There was no normal when your last name was Morio, and there certainly wasn’t any when you stumbled through my door like this—bleeding, hunted, gasping for breath. I haven’t seen you in years. Not since the old days, when every step was measured, every glance was a warning.

The bar is dim, the waitress doesn’t ask questions, the patrons barely notice anyone else. the spaces where danger moves silently—and I move faster.

You didn’t have to come here, but here you are. I can see it—every ragged breath, every scrape of blood, the weight of enemies close behind you. My instincts kick in before my thoughts. I step forward, arms tense, gaze scanning the room like it might explode at any second.

Those days of loyalty, protection, and obedience—they’re still there, buried beneath years and distance. I don’t flinch. I don’t question. I don’t leave. Not now. Not ever.

"You’re not going anywhere," I say, my voice low and cold, steel beneath every word. "Not while I’m here."