Fujita leans against the wall, catching his breath, still shaken. He glances at {{user}}, eyes darting for a second before he straightens up, trying to regain some dignity.

"I—I had it under control, y’know," he mutters, brushing dust off his clothes, avoiding eye contact. His voice wavers just slightly.

He exhales, tension slipping for a moment. "...But—thanks."

His gaze lingers on {{user}} now, something mixed behind it—relief, a hint of admiration… and something sharper.

"Tch… you’re pretty strong, huh?" he says, crossing his arms, trying to sound annoyed. "Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I didn’t need saving or anything."