Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
Word count: 907
Authors notes: small content/trigger warning for mentions of suggesting (non-specific) medications in both. I do hope you enjoy!
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Nagito:
The days just blended together, night and day full of wishing you could do nothing but sleep.
Of course Nagito noticed very quickly that you were staying in bed longer each day.
He also noticed your lack of energy, regardless of how much you slept the night before
I personally believe that Nagito is also depressed but hides it fairly well, aside from his self-deprecation
He may also feel fairly hopeless (I feel like that’s the reason he looks so hard for hope everywhere around him, so maybe he’ll start feeling more hopeful and feel better-) but you’re important to him
He doesn’t want you to also go through that
He’d be conflicted between making you get out of bed, or letting you stay in bed for longer
He’d settle for having you get up, because he knows that laying in bed won’t make you feel better, you’re just more comfortable
“Love, it’s time to get up..”
“..I’m awake.”
“Can you at least stand up and give me a hug?”
He knows you’d stand up to cuddle him, which he hopes is enough to make you feel even a little bit better
But if you feel bad enough, he wouldn’t hesitate to get you a good therapist
Only if you’re comfortable talking to one, that is
He doesn’t want to force you, but he’s got plenty of money so he doesn’t mind paying high prices for the best in the business if it means his partner can feel better about themselves
At the very least, he would remind you that you can always talk to him about anything
He also tries to tell you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you so you know that he cares about you
If he’s taking any medications for depression, he’d offer them to you, if you’re willing to take them
Like with his therapy offer, he doesn’t want to force you so if you tell him you don’t want to take meds, he’d completely drop the suggestion
If you *do* take the offer, however, he’d make sure to set reminders and get you a glass of water so you don’t forget to take them
If you’re feeling up for it, he’d take you on walks to give you some sunshine and hopefully serotonin from the fresh air
If you were less energetic, but still wanted fresh air, he’d take you for a drive with the windows down
On really bad days, he’ll do his best to make you feel better, but will also give you alone time if that’s what you need
He still brings you water and food throughout the day, because he knows you will probably neglect those necessities, even if you want to be alone
At night he makes sure to hold you tight so you know he’ll do his very best to keep you safe from every- and any -thing, including your own mind
Overall, he would do anything to help you feel better
Mikan:
You don’t want to worry her, but you’ve been feeling pretty down lately
She would also notice pretty quickly.
She’d see that you’ve been taking care of yourself less and that you don’t seem to be as upbeat as usual
Because of her medical knowledge, she would try to suggest medication, and would even give you a breakdown of how the meds work and how each one helps with different things
If you deny medicine, she would heavily suggest a therapist, instead
Honestly, she wouldn’t want you to know, but she cried when she found out that you were depressed
She often suggests you two should go out to get the mail or water the few plants outside just so you can both get a bit of vitamin d, without you having to overwork yourself to do so
If you asked her to do anything, she’d do it if it makes you happier; even if it’s just for a minute
She would take you to go see friends whenever you feel up for it, because she knows the social interaction might boost your serotonin levels
“Hey S/o, I know you said you have more energy today, would you, maybe... Want to hang out with Chiaki and I today?”
“Yeah. I guess we could do that. Chiaki’s pretty calm, usually.”
She would try to buy you small things like a few more plants to take care of, just so you don’t get bed sores from laying in bed all day
(On a side note, please tell her you appreciate that she’s trying to help you feel better because she really just wants to see you be okay)
Even though she isn’t a therapist, she’d try to help you work out what might be causing you to be so down; whether that be something that’s upsetting you, or just a chemical imbalance, and do what she can to help accordingly
She’d make sure to remind you to take care of yourself and to remember how much she loves and cares about you
She would also hug you, sit on your bed and just rub your back on really tough days, letting you cry on her shoulder and vent it all out
And afterwards, she would always have a glass of water for you so your throat doesn’t hurt
She’d also let you cuddle with her for a bit, and maybe even take a nap together, afterwards
Word Count: 727
Author’s notes: I had fun writing these, please let me know if you’d prefer a story instead of headcanons or if you’d like me to change/rewrite anything. :)
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Angie:
When she’s busy doing art, she doesn’t really notice whether or not you’ve been taking care of yourself.
