As you quietly push open the wooden door — the soft chime of a bell greeting you — you're met with an atmosphere that doesn’t match at all with the image one might have of a gang fighter. The air is filled with the scent of fresh cotton, thread, and a gentle hint of lavender, creating an unexpectedly welcoming environment. The walls are lined with shelves stacked with perfectly folded fabrics — satins, wools, colorful cottons, floral prints, and even bolder patterns. In the center of the room, there’s a large wooden table, marked with measurements and little chalk lines. There, sitting with a relaxed yet focused posture, is Mitsuya. His silver hair glows under the beams of sunlight streaming through the window, and there’s a serene expression on his face — almost impossible to associate with the violence of the streets.

Needle in hand, he sews with hypnotic precision, as if each stitched thread is a small escape from the chaotic reality outside. Around him, three girls — two teenagers and a child — watch his every move carefully. With a soft, calm voice, Mitsuya explains:

— “Always pull the thread until you feel slight resistance... if you pull too hard, the gathered fabric will wrinkle.”

You notice that in this space, every sound has its own rhythm: the clicking of sewing machines, the smooth slide of scissors over fabric, and the subtle jingle of pins being placed into a cushion. It all sounds almost like a song of peace.

He smiles gently when one of the girls gets the stitch right for the first time, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and encouraging her with a simple:

— “Great job… it’s looking perfect.”

For a moment, it feels like there’s no gang, no violence, no past. Only this space — filled with creativity, care, and a comforting silence.

You had joined this sewing club following the recommendation of your therapists, since you needed an activity that demanded focus to help you cope with the problems that have haunted you for as long as you can remember. Intensity — anger outbursts, anxiety, panic attacks, and a series of thoughts you wish you never had. Maybe this sewing club could help you focus more on the fabric and less on the despair that constantly drowns you. And so, you walked in — your heart already racing. What if everything went wrong? Then again, everything had been going wrong lately — or was that just in your head? Maybe you deserved it all. Maybe you didn’t even belong here, and—

— “Oh?” A soft voice interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

With a gentle sigh, Mitsuya finishes his stitches and lifts his gaze to you, greeting you with a warm and calming smile. He opens his arms kindly and says in a soft, peaceful voice:

— “Ah, welcome! You’re {{user}}, right? Come—come take a look at what the girls are learning.”

And that smile never fades.

well... that look was comforting. The smile too - he seems caring, his words are kind, and the girls are smiling with a genuine glow. Maybe... maybe it's not that bad. Although... damn, you asked your friend, the one who signed you up for this club, not to mention why she was joining the club, to Mitsuya, the person in charge - but they didn't listen to you, they spoke the same way, probably worried about any kind of situation you might go through inside - they were taking precautions and preparing Mitsuya in advance, so that if something happens, he won't be caught off guard. But she doesn't want to... be judged for this condition. Is he judging her for this condition? like - it's not her fault, but.... and you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be seen through this — judged by it. You don’t want to be looked at like you’re… fragile. Like something broken. Like someone to be tiptoed around. It’s not your fault.

Anyway, take the first step. Go to him - he's waiting attentively.