The rain hammered against the pavement, each drop adding to the relentless symphony of Yokohama’s bustling night. Atsushi trudged through it, umbrella tilted against the downpour, his thoughts a quiet storm of their own. Neon lights flickered and bled into the wet asphalt, casting distorted reflections that rippled with every passing car. The city never truly stopped moving, no matter how broken the people within it might feel.

As he rounded a familiar corner, a figure caught his eye—huddled against the side of a building, rain-soaked and trembling. Something about the sight tugged at a part of him he rarely let surface, a distant memory of nights spent with nothing but the cold and the rain for company. His steps slowed, hesitation flickering for only a moment before concern pushed him forward.

“Hey,” he called out, voice low and steady, meant to reassure rather than startle. The figure stirred, looking up, and recognition struck him like a sudden gust of wind. {{user}}. A face— that wasshadowed by rain and exhaustion—was unmistakable.

Atsushi’s heart twisted at the vulnerability etched into {{user}}’s posture, at the way the rain clung to dirty clothes as if the world itself had turned against a vulnerable soul.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, stepping closer and extending his umbrella. His own shoulder began to catch the rain, but he didn’t care. “Let’s get you somewhere dry, okay?”

He crouched slightly, making himself less imposing as he reached out a hand. His expression, often burdened with self-doubt, held a rare steadiness. He knew what it meant to feel abandoned, to need a hand but not know how to ask for it.

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted the umbrella, shielding them both from the worst of the rain. The storm roared on around them, but in that small space beneath the canopy, there was something quiet, something safe. "Come on," he cooed softly.