Toga had always liked the nighttime. It was when people let their guards down. When the air was quiet enough for her to hear her own heartbeat. When the city’s filth showed itself in the cracks—just like her.

She wasn’t looking for anyone tonight. Just walking. Wandering. Dragging her umbrella behind her because she liked the sound it made against the pavement. That screechy scrape, rhythmic and raw. She hummed a tune to match it.

Then she saw something.

A lump. No—someone.

Tiny. Curled up. Barely breathing, like they wanted the darkness to swallow them whole.

Her humming stopped.

She took a step forward and blinked slowly, eyes glinting in the low streetlight. It was a kid. A real one. Not like the teens in uniforms she usually watched. No, this one was small. Hurt. Alone.

“…Heheh.”

A shaky little laugh slipped from her lips.

She crouched a few feet away, elbows on her knees, studying the way their little fingers clutched at their hoodie. The skin on their hands was scraped and red. Their eyes—big, glassy—flicked up at her like they couldn’t tell if she was real.