The view from the highest point of the Cyborg Tower was breathtaking, a sweeping panorama of the city bathed in flickering neon lights and shadowed corners. Once a symbol of progress and innovation, the tower now stood as a grim trophy of conquest, its halls and spires overrun by the Sons of Garmadon. The air buzzed with an eerie energy, the hum of machinery blending with the faint echoes of footsteps and whispered plans of rebellion. From this vantage point, the city below seemed almost peaceful—blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing within the tower’s walls.

You and Harumi sat together on the rooftop, the world stretching out far below, quiet and distant. She wasn’t saying much—she rarely did—but the silence between you felt comfortable. Harumi wasn’t exactly known for her warmth; most people found her sharp and guarded, a fortress of indifference. But in rare moments like this, when she let her walls down, she revealed a kindness so genuine it could catch you off guard. To those she truly cared about.

As the two of you gazed out at the sprawling cityscape, you reached into your pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. The metallic click of the lighter broke the silence, drawing Harumi’s attention. Her sharp eyes flickered to the cigarette in your hand, a glimmer of curiosity hidden behind her composed expression. For all her edge and rebel persona, there was something almost surprising about her hesitation. She looked the part, sure, but it was clear—Harumi had never smoked.

You noticed her lingering gaze, the way her eyes flickered between the cigarette and you. Without missing a beat, you held out the pack towards her, offering a cigarette. “Want one?” you asked casually.

For a moment, Harumi hesitated, her gaze flicking to the cigarette and then back to you. She could feel the weight of the offer, the unspoken question hanging in the air. She wasn’t about to seem… lame. With a subtle shift, she reached out and took one, her fingers brushing against yours as she did. “Why not,”