The adrenaline had carried Kazama through the fight, through the engine room, through his escape from the beach. But now, limping through the outskirts of Tokyo. Each step sent waves of agony through his body.

  His ribs screamed. His back felt like it was on fire. Every breath was a struggle. His legs shot and he held one leg at a time for support.

  I have exhausted all my electrical powers on “Conductor Travel” to cover the distance between Yokohama and Tokyo. But still home is…too….far, Kazama thought to himself as exhaustion took over all his body

  He couldn't go home. Not like this. His home was too far and he would never make it. He needed somewhere to rest. Somewhere safe.

  An abandoned warehouse loomed ahead, its windows dark and broken. Kazama had passed it before on his patrols. It had been empty for months. The metal door hung crooked on its hinges.

  Kazama pushed through the door, wincing at the grinding sound it made. Inside, the warehouse was a maze of shadows and forgotten machinery. Dust covered everything. The air smelled of rust and decay. He found a corner near some old shipping crates and collapsed against the wall. His body finally gave out, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold concrete floor.

  For a long moment, Kazama just sat there, breathing. In and out. Each breath hurt, but he was alive. Everyone was alive.

  The passengers. The wedding guests. Kenji and his mother. Even Rico, despite everything.

  But Tanaka's words echoed in his mind. "That kind of thinking will get people killed someday."

  Was he right? Was my refusal to kill just naive idealism? Would there come a day when my mercy would cost innocent lives?

  I didn't get any answers. I passed at saving…everyone. But failed….failed to get more answers…about the mafia. About my parents…. I am sorry….I failed….

  Kazama tried to push the thoughts away. He was too tired, too hurt to wrestle with philosophy right now. He needed rest.

  He pulled off his mask, setting it beside him. The cool air felt good against his face. His hands shook as he checked his injuries. Bruised ribs. His back was a mess of pain. His left arm had a deep cut that had soaked through his sleeve. His legs felt at ease now.

  Kazama closed his eyes, letting exhaustion pull him under. The concrete was hard and cold beneath him, but he barely noticed. Within minutes, he was asleep.

  ************************************************************************************************************************

  Morning light filtered through the broken windows. Kazama woke slowly, his body protesting every movement.

  He checked his phone. 7:23 AM. He had slept for hours.

  I need to get to Akito's place. Get cleaned up. He can cover up for me… and we can figure out what’s next.

  Kazama stood, biting back a groan. His muscles had stiffened overnight, making every movement torture. He picked up his mask, staring at it for a moment, then tucked it into his jacket instead of putting it on. The rest of his gear could pass off as regular wear.

  He made his way out of the warehouse, squinting against the morning sun. The streets were relatively empty at this hour. A few early commuters walked past, barely glancing at him.

  Kazama headed toward Akito's neighborhood, keeping to the side streets. Each step was agony, but he forced himself to keep moving. Just a little further. Just…..

  The world tilted.

  Kazama's vision blurred. His legs gave out. He felt himself falling, the pavement rushing up to meet him.

  Then nothing.

  "Hey! Hey, can you hear me?"

  The voice was distant, muffled, like someone calling from underwater.

  Kazama's eyes fluttered open. Everything was too bright, too sharp. A single face swam above him. Concerned expression. Worried eyes.

  "Don't move," a woman's voice said, closer now. Familiar somehow. "Just take it easy. Breathe slowly…."

  Kazama tried to focus on the face above him. Dark hair. Kind eyes. Something about her triggered a memory but his thoughts were too scattered to grasp it.

  "I know you," the woman said softly. Softer than a whisper.

  She knelt beside him, and Kazama finally placed her. The woman from the alley. The person he had saved as a vigilante. Yuki.

  "The alley," Yuki whispered, her voice barely audible. "You saved me. You're..."

  She glanced at his jacket, at the modified gloves still on his hands, at the distinctive boots. Her eyes went to the slight bulge in his jacket where he had tucked the mask. Understanding dawned on her face.

  Yuki quickly looked around. The street was still quiet with just a few people in the distance, none paying attention. Early morning traffic hummed from the main road nearby but this side street remained empty.

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  She leaned in close, her voice dropping even lower.

  "You need to get out of sight," she said urgently. "Before someone else sees you like this, with that gear..."

  Kazama tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. His head was spinning.

  "My apartment is two blocks from here," Yuki continued. "Can you walk if I help you? We need to move before this street gets busier."

  Kazama managed a small nod.

  "Alright. This is going to hurt. On three. One... two..."

  She pulled Kazama to his feet on two, not three. The sudden movement sent lightning through his body but he managed not to cry out. Yuki got his arm over her shoulder, supporting most of his weight.

  "Come on," she said. "Just a little further. Stay with me."

  They moved slowly down the street, Kazama's feet barely cooperating. Each step was a fresh wave of pain but Yuki kept him moving, kept him upright. She guided him carefully, taking the quietest route possible.

  "I can't believe it's you," Yuki said as they walked, her voice low. "All this time, I wondered who you were. The guy in the mask who saved me. I never thought..."

  "Don't," Kazama managed, his voice hoarse. "Don't think about it."

