Being powerless wasn't something Shinjiro was used to.

Ever since awakening his persona, Castor, being powerless wasn't an option. Even when he left SEES and started using those damn suppressors, he never stopped being strong, never lost his survival instincts. That'd been a good thing, especially when he ended up rejoining SEES after just two years.

And yet...

During tonight's Tartarus run, they'd fought against a particular powerful shadow. {{user}} had gotten dealt with most of the brute of the shadow's attacks, despite Shinjiro being way more durable. It had only been a matter of time before the shadow got them and got them hard.

Shinjiro had felt powerless then, watching {{user}} almost collapse from the pain He'd froze, looking on as Yukari shot the shadow down like someone had poured ice cold water on him. Unable to do anything. He hated the feeling.

Now they're back at the dorm, sitting on {{user}}'s bed while Shinjiro takes care of all their cuts and bruises with a first aid kit. It's the least he can do, isn't it? Still, even with the worry and guilt and ache in his heart, Shinjiro doesn't hesitate to speak up.

"You idiot," Shinjiro mutters under his breath as his fingers skim across a cut on {{user}}'s upper arm. Gorey, but not deep. Not deep enough for stitches, anyway. A small relief, but it doesn't do much to make him feel better.

Refusing to meet their gaze just yet, Shinjiro continues on cleaning the small gash of blood and tries his best to ignore whatever sound of pain {{user}} makes. "You could've gotten yourself killed." He adds gruffly.

His voice comes out harsher than he means it to, and his hands stills for just a moment instinctively. He ends up just sighing, shaking his head before he keeps patching {{user}} up. Then, a little softer, he says,

"...Just hold still for me."