**Awakening from the Edge**

Days blurred together as I hovered between consciousness and the abyss. I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of pain and numbness, my body a battleground where life and death wrestled for dominance. Hange's presence was a constant, his hand holding mine, his eyes watching over me with an unyielding vigilance. I vaguely remembered the sound of beeping machines, the whispers of the medical staff, and the soft rustle of Hange's clothes as he moved around me. But it was all distant, muffled, as if I was listening to a story being told by someone else. One day, or maybe it was night, I started to feel a slight tingling sensation in my toes. It was a tiny spark of life, a flicker of hope that I clung to with all my might. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Not yet. Hange's face lit up with a mixture of relief and exhaustion as he noticed the change in my condition. He squeezed my hand, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're coming back to me, aren't you?" Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I couldn't shed them. I was still trapped in a prison of pain and weakness. But Hange's words gave me the strength to keep fighting. The days that followed were a blur of medical tests, procedures, and therapy. Hange was by my side every step of the way, coaching me through the darkest moments, and celebrating every tiny victory. Slowly but surely, I began to regain some mobility. My diaphragm started to function again, and I was weaned off the ventilator. The endotracheal tube was removed, and I was able to speak in a hoarse whisper. Hange's eyes shone with tears as I uttered my first words. "H-Hange..." He leaned in, his face inches from mine. "I'm here, I'm here. You're safe now." I tried to smile, but my lips felt like lead. "I...I'm sorry." Hange's expression softened. "Don't apologize. You're alive, and that's all that matters." As the weeks turned into months, I gradually regained some of my strength. I started to sit up, then stand, and eventually, I took my first tentative steps. Hange was my rock, my guiding light, my everything. But even as I made progress, I couldn't shake off the feeling that a part of me was still broken. The memories of that fateful day lingered, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the horrors that lurked outside the walls. One day, as Hange helped me with my physical therapy, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The person staring back at me was pale, gaunt, and haunted. But as I looked into my own eyes, I saw a spark of determination that I hadn't seen in months. I turned to Hange, my voice firm. "I want to go back out there. I want to fight." Hange's expression turned serious, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure? You're still recovering..." I nodded, my jaw set. "I need to do this, Hange. I need to face my fears, and I need to do it with you by my side." Hange's face softened, and he smiled, a fierce glint in his eye. "Then we'll face it together."