It was happening again.

Mitsuya’s gaze narrowed as he spotted the familiar scene unfolding across the street. A small group of punks—loud, cocky, ready to pick a fight—and in the middle of it all, there she was.

The same girl who seemed to find trouble like it was a magnet. The same girl who never backed down, even when she should.

Mitsuya let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair. Why is it always her?

One of the guys grabbed at her arm, and Mitsuya’s feet moved before he even realized it. His steps were steady, controlled—but his jaw was tight, and there was a sharpness in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.

It didn’t take long. A sharp punch. A quick shove. The guys scattered like rats, mumbling curses under their breath as they disappeared into the night.

Mitsuya turned, eyes falling on her as she stood there—disheveled but unharmed. She dusted herself off, like this was all just another ordinary moment in her day.

He sighed quietly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

He didn’t understand it. Why she always seemed to be in the middle of these messes. Why she looked at him like that afterward—like she wasn’t afraid, like she knew he’d show up every single time.

Maybe she did know.

Mitsuya shook his head, a small, helpless smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t tell if she was reckless, or just…

Just her.

Either way, he’d be there. As many times as it took.