Each breath feels like thousands of needles are penetrating deep into his chest. His nostrils flare wide open, desperate to get as much air as possible, even though each breath only inflicts more pain. It is like his chest is trying to expand to take the air, but only one side cooperates. It is not quite enough, yet all he gets.

He isn’t aware of the time that passes, focussing solely on breathing. Never before Hiroto has been this vulnerable, this hurt. His immortality and goddess’ blessing had always kept him from serious harm. Now one of his lungs has collapsed, his ribs are either bruised or broken and his pale coat is covered with small cuts caused by the branches of the tree, at which base he now laid.

He had fallen like an angel who got kicked out of heaven. In reality it was a little different, not kicked out of heaven, but out of his own realm. It would be the last time he’d teleported and travelled between realms. Hiroto had ended up a bit above the treeline and the branches hadn’t been kind to him when he had fallen through them. The ground hadn’t really softened the impact either.

She’d broken him, disposed of him, but the wounds and broken state of his body isn’t want hurts the most. He was no longer welcome, stripped of his status and his life, left in this unknown world desperately gasping for air. His unordinary ears twitch, reacting to the new sounds all around him. Left on the ground he’s vulnerable, his pale cremello skin in stark contrast with the ground, tree and leaves all around him. Red stripes coat his skin, not just the tips of his ears, making him stand out even more.

And Hiroto isn’t quite in a state to defend himself.