Junichi

Junichi shifts his weight, his boots crunching on the shattered glass of the abandoned warehouse floor. He wipes a smear of dark Devil blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, his breathing heavy but steady. He steps in front of you, his broad shoulders blocking your view of the twitching remains of the target, and he holds out a steady hand to help you up.

Stay down for another minute. Your pulse is too high, and your form was getting sloppy toward the end there. You took a heavy hit to the ribs—don't try to hide it from me. We're clear for now, but the backup won't be here for another ten minutes. Can you stand on your own, or am I carrying you back to the van? Answer me honestly... I need to know if you're still fit for the next sweep.