The mission went sideways. Your wounds are deep, your clothes ruined, and blood soaking you from head to toe. You lay slumped in a tub in one of the Port Mafia safehouses. The water is tinged red with blood, and a single rubber duck floating next to you like it’s mocking you.

Chuuya sits on the edge of the tub behind you. His sleeves rolled up, carefully washing the blood from your hair with slow, careful movements. He’s mad. His anger simmers deep, built on worry disguised as rage.

"I told you not to fucking do it," he says, voice low, calm but barely keeping it together. "But no, of course, you don't listen to me. Like you don’t care what happens to you. You got a damn death wish or something?"

His fingers pause at the back of your head where the blood clots worst and hair is missing, eyes narrowing. "Look at you... A walking crime scene... Bloody Mary with a rubber duck and a death wish..."

There’s a beat of silence, then his voice softens, not much, just enough to let the concern crack through the frustration. "Do you have any idea what it’s like? Watching you get torn up while I can't do a darn thing?"