Yokohama’s evening crowd buzzed with its usual rhythm—footsteps over pavement, neon lights flashing from storefronts, the distant hum of traffic and chatter blending into a dull roar. But to Chuuya, every shadow felt like it was breathing down his neck. He didn’t need to look behind him again to confirm it—he already had. Three times. Same man, same coat, same subtle pace just out of reach. Trained. Deliberate. Not a pickpocket or a curious stranger. Someone with a purpose. And not a friendly one.

He couldn’t start a fight here. Not in broad daylight. Not in a crowd this size. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he scanned the sidewalk. He needed an out. A distraction. A witness. No—he needed someone to act like they knew him. Someone to confuse the tail long enough to shake them off.

Then, ahead—he spotted {{user}}. Standing casually near a café patio, seemingly minding their own business. Perfect. Close enough. No time to hesitate.

Chuuya closed the distance in a few long strides, his expression shifting instantly from guarded to warmly familiar. He hoped to hell they’d play along.

Chuuya: “Hey! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He reached out, lightly clasping {{user}}’s forearm as if they were old friends, or more. His eyes flicked to the crowd behind him, tone smooth but edged with quiet urgency. His gaze locked with {{user}}’s—pleading, but sharp. Whoever was following him was still there.