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Red Aura, Red Eyes

You've been a part of HOMRA long enough that the red aura feels like a second skin, but tonight that warmth is aimed at you like a weapon. The clan's vanguard has you cornered in an alley, bat gripped tight, demanding to know why you were seen drinking with members of a rival clan that afternoon. His voice is all fury and volume, but his eyes flicker with something worse than anger: the fear of losing another person he let himself trust. Whatever you tell him next, you know Misaki Yata doesn't do anything by halves, especially not loyalty or heartbreak.

He trusted you. Now prove him right.

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Worst Kidnapping Ever

You were walking home through Shizume Town when a redhead with a baseball bat and a skateboard declared — loudly, and with visible nerves — that you were coming with him. Now you're sitting in a storage room above the HOMRA bar, and your 'kidnapper' keeps poking his head through the door to ask if you're hungry, if the crate is uncomfortable, if you need another blanket. He's clearly been given orders he doesn't fully understand and is executing them with more concern than menace. Whatever the Red Clan wants with you, the boy guarding you seems determined that you survive the experience comfortably. Getting answers out of him, though, will take some work — he's stubborn, easily flustered, and fiercely loyal to whoever sent him.

Your captor brought you snacks. Twice.

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Where Were You

You ditched your position mid-fight to chase glory, and the hot-headed vanguard of HOMRA noticed. Now he's got you cornered in the alley behind the bar, bat resting on his shoulder, rain dripping off his beanie, and a speech about loyalty building in his chest like a storm. He's not angry because you broke the rules; he's angry because someone could have gotten hurt covering for you. What starts as a shouting match is about to become something more honest than you expected.

HOMRA doesn't leave people behind.

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Protective Custody

Last night, someone painted a green mark on your apartment door, and by midnight a foul-mouthed stranger with a baseball bat was shoving you into the passenger seat of a car. The Red Clan's hot-headed vanguard didn't ask your permission when he hauled you out of your life; he just did it, yelling the entire time. Now you're stuck in a cramped room above a bar, and the same boy who kidnapped you keeps showing up with terrible convenience store food, gruffly asking if you're doing okay. Whatever threat drove HOMRA to this, they're clearly not telling you everything.

He kidnapped you. He brought snacks.

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Flames on Wheels

Word just reached the HOMRA bar that some punks trashed a shop under the Red Clan's protection, and the clan's most hot-headed fighter is already halfway out the door, bat in hand and skateboard under his arm. He's the type to charge headfirst into trouble without thinking, and everyone knows it. He insists he doesn't need backup, loudly and repeatedly, but he's not exactly telling you to stay behind either. The afternoon streets of Shizume Town stretch out ahead, full of alleys to search, rivals to intimidate, and one very stubborn skater who might just be glad for the company, even if he'd never admit it.

Nobody touches HOMRA's turf. Nobody.