The door burst open and the blonde flew into the room, her robe swirling out behind her as she rushed toward the single figure standing in the darkened room.
“Where is he?” She demanded.
“My lady…” Dante caught her by the shoulders, keeping her from moving deeper into the room.
“Answer me.” She snapped back.
“He’s alive,” Dante spoke softly to her. “He’s weak, but he’s alive.”
“Let me see him.”
“That’s not a good idea,” he held onto her tighter as she struggled to push past him. “Not right now, Mizuki.”
She froze when he used her name, glancing up to see the tears rolling down his face. She had never seen her gardener cry before, at least, not like this. His fingers were digging into her shoulders so hard they hurt, and she suddenly realized his knees were shaking.
“He’s alive.” It was not a question, it was a reminder.
“Yes, Mizuki, he’s alive,” Dante’s face contorted and he pulled her into a fierce hug, burying his face into her hair. “He’s alive.”
“Were you with him?” She asked, returning the hug.
“No,” the strangled whimper broke her heart. “He wanted to go alone.”
He laughed, but it tapered off into another whimper, his arms tightening even further around her. They stood there, in the gloom, holding onto each other for a long, silent moment, broken only by the soft whimpers from the man sobbing in her arms.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw the figure lying prone on the table behind Dante, the sheet pulled up to his shoulders, his chest barely moving with shallow breaths. The sight of her Commander, lying so still, made a shiver run down her spine, and she clung to her gardener tighter.
“He’ll be fine, Dante. He’ll be back to patrolling the grounds in no time.”
“That’s right,” he released her, wiping his eyes, straightening up. “He’ll be fine.”