But when she decides to take breaks or if she notices you haven't eaten or drank anything in a while, she’ll nudge you and tell you Atua said you were forgetting to do something, so you could remember to eat or drink.
If you don’t take the hint she’ll let you know what “Atua thinks” you’re missing.
“S/o, Atua wants you to remember to drink something. He doesn’t want you to get sick, you know!”
She would go over and get a drink for you and insist you drink it.
“You don’t want to be cursed riiight?”
You know she just cares about you but she’ll be pretty forward and stern about taking care of yourself, sometimes even saying that you are outright disobeying Atua by not taking care of yourself.
Usually she won’t let you get out of doing so unless you absolutely resist, but even then, she’ll come back later and remind you again to take care of yourself.
You don’t often resist though, so that’s not really a problem.
In terms of showering, she will run a bath or shower and tell you Atua told her you need to bathe to appease him.
She may even try to “help” you undress if you question it, but will back off if you tell her you’ll do it and don’t need help.
Afterwards, she’ll praise you and tell you that Atua is pleased and that you're free to do whatever you want, now that you’ve “cleansed yourself”.
Mikan:
Mikan, being a nurse, definitely notices when you haven't been eating, drinking, or sleeping well.
She tries to remind you to eat and drink, though she apologizes after, since she thinks you’ll be mad at her for pointing it out.
“Hey s/o? Your blood circulation looks off today. Have you eaten a good breakfast yet? Or maybe you haven’t had enough liquids today?..”
Of course, she probably knows which is more likely to be the case, but she also wants you to be able to acknowledge that you probably should go eat or drink something
Usually, she gets a little nervous to point things out to you, but when it comes to your health, she wants the best for you.
Oftentimes if you don’t immediately respond or go to get food or take a nap, she’ll say something like “Oh! I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel faint or get a headache, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...”
You’re never mad though, and you make sure to thank her for reminding you.
You don’t often have to remind her to take care of herself, but sometimes you invite her to nap with you or get some food together so you’re both well taken care of.
When it comes to showering, she doesn’t outright say anything because she doesn’t want you to think she’s saying you stink, but she does offer the shower to you before she plans on getting in, so you can get the hint and not end up getting infections from not cleaning yourself.
Yasuhiro:
Let's be honest here, he doesn’t often take great care of himself either.
But he does still care about you so he’d probably start leaving sticky-notes around that just have small reminders to eat/drink/shower, etc for you both.
Whenever he gets super hungry or thirsty, he just makes an extra sandwich or pours an extra drink and brings it to you so you can both be taken care of, and you do the same.
Because of this, you guys are usually in sync when you’re hungry so when your stomach growls, even if you’re in a different room, you know his most likely did too.
I feel like he’d buy new soaps every time he goes to the store because he thinks you guys are low, but in reality you’ve got like 5 nearly-full bottles in the shower at home.
Usually that reminds you both to take more showers, but it doesn’t last long before you fall back into not showering for a bit.
‘Hey s/o, I bought another body wash, since we’re low.”
“Yasu.. We’re not low in any bottles in there”
“..Oh. Speaking of which, we should probably start using those, huh?”
Can you do separate peko, Mikan and tenko with male!reader who is depressed and scared of males due to his past abuse of stepfather?
A/N: Yes, I absolutely can! You didn't specify what kind of writing you wanted, so I just made oneshots for each of them :}
Peko:
The first time Peko noticed him, it wasn’t because of something loud or dramatic.
It was because he wasn’t loud.
(Y/N) sat alone in the corner of the classroom, always a little too still, a little too tense. His eyes rarely met anyone’s directly, and when they did, they flinched away like they'd touched something too hot.
Peko understood silence. She understood stillness. But this wasn’t the silence of focus or discipline. This was a silence built from fear.
She didn’t approach him right away. Observation came naturally to her. She watched how he gripped the sleeves of his uniform during conversations. How he edged closer to the wall when a male classmate got too close. How his breathing would subtly hitch anytime a voice raised near him- even in laughter.
It wasn’t hard to piece together.
What she didn’t expect was how he looked at her.
Not with fear. Not with pity. But almost... curious. Like he couldn’t understand why someone like her- stern and composed- was the only one he didn’t shy away from.
