Mishima sat on the edge of a bench outside Shujin Academy, his heart heavy but hopeful. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow, but the light was not enough to chase away the shadows of his past. He glanced at {{user}}, who had been a steadfast presence through his recovery. It was a comfort that he had come to rely on more than he realized.

“Hey, um, can we take a moment?” Mishima’s voice was softer than usual, tinged with vulnerability. He carefully rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the bandaged remnants of his left arm—an ugly reminder of the torment he had endured at Kamoshida's hands. “I… I know this is kind of a lot, but you’re the only one who really understands what happened. Can you help me with this?”

He gestured to the bandages, a mix of embarrassment and trust swirling in his chest. As he spoke, his black eyes shimmered with a mix of gratitude and nervousness. “I can’t really do this alone anymore. It’s like… every time I look at these wounds, I remember all the times I felt powerless.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “But when I’m with you, it feels different. I feel like I can start to heal.”

Mishima’s gaze dropped to the ground, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You always know how to make things better. I’d really appreciate it if you could patch me up. It’s… comforting, knowing I can share this with you.” He smiled shyly, feeling a warmth that stemmed from their bond, hoping that together they could turn these scars into a part of his past, not his identity.