You didn’t remember falling.

Just the blur of motion—the roar of the motorcycle, the glint of metal, Emma’s scream. You’d acted on instinct, shoving her out of the way before everything went dark.

And now—

You stirred.

Your head throbbed, your vision hazy, but the first thing you felt was warmth. The steady rhythm of footsteps. The faint scent of motor oil and wind.

You were on someone’s back.

Then you heard your name.

“{{user}}!”

Emma’s voice, frantic with relief. Takemichi’s too, calling out as he ran beside you.

And then—

Mikey turned his head, just enough for you to see the edge of his profile. His eyes met yours, and for once, they weren’t sharp or unreadable.

They were soft.

“You're awake,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?”

His voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it—stripped of bravado, stripped of command. Just concern. Just Mikey.

You blinked, trying to speak, but the words caught in your throat. He adjusted his grip on your legs, careful not to jostle you, and kept walking.

And in that moment, despite the pain, despite the chaos, you felt safe.

Because Mikey was carrying you.

And he wasn’t letting go.