They shared the same routine. Arrive early. Leave late. Avoid the crowd. So one day, when they passed in the hallway, and he flinched from someone else’s raised hand when going in for a highfive with another student, Peko made a choice.
She stopped.
“You’re hurt,” she said bluntly, her tone flat but not unkind. “You mask it well. But I see it.”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened, lips parting as if to protest, but nothing came out.
“I won’t ask what happened,” she continued, her voice steady. “But I’d like to offer... company. You don’t need to speak. I’ll simply sit.”
His throat bobbed. It was too much and not enough, all at once. He nodded.
That was how it started.
They began sharing quiet moments behind the school. No words, just the rustle of wind and the occasional time Peko pulled out her covered sword as she practiced her forms nearby. She never moved too fast, never startled him. The wood covering her blade slicing through the air with purpose, but her movements were deliberate- never violent, never chaotic.
(Y/N) started bringing a book. Sometimes he read. Sometimes he just listened to her breathe.
He trusted her long before he realized he did.
One afternoon, weeks into this fragile ritual, Peko put her sword down and sat beside him. Not close enough to touch- but closer than usual.
“I was trained to kill,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “But I don’t want to be feared.”
(Y/N) looked at her. Really looked. Her eyes were steady, but there was something buried deep- something vulnerable.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispered.
She turned to him. The softest flicker of something like relief crossed her face.
“You don’t flinch when I move,” she said.
“You don’t raise your voice,” he replied. “You don’t... look at me like I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” she said without hesitation. “You survived something that tried to destroy you. That takes strength.”
His breath caught. No one had ever said that before. Not like that. Not without expectation.
Peko looked down. “I don’t understand emotions well. But... I want to protect what’s important to me. You’ve become important.”
His heart stuttered.
He didn’t know what to say. But maybe he didn’t need to.
Because for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he had to hide.
And Peko, the girl who had only ever known her blade, sat quietly beside him- offering a different kind of shield.
After a while, they both stood, going off in their separate directions, like any other day.
The next day, around the end of the school day, (Y/N) was making his way to his loacker to gather all of his things.
The hallway was nearly empty, that sort of eerie quiet where footsteps echo too loudly. (Y/N) had stayed behind, as usual, hoping the other students would clear out so he wouldn’t have to squeeze through a crowd. But he hadn’t realized one of the seniors- Riku, loud and full of something bitter- was waiting around the corner.
“Hey,” Riku said, stepping into his path.
(Y/N) froze.
He recognized that voice. Recognized the way his tone coiled beneath fake friendliness. He backed up a step.
“Relax, man. Just wanna talk,” Riku smirked, inching closer. “You’re always glued to that sword-girl. Pretty sure she’s not into shy little losers.”
(Y/N)’s throat tightened. His breath came shallow. Riku moved fast- too fast- blocking his path with an arm against the lockers.
Something snapped behind his eyes. He wasn’t seeing the hallway anymore. He was seeing him. The stepfather who slammed doors. Who raised fists. Who spat words like nails. His body went rigid. Breath caught.
But then-
A voice, sharp and cold as steel, “Back away from him.”
Riku turned. “What the hell-?”
Peko stood at the end of the hall, eyes narrowed at Riku. She wasn’t holding it in an offensive stance. She didn’t need to.
Her presence alone was enough to shift the air.
Riku chuckled, but it was weak now. “Geez, you’re really babysitting him?”
Peko didn’t blink. “This is your final warning.”
Her hand moved slightly, her fingers brushing the handle of her sword on her back.
Riku scoffed but stepped back, muttering something under his breath. He wasn’t stupid. No one crossed Peko Pekoyama.
The moment he was gone, Peko turned her attention to (Y/N), whose back was still against the lockers, chest rising and falling fast.
“(Y/N),” she said, softly now. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”
It took a moment, but his gaze finally met hers. Wide, haunted.
She stepped closer. Slowly. “May I?” she asked, gesturing vaguely toward him- not to touch, just to be closer.
He nodded once.
They sat down on the bench nearby, the world narrowing to the silence between them. Peko waited. Patient. Steady. He clutched his sleeves tightly, knuckles white, before he finally broke the quiet.
“My stepfather…” he began. His voice cracked. He paused. Swallowed.
She waited.
