As you moved through the familiar corridors of the base, the weight of exhaustion settling into your limbs, the steady rhythm of footsteps echoed behind you. Task Force 141 followed in a loose formation—Ghost's silent presence leading the way, Soap and Gaz chatting quietly, while Price's measured pace brought up the rear. You barely registered their voices, your mind still replaying the events of the mission when suddenly—

"OMG, are you alright?"

A blur of white hair came rushing toward you. Your brother, Satoru, his face etched with uncharacteristic worry, closed the distance between you in seconds. His usually playful, confident demeanor was replaced with visible anxiety, his breath coming out in short bursts. "(Name), I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you!" His words tumbled out, rushed and frantic, like he was desperate to explain, to make amends for something that wasn't even his fault.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the outpouring of emotion. Then, with a small laugh, you quickly stepped forward and cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'm fine, big bro!" you said firmly, offering him a warm smile. "See? No worse for wear."

Satoru's mismatched eyes—one glowing faintly with his cursed energy, the other a bright, piercing blue—scanned you carefully, as if he needed to see for himself that you were telling the truth. Only when he seemed satisfied did he sigh in visible relief, shoulders dropping as the tension melted from his frame.

You gave his arm a playful nudge. "You worry too much," you teased, your voice light and familiar.

His lips twitched into a small, sheepish smile, though his gaze lingered on the bandage peeking out from beneath your clothes. "Can you blame me?" he muttered, but you were already walking ahead, your steps quick and confident.

The task force trailed behind you, observing the sibling interaction with a mix of curiosity and amusement. It wasn't every day that they saw someone capable of throwing Satoru Gojo off his game.

Soap chuckled under his breath. "Didn't know the infamous Gojo could look that panicked," he said, glancing at Ghost, who offered only a slight nod of agreement.

Meanwhile, Stauros and Megumi joined the group, their expressions a mix of intrigue and amusement. The younger Fushiguro looked especially entertained, his usual stoic expression softened by the sight of his mentor being flustered.

"Uhh..." Soap finally spoke up, hesitating for a moment as if unsure how to break the lingering tension. "Not to ruin the moment, but... anyone else getting the feeling that he's the protective older brother type?"

You shot him a glance over your shoulder, lips quirking into a smirk. "What gave it away?"

Price cleared his throat, stepping into the conversation with a calm authority. "We've got things to discuss back at HQ," he said, his voice grounding the moment. "But let's not forget—this curse situation isn't over yet."

As the group fell into step, Ghost's voice cut through the air, quiet but firm. "You good to keep going?" he asked, his gaze flickering to the bandage on your side.

You nodded without hesitation. "I'm good."

And though your brother shot you another concerned glance, he didn't push the matter further. Instead, he fell into step beside you, his presence steady and comforting as the team made their way back to the command center.

Despite the looming threat of the curse, for this brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel grounded—surrounded by family, both born and chosen.

"Alright, everyone, you're here now," Ms. Westly's voice cut through the air, commanding and unwavering. Her sharp gaze landed directly on Captain Price, scrutinizing him with the kind of precision that could unnerve even the most seasoned soldier. "Your team is up again this time."

She stepped closer, folding her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable but distinctly authoritative. There was something about her presence—no nonsense, no patience for excuses—that made even hardened Task Force members stand a little straighter. Her eyes flickered toward Satoru, lingering for just a second before returning to Price.

"You look built, but you're not the type to be satisfied with taking on just one mission, are you?" she remarked, her tone almost teasing, though her words were more of an observation than a question.

Satoru, who had been quiet until now, straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing with resolve. His easygoing demeanor melted away, replaced by something more serious—something more protective. "No, Lieutenant," he responded firmly. "I won't go without my sister."

Without hesitation, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, almost crushing hug. His grip was fierce, protective, as though he believed he could shield you from the world just by holding you close.

You let out a breath, surprised by the intensity of his embrace, but quickly steadied yourself. Pushing gently against his chest, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your expression soft but unwavering.

"Big brother," you murmured, your voice calm and steady. "I'm fine." You pressed your hands against his shoulders, creating just enough distance between you to breathe. "Let go."

Reluctantly, Satoru loosened his grip, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for any sign of weakness, any hidden pain you might be hiding.

Behind you, the members of Task Force 141 exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to quiet understanding. Soap nudged Gaz with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, now we know where she gets it from."

Ghost, standing a little apart from the group, simply observed the interaction in silence, his eyes shadowed beneath his mask. But something about the way he stood—rigid, watchful—spoke volumes.

Ms. Westly's voice cut through the moment, bringing everyone's attention back to the mission at hand. "Sentiments aside, you've all got a job to do. The curse threat is escalating, and we don't have time to waste." She gave Satoru a pointed look. "And that includes you, Mr. Gojo. I suggest you let your sister breathe."

With a sheepish grin, Satoru finally stepped back, running a hand through his white hair. "Right, right," he said, though the protective gleam in his eyes didn't dim in the slightest.

You adjusted your blindfold, hiding your six shining eyes once more, and turned to face the task force with renewed determination. "Let's get to it, then."

4o