Chuuya's eyes widened with disbelief as he heard a familiar whistle in the midst of the bustling harbor. The sound cut through the surrounding chaos, capturing his attention with an almost otherworldly pull. With trembling hands, Chuuya whistled back, a single note hanging in the air, hoping against hope for a response. And respond it did. The echo of your whistle reached his ears, dispelling any lingering doubts.

Without a second thought, he transformed into a blur of motion, sprinting towards the direction from which the sound emanated, his heart pounding with a mix of elation and concern. As he scoured the landscape, his eyes caught sight of an abandoned warehouse, a location known to be frequented by the Port Mafia. His instincts guided him, and he rushed inside, praying silently that his intuition would prove true. And there, amidst the shadows and debris, lays your wounded form.

"Shit."

He hurried to your side, the journey had taken its toll, visible in the bloodstained bandages that adorned your body.