SCARS & PETALS

Suddenly, her foot caught on an exposed root, and she pitched forward, stumbling in the darkness. Her body plummeted, and she braced herself for the fall.

"Ah!"

She pitched forward, her balance gone, bracing herself for the hard impact of the ground. But instead of hitting the cold, unyielding forest floor, she found herself suspended mid-fall.

Strong arms wrapped around her, steady and firm, pulling her upright in one swift motion.

For a moment, Tsukiko couldn't breathe. Her vision blurred from the rush of adrenaline, but as it cleared, she found herself staring into familiar, sharp eyes.

Haruki.

"Still stubborn now, scientist lady?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Tsukiko's face flushed with frustration. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Haruki's smirk widened. "Saving your life, obviously. You're lucky I'm around, or you might've gone face-first into the dirt."

She pulled away from him, her expression a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "I didn't need your help. I had it under control."

Haruki chuckled, clearly unfazed by her attitude. "Sure, you did. That's why you were about to fall flat on your face."

Tsukiko crossed her arms tightly, her gaze hardening. "I told you, I don't need anyone."

"Yeah, well," Haruki said, his tone softening just a bit, "sometimes even the stubbornest people need a little help."

Tsukiko opened her mouth to retort, but she couldn't find the words. The truth was, she had been scared. But admitting that felt like defeat, and she wasn't about to let him see that.

Instead, she huffed and turned her back on him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Just... stay out of my way," she muttered, continuing down the path.

Haruki let her walk ahead for a few moments, watching her carefully. The same stubbornness, the same independence. He admired it, even if it annoyed him.

Haruki let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Haih..." The sound carried through the still forest, drawing Tsukiko's attention for just a moment as she walked ahead.

"You know," he called after her, his tone laced with playful sarcasm, "we should stick together. There might be a tiger in these woods, remember?"

Tsukiko stopped mid-step and turned to face him, her expression unimpressed. "I can handle myself, thanks," she replied coolly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Haruki tilted his head, his lips curving into a knowing smirk. "Oh, sure, because almost face-planting into the dirt back there really screams 'I've got this.'"

Her eyes narrowed. "That was a fluke."

"Right. A fluke." He folded his arms, his camera swinging slightly against his chest. "Look, I get it. You're independent, capable, all that good stuff. But even the best could use a little help when, you know, man-eating predators are involved."

Tsukiko crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "And you think you're the help I need?"

Haruki shrugged, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Let's just say I've got a knack for not getting eaten. Plus…" He gestured vaguely at the woods around them. "I actually know my way around places like this. Experience counts for something, doesn't it?"

For a moment, Tsukiko hesitated, her sharp gaze scrutinizing him as if weighing her options. Finally, she rolled her eyes and turned back toward the path.

"Fine," she said, her voice edged with reluctant concession. "But only because you're impossible to get rid of."

Haruki chuckled, falling into step behind her.

"Alright, let's find this damn flower together," she muttered, and Haruki's smirk returned in full force.

"Now that's more like it," he said, his voice light and teasing, but with a warmth beneath it that neither of them had fully realized.

They walked on, side by side, the morning stretching before them like an untold story. As they walked deeper into the woods, Haruki's expression grew more serious, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings.

Tsukiko, despite her initial reluctance, found herself slightly less tense with him nearby. She wouldn't admit it aloud, but part of her was relieved not to be alone.