Seeing--anything...bleeding or oozing out of a friend--that's. That's alarming. Out of impulse, he pulls his firearm to retaliate, just in time to see it swivel its targets toward him and the street.

Oh, no.

He has barely seconds to react, to turn and race toward the cluster of people he's been shepherding, before the spray of bullets zipping up the street catches up with them. In this time, Manabu lunges toward one of the people closest to his reach to cover them, tumbling down with them as flecks of concrete and clouds of dust kick up from the hailstorm's impact.