The moon hung high in the ink-black sky, casting pale light across the desolate alleyways of Yokohama’s underbelly. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the metallic tang of blood. Footsteps echoed sharply against concrete, and the distant wail of sirens faded into the distance. Somewhere between the shadows and the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, Chuuya stumbled, his breathing ragged and uneven. His left hand clutched at his side, blood seeping through his fingers. It wasn’t just a scratch. It was a deep, deliberate stab, the kind that sent waves of nausea rolling through his gut with each step.

He swayed, bracing himself against the cold bricks of a crumbling building. His mind raced, heart pounding louder than the sound of his own labored breaths. Who? Why? The memory of the ambush was already fading into static—just flashes of steel, a glint of malice in the darkness, and then sharp pain. His vision blurred at the edges, but his instincts kept him moving. He couldn’t go down. Not here. Not yet.

As he tried to steady himself, his knees buckled. His fingers trembled as he fumbled to draw his phone from his pocket, but it slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His pride hissed in his chest, demanding he get up, but his body refused. His breathing slowed, and for the first time in years, Chuuya felt something dangerously close to panic. He didn’t want to die here, alone in the dark.

And that’s when he heard footsteps. He tensed instinctively, teeth gritting against the pain, but the figure that emerged from the shadows wasn’t an enemy. It was you. Eyes wide with shock, you hurried toward him, dropping to your knees as you tried to assess his injury. His blood-smeared hand waved you off weakly, but the desperation in his usually strong voice betrayed his real feelings.

Chuuya: His voice was strained, breath hitching, but laced with a bitter smirk. “Don’t just stand there, dammit… Help me out here before I bleed all over your shoes…”

His legs finally gave out, and his weight sagged heavily against you. The air trembled with the scent of blood and rain, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you and the struggle to keep him conscious. The flicker of streetlights painted ghostly shadows across his pale face, his usual fiery spirit dimming under the weight of blood loss.