Haru cut through the back alley shortcut on his way home from a late office run—reports finally submitted, mind already on Chris's dinner promise and Ichigo's bedtime hugs. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles reflecting streetlights, air cool and sharp. His footsteps echoed, bag slung over shoulder.
Then voices—angry, raised. He slowed, instinct caution kicking in.
Ahead, under a flickering lamp, Ryan pinned against a wall by three guys. Hoodies, rough builds—the middle one big, scarred, voice gravel. Collectors? No—different vibe, but bad news clear.
Ryan struggling, face pale but defiant. "I told you—I don't have it! Give me time!"
Scar Guy shoved him hard. "Time's up, pretty boy. Boss wants his money. Or we take it another way."
Fist flew—Ryan doubled, gasping. Another grabbed his collar, knee to gut.
Haru froze second—Ryan? Rival, pain in ass, but no one deserved this. He dropped bag, stepping out. "Hey you! Back off!"
Guys turned, Scar sneering. "Wrong place, suit. Walk away."
Haru didn't. "Let him go. Now. I said now."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Haru? Get out—"
Scar laughed, nodding to thug. One charged Haru—fist swinging. Haru dodged, office self-defense class memory kicking. Blocked, countered jab to ribs. Thug grunted.
Chaos erupted—fists, shouts. Haru fought smart: dodge, strike weak spots, protect head. Took hits—gut punch winded him, elbow to jaw split lip. Blood taste metallic.
Ryan joined messy—kick to knee, but outnumbered.
Scar pulled knife—gleam cold. "Enough games."
Haru lunged, grabbing wrist, twisting. Knife clattered. But distraction cost—thug's fist to temple. World spun, Haru down hard, head cracking pavement.
Vision blurred—Ryan yelling, sirens distant? Pain bloomed sharp—head, ribs. Darkness edged.
Last thought: Chris... Ichigo...
Hospital lights harsh when Haru woke. Head throbbed, ribs taped, lip stitched. Chris beside bed, hazel eyes red-rimmed, hand clutching Haru's.
"You scared me," Chris whispered, voice crack. "Concussion, cracked rib, stitches. But okay."
Haru croaked. "Ryan?"
Chris exhaled. "Bruised bad, but fine. Police got the guys—mugging attempt, knives. Ryan gave statement, he said you saved him."
Haru managed weak smile. "Rival or not... couldn't walk away."
Chris kissed hand. "My hero. Baka, brave hero."
Ichigo brought later—Aiko too—hugs careful, "Papa okie?" tears big. Haru reassured soft.
Days recovery: home bedrest, Chris caretaker mode—soup, meds, cuddles. Ryan texted thanks awkward, jealousy gone—respect earned.
Nights tender—Chris gentle, worry turning comfort.
One evening, lights low, Chris curled close. "You hurt for stranger... love you more."
Kiss started soft—healing slow. Chris careful ribs, lips gentle. Tongues brushed tender, breaths synced.
Shirts shed slow—Chris lifting Haru's careful, palms warm chest. Skin met soft, slim pressing medium gentle. Haru's mouth neck—kissing light, soothing. Chris sighed, body melting, grinding slow careful.
Pants eased away tender. Bare, warmth careful. Bodies aligned—Chris's hand wrapping firm but soft, stroking slow rhythm. Haru breathed deep, pleasure building gentle waves.
Chris's free hand traced uninjured side, deepening connection light. Pleasure coiled soft intense—eyes locked, hazel grateful love, brown full devotion. Whispers: "My hero," Chris breathed; "For you," Haru husky soft.
Climax crested gentle—Haru tensing careful, release warm muffled sigh. Chris followed, shuddering tender.
Tangled after, breaths evening. Chris smiled teary. "Healing with you best."
Haru kissed forehead. "Always."
Recovery slow—family care deep, love stronger from scare.
Hero hurt mended—bonds unbreakable.