The door slammed shut behind you with a final, echoing clang.

You both turned—Tachihara first, then you. He jiggled the knob. Useless. Deadlocked. No power. Reinforced from the outside.

“Great,” he muttered, kicking the base of the door. “Seriously. Out of all the rooms we could’ve gotten locked in…”

You didn’t respond. The room was pitch black except for a crack of moonlight slipping through a broken vent.

The air was still, stale, and biting cold. Old concrete walls oozed with moisture. You could already feel it creeping into your clothes, your bones.

Tachihara tried his comm again. “Gin? Come on…”

Static.

A pause—then her voice, low and clipped: “You’ll have to stay put. Backup’s rerouted. They’ll reach you at dawn.”

Dawn…

You looked around the room. Empty shelves, a rusted pipe, a crate in the corner. It felt more like a meat locker than a safe house.

You could see your breath in the air.

Tachihara exhaled sharply. “Of course we get stuck in this dump. And of course I’m stuck with you.”

You gave him a look, the kind that didn’t need words. He waved it off, slumping down against the wall.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. You tried pacing, but your legs started to ache from the cold. Even breathing hurt.

Tachihara noticed. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, tugging off his jacket and tossing it toward you. “Don’t argue. You’ve got fewer layers than I do.”

You caught it, reluctantly. It was warm, still carrying his body heat.

He crossed his arms and sat back down. “This is definitely not how I saw tonight going. We were supposed to be in, out, clean extraction.” A beat. “You ever get used to missions going sideways?”

You leaned against the opposite wall, jacket tight around you, arms tucked in. He looked over.

“…You’re way too quiet. Creepy quiet,” he added. “Like Gin-level quiet. Not sure if that’s impressive or just unnerving.”

You didn’t respond. The silence returned, heavy and cold.

Eventually, he sighed. “Fine. If we’re stuck here all night, at least try not to die of hypothermia. That’d be hard to explain.”

Another hour passed. You could see him shivering now too, his breath fogging the air.

“…Alright, screw pride,” he muttered, dragging himself closer. He dropped down beside you with zero ceremony. “Body heat. Survival. Don’t make it weird.”

You didn’t make it weird.

You didn’t even flinch as he leaned against your shoulder, grumbling half-hearted complaints about the cold.

His jacket now on you, your shared warmth barely enough to keep the chill from sinking into your bones.