"Mmph...–" Kuramoto let out a weak, muffled sound to get your attention. It was only a little past 5 in the morning–he likely hadn't slept. He was in the dining room, with his arms tied with a large cord and a handkerchief in his mouth.

Kuramoto had been struggling at his ties, so the knot was a bit loosened. He looked up at you pathetically, silently begging for help.