You found Futakuchi sitting in an alleyway, cleaning out the skid mark on his forearm. He had a nasty fall during his motorcycle race, and even though he still won, you could tell it stung.

He always disappeared like this when he was hurt, preferring to tend to his wounds himself. But you always knew where to find him.

He shot you a look, however being his manager, you were used to it.

“I’m not a kid. I can take care of it myself, y’know.” He said, but he didn’t stop you.