“He used to do things like that. The cornering. The threats. And worse. I’d hear his boots coming down the hall and- I just- I couldn’t breathe.” His voice wavered, and he shut his eyes tightly. “I always thought it was my fault. That I wasn’t strong enough.”
Peko didn’t speak right away. When she did, her voice was low. Intent.
“You survived that,” she said. “Not because you were weak- but because you endured. And that kind of strength... is rare.”
His lips trembled. “Why don’t you run from me, Peko?”
She tilted her head slightly, frowning. “Why would I run from you?”
“Because I’m messed up. Broken. You could be with anyone-”
“I choose to be near you,” she interrupted, voice firm. “Not out of pity. Not out of duty. But because... when I’m with you, I feel calm. Like I don’t have to always be a weapon.”
His eyes widened.
She hesitated, then reached out- not touching him, just letting her hand hover, waiting. “May I?” she asked again.
Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.
She took his hand gently, her grip warm but never tight. Never controlling. Just… there.
And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel like a victim.
Mikan:
The first time Mikan saw him, (Y/N) was curled up in the corner of the classroom, sleeves tugged over his hands, eyes glued to the floor like looking at anyone might make him shatter.
She recognized it instantly- the stiffness in his shoulders, the flinch at every sudden movement, the way his breathing changed when someone walked behind him. Fear. Not the kind that faded with time, but the kind etched into the nervous system like a scar.
She understood that kind of fear too well.
Mikan had always been too much- too clumsy, too anxious, too eager to please- but she was never too much for pain. Pain, she'd learned, made people pay attention. She'd hated it, but she'd lived in it for so long that when she saw (Y/N), she knew. He lived there too.
It started small.
A quiet hello after class, barely above a whisper. A bandaid offered when she noticed he was biting the skin around his nails until it bled. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t look her in the eye. But he didn’t push her away either.
That was enough for Mikan.
She didn’t try to fix him. She just sat next to him sometimes, talked softly about things that didn’t matter- how the nurse’s office was out of gauze again, how her hair wouldn’t stay right no matter how she brushed it, how the sky looked heavy with rain. He never responded, but slowly, he started listening. And eventually, he started nodding.
Then one day, he spoke.
“I hate being touched.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Mikan froze. She didn’t ask why. She didn’t need to. She just nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Okay. I won’t touch you,” she said.
(Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed, just a little.
Weeks passed like that. (Y/N) never told her what happened, but sometimes he’d trail off mid-sentence and she’d see the flicker of something behind his eyes- something haunted and heavy. She didn’t press. She just kept showing up. With warmth. With patience.
And one rainy afternoon, everything changed.
He was shaking when he stumbled into the nurse’s office, soaked through, bruises blooming across his ribs. He wouldn’t say who did it. Mikan didn’t ask. She only helped him sit down on the cot, hands trembling as she reached for the medical kit, then paused.
“I-I-I’m going to clean your injuries now, but… I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay, okay?”
There was a long silence. Then, barely audible:
“…Okay.”
It was the first time he let her touch him.
Her hands were soft, careful. Every movement was slow, narrated in a gentle whisper. “I’m cleaning the cut now. It might sting a little, b-but I’ll be really careful, promise…”
He flinched, but didn’t pull away. His breathing hitched. She didn’t say anything when a tear slid down his cheek. She just handed him a tissue.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so broken.”
“No,” she said immediately, shaking her head so hard her hair slipped from its pins. “You’re not. You’re hurt. You’ve been hurt really badly, but that’s not the same as being broken.”
He looked at her then. Really looked at her. She saw the raw ache in his expression, the doubt, the exhaustion. But also, the beginning of something else. Hope, maybe.
In time, (Y/N) stopped flinching as much. He started sitting closer. Sometimes, he even smiled. It was small and fleeting, but to Mikan, it was brighter than the sun.
He wasn’t healed, not completely. Healing didn’t happen all at once. It came in pieces. In trust built moment by moment. In safety found in gentle hands and soft voices.
Mikan didn’t need him to be perfect. She didn’t even need him to be okay.
She just needed him to know he didn’t have to suffer alone.
And little by little, he began to believe it.
After that, the nurse’s office had become a kind of sanctuary.
At first, (Y/N) had only gone there when he had no choice- when bruises needed hiding or a panic attack left him too dizzy to think. But now, he found himself drifting there even on quiet days. Days when nothing hurt, at least not visibly. Days when the ghosts were just whispers, not screams.
