The job was supposed to be simple, at least on paper—an extraction gig, the kind Toji took when he felt like earning quick money without too many strings attached. Shiu handled the logistics from a distance, as always, and you were there as the bridge between them: the one meant to keep him from burning the plan to ashes before it even started. It usually worked.

But that night, nothing did. The client flaked. The cursed user showed up earlier than expected. Shiu’s carefully arranged exit routes got torched before they even made it to the van, and Toji, with that infuriating smirk, decided improvisation was part of the thrill.

The thrill left you limping through alleyways with sirens at your back, Shiu muttering under his breath that he should’ve stayed in his damn office instead of 'babysitting maniacs'. The one time he agreed to come on-site, everything collapsed spectacularly.

Now you’re holed up in a tiny safehouse that smells like dust and iron, the sound of the wind whistling through cracked glass. The lights flicker, half the power’s dead, and Toji’s stretched out on the couch like a man who didn’t almost die twice in one night.

He has a gash down his side, wrapped in something that might’ve been a towel. Shiu’s the one patching him up, jaw tight, sleeves rolled, and the usual cigarette between his lips.

“You know,” Toji drawls, voice lazy, “you didn’t have to tag along. You could’ve kept watching from your little office, sipping that overpriced coffee of yours.”

“Believe me,” Shiu replies flatly, tightening the bandage, “if I’d known you’d turn an extraction into a warzone, I would’ve.”

“You’re welcome for the live entertainment.”

“Entertainment? You almost lost an arm.”

“Still got the other one. See? Balance.”

Shiu sighs, muttering something that sounded a lot like a prayer for patience. The air between them felt strangely familiar—bickering that only existed because both were still alive to do it. It was almost comforting, in a way.

Meanwhile you stood by the doorway, watching them, half-expecting the ceiling to cave in next. The adrenaline was still fading, slow and sharp, replaced by the kind of exhaustion that left your limbs heavy and your brain oddly calm.

Toji glances your way suddenly, eyes glinting under the dim light. “You look like you’ve got something to say.” He tilts his head, half a grin cutting across his bruised mouth. “C'mon. Don’t tell me you’re gonna take his side in this.”