The flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling cast everyone in sepia tones — bruises, scabs, half-healed smiles. Another night. Another close call. But this one… hit different.

You sat on a crumbling bench while Kazutora paced back and forth, his knuckles still red.

"You should’ve told us they cornered you." His voice was too quiet, which meant he was angry.

You avoided his eyes. "Didn't want to be a burden."

That earned you a sharp scoff from behind — Hanma, leaning lazily against a pillar.

“Darlin’, we’re walking burdens. You fit right in.” Then, a grin. That razorblade kind.

Baji offered you half a sandwich and a fist bump. You took both.