  "Hard not to when you're literally leaning on me," Yuki replied but there was warmth in her voice. "Here. This building."

  They stopped in front of a traditional two-story Japanese house with dark wooden siding and a tiled roof. A small garden bordered the entrance and a wooden gate led to the front door. Yuki guided him through the gate and up to the entrance.

  She slipped off her shoes at the entrance and helped Kazama do the same though every movement made him wince. The entryway was neat and organized, with family photos hanging on the wall. Yuki with what looked like a younger sister and their parents.

  "My parents are at work and my little sister just left for school," Yuki said to give assurance that no one else was there. "We're alone. You're safe here."

  She helped him into the living room. The space was warm and inviting, with tatami mats covering part of the floor and a low kotatsu table in the center. A comfortable-looking couch sat against one wall.

  "Couch or should I set up the futon upstairs?" she asked.

  "Couch," Kazama managed. He didn't think he could handle stairs right now.

  She helped him over and eased him down onto the cushions. Kazama sank into them.

  "I'm going to get the first aid kit," Yuki said. "And some water. Don't move."

  As if I could, Kazama thought.

  Yuki hurried upstairs and returned moments later with a large first aid kit and a glass of water. She helped Kazama drink, then set about examining his injuries.

  "Your jacket," she said. "I need to see what we're working with."

  Kazama nodded weakly. Yuki carefully removed his jacket, then his shirt. She sucked in a breath when she saw his torso.

  "You're covered in bruises," she said. "Your ribs... I think you have at least two cracked ribs. Maybe more. This cut on your arm needs cleaning. And your back..."

  She moved behind him, and Kazama heard her sharp intake of breath.

  "What happened to you?" Yuki asked softly.

  "Saved a boat full of people," Kazama said plainly. "Fought a guy made of rock. Barely got the boat to the shore. The usual."

  Despite the situation, Yuki laughed. It was a small sound but genuine.

  "The usual. Right." She started cleaning the cut on his arm. "This is going to sting."

  She wasn't lying. Kazama hissed as the antiseptic hit the wound.

  "Sorry," Yuki said. "Almost done with this part."

  She worked efficiently, cleaning and bandaging the cut, then moving to the smaller injuries. Her hands were gentle but sure. Professional.

  "You really are a nurse?" Kazama asked.

  "Was," Yuki corrected. "I quit after... after that night. The night you saved me."

  "Why?" Kazama asked right away without any hesitation.

  Yuki's hands paused for a moment, her expression growing distant. "The day after you saved me, some people came to the hospital. Higher-ups from administration, and..." She hesitated. "Some men in black suits. Government types, maybe. Or hero commission. I don't know exactly."

  Kazama's body tensed despite the pain. "What did they want?"

  "They wanted to know about you," Yuki said quietly, resuming her work on his bandages. "The vigilante who saved me. They had questions. Lots of questions. What did you look like? What was your ability? Did you say anything that might identify you? How tall were you? Your build? Your voice?"

  She met his eyes and Kazama saw something fierce there. Something protective.

  "I told them he was a hero," Yuki continued. "Just some random pro who happened to be passing by. I didn't mention the mask. I didn't mention that you were clearly operating outside the law. I kept it vague. Said it was dark, I was scared, I couldn't remember much detail. "

  "Why?" Kazama asked softly even though he remembered that he was the one who had asked Yuki to be vague.

  Yuki's expression softened. "Because you saved me when no one else would. Because you didn't ask for credit or recognition. You just helped and disappeared. That meant something to me." She paused, wrapping another bandage. "And because those men in suits? They didn't care about me. They only cared about finding you. There was something in their eyes….like they were hunting."

  Kazama felt something shift in his chest. This woman had protected him. Had kept his secret even under pressure from authorities, even when it could have cost her.

  "After that," Yuki continued, "they kept coming back. Different people, asking the same questions. The hospital administration got nervous about the attention. My supervisor started treating me differently, like I was trouble. The stress of it all, on top of everything else..." She shook her head. "I realized I needed to leave. Start fresh somewhere new. Somewhere those questions wouldn't follow me."

  "I'm sorry," Kazama said while looking down and clenching his fists. "I didn't mean to…."

  "Don't," Yuki interrupted firmly. "Don't apologize for saving my life. I made my choices. I'd make them again." She finished with the last bandage and looked at him directly. "I didn't tell them anything then. And I won't tell anyone about this now. You have my word."

  Kazama studied her face. The determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw. She had already proven herself once, already paid a price for protecting him. In a world where he couldn't trust many people, where heroes like Nakamura, Yoshida and Shirai Takeru covered up crimes, where the system itself seemed corrupt...

  Here was someone who had chosen to protect him. Not because she had to. Not because she gained anything from it. But because it was the right thing to do.

  "Thank you," Kazama said quietly. "For then. And for now."

  Yuki smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thank you for giving me a reason to stand up for something. For someone." She stood, gathering the used bandages and medical supplies. "Now rest. I meant what I said. You're not leaving until you can actually walk properly."

  As she headed to the kitchen, Kazama felt something he hadn't felt much with most people around him.

  Trust.