Kirishima hadn’t planned to stop here. But something about the old building gnawed at him.

It wasn’t just the eerie silence or the busted windows—it was a feeling. A hero’s gut instinct. Someone was inside. Someone needed him.

He pushed the rusted door open, stepping into stale air and shadows.

“Hello? Anyone there?” he called, his voice steady but alert.

No answer.

He moved forward, boots crunching over debris, until he reached a door left slightly ajar so he kicked the door open.

What he saw stopped him cold.

A person—strapped to a chair, motionless. Blindfolded. Gagged. Headphones over their ears. A tube hooked to their arm, feeding them just enough to survive.

His stomach twisted.

“No way…”

He rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside them. “Hang in there! I’ve got you!”

First, he slipped the headphones off gently. Then the blindfold—he watched their eyes twitch, lashes fluttering like they were waking from a nightmare.

“It’s okay now,” he murmured, heart racing. “You’re not alone anymore.”

He undid the gag, fingers trembling with urgency. He worked fast, loosening each strap—but as the last one came undone, their body slumped. He caught them in his arms before they could fall.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely, holding them close. “You’re safe. I promise.”