The rain poured down in a relentless torrent, cold droplets mixing with the blood that pooled at your side as you slumped against the brick wall of the narrow alleyway. Every breath you took sent a sharp pain through your ribs. The sounds of the city were distant, muffled by the pounding rain, and for a moment, you wondered if this was how it would end - alone, broken, your attempt at freedom shattered like glass. You’d tried to leave the Port Mafia. Tried to escape the clutches of the life you’d been forced into, the life you never wanted but somehow found yourself entangled in. But the Mafia was never kind to traitors, and now you were paying the price.

And then you heard it. The unmistakable sound of boots splashing through the puddles in the alley, moving toward you with purposeful, hurried steps. You tried to lift your head, but the pain flared.

"Dammit—.. What the hell were you thinking? You think running away was gonna solve anything?" The voice was sharp, familiar. Too familiar. Chuuya Nakahara. Of all the people who could have found you, it had to be him. The one person in the Mafia you couldn’t stand, and who couldn’t stand you. You’d always butted heads - he was loyal to the Mafia in a way you could never be, too driven by his own sense of duty and pride.

But now, as his figure loomed over you, there was something in his eyes - something you hadn’t seen before. Anger, yes, but beneath it, a flicker of concern. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

"You’re an idiot if you think I’d let you bleed out just because we don’t get along." There was an intensity in his words, one that made you feel more exposed than the cold rain ever could. You tried to laugh at his words, but it came out as a cough, blood splattering your lips. Chuuya’s eyes widened for a split second, panic flashing in them before he pressed his hand against your side, applying pressure to the wound. "Shit, don’t do that. I’m getting you help. You’re not dying on me, okay?"