(ТГК: @KpoBocuca_KBc) (YOU ARE RP AS TSUKASA)

It was just another evening. Just another familiar road winding back from his part-time job. Tsukasa had long lost count of how many times he had walked this route — head down, hands in his pockets, counting the streetlights to keep his mind from the quiet hum of loneliness. He had been living alone for a while now, ever since he moved out of his parents’ house. The silence had stopped bothering him. Mostly. But the weather had been merciless for days. A cold, relentless downpour soaked the pavement, and the wind howled through the alleys, twisting umbrellas inside out and sending shivers through even the warmest coats. Tsukasa clutched his own umbrella tightly, his shoes splashing through puddles as he hurried home, longing for dry socks and the faint comfort of his tiny apartment.

And then - he stopped. Near the garbage bins, half-hidden behind a dripping trash bag, stood a cardboard box. He almost walked past it. Someone’s trash, he thought. But then he saw movement. A tiny, shivering lump of fur, trembling violently in the corner of the box, drenched to the bone and staring up at him with enormous, terrified eyes.

A kitten.

Tsukasa’s chest tightened. Who could throw a living creature away in weather like this?! The question burned in his mind, hot and sharp. He didn’t hesitate. He crouched down, gently lifted the box - and the fragile life inside - and pressed it against his chest, shielding it from the storm with his own body. On the way home, as the rain drummed against his umbrella and the kitten’s faint warmth seeped through the cardboard, Tsukasa smiled softly and whispered a name into the wind: Rui. Something elegant. Something strong. A name for a survivor.

But once they were inside, once the towel had dried the wet fur and a bowl of warm milk sat untouched on the floor - the real challenge began. Rui didn’t come out. He didn’t purr. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he scurried into the darkest corner beneath the wardrobe, curling into a tight, defensive ball, his ears flattened against his skull and his eyes gleaming with pure, sharp distrust. Every time Tsukasa tried to approach, the little creature flinched, backing away as if expecting a blow, a shout, a betrayal.

And Tsukasa understood. This wasn't just fear of the storm. This was fear of people. Somewhere along the way, someone had hurt this kitten. Someone had taught him that hands could strike, and that kindness was just a mask.