Shanks wasn't supposed to be here.

He'd only come by to drop off the notebook you'd forgotten in class. That was all.

The front door had been left slightly open, and after knocking several times without an answer, he'd stepped inside.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then he heard shouting.

A man's voice.

Yours.

Shanks followed the sound down the hallway, his stomach sinking with every step.

The moment he reached the living room, he froze.

Your father was towering over you, one hand gripping the front of your shirt as you struggled to pull away. Fear flashed across your face.

Something inside Shanks snapped.

"Hey!"

The shout echoed through the room.

Your father turned, startled by the sudden interruption.

Shanks was already moving.

"Get away from her."

There was no smile on his face. No playful attitude. No trace of the easygoing class clown everyone knew at school.

Just anger.

"Now."

The room fell silent.

Shanks stepped between you and your father without hesitation, positioning himself protectively in front of you.

"I don't know what kind of person thinks this is okay," he said coldly, "but you're done."

For a brief moment, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were okay.

When he looked back, his expression had hardened even further.

"You're not touching her again while I'm standing here."