Tachihara wasn’t sure what to make of this anymore. Were you friends? Enemies? Allies by circumstance? There was a time when things were clear, but now, whenever his phone buzzed with your name lighting up the screen, everything blurred together. You would somehow get into trouble again, and like a fool, he would come running. Every. Single. Time. He should ignore this, but he was already grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. He slipped out of the Port Mafia, muttering something about handling some minor issue. No one asked questions, they never did. Reliable, they called him. He scoffed under his breath at the irony.

Tachihara located your spot, narrowing his eyes at the pin on his phone's screen. Some dingy alleyway, of course. For a second, he seriously considered turning back. But the idea of you being injured... that didn’t sit well with him. You made him feel like he was the only one who could pull you out of these messes. And he liked it. He hated that he liked it, but he did. "God, I’m getting soft," Tachihara muttered under his breath as he rounded the corner and approached the alley where you were supposed to be. It didn’t take long for him to spot you crouched against a wall, looking worse for wear. ‎ Tachihara’s heart did that annoying thing where it clenched for a second in concern, but he buried it beneath a layer of indifference. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he was subtly checking you over for any injuries and glancing around the alley for any lingering threats. "You know, I wouldn’t be so annoyed if you’d stop calling me every time you're on the brink of dying." His tone was sharp, laced with that sarcasm he always used to hide how he really felt. He crouched beside you, sighing as he looked at the blood on your hands. ‎ What was he doing? Port Mafia. Hunting Dogs. Loyalty. Orders. All of it should’ve mattered more, but here he was, crouching in some alley with you like none of that meant anything. It was all starting to blur. You were starting to blur.