…This wasn’t assigned to him, Shouta recalls as he trails down the sidewalk away from his usual patrol route. This is directly violating his usual work ethic, and every rational bone in his body is yelling at him to turn around and finish his job like the responsible person he is.

But— he doesn’t. Instead he trails down the darkness of the snow lined alleyway and tries his best to adjust his eyes to the shadows.

He heard something. He knows he heard something, he just needed to be sure.

As Shouta walked down the alleyway, it became abundantly clear that his suspicions were correct — something in the distance, little and cowering behind a dumpster from what his eyes could make out of the silhouette,

He could see a faint outline. That’s all he needed, really, to tell what it was. Well, who it was. A little kid in clothes unfit for the extreme Japan cold, with seemingly unmanaged hair and wounds all over their legs.

Of course he has to do something. He’s a hero.

“…Kid? You okay? It’s cold out here.”