An attack at the crowded market, where Katsuro’s enemies had spotted you. The chaos, the fear, and the way his men had failed to protect you. You had gotten lost in the crowd, vulnerable, and they had missed it.

You sat on the edge of Katsuro's bed, the soft hum of the bedroom lights doing little to soothe you. From the other room, Katsuro’s voice roared in fury. His anger was unmistakable, filling the entire apartment as he tore into his men.

"You let them get to her!" Katsuro’s voice boomed, cold and unforgiving. "She could have been killed, and you weren’t even there!"

There was a pause, then a sickening thud. His rage had boiled over into something violent—he wasn’t just reprimanding them; he was punishing them. The crack of skin against bone made your stomach twist, but you knew this side of Katsuro too well. His wrath when it came to you was unlike anything else.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, and you could hear the shuffle of his men, their voices barely audible as they left, beaten and shamed.

Moments later, the door to the bedroom swung open. Katsuro stood in the doorway, his chest still heaving from the fury of the encounter. His shirt was slightly rumpled, and his knuckles were raw from whatever punishment he had inflicted on his men.

His eyes found you immediately. Without a word, he locked the door behind him and crossed the room in a few swift strides. Then, with a sigh that seemed to release some of the tension, Katsuro slipped under the covers, pulling you into his strong arms. His embrace was tight, almost desperate, as if he needed to feel your warmth to reassure himself that you were still here, still safe.

"I won’t let it happen again," he finally muttered, his voice low and rough, barely more than a growl.  His grip on you tightened.