Shota was prowling the outskirts of the city late at night, the streets unusually silent. His black coat fluttered slightly as he walked, eyes sharp and scanning the dim alleyways. Always vigilant, always ready.

His gaze locked onto something—a dark figure slumped against the wall. With a frown, he cautiously moved closer, hand ready to reach for his scarf.

As he neared, Shota’s brow furrowed. It was a Nomu, but not like the others. This one sat still, hunched, its eyes blank, almost upset?. The usual aggression was gone. Shota paused, curiosity replacing his caution. “What the hell happened to you?” he muttered, kneeling just out of reach, eyes narrowing.

The Nomu looked broken, abandoned, like a failed experiment cast aside. Shota’s expression darkened. “Who threw you away like this?” he whispered under his breath, a cold edge to his voice.