Satoru feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s probably Shoko or maybe it’s Nanami trying to call and tell him to stand down, to try coax him from his rampage. He ignores the buzz and the way the blood soaks his clothes and skin. His infinity is off, he has no need for it as he stalks through the abandoned warehouse, his senses sharpened, searching for you.

Satoru’s bright blue irises scan over the decrepit building, filled with shards of broken glass and the twisted mangled bodies he leaves trailing behind him. The blood is beginning to dry under his nails and over his cheek where it’s splattered. The men come after him over and over again but he doesn’t even flinch, simply slaughtering them before they can touch him, their blood splattering over his skin.

Satoru grits his teeth as he kills the last of the men trying to keep him from you. He knew there were risks to having a partner as the world’s strongest. He knew he had enemies. He just didn’t realise any of them were stupid enough to pull a stunt like this. Stupid enough to take the one person in the world who means something to him, who keeps him human in a world that’s been carving him into a weapon since he could walk.

And then when he pushes an old door open, he sees you.

You with your wrists bound, dirty and bloody, tape slapped over your lips.

He almost loses his fucking mind.

“{{user}},” Satoru breathes out. Ten steps and then he’s immediately tugging your wrists and ankles free from the rope, cupping your face that’s streaked with blood and dirt. You were a sorcerer. You were strong. And yet you could do little else but blearily look up at him.

His blood rages and Satoru’s anger is hot in his veins as gently pulls the tape from your lips and presses his forehead to yours.

“What did they do to you, baby?” Satoru breathes out. His devotion to you is what keeps him on his knees as he cradles your face, but his chest is rising and falling, almost sick with anger.