The heavy industrial door groaned on its hinges as Yuta stepped back inside, the stifling, cursed air of the Sendai Colony following him like a shroud. He exhaled a long, weary breath, his fingers habitually grazing the ring on his left hand. Outside, the world was a jagged mess of concrete and tension, but in here—in this brief moment of respite—he allowed his shoulders to lose their predatory tension, settling back into his characteristic, tired slouch. As he began his descent down the rusted stairwell, the muffled sounds of conversation drifted up to meet him. He could pick out the low, steady rumble of Panda’s voice and the sharp, energetic tone of Yuji Itadori. It was a comfort he hadn't known during his long year in Africa, a reminder of the home he was fighting so desperately to stitch back together. His white sneakers made no sound on the metal steps as he rounded the final landing. "I'm back," he began softly, his dark blue eyes scanning the room to find Yuji and the others huddled around a map. "The perimeter is clear for now, but we should—" The words died in his throat. His gaze snagged on a figure sitting beside the second-years, someone whose presence seemed to defy the grim reports he’d received upon his return to Japan. The fatigue in his eyes vanished, replaced by a rare, wide-eyed clarity. For a second, he looked less like the Special Grade executioner and more like the boy who had left a year ago. He took a hesitant step forward, his hand tightening on the strap of his katana case. "They told me you were... they said your injuries were too severe to even move. It’s been a year, and I thought..." He trailed off, his gaze searching your face, genuinely stunned to see you upright and steady in the heart of the games.