now. Kind, but firm. "You fell thirty-three feet. You were attacked by a lion. Please let me do my job."
Yuuta looked at her.
At the genuine concern in her eyes.
At the way she wasn't going to let this go.
He sighed.
"Fine."
He pulled off the hospital gown.
And the room went silent.
---
Dr. Nakamura's breath caught.
The nurses stopped cooing over Elena.
The officer—mid-argument, mid-frustration—froze with his mouth open.
Because Yuuta's body was covered.
Not in the way most people's bodies were covered. Not in freckles or birthmarks or the ordinary scars of an ordinary life.
Covered.
From his collarbone to his waist. From his shoulders to his spine. Scars.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands.
Some were thin and white—old, faded, barely visible against his skin. Others were thick and puckered—raised lines that spoke of deeper wounds, poorly healed. Some were round—like burn marks. Some were long—like slashes. Some were clustered in patterns that made the nurses think of words they couldn't quite read.
His back was worse.
Stripes. Parallel lines. The kind of scars left by whips.
His chest was a map of survival.
Every inch of him told a story.
Every story was about pain.
"Oh my God," one of the nurses whispered.
The officer took a step back.
Dr. Nakamura's professional composure cracked—just slightly, just enough for her eyes to go wide and her hand to rise to her mouth.
"Young man..." Her voice was barely audible. "What happened to you?"
Yuuta looked down at himself.
At the scars he'd carried his whole life.
At the evidence of things he never talked about, never explained, never let anyone see.
"Oh," he said casually. Too casually. "These? They've been there as long as I can remember. Since I was born, I guess."
"Since you were born? " Dr. Nakamura's voice rose. "These scars—some of these scars are from torture. Systematic, prolonged torture. No child is born with marks like these."
Yuuta shrugged.
It was such an ordinary gesture.
So completely at odds with the landscape of his skin.
"I don't know how I got them. I've just always had them."
Silence.
The officer—the man who had been ready to argue, to accuse, to demand answers—couldn't meet Yuuta's eyes anymore. He stared at the floor, his face pale, his hands clenched at his sides.
Dr. Nakamura took a breath.
Then another.
When she spoke again, her voice was carefully controlled.
"You can put your shirt back on."
Yuuta did.
"You're free to go," she continued. "There's no sign of injury from today's incident. Whatever happened in that enclosure..." She paused. "It seems you were luckier than anyone had a right to be."
Yuuta nodded.
Slid off the bed.
Walked toward Elena.
"Come on, sweetheart. Time to go."
Elena hopped down, waving goodbye to her nurse admirers.
"Bye-bye, ladies! Thank you for the candy!"
They waved back.
But their eyes—
Their eyes were on Yuuta.
On the man with the impossible scars.
On the man who had just walked away from a lion attack without a scratch.
On the man who smiled at his daughter like he hadn't just revealed a lifetime of pain.
---
They met Erza outside.
She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression cold. But her eyes—her eyes searched Yuuta's face the moment he appeared.
"You took too long."
"Sorry. Doctors are thorough."
She looked at Elena.
At the chocolate smeared on her cheeks.
At the happiness in her eyes.
"She's fine?"
"She's more than fine." Yuuta smiled. "She asked if the lion was okay. Wanted to know if the 'mean lady' hurt it."
Erza's eye twitched.
"Mean lady?"
"Her words, not mine."
For a moment—just a moment—something like amusement flickered across Erza's face.
Then it was gone.
"We're leaving. Now. No more stops, no more detours, no more adventures. "
"Agreed."
They walked toward the exit.
Toward the parking lot.
Toward Sweetheart, waiting patiently where they'd left him, Yuuta Car.
Behind them, the hospital hummed with activity.
Nurses whispered.
Doctors wondered.
And somewhere in the chaos, a police officer stared at his hands and tried to forget the map of pain he'd just witnessed on a stranger's skin.
---
To be continued...
---
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Home
(Coming soon)