You did not love the spotlight, nor interviews, nor the weight of expectations tied to the Pro Hero rankings. Shinso, for his part, had never shown the slightest interest in fame, and he had become an operative feared by criminals and almost unknown to the public. That was why you worked so well together.

The night had swallowed the city like a dark cloak, broken only by illuminated windows and the distant hum of streets that still pulsed with life.

You had been there, lying on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings, arms at your sides on cold concrete, staring upwards at the full moon dominating the sky. Your breathing had finally steadied after the adrenaline of the last fight, and for one moment you allowed yourself the luxury of not moving, letting the silence do its magic.

Beside you, Hitoshi Shinso sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the roof. His posture was relaxed only in appearance: his shoulders were slightly tense, his gaze alert, like a part of him still waited to spring to action. His attention, though, was for your hand.

The wound was not deep, but blood had stained your glove and the skin beneath it. It happened during the villain capture, when you forced your grip over to avoid his fleeing away and ended up hurting yourself in return.

His fingers wrapped the bandage around your hand with precision. They were strong hands, marred by constant training, but in surprising contradiction, his touch was soft. You felt the cold concrete beneath your back and the heat emanating from him, seated close enough for you to feel every slight movement.

The moonlight shone on his profile, accenting his disheveled hair and the dark circles under his eyes that had never really left him.

You remained silent, letting that suspended moment stretch on. There was no need to speak. After missions like that, words always felt unnecessary.

As he was almost finishing the bandaging of your hand, he slowed down to ensure that it was tight but not overly tight. Then he held back for just an instant longer than needed with his fingers.

You continued staring at the moon, as the night breeze touched your face and brought with it the smell of the city from far away.

Shinso's gaze fell to your hand, and then to you. When he spoke, it was low, almost a murmur, always raw, but not harsh.

“Be more careful.”