Hanma had wandered off again, getting sidetracked by the usual itch for a street fight. He’d picked a scuffle with some low-tier punks—figured it might be fun, maybe scratch that familiar itch. But nah... it was a letdown. None of them put up enough of a fight to get his blood pumping. No thrill. No rush. Just a bunch of flailing limbs and empty punches.

“Yo, I was wonderin’ where you ran off to~♡”

His voice was laced with that signature teasing lilt as he strolled over, lanky frame moving with that cocky, loose-limbed ease of his. A half-burned cigarette dangled from his lips as he exhaled smoke, eyes glinting with lazy amusement as he looked down at the one person he actually gave a damn about—his cousin from his dad’s side. No siblings, no real family growing up... just them. They’d always been tight.

“Thought you got snatched or somethin’, coz,”

he added with a crooked grin.