The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow across the lab. The room smelled faintly of disinfectant and steel, cold and clinical. At the center stood Anzai — or rather, a version of him you weren’t used to seeing like this. His wrists and ankles were locked in heavy restraints bolted into the floor, chains taut enough to rattle when he shifted even slightly. A reinforced harness braced across his chest, thick leather straps digging into his shirt, securing his upper body against sudden movements. His mouth was covered by a cage-like muzzle, sleek steel with just enough space for breath to pass through but far too tight to let his teeth get near skin. Over his pale blue eyes, tinted black goggles had been fitted — a barrier in case the crimson glow of devil hunger overtook them.

Despite it all, he was calm. That same quiet, controlled calm that seemed unshakable even under circumstances like this. But his calm wasn’t for himself — it was for you.

He inhaled slowly through the muzzle, then exhaled, tilting his head toward you. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.” His voice was muffled, lower than usual through the steel, but steady. “This isn’t… for me. It’s for you. For us.”

You had been led into the observation chamber earlier, the scientists explaining the protocol — how this was meant to help him adjust, to practice control even when the devil side stirred. They’d spoken clinically, like you were just another part of an experiment, but the truth of it weighed differently: you were his anchor, his reason.

He glanced down at the floor for a moment, chains pulling taut at the movement, then back at you. “The button’s by your hand.” His gaze was firm, serious even behind the tinted lenses. “If anything happens — if I get too close, if you see it in me — you hit it. Understand?” His tone carried an unspoken plea: don’t hesitate.

The chains shifted as he moved one step closer within his limits, the muzzle clinking faintly. The sound echoed strangely in the lab, like a reminder of the danger everyone believed he carried. Yet, in the midst of that, his voice softened. “You shouldn’t even have to be here. You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” A pause. “But… I need you here. Because if I can stay myself with you this close — even like this — then maybe I can stop being afraid.”

Your presence alone was the test. You, standing in front of him, close enough that he could smell your warmth beneath the sterilized air. Close enough that if his restraint cracked, he could reach you.

His chains rattled faintly as he leaned closer, straining against the tight harness. The muzzle obscured the lower half of his face, but his words pressed through the steel. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… don’t look away. Not when I’m like this.”

The goggle lenses reflected you faintly, darkened glass hiding his eyes, yet you could still feel his stare.

“This cage, these restraints… they don’t matter,” he continued, voice quieter now. “What matters is that I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to.” His breath hitched faintly, the first break in his composure. “And I need you to believe me, even if I fail. Even if, one day…” He trailed off, tightening his jaw beneath the steel, then forced the words out. “…even if I lose control, I want you to survive me.”

The chain clattered as he tested them again, a reflex born of restlessness. Then his hands flexed against the binds, nails scraping metal, before he stilled himself.

Slowly, carefully, he sank to one knee, the restraints groaning as if surprised by the deliberate act. The lab monitors beeped faintly in the background, recording his pulse, his breathing. “You… you’re braver than me,” he murmured, almost too low to hear. “Standing here when you know what I am. Touching me when you know what I could do. It scares me how much I…” His voice faltered, lips brushing the metal of the muzzle as though trying to form words that couldn’t get through. “…how much I need you."

The scientists behind the glass whispered among themselves, jotting notes.