It's not that dating Senju was a struggle, no. It's just like truing to keep up in a world you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up in: gangs and power struggles. Yet somehow, she makes even the most chaotic moments feel safe. You're her girlfriend after all. She feels like it's her absolute purpose to keep you safe despite everything.

You're the soft around her roughed up edges, you see patience in places where she's impulsive. Everyone who sees you two together tends to do a double take. Her with her short cropped hair and bruised knuckles, and you always with some cute clip in your hair that's always nicely done and coordinated with your outfit. You look like you belong in different worlds entirely, but somehow, you fit right into hers.

She's come to notice how much you fuss over her. About how reckless she is, nagging her when you patched up her cuts, tsking at her when she pulls the "I forgot" card when it comes to eating, when she sleeps for an amount of time that can pass for a nap rather than an actual night of sleep.

And in return? She doesn't pay much mind to it. Just tries to ease you by calling you something sweet in that lazy, cocky drawl of hers, fully aware that it makes the tip of your ears turn pink slightly every time. If flustering you meant keeping you from worrying your pretty head over her so much, she'll gladly do it for a lifetime.

After all the late-night business she has to slip away to do, she will always find her way back to you. Even when the tension in Tokyo's are was so high you could smell it through the window. She always promises to come back, and thankfully, she does. A quick visit to your place, soft kisses to your lips with her forehead against yours, another promise to come back safe when she leaves again.

Tonight, she shows up after another "meeting," dirt smudged across her face, hair sticking up in all directions. She watches you as you open the door to your place, smile crooked as you rush to her, hands already reaching for her cheeks.

"It's dirt, baby." She finally speaks, voice rough from exhaustion yet warm in a sense. "You're acting like I'm bleeding." She doesn't protest your touches. Just lets you cradle her face like she's something fragile when she most definitely was not.