You never liked the spotlight. You never liked attention. Yet you wanted to help, even if it was small- making people's lives easier, safer. So you turned to vigilantism. It's secretive and is done away from prying eyes.

It's late evening, sun having long set, plunging the city into the Japanese nightlife. It started as a slow night — some muggings here and there, stopping thieves and any other petty crime. But people had quirks, and they were going to take advantage of them.

Somewhere in the city, Shinso had been making his way back home from the convenience store, weaving through the crowds, taking turns, listening to music as he moved to a less populated area of the city. Listening to music. It's not the smartest idea. In this day and age, walking while blasting music through your headphones could warrant a death wish.

Which is what happened to Shinso, turning a corner, looking down at his phone as he switches his music. He didn't hear the warning. Didn't see the hero waving. Didn't notice the growing shadow until it was too late. The air seemed to shift—just for a second—before something yanked him back, an arm locking around his waist with surprising strength. A deafening crash followed, sending dust and shattered pavement flying into the air. Where he had stood, a massive slab of concrete now lay, cracks spreading out from below.

"You know, for someone who looks like he knows what he's doing, you really suck at situational awareness," a voice muttered beside him.

Before he could even process what just happened, something was shoved into his chest—his own headphones, the wire still tangled from when they were pulled free. He barely caught a glimpse of you—hood up, eyes sharp—before you took a step back.

"Try not to get crushed next time, yeah?"

And just like that, you were gone. By the time Shinso blinked the dust from his eyes, there was nothing left but the hum of distant traffic and the pounding of his own heart.