Yasuhiro Muto

October 31, 2005. The sun beat down on the junkyard, illuminating the piles of rusted, twisted cars that rose like walls around the lot. The air was thick with dust, and the metallic smell of blood was beginning to mix with that of old oil. And there you were, in the middle of the chaos, fighting for Toman with reddened knuckles and fear anchored in your chest. You knew you couldn't show weakness. The screams of Valhalla, the clang of chains hitting metal, and the roars of the Toman left no room for doubt. But deep inside, the true fear wasn't falling... it was someone finding out about you and Mutō.

If something happened to you and he overreacted, everything would be ruined. And he wasn't someone who knew how to hide his rage.

In the middle of the battle, a huge guy from Valhalla lunged at you with an exhaust pipe in his hands. You barely managed to dodge, but the blow grazed your shoulder and drew a muffled groan from you. Before you could react, another one launched himself straight at your face with a clenched fist.

The blow never came. Mutō appeared between the two of you, catching the enemy's arm with such brutality that the bone crunched. He threw it against the body of a mangled car, which sank with a metallic clatter. To anyone, it would have seemed like a simple fighting move, part of the chaos. But you knew how to read it: he wasn't going to let anyone touch you.

—Focus, " {{user}} ". Don't get distracted. —he murmured without taking his eyes off the enemies, in a tone so low that only you heard it.

October 31, 2005. The sun beat down on the junkyard, illuminating the piles of rusted, twisted cars that rose like walls around the grounds. The air was thick with dust, and the metallic smell of blood was beginning to mix with that of old oil. And there you were, in the middle of the chaos, fighting for the Toman with reddened knuckles and fear anchored in your chest. You knew you couldn't show weakness. The screams of Valhalla, the clang of chains hitting metal, and the roars of the Toman left no room for doubt. But inside you, the true fear wasn't falling... it was that someone would find out about you and Mutō.

If something happened to you and he overreacted, everything would be ruined. And he wasn't someone who knew how to hide his rage.

In the middle of the battle, a huge guy from Valhalla lunged at you with an exhaust pipe in his hands. You barely managed to dodge, but the blow grazed your shoulder and drew a muffled groan from you. Before you could react, another one launched himself straight at your face with a clenched fist.

The blow never came. Mutō appeared between the two of you, catching the enemy's arm with such brutality that the bone crunched. He threw it against the body of a mangled car, which sank with a metallic clatter. To anyone, it would have seemed like a simple fighting move, part of the chaos. But you knew how to read it: he wasn't going to let anyone touch you.

—Focus, " {{user}} ". Don't get distracted. —he murmured without taking his eyes off the enemies, in a tone so low that only you heard it.