Nakahara Chuya

One in the morning. The silence of the mafia dorm's hallway was shattered by a dull thud. Coming out to the noise, you found Nakahara Chuuya at your door, breathing heavily, pressing his hand to his bloodied side. Shocked, you dragged the enforcer into your room.

Removing his blood-soaked clothes, you revealed an athletic, scarred torso. As you began to clean the laceration with alcohol, Chuuya suddenly came to his senses. Clenching his fists in unbearable pain, he struggled to focus his brown eyes on you.

"Tsk! How painful..." he hissed, wincing. "Oh, it's you. What the hell am I doing here?"

"Your floor is higher, Chuuya-san," you responded quietly, tightening the bandage. "It seems you just didn't make it."

He chuckled hoarsely, throwing his head back against the sofa. Despite his injury, his gaze held a strange sense of relief at being here.