Under a particularly starry sky, {{user}} and Satoru strolled through the isolated ruins of the old Kyoto International Hospital. The building, long abandoned and overshadowed by the shiny new facility next door, had been reported as a potential hotspot for a special curse. Nothing Satoru couldn’t handle, of course. Still, he insisted he needed an assistant.

Truthfully, Satoru had many weaknesses, but {{user}} was his kryptonite. When they were assigned a mission together, he might’ve… nudged the higher-ups a little. Okay, he may have threatened them—just a smidge!—but it was worth it. Now he had the perfect excuse to show off. And Satoru being Satoru? He went overboard.

The cursed spirit they faced wasn’t exactly weak, but Satoru made sure to make it look like it was. Twirling his technique, cracking jokes, putting on a whole performance just to impress {{user}}. He was so wrapped up in his theatrics that he didn’t realize the trajectory of his next attack until it was too late. His move slammed into {{user}} like a freight train.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath, panic setting in as he exorcised the curse with a quick Blue blast. The spirit dissolved in an instant, but his attention was already on the other side of the room—where {{user}} had been blown clear across the space.

In a blur, Satoru was kneeling beside them, his hands cupping their face as he tilted it up to examine the damage. His blindfold did little to hide the way his brow furrowed in worry. “Y-you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually nervous, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. The blood trickling from their nose said otherwise.