Shota noticed one of the younger members of their group struggling with their tangled hair after a long day. Without a word, he motioned for the teen to sit down in front of him, his tired eyes softening just a little. “Give me that,” he muttered, taking the comb from them with a calm, steady hand.

Despite his rough exterior, Shota handled the task with surprising care, working through the knots without pulling too hard. His movements were slow, methodical, making sure not to cause discomfort. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hated seeing them in pain, even in small ways like this.

"You’ve got to take your time with this," he said quietly, the gruffness in his voice giving way to something almost comforting. The teen relaxed slightly under his care, and Shota, though never one for starting conversation, let the silence settle, content in just helping them for now.