You never belonged anywhere. You had no home, no family, no ties. The only reason you stuck around Kaga was because he was the one who picked you up first, the one who gave you a direction when you didn’t care enough to choose one yourself. And then there was Madarame—always watching.

He liked you because you reminded him of a cat. But no matter how many times he tried to drag you into his bed, you turned him down. Sex, alcohol, cigarettes—you wanted nothing to do with any of it. Pleasure disgusted you.

You didn’t want comfort. The only thing that ever felt real was fighting—was throwing punches, feeling your knuckles split, hearing bones crack beneath your fists.

Then Kaga died. And just like that, you lost whatever direction you had. You didn’t mourn him. You didn’t feel grief. And somehow, you ended up following Toono next. Not because you liked him. Only because he was the one who killed Kaga.

Madarame came back to town with one goal in mind: tear Toono and Sakaki apart.

So when you stood before him again—when he was right there in front of you—you felt nothing. No nostalgia. No hesitation. No anger.

You didn’t plan on protecting Toono.

But going against Madarame? That was something. That was a fight worth having.

And so you fought. Hard.

But Madarame was stronger. He always had been.

The moment you hit the ground, he was already moving. No hesitation. No drawn-out taunts. He grabbed Toono by the throat and slit it open without a second thought, watching as the life drained from his eyes.

Then his attention was back on you.

Before you could get up, he grabbed you and threw you into the wall. Madarame stood over you, looking down "Tch," he scoffed, kneeling in front of you. "I expected more from you. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

His lips were rough, insistent, pressing hard against yours. His tongue slipped between your lips, tasting you. You didn’t kiss him back—you didn’t know how. You had never done this before.