M'haku x Koana

“We must tend to your wounds, my lord! Now, please, sit down and let us do our work!”

M’haku curled his lips in a menacing snarl and slapped away the hovering hands fussing over him, his sweaty brow furled so hard it probably left a permanent indent. “STOP CALLING ME THAT! I’m fine! Touch me one more time, or I swear to Rhalgr...”

The chirurgeons that were hired by the upper class of the arena in Ul’dah crowded the fuming red-haired miqo’te, failing in their attempts to close his wounds from the fight he was ensued in just moments ago. It shook the very firmament. The loud noises of them yapping in his ear, the bustling of other patients coming and going, a roaring crowd still chanting his name within earshot – it was beginning to overwhelm him.

Without a second thought, he swiftly rose to his feet which promptly lead to him clutching his head in agony from an oncoming migraine. M’haku’s head pounded and he could barely make out the blurry shapes in the room. Too many punches to the head, more like.

“To hells with this fucking place,” he hissed, shoving the healers out of the way.

M’haku stumbled his way through the crowds of people outside the arena; the smell of street food, mucky sewers, sweat, blood — you name it — burned his nostrils and made his stomach churn. He needed to get out of here, and fast. Being in Ul’dah again reminded him of why he decided to leave with Thancred all those years ago, and every time he visited it would bring up bad memories. Why he agreed to challenge that prick of a miqo’te to a fight in the ring was beyond him.

Pride. Competition. Bragging rights.

M’haku had run into him a few times in the past, but that was years ago. To his surprise, the darker-haired man had not only climbed the ranks of the Bloodsands Arena, but he hadn’t a single clue who he, the Warrior of Light, was until someone pointed it out and demanded they spar.

Although, at this point, it felt like it was a lot more than “just a spar.” Who was he to refuse this challenge? Someone wanted to be stupid enough to face the Warrior of Light in the Arena? What a joke.

Finally arriving at the aetheryte, M’haku staggered as he placed his bloody palm on the cool crystal, and channeled what little energy he had left to get him the hells out of this city, only to land in another one. Be damned the consequences of his weak body and aether manipulation. However, this one had cleaner air, trees, open water, fragrant flowers – it smelled more like home.

Home?!