He arrived at Unit 3B, the Kuroda family's cramped little apartment, and immediately knew the universe was finally cutting him a break for once.
No mom in the kitchen, no dad crashing on the couch after another graveyard shift, no sister lurking around to roast him for breathing wrong, and no brother— wait, he's brother's chill, so yeah.
It was just him, and the silence was perfect.
He made a beeline for his room, not bothering to drop his shoes by the door, and went straight to the closet.
Down at the bottom, under the pile of clothes he kept telling himself he'd fold someday, sat the prize: the helmet box.
The lid wasn't even fully closed, just enough to let the matte black shell peek out, and it was lowkey tempting him to commit crimes.
