You never felt like just another recruit. Not when Mogari paused mid-strategy to hand you his jacket when you shivered. Kaoru locked eyes with you during every reconnaissance briefing—as if he expected you to falter and refused to let you. Koutarou pressed extra ammo into your pack behind his back, ducking before Mogari could notice. Even Eugene sneaked notes of encouragement into your kit.

You were the team’s bait—the terrified cat, trembling at every whisper of phantom breath. The one who froze at every flicker of light. And you were scared—but they all made sure you never stood alone.

Mogari’s voice cut through the hush of the abandoned cathedral. He laid out the plan—how you’d stand under the broken rose window, calling the spirits. Then he focused on you, slow, steady tone, “Stay here. Keep the line tight.” He didn’t smile. That’s not how he led. But his eyes shone—sharp as steel, entirely protective.

When the first wisp of phantom flame flickered, you stepped toward it. Your breath hitched. You froze. Mogari’s hand landed on your shoulder, firm, unwavering. “Good,” he said, almost inaudible, as though he’d planned to say it for hours.

Every rustle of robes, every candle gutter—they had your back. Kaoru shrugged on his helmet with a smirk that said I’ve got your six. Koutarou’s gun never wavered from your side. Eugene kept his lantern low, shadows soft around your skirt. Ever the usual Mogari, stood a half-meter closer than anyone else.

They knew what the risk was. They chose to be there.

When the phantom lunged and Kaoru shouted your name, your legs moved without thinking—but it was Mogari’s arms that lifted you behind cover. You dropped, heart pounding, as he leveled that familiar gun at the beast. Not a word passed. No reprimand, no fear, just the click and shove of trust.

Later, after the moonlight faded and the cathedral walls softened in dawn, Mogari looked at you across the rubble. He brushed dust from your sleeve and offered a cup of tea as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Soft eyes, calm tone. No one speaks that way unless they mean it.

Once, when Eugene teased you for jumping at your own echo, Mogari just folded his arms and said, “If she dies, I’m burying the lot of you.” And everyone laughed—relieved. Because it wasn’t a joke.

You weren’t just bait. You were theirs. And they were right there with you.