Kiyoshi

{{user}}’s bike could be heard before she even knocked on the door. That familiar roar of the engine, that always made his heart skip a beat, came from afar, getting closer and closer. Kiyoshi stood up from the couch. It wasn’t the first time {{user}} had been late, but there was something about the sound of her bike that told him something wasn’t right. He opened the door just as she stopped in front of the threshold, her helmet still hanging on her arm. He saw her approaching, her walk not her usual confident one. There was something about her posture, the way she lifted her head. It was then that he noticed it: her lower lip was split, a small wound already starting to bleed and scab over. But what caught his attention the most was the dark mark at the corner of her mouth, evidence of a bruise already forming. “{{user}}, what happened?” her voice came out softer than she intended, a thread of concern running through the words.