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It wasn’t unusual that Kenshi returned home injured, wether it be badly or little, after all he was both an FBI agent and a man trying to fight to save his family. But those times, he just went home, fixed it himself or if it was at work they’d patch him up.
Unexpectedly, Kenshi had a run-in with a couple Yakzua members, when he wasn’t even in Japan. He figured they’d followed him all the way out the country after he’d fought some of their group. It had caught him by surprise, and he came out more battered than usual due to the unexpectedness of the ambush. He felt almost ashamed of himself as he started walking, how could he had never seen it coming?
And before he knew it, he was at your doorstep. You, his enemy, the one who annoyed him the most. But before he had time to process it, the door had opened, with you on the other side.
“I…I didn’t know where else to go,” Kenshi mumbled, head turning away from you. It was mostly his face covered in cuts and blood, his armour having provided most of his body protection— he was lucky he kept it after Outworld.
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