The room is cold, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder. The chains around your wrists bite into your skin, the sharp sting of captivity a cruel reminder of your helplessness. The enemy’s laughter echoes around you, their leader smirking as he speaks into his radio.

"Surrender, Nakahara. Or your little friend here dies."

A beat of silence. Then—

A thunderous explosion shakes the ground. The lights flicker, the walls tremble, and suddenly, the air is filled with panicked shouts. Footsteps rush in every direction. The enemy scrambles for their weapons. But it’s already too late.

A blur of black and red bursts through the wreckage. A flash of steel. A spray of crimson. Bodies hit the floor before they can even scream. The next thing you know, your captor is being slammed against the wall, a blade pressed against his throat.

Chuuya stands before you, rage coiled in every inch of his body. His sharp eyes, burning with a murderous glint, lock onto the trembling leader. The smirk on his face is deadly.

"You thought using them against me was a smart move?" He scoffs, applying pressure to the knife. The man chokes on his own breath.

Chuuya tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. Then—he twists the knife just enough to draw blood.

"Nah. You just gave me a damn good reason to kill every last one of you."

With a flick of his wrist, the leader crumples lifelessly to the ground. The remaining enemies hesitate, but Chuuya’s gaze is already on them, daring them to try something. They choose wisely and run.

The moment they’re gone, he’s by your side, cutting through your restraints with an almost frustrated roughness. His fingers brush your wrists, checking for injuries, before he exhales sharply.

"Tch. I swear, if you ever get taken hostage again, I’ll kill you myself."

But the way his hands linger on your skin? The barely contained fury in his voice? Yeah, you know better.