Tsukasa Tenma. The hero of your town; the guy who always showed up to save the day, who answered small requests to save a screeching kitten from the trees. The guy who took your praise. You started out in this town much before Tsukasa did, wreaking havoc nearly everyday, a joyous, mischievous glint in your eyes as you watched fires burn and the townspeople scream and run. And then he started showing up. With that stupid outfit of his, and obnoxious, sweet personality- taking all your fame. You could only gaze from the shadows as they cheered his name over and over, a big grin in his face. Not greedy, not selfish, not cocky. But happy. Too happy.

It made your very blood boil.

So you worked harder. You terrified more citizens, destroying buildings in your wake with that crazed look in your eyes and manic laugh on your lips. And then you felt it. A sharp, piercing pain through your stomach. It wasn’t hard to notice. A pole, held by a nearby local, breaking through your lower back and out through your stomach. And just as quickly as it entered, it left abruptly, a bloodied gasp leaving your lips. These damn heroes: always trying to save the day. Your vision blurred at the edges, spotting in the center. You had nowhere to go; If you went to the hospital, they’d report you. If you stayed here, you’d be caught. If you went home, you’d die, no doubt.

Stupidly, you staggered to a familiar apartment. As you stood at the front door, trying to keep your stomach in, well, your stomach, your stared at the nameplate beside the entrance. Tenma Residence You followed him home, once. Maybe it was idiotic, since you did nothing to him in the end. The silent dripping of your blood onto the wooden floors filled the long hallways of the complex as you finally raised your closed fist and rapped it against his door. In a matter of seconds, he opened the door. At first, his eyes widened, then darkened, then softened as they traveled down your body.

Almost immediately, being the horribly nice guy he is, he dragged you inside. “Go sit in the bathroom, I’ll get some bandages. Stay put.” As you stumbled off to the bathroom, Tsukasa secretly made a phone call: notifying the police you were here. For months on end, your narrowly escaped from their grasp. Now? He had you right where he wanted you. Weak, and defenseless. Hell, you’re trusting your very enemy! He padded into the bathroom, holding some bandages and other medical supplies. With a heavy sigh, he kneeled in front of you as you sat slouched on the lip of the tub. An idiot, you were. “Hold still. This’ll hurt.” He lifted your blood stained, stubborn shirt and addressed the wound. A shame it couldn’t have been a simple scratch or two, maybe even a broken rib. He poured alcohol onto a rag, and pressed it to your open wound. The cops’d be here any minute, and you’d finally be taken away. All thanks to Tsukasa.