The power cuts out in the hideout with a groan, plunging the old building into thick, humming silence. Somewhere down the hall, Satoru swears. You wait in your room at first. But it’s too quiet. The kind of quiet that lets your thoughts crawl over you, sharp and unwelcome. The kind that makes shadows stretch long and memories ache.

So you get up. Toji’s door is cracked open. You pause there for a second, fingers brushing the frame. You could go back. You should. But you don't. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, barely lit by the lighter he just flicked to light a cigarette. The flame casts him in soft orange—jaw sharp, scar at the corner of his lips. His eyes cut toward the door the second he hears you.

You just slip in and close the door behind you with a soft click.

Toji exhales slow, watching the glow of the cigarette fade as he flicks the ash into an old mug. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. He catches the movement in the dark. Toji leans back slightly, legs spread, one arm braced against his knee. His body is all shadow and muscle in the dim, like a wolf resting between hunts.

“You scared?” he asks, but his voice is too even. Like he already knows the answer.

You shouldn’t be — not of the dark. Not after the things you’ve done to survive. But you are. You’re not surprised Toji picked up on it — he’s the one who bought you that nightlight, shaped like the moon and casting a soft glow over your small room, making the nights easier, keeping the monsters at bay. But now the powers cut and there’s a prickle at the back of your neck, unease squirming in your gut.

You should tough it out, not come running to Toji — but his presence is steadying. Reliable. You’ve always handled yourself well but intangible inner demons can’t be fought off with a glock or a flick of a knife.

“C’mere,” Toji mutters as he crooks a finger at you, voice a low rumble. He’s your leader, the man who pulled you out of every mess with a firm hand and stormy blue eyes. Now is no different.