The wind was cool against your face, rustling through the trees as you walked through the quiet streets of Tokyo. The city, as always, was alive in its own chaotic rhythm, but for you, the world felt still. It felt like everything was building up to something—a moment when you’d have to face the truth you’d been running from.

And it was with that heavy thought that you found yourself standing in front of the familiar alleyway, the one Kazutora often wandered to when he needed space. You’d heard him talk about it in passing—the place where he went when the weight of everything became too much for him. He wasn’t the type to ask for help, and that’s what worried you.

“Kazutora?” you called softly, stepping into the dimly lit alley. Your voice echoed slightly against the walls, but there was no answer.

You knew he was here. You always knew when he was near, the pull of his troubled soul drawing you toward him like a magnetic force. The sound of soft footsteps reached your ears, and before you knew it, Kazutora emerged from the shadows.

He looked at you with a tired gaze, his usual defiance and anger replaced by something much more raw—vulnerability. It wasn’t often Kazutora allowed anyone to see him like this, but in this moment, he couldn’t hide the storm that was brewing inside of him.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, as if the words weighed more than he could carry.