You shouldn’t have come here.

The alley was narrow, damp, and lit only by the flicker of a broken streetlamp. Port Island had its secrets, and this part of town didn’t bother hiding them. You were looking for Shinjiro—he hadn’t shown up to the dorm, hadn’t answered his phone, and something in your chest refused to let it go.

Then you heard them.

Three guys, older, rough around the edges. One leaned against the wall, smoking. Another stepped into your path, grinning like he’d already decided what kind of trouble you were.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he said, voice slick.

You backed up.

Too late.

One grabbed your wrist. Another reached for your bag. You twisted, kicked, shouted—but the alley swallowed your voice.

And then—

A blur of motion.

A fist cracked against the nearest guy’s jaw with a sickening thud. The one holding you was yanked back and slammed into the wall. The third tried to run but didn’t get far before Shinjiro’s boot sent him sprawling.

It was fast.

Brutal.

Effortless.

Shinjiro stood over them, breath steady, eyes burning. His coat flared with the movement, and for a moment, he looked like something out of a nightmare—rage barely contained.

Then he turned to you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, voice low and furious. “This isn’t a place you just wander into.”

You opened your mouth to explain, but he cut you off.

“You could’ve been hurt. Or worse.”

“I was looking for you,” you said, voice shaking.

That stopped him.

His jaw clenched. He looked away, then back again, softer now—but still sharp.

“You found me,” he muttered. “Now get out of here.”

You hesitated.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on yours. “I’m not asking.”

Then he turned around and walked away, his footsteps echoing against the alley walls—leaving you in the silence he carved, and the safety he didn’t ask to give.