The knock at your door came just past midnight—soft, hesitant, but urgent enough to pull you from the comfort of your warm bed. The chill of the floorboards seeped through your socks as you shuffled to the entrance, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
You opened the door and nearly gasped.
“Chifuyu?”
He stood there, barely able to hold himself upright. His once-pristine white shirt was stained crimson and dirtied by the street. A split lip, swelling cheek, and bruises blooming like ink under his skin made your stomach twist.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Chifuyu gave you a sheepish grin, the kind that always made your heart beat a little faster—but this time it was crooked with pain.
“Had a rough night,” he muttered.
“Jesus, come inside,” you said quickly, ushering him in and closing the door behind him. “Sit down—no, the couch, not the floor!”
He laughed weakly as you helped him limp to the living room. You noticed he was favoring one leg, and his knuckles were bloody and raw.
You ran to grab your first aid kit and a bottle of water, your mind racing. Chifuyu was no stranger to fights, not as a vice-captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang. But this? This looked different. More brutal. More personal.
When you returned, he was slumped against the armrest, head tilted back and eyes closed. For a second, fear clutched your chest—was he unconscious?
But then he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for letting me in, {{user}}…”
“You always show up like this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you knelt in front of him. “Middle of the night, bleeding all over my couch?”
His eyes fluttered open, and he managed a small smirk. “Only when I miss you.”
“Idiot,” you muttered, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic. He hissed when you pressed it to the gash on his brow. “What happened?”
Chifuyu didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, as if trying to figure out how much he wanted to tell you. Finally, he sighed.
“It wasn’t a regular fight. Not gang-related. Some guy… some piece of shit was hitting his girlfriend on the street. I stepped in.”
You froze, blinking up at him. “You got beat up by a stranger?”
“I’d do it again,” he said simply, voice steel even through the pain. “I couldn’t just walk by.”
You looked at him, really looked. Chifuyu always wore that same stubborn sense of justice like armor. Even in a gang, he was different. The kind of person who picked his battles not for power, but for people.
“I swear, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” you said, shaking your head as you began cleaning the cut on his cheek.
He smiled, softer this time. “Then I guess I’m lucky to have you patch me up after.”
You didn’t know what to say to that, so you focused on your task, wrapping his hands with gauze. His fingers twitched when yours brushed against his—so you took a second longer than necessary.
“You should be more careful,” you said quietly. “You’re not invincible, Chifuyu.”
“I know,” he said. “But if I can take a few punches to keep someone safe… it’s worth it.”
“You always think it’s your job to protect everyone.”
“Isn’t it?”
You met his gaze. He was serious. That same unwavering look in his eyes that you’d seen the day he first told you about Toman, about wanting to make a better future—even if it meant bleeding for it.
You sighed and sat beside him, the silence settling around you like a blanket. He leaned his head against your shoulder, and you let him, even though his blood might stain your shirt.
“Does it ever scare you?” you asked after a moment. “Being in Toman? Getting into fights like this?”
He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes. But not because of the fights.”
“Then what?”
“I’m scared of what I might lose.”
You turned slightly to face him. “Like what?”
His eyes flicked to yours. “Like you.”
Your heart caught in your throat.
“Chifuyu…”
“I don’t want this life to hurt you, {{user}}. That’s why I never tell you everything. I know you worry.”
“I’d rather worry than not know if you’re alive,” you said sharply. “You don’t have to protect me from the truth.”