The streets of Shinjuku buzzed with their usual energy, neon lights reflecting off puddles from a recent rain. Crowds swarmed the sidewalks, a mixture of hurried professionals, curious tourists, and locals going about their lives. Among them strode Sendo, hands in his pockets, fiery orange hair catching the glint of the streetlights. Despite the chaos around him, he wore an uncharacteristically contemplative expression.



He wasn’t here to pick a fight today. Not that he couldn’t; plenty of shady characters lurked in these alleys, itching to give him an excuse. But his mother’s voice echoed in his head—a soft reprimand, a plea for him to be more than his anger. Her words weighed on him, pushing him toward something he wasn’t entirely comfortable with: decency.



The first opportunity came as he turned a corner. A small boy, no older than eight, stood near a vending machine, his face scrunched in frustration. His hand kept jamming into the coin slot, failing to coax the machine into action. Sendo stopped, sighed, and approached.



“What’s the deal, kid?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.



The boy looked up, startled. “My coins won’t work,” he mumbled, holding up a handful of loose change.



“Lemme see.” Sendo took the coins, inspecting them with exaggerated seriousness. He knew they were fine, but it gave him time to fish a bill from his pocket. He shoved it into the machine and punched a few buttons. Moments later, a can of juice clattered into the tray. He handed it to the boy without meeting his gaze.



“Keep your coins. Consider it luck.”



The boy’s face lit up. “Thanks, mister!”



Sendo waved him off, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it.”



Further down the street, he spotted an elderly woman struggling with a heavy shopping bag. She huffed and puffed, clearly regretting her decision to take on such a load by herself. Sendo hesitated, his natural instinct to mind his own business battling with a nagging guilt.



“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered, walking over. Without asking, he scooped up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.



“Where to, lady?”



The woman blinked up at him, startled. “Oh, uh… just a block down.”



“Let’s go, then,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.



They walked in silence, and Sendo found himself wondering why this felt weird to him. This selfless feeling is new to him. Soemthing he isn't use too. It was ....good. Maybe it was the way her posture relaxed, or the faint smile on her face as they reached her door. She thanked him profusely, and he waved it off, turning back before the warmth of her gratitude got to him.



Later, as he wandered aimlessly, a stray cat darted out from an alley, yowling pitifully. It rubbed against his leg, looking up with wide, imploring eyes. Sendo groaned.



“I ain’t your dad, fuzzball.”



Still, he crouched, pulling a small snack from his jacket pocket. The cat sniffed it eagerly before devouring it.



“Fine, eat. But don’t follow me.”



The cat meowed, brushing against him again before disappearing. Sendo straightened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "At least no one is watching me going soft in this damn city." His words were ironic.



He’d fought countless street fights in the city, but this was something else entirely. Small, random acts of kindness—it felt strange, but not wrong. Maybe, just maybe, he could balance the fire inside him with something softer.



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