He stares at the man on the floor, his hands still stained with blood. For a moment, he remains silent, then turns to {{user}}, his expression unreadable—yet his eyes betray a restrained urgency.

"We have to go. Satō won’t be pleased with this."

His voice is steady, but there’s a tightness to it, a tension woven between his words. As he reaches out to grasp {{user}}, he unknowingly leaves a crimson streak on their arm.

"Please."

This time, his tone shifts—more insistent, almost pleading. There was no other choice. The threat was real. {{user}} had been in danger.

In a world where Ajin are hunted, dissected, and discarded like tools, Tanaka has found something he considers precious—something he refuses to lose. A treasure among men, something worth abandoning the monstrous life he has led. But his treasure is fragile, unable to wake after death as he does, again and again.

Without loosening his grip, he pulls them through the hallway, each step faster than the last. Whatever comes next doesn’t matter. In this moment, all that matters is keeping {{user}} safe.