The abandoned building loomed like a silent graveyard at the edge of Yokohama, its walls cracked and crumbling with age, the windows broken like shattered teeth. Chuuya Nakahara stepped inside, the sharp click of his boots echoing softly through the cavernous space. His copper hair caught in the faint moonlight, a flash of color against the gloom. His shoulders were tense, his sharp eyes flicking from shadow to shadow as if expecting something—someone. His fists clenched briefly at his sides before relaxing, though his breath still came out just a little too tight. He thought he was alone.

Unbeknownst to him, {{user}} trailed behind at a distance, steps as light as whispers. They’d seen the shadow trailing Chuuya too—a figure who hadn’t been there before, slipping through the crumbling walls and drawing a long, glinting knife from their coat. {{user}} had no time to shout, no time to warn him. Their only option was the small, compact canister hidden inside their jacket. Their pulse thundered against their ribs as they fumbled it out, pulling a cloth over the lower half of their face as their heart pounded louder than their thoughts.

The would-be assailant raised the knife, steps silent as death, closing in on Chuuya from behind. Chuuya, completely unaware of the shadow closing in, reached into his coat—too slow. Too late.

The canister spun from {{user}}’s hand, rolling across the cracked floor near Chuuya’s boots. It hissed sharply, white gas unfurling like a thick fog, swirling up in a ghostly coil around Chuuya and the attacker. The shadow cursed, stumbling back as the gas engulfed him, his knife clattering to the floor. Chuuya staggered too, blinking, coughing against the thick cloud that pulled at his senses, confusion lacing his expression. His knees buckled, the world tilting as the gas stole his strength and clarity.

Chuuya: “Wha—What the hell is this…?”

His voice broke in a frustrated gasp as his legs gave out, slumping heavily against the cracked wall. The shadowy attacker crumpled moments later, choking on the thick gas. Chuuya’s blurred eyes caught a faint glimpse of {{user}} standing in the doorway, cloth over their face, just before his head lolled to the side, surrendering to unconsciousness.