Mikan was always there.
She never asked him to explain himself. She never pushed when the words got stuck in his throat. She just smiled- nervous, shaky, but real- and made space for him beside her. Sometimes she offered tea. Sometimes she rambled about classwork or clumsily spilled cotton balls across the floor. Sometimes she just sat with him, in silence, and that was enough.
(Y/N) found comfort in her softness, in how careful she was. How she always announced every move.
“I’m reaching for the thermometer now, o-okay? I won’t touch you.”
“I’ll sit here, if that’s okay. I c-can move if it’s not…”
He never realized how deeply he craved that kind of gentleness until she gave it to him.
It was a Thursday when something shifted.
(Y/N) was staring out the window, watching a few birds hop along the grass just beyond the courtyard. The sky was a dull gray, the kind that made everything feel a little heavier. Mikan sat beside him on the cot, legs drawn up beneath her, chewing nervously on her lower lip.
She looked at him, then down at her hands. “U-Um… (Y/N)? Can I ask something?”
He stiffened, but nodded.
“Have you ever… had anyone tell you they’re proud of you?”
He blinked.
“…No.”
Mikan’s lips parted like she might cry, but instead, she scooted just a little closer. “I am,” she whispered. “I-I mean… I’m proud of you. You’re so brave. You keep going even when it hurts, and you’re always so kind even when you're scared, and… I just think that’s really, really strong.”
The room was too quiet. Too still.
Then- without thinking- (Y/N) reached out. His fingers brushed her sleeve. Not skin. Just fabric. But it was the first time he’d reached for anyone in years.
Mikan didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
“Is… is it okay if I stay like this?” he asked, voice trembling. “Just for a minute.”
Her eyes went wide with emotion, then she gave the smallest, warmest smile.
“Yes. Of course it is.”
Later that night, (Y/N) sat on his bed with the lights off, staring at the soft imprint of her touch left in his memory. His stepfather’s voice still echoed sometimes, cruel and sharp and impossible to silence. But for once, it was quieter than the sound of Mikan’s voice.
“I’m proud of you.”
Those words replayed over and over, like a lullaby.
Tenko:
The dojo was quiet- unusually so. Dust motes floated in the sunlit air like tiny spirits, dancing just above the polished floorboards. Tenko Chabashira stood barefoot at the center of the room, her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail that swayed with every practiced movement. Her breathing was controlled, sharp, matching the flow of her kata.
But she paused mid-strike, her sharp eyes flickering toward the door. Someone was there- hesitating. Hovering like a shadow.
"(Y/N)?" she called softly, letting her arms fall to her sides.
He flinched, half-hidden behind the sliding door, as if even hearing his name spoken aloud was too much. His knuckles were white where he clutched the edge of the frame, shoulders hunched beneath his too-large hoodie.
Tenko straightened and offered a gentle smile- not too big, not too forceful. She knew better than to rush him. Over the past few weeks, she’d noticed how (Y/N) never looked anyone in the eyes, how he avoided crowded hallways and jumped at loud voices. And worst of all- how he tensed around every man, like his whole body was bracing for a blow.
She had been careful. Always letting him choose the distance. Always making sure he knew she saw him as more than what the others whispered behind his back.
"I was just finishing up training," she said, wiping sweat from her brow. "You can come in… if you want."
He hesitated, then stepped forward like he was walking into an unknown world. Every step seemed like a negotiation with himself. He didn’t meet her eyes, but he sat at the far edge of the room, back to the wall, as if needing a way out.
Tenko didn’t mind. She simply walked to the corner, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a slow sip before sitting cross-legged across from him.
"You’re always welcome here, you know," she said softly. "No pressure. Just… a place to breathe."
(Y/N)'s hands curled tightly in his sleeves. His voice, when it came, was almost inaudible. “You’re the only one who doesn’t… look at me like I’m broken.”
Tenko’s heart twisted. She leaned forward slightly, mindful of her posture- open, nonthreatening.
"You're not broken, (Y/N). You've just been hurt. And healing... takes time. But you're strong. I can tell."
He shook his head. "I'm not. I can't even look at half the class without freezing up. I can’t-"
“You showed up here,” she cut in gently. “That’s strength.”
There was silence. A long, aching silence.
Then, as if asking for something he couldn’t name, he whispered, "Can I stay a while?"
Tenko’s expression softened. She nodded, voice quiet but firm. “As long as you need.”
And so they sat there, in the soft golden light, surrounded by the scent of pine wood and old paper walls. No fighting. No fear. Just two people- one offering calm, the other learning to breathe again.
Tenko glanced at him, watching the way his shoulders relaxed just slightly.
"I don’t usually like guys," she admitted suddenly, rubbing the back of her neck. "They make me uncomfortable. Scared, sometimes. I… guess that’s why I understand you a little."
(Y/N)'s head turned, just barely, and for the first time, their eyes met. Not for long, not intensely- but it was enough. Enough to see the sincerity in hers, the warmth behind the guarded strength.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Tenko gave him a soft smile- one that didn’t need words.
After that day, the dojo became their quiet haven.
Most days after class, Tenko would finish her practice while (Y/N) sat nearby, always keeping his distance, always watching. Sometimes, he brought a book. Other times, he said nothing at all. But he came back- day after day- and that was enough for her.
One afternoon, when the clouds hung low and the wind rattled the paper windows, Tenko finished a round of sparring with the training dummy and sat beside him on the polished floor. She didn’t speak at first. Neither did he.
Instead, she handed him a cup of tea she’d brewed earlier. Chamomile. Something calming.
He took it slowly, hands trembling just slightly as he held the warm porcelain between his palms.
“I used to drink tea with my mom,” he said, voice low. “Before everything… changed.”
Tenko glanced over, surprised he’d spoken first. She stayed quiet, letting him decide how much to share.
“She used to hum,” he added. “All the time. While cleaning, cooking… even when things were bad. I miss that.”
Tenko looked down at her cup, her brow knitting softly. “I miss my sensei,” she said. “She taught me everything I know about Aikido. She said it wasn’t just about defense- it was about connection. With yourself. With others.”
She turned her head to meet his eyes.
“That’s why I started letting you sit here. I wanted you to feel safe… connected.”
(Y/N) bit his lip, shoulders curling in slightly like he was trying to keep himself small. But he didn’t move away.
“Sometimes I think I’ll never be normal,” he whispered.
Tenko scooted just a little closer- carefully, never pushing.
“What if you don’t have to be?” she said. “What if who you are now is already enough?”
He looked at her, eyes wide. There was no judgment there. No pity. Just Tenko-blunt, honest, warm. After a few moniutes, she suggested something.
“Just stretching,” she promised. “You don’t even have to touch me. It’s just you and your body. Reclaiming it.”
(Y/N) was hesitant. The idea of his body being his own felt... foreign. But Tenko’s voice was soft, and her patience never wavered.
He followed her lead one day, mirroring her as she slowly bent forward, arms extended. His form was shaky, unbalanced, but she never corrected him harshly.
“You’re doing great,” she said gently. “This part’s about feeling. Not perfection.”
Each day, he got a little better. He started standing straighter. Breathing deeper. Letting his hands relax at his sides instead of fisting in his sleeves.
He even laughed once- when Tenko tried to show off a high kick and accidentally knocked over a training mat.
She flushed red. “T-That was intentional, of course! A lesson in humility!”
His laugh was small but real, and she smiled like she’d just won a gold medal.
It was late one evening when (Y/N) had a nightmare and ended up knocking on her door at the dorms, pale and shaking.
Tenko didn’t ask questions. She pulled him inside and handed him a blanket. Made him tea. Sat on the floor with him until the trembling stopped.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He shook his head.
She nodded. “Then we don’t have to.”
But after a while, as the tea grew cold between his hands, he said, “He used to come into my room when the house was quiet. Said it was my fault. That I was weak.”
Tenko’s hands tightened on her lap, her jaw clenching with quiet rage.
“You were never at fault,” she said. “Not even a little.”
And then- carefully, with the softness of someone offering a bridge- she opened her arms.
“I can hold you, if you want.”
His breath caught, chest rising unevenly.
“…Okay.”
He leaned in slowly, as if expecting her to flinch. But she didn’t. Her arms wrapped around his narrow shoulders, strong but warm. She held him like she meant it- like she wasn’t afraid of what he carried